#throbs with this hollow ache

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

The worst feeling in the world was being mid motion and experiencing a muscle just spasming like a 13 year old at a black light themed dance party for a solid two minutes until suddenly every muscle in my torso and my entire intestinal tract relaxed like bitch what the FUCK was that and why did you decide to Crazy Frog your way to a sense of emotional and physical security?

I have spent the last five days in varying levels of pain from *curled up in the fetal position on the floor sobbing* to *dissociating to survive the day* and sleeping barely 3 hrs a night and absolutely nothing has helped, not ice packs, not hot baths, not my pain meds (otc or prescribed), not physio, nothing.

I drag myself to therapy today (bless wifey for driving my whimpery butt in) preparing to mumble my way thru a session and my therapist just listens like he has been, starts the same somatic work we've been doing for a month now, and within THIRTY GODDAMN MINUTES I FEEL FUCKING FINE??????

Therapist gently reminds me that you can't just turn on all the signals again after they got turned off for literally never not having sething wrong and expect to not be in pain. Right. Tuning into the body again means becoming aware of all the things that hurt. Becoming aware of all the things that hurt means having a panic response and trying to "survive" overwhelming and unliveable amounts of pain. I have to keep responding to and winding down that pain as well as my body's autonomic response, or all I'm doing is retraumatizing my system. Hahahahahaha. Fuck.

I fucking hate my flesh suit. It is the worst. Apparently I get to spend all day every day doing somatic exercises now or my body collapses in spasming horrors. Anyway, I feel like a fucking cement roller has been dancing the Moringa on my fucking spine, but at least I'm capable of lying down without screaming again.

Time for another round of stupid somatic body/breath work again I guess.

[screampied]

Imagine riding choso so good that he feels like he's the one who's going to get pregnant

☆ cw. fem! reader, reverse cowgirl, overstim, premature ejac, spanking, milkin’ him, breedīng, mdni.

“h- holy shit..” choso’s eyes widen, leaning back against his fluffed-out pillows. you’re straddling him in reverse, being in the prettiest fuckin’ arch he’d ever seen as you’re playfully wriggling your ass against him. just a few more centimeters and your dripping cunt would’ve been stuffed full of his aching cock. it’s veiny, and multiple veins throb from the lanky sides with pre-cum decorating his ruby tip. “you look so pretty in t.. this view,” he nearly choked on his breath, openly staring at the way your ass continued to still itself to hover over his length.

“tell me when to start, baby,” you softly hum, both hands of yours planting deep in the velveteen sheets. they create a print as your palms sink into the mattress, and your sopping cunt’s so teasing. with a tiny shimmy of your hips, you start to smear your entrance over his tip and you could hear him loudly sucking his teeth.

with a deep, protracted sigh, choso’s hand traces over the outline of your rear - so pretty. he stares at its shape from all angles before feeling his dick twitch the second you arch your back further. “you can start,” he shakily murmurs, and once you gradually start to plop yourself down on his cock he loses it. as his hooded eyelids start to droop, he lets off a soft whine once his cock’s slowly delving inside, pushin’ past the tight ring of your hollow entrance. “o- oh my god, your pussy’s gonna kill me.”

“hng-” you let off a quivering moan, biting the inside of your cheek once it takes him a few seconds to successfully bottom out. choso’s thick, and with the slight add of a prodding curve to his dick, you felt him expand everywhere. in you and through you.

he’s lean ‘n tall, easily fitting inside of your cunt like a puzzle piece.

choso’s got his bare hands glued to your hips the entire time, watching as your ass teasingly presents his pelvis with one big wet flop! choso groans, already feeling his knees starting to get weak at the stability of your greedy hips once you’re starting up a frenetic pace. “mhm, that’s it, baby. jus’ hold my hips.”

“god- you’re so hot,” he lets off a gruff huff, the tips of his ears burning over hundreds of degrees the moment you start to accelerate. your exposed backside was so pretty, especially in this position. choso stared at your jerking body - studying your tensing, flexing muscles and all of their glory. he can’t help but start to feel the inside of his mouth swelling up with salty saliva, and oh- he’s drooling already. “look back at me, princess. w- wanna see you while you ride me good.”

with a playful smile, you twist your torso just a bit to get a short glimpse of choso through your peripherals.

he’s so cute, slouched all the way back against the bed with the neediest pout plastered across his lips. he’s already sweating too - tears of sweat poured down the sides of his forehead and his usual ponytails were more unkempt than usual. “hi baby.” you mirthfully purr, and he grunts once he feels your rhythm starting to quicken. fuck, your hips were a menace.

“h…. hiii.” he hiccups, trying to smile but he only ends up moaning once his tip thrashes its way against your g-spot. right there, right-fuckin’-there, and you let off a small yelp. it’s so tender and choso starts to spasm underneath you. it was something about you riding him in reverse that made him lose his mind. the way you look back at him as you ride him to lewd oblivion, sexily tossing your hips in a circle with that cheeky grin on your sheeny lips—christ..

choso’s rock-hard abs through his white tee tenses against the fleecy fabric of his shirt and he moans. “f- fuck, don’t stop. don’t…fuckin’ stop—yeahhh, yeah like that,” and as your hips relentlessly smack back against him, nearly giving him whiplash, he whimpers. “ah. s- so warm inside, think ‘m hah- gonna make a…mess again, princess. y- your hips, ohmygoddd.”

and he’s just continuing to babble and ramble out all sorts of words with his hands still attached to your waist. he was holding on for dear life, never wanting to let go. choso’s cock dragged through your gummy walls through ‘n through, searching its way through every sloppy orifice and cavity..

you can see how his naturally drowsy eyes were already starting to roll back and his pretty pink tongue’s starting to loll out his mouth. oh- he was definitely drooling, all because of your sweet, sweet pussy. the grip you had was maddening, and each slam of your ass onto his pelvis had him whining out for more. dark thin brows of his crease into a crimped furrow as he’s trying to weakly guide your hips back into him. “mhm, touch me more baby. don’t be.. shy.”

you could feel how hesitant his fingers were, but he couldn’t resist allowing his hands to gently trace and explore down the outlines of your curves. “ughhh, i’m g- gonna,” and he pauses, letting off a husky groan the moment your ass rudely smacks back into him. it’s so impactful that for a second—the half curse was speechless. choso gasps, his eyes widening before he sobs out a crooning whimper. “faster, p…pleaseee. fuck me, r- ride it like it’s your princess. ‘m all yours, a-all yours.”

“s- shit,” you moan, snagging the edges of your teeth with your bottom lip. his dick’s steadily caressing your walls with his fat curve, locating and reaching every spot just to make you whine right with him. each pivotal thrust was killer, and you’re starting to puff out heaving breaths yourself.

choso’s fully laid back now as he watches your ass bounce itself up and down on his length before he starts whimpering again. he sounds so pretty the entire time too—

just babbling out sweet nothings, chanting your name over ‘n over as his swinish hands greedily try to reel your hips back into him. he’s addicted, and your hypnotic rhythm had him hungry for more. choso could almost taste his incoming release—syrupy pollen that’s slowly but surely salivating on his parched flat tongue.

“m..mngh,” he grunts, giving your ass a soft spank. he hears you playfully ‘oooh!’ at the swat of his hand and choso’s cock twitches inside of you. “wanna marry your hips. ‘m gonna…marry y-your hips, baby,” he starts rambling again, moaning at the speed of your rotating ass.

each wet thrust sends him shivers an abrupt rabble of butterflies, and choso’s damn near fully fucked dumb before he starts to whimper aloud yet again. he’s soso sensitive. the wide tip of his reddened shiny tip continues to swirl its way around the bulb of your clit before within seconds later—he finally cums… hard.

“oh, fuuuck—fuck,” he lets out a gargled whine and the carnal squelches of your cunt slamming against his lap get louder. choso erupts like a violent volcano - active ribbons of his handmade lava slowly pumping inside of your deprived cunt. choso’s sharp breaths become raspy as he feels your hips coming to a devastating halt, and he licks his lips. “t- thank you, thank you, thaaank you baby.” and you didn’t even know what he was thanking you for.

choso’s eyes close as he’s still filling slimy thin clods of cum inside of your puffed pussy.

it’s hot - and you then bring a hand toward your left ass cheek, squeezing it while still gradually fucking back against him. you’re reaaaal slow, working your hips on his active cock that’s spilling so much from the tip and the twitching sides. choso grabs onto the back of the wooden creaking headboard, and his abs clench as he watches the mess start to dribble further down between your thighs. a white puddling mess of his seed that’s drooling straight out of your flooded cunt makes him moan. “b- baaaby..” he swallows thickly, his ravened eyes fixated on your pretty plump ass that’s perfectly arched over his lap. “hah- think you just…impregnated me.”

“cho, that’s not possible,” you tease, and he moans once the warmth of your cunt starts to fade the second you get up. right away, a sloppy string of his cum glosses onto your slick entrance as you ‘pop’ his dick from between your sprawled numb legs. you turn around, straddling him from the front now, before kissing the side of his twitching mouth. “i can’t impregnate you, silly.”

“o- oh! right�� um,” he breathes, sticky black bangs running down his eyes.

choso grabs your waist, a thumb shamefully swiping down the center of your runny pussy. so . . much. he locks eyes with you for a long four seconds as you’re now grinding your drenched folds against his flaccid cock that rests on his tummy. choso cutely scratches his head, and he lets off a soft whine once you sneak a wet kiss on his rosy lips. “i mean- i can try to impregnate you then.”

with a hum, you nibble on his chin. “mhm, wanna test that theory then, baby?”

choso’s so cunt-drunk that’s he’s just entirely dumbfounded. intently, he’s staring right into your eyes—barely registering a thing you just said before he cups your chin, panting at the shocks of rapture. choso’s still faintly whining under his breath before he smears a thumb over your wet-slick lips, lovingly.

“l- let’s get married,” and you gasp once he gingerly spanks your ass, an inaudible sign for you to ride him again—this time from the front so he could visibly watch your pretty face. “make me a daddy, princess, w.. wanna be all yours. please..”

[sheloveschai]

bathing with ambessa (18+)

dom! ambessa x fem! reader

older woman/younger woman, slight exhibitionism, thigh-riding, sub! reader

i cannot get this woman out of my head sitting on her lap (or her face) would solve so many of my problems URRGGHHH

“breathe, child.”

water sloshes against the sides of the luxurious bathing pool- a shuddered gasp echos back off the blue and gold mosaic walls of the room.

a bead of sweat rolls down your spine as a partially nude worker dumps another vessel of water near your bodies, and with it, a veil of steam rises giving the illusion of intimate privacy from the guards on standby.

ambessa, in all her esteemed glory, lounges lazily with her head tipped back over the edge of the pool- a warm cloth draped over her eyes. a goblet, which lays in a large rugged hand, is filled near to the brim with a rich red wine.

the other rests on the hollow of your throat- a calloused thumb ever so gently brushing over your slick skin.

“good, little one,” the warlord practically purrs. a grin graces her lips as she feels your hands slip from her shoulders and down to her submerged abdomen, your hands pressing against her scarred v-line for leverage.

her hand, in return, glides from your throat, over your shoulder, before disappearing down under the water to rest on the curve of your rocking hips- not guiding, not pushing, just to simply rest upon.

“such a needy little thing,” she hums. “taking what you so desire.”

a shaky exhale escapes your lips at her words. her low and husky voice adding to your sinuous desires. your nails ever so slightly dig into her intimidating physique as your cunt throbs in need.

with your slick folds spread open over the impressive muscle of her thigh, your clit rubs deliciously over the bumps and ridges of her battle-won scars.

your wanton gasps and whines ring throughout as your head tips forward in deadweight- causing your gaze to connect with the older woman’s breasts.

just beneath the water you can make out her soft nipples. her breasts are heavy and ripened with age, and though not littered with scars won over battles, stretch marks ripple over them like hieroglyphs seen carved into ancient monumental displays.

your hand moves quicker than your brain and suddenly you’re cupping one of her breasts, raising it up and out of the water- exposing it to the colder air. you practically watch in awe as her dark nipple hardens between your fingers as you press and flatten the heavy globe against her chest.

and without a second thought, you’re lurching forward and enveloping her nipple into your warm mouth. you would’ve swallowed her whole if you could’ve, but instead you resort to swirling the sensitive bud around your tongue; licking, nipping, sucking as though you were trying to milk her.

“look at you,” ambessa rasps, a hint of humor underlaying her lust. “starving for my body. my, you’d do anything to have a taste, wouldn’t you, child?”

a low groan rumbles out of ambessa’s chest at the feeling of the scrape of your teeth, the wet heat of your tongue. in an effort to take more of her breast into your mouth, your knee presses against the slick folds of her cunt as you slide further down her thigh.

and the fearsome warlords back, ever so slightly, arches off the edge of the tub.

“like a kitten in heat, you are” she taunts, though there is no covering how she bucks her hips up in order to grind her aching pussy against you.

she begins to move in time with you, the friction your knee provided sending bolts of pleasure straight to her core.

her position of leisure and relaxation did not slip, though. with her legs still spread wide, head tilted back, ambessa had the clear headedness to bring her steel goblet up to her lips without spilling a drop of the red liquid.

with an air of authority, she licks the remnants from her now stained mouth, stretching her arm back over the edge of the pool to set the cup down- without a tremor to be seen.

with both of her hands now free, she removes the cloth from her face, revealing her dark lust-stricken gaze.

her hand slowly delves between your legs, separating your slick cunt from her thigh. she teases you for a moment, smirking as she rubs your aching nub with a feather-light touch, before pressing a digit to your entrance.

“there you go, sweet girl,” ambessa praises, sliding another thick digit along her first, your walls fluttering around the intruding appendages. “now you may have my touch.”

her thumb continues to rub slowly circles on your clit as her fingers pump in and out of you at a relentless pace.

“cum for me” she murmurs huskily as she gazes down at your desperate form still suckling at her tit. “show me how my body brings you pleasure.”

she could feel your body tensing, your muscles coiling tight as she worked her fingers inside you. she could tell you were close, the way you desperately clung to her- the way your walls squeezed around her, urging her deeper.

and it wasn’t until she curled them just right, hitting that spot inside you that had you seeing stars, did you cum.

your body convulsed, muscles squeezing around her fingers as wave after wave of pleasure came crashing down upon you. ambessa held you close as you rode out your orgasm. your body shook, breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

she could practically feel your heart pounding against her chest. and as you slowly came down from your high, you pressed soft kisses and licks into the bitten skin of her breast.

“enough, child” she grunts, finally pulling you away from her raw nipple. “i desire your mouth elsewhere now.”

[pin-k-ink]

NO ROOM FOR DOUBT ⋆✦⋆ miya osamu

synopsis ➸ marriage isn’t supposed to feel this empty, but osamu’s starting to think you’re slipping through his fingers. he doesn’t mean to accuse you of anything, but when your coworker’s name leaves your lips one too many times, he snaps. you barely get a word in before he’s on you—angry, desperate, and determined to remind you who you belong to.

tags ➸ jealousy, insecurities, hurt/comfort, mild angst, profanity, mild dom/sub dynamics, degràdation, nípple play, dírty talking, breéding kínk, creampíe, rough séx, hand job, oral séx, praise kìnk, facial, unprotécted sèx

wc ➸ 11k

The bedroom was thick with tension as Osamu closed the book he'd been pretending to read for the past hour. Across the room, you remained diligently hunched over your desk - brow furrowed, pen scratching furiously, completely absorbed in your never-ending work. Just like every other night lately.

"Ya plannin' on joinin' me over here anytime soon?" Osamu finally broke the silence, unable to stomach being ignored and alone a moment longer. "Gettin' kinda cold and lonely in this big bed all by myself."

He made sure to inject just the right amount of heated suggestion into his tone. The kind that used to have you instantly abandoning your tasks to satisfy the mutual craving you couldn't resist giving in to. But just like every other attempt at intimacy lately, you didn't even look up from your paperwork.

"I can't, Osamu. This proposal is really important and I've got to have it ready to present first thing in the morning," you replied distractedly, hiding behind that same worn-out excuse as always. "It's going to be another couple hours at least before I can call it a night."

A muscle ticked in Osamu's chiseled jaw as his patience began eroding. This was just a never-ending cycle - you constantly burying yourself in work until you were too drained for anything other than collapsing into an exhausted, dreamless sleep far away from his arms. Meanwhile, he lay awake most nights, body thrumming with unbearable arousal and need as his mind tormented him with memories of how ravenous you'd once been for each other.

Osamu could vividly recall the exact curve of your arched spine as you'd kneel over him, all nude feminine softness and aching desperation. How your tongue would trail hot, openmouthed kisses from his navel to the drooling tip of his iron length, never taking your lidded eyes off his as you hollowed those perfect lips around his girth. The way you'd moan shamelessly around his cock when he fisted those silky tresses, using that divine warmth and pressure as the first of many selfish indulgences for the night.

He could picture the exact flare of your hips as you rode him cowgirl, riding his cock until he thought he'd slip into unconsciousness from the sheer unbearable pleasure. Those lush breasts would sway and jiggle with each erotic roll of your body, nipples pebbled with rapture as your slick walls massaged and milked every maddening inch of his thickness. Osamu always had to fight with everything in him not to lose control and start jackhammering up into that molten, velvet glove squeezing him to oblivion.

And even in the afterglow of coating your convulsing insides with his thick seed, their passion never dimmed. There was always another round of foreplay to indulge - his calloused palms branding the plush silk of your ass cheeks as he rutted against you from behind. Or his lips dragging over the aching throbbing of your clit as you shrieked through full-body shudders of bliss, actively ruining his face with your cream.

Osamu didn't care what degrading, filthy acts you subjected him to when your inhibitions were lowered. All he craved was wringing pleasure from your trembling form until you were both mindless, depraved wrecks overdosing on endorphins and the scent of your mingled passion.

But lately, his hunger went completely unslaked. You were always shutting him out, too preoccupied with your work to even touch or be touched. That blazing passion you'd once indulged so spontaneously and shamelessly had dimmed to bitter embers of resentment and stifling, endless tension.

Which was what led to Osamu's newest, most insidious torment - the poisonous creep of envy and anxiety whenever you mentioned that coworker constantly singing your praises.

Osamu tried not to let the jealousy show, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to bury those insecure feelings. You talked about your coworker constantly - this brilliant, ambitious "guy" you collaborated so closely with on major projects. Osamu couldn't help wondering if the intense admiration in your voice when you praised this man's professionalism and impressive work ethic hid something more.

After all, everyone in your family had been vehemently against you marrying someone like Osamu when you first got together. They'd wanted you to find a wealthy businessman, someone who could properly provide the lavish lifestyle they felt you deserved. But you had fallen even more deeply in love with Osamu's steadfast determination to make your chosen partnership work, despite your relatives' objections.

You'd stood firm in your commitment to the humble yet passionate chef who stole your heart. But now, years into your marriage, Osamu could feel the insidious tendril of doubt and anxiety taking root. Were you regretting your decision? Did some part of you regret not listening to your family and choosing stability and status over being saddled with someone like him?

He tried smothering those poisonous thoughts underneath the soul-deep love and adoration he had for you, convincing himself it was just irrational possessiveness. But the more you spoke about this mysterious coworker, the more Osamu's sense of inadequacy flared. This man seemingly had everything he lacked - money, ambition, societal respect. No wonder you were burying yourself in work to spend more time around someone who exemplified the qualities your family had pushed you to seek in a partner.

Osamu missed the way your relationship used to be before this gulf opened between you - back when he could surprise you at your office for a spontaneous lunch or quickie in the bathroom. He grinned reminiscently at the memories of having you bent over the desk, documents and office supplies clattering to the floor as he hungrily explored your body. You'd beg for him not to stop, to take you harder and deeper even as your coworkers milled about just outside none the wiser.

But those impromptu encounters had all but stopped over the past couple of months. Now when Osamu tried to initiate anything intimate, even at home in the privacy of your bedroom, you gently but dismissively waved him off - too tired, too preoccupied with work, or simply "not in the mood" thanks to stress. Each repeated rejection was like another dagger to his heart and his increasingly fragile ego.

So Osamu did his best to bury the hurt and the aching need you weren't fulfilling. He told himself it was just a rut your marriage was going through, that the scorching passion would inevitably rekindle once this busy period passed. You loved him - you'd sacrificed so much to be with him against your family's wishes, after all.

And yet...Osamu couldn't fully silence the nagging doubts constantly echoing in the back of his mind every time you mentioned that mysterious coworker's name. He couldn't ignore the way his chest clenched painfully whenever you praised the other man's intelligence, ambition, and impressive accomplishments - all things Osamu knew he could never provide you no matter how successful his onigiri business became.

It made him wonder if some part of you did regret the life you'd chosen, no matter how deeply you still loved him. Osamu couldn't help feeling increasingly like he wasn't enough of a man to truly satisfy the brilliant woman he'd married and adored for so many years. Like a legitimate future with someone like your admired coworker was the path you deserved, even if you didn't realize it yet yourself.

So Osamu simply withdrew more into himself, burying his hurt and hunger for your intimacy and unconsciously giving you even more space to invest yourself in work - and perhaps in another man's company without even realizing it. All because some traitorous part of his heart couldn't help wondering if he'd forever be seen as the wrong choice as a husband, no matter how selflessly he loved you.

A couple more hours dragged by in tense silence, the only sound being the occasional scratch of your pen against paper as you continued working diligently at your desk. Osamu's eyes kept flicking over to you, noticing the way the lamplight accentuated the furrow in your brow and the purse of your lips as you remained fully immersed in the proposal.

He felt the knot of frustration and desire tightening in his gut with each passing minute you diligently ignored him and the intimacy he was silently begging for. This couldn't go on any longer - he needed to feel that physical connection with you again before the ache drove him mad.

"Enough, sweetheart," Osamu stated firmly, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his voice as impatience finally won out. "Put the work down and get your gorgeous ass over here already. I'm done waitin'."

You finally looked up at him, startled by his uncharacteristically stern tone. For a beat, Osamu thought you might protest and dig your heels in about finishing the proposal. But something in his expression must have conveyed the simmering need, as you hesitated before giving a small nod.

With palpable reluctance, you set your pen aside and began gathering up the strewn paperwork into some semblance of order. Osamu watched every agonizing movement hungrily, from the way you licked your lips to the distracting sway of your hips as you pushed away from the desk at last.

He drank in every inch of you as you padded slowly toward the bed, unable to tear his eyes away. You looked disheveled yet impossibly beautiful in that oversized shirt - the one he loved seeing you lounge around in because of how easily it could slip off those soft curves with just a bit of impatient tugging.

Osamu's arousal spiked painfully as you finally settled onto the mattress beside him, close enough now that he could smell the lingering hint of your shampoo and feel the warmth radiating off your body. He didn't even try to mask the pure, wanton hunger in his gaze as it raked over your form shamelessly.

Unable to resist a moment longer, he surged forward and captured your lips in a searing, needful kiss. You made a muffled sound of surprise against his mouth but didn't pull away as his tongue boldly sought entrance. Osamu growled at the first teasing taste of you, fingers already clutching at your waist as if to pull you fully against him.

But you went rigid in his embrace, keeping a deliberate slice of distance between your bodies. When you broke the heated kiss, you turned your face away with a soft, "Not tonight, Osamu...I'm way too tired from working."

He fought not to let the biting sting of rejection show on his face, swallowing hard against it. "I've missed ya, darlin'...missed this," Osamu murmured, letting the rough pad of his thumb trace the plump swell of your lower lip in a silent plea. "Isn't there any part of ya that's missed me too?"

You hesitated, gaze skittering guiltily across his features. Something flickered in the depths of your eyes - that same dimmed spark of desire he saw more and more rarely these days. Then it was gone again, shuttered behind bone-deep weariness and excuses.

"I'm sorry, I know it's been a while..." you began, genuine regret lacing your tone. "But this proposal is really important, and I've got to be rested enough to present it to the board in the morning. I promise, after this is all over, we can..."

The unfinished reassurance trailed off into tense silence as you averted your gaze, unable or unwilling to even voice a promise of making time for intimacy again. Osamu swallowed hard, pulse thundering with mingled frustration and humiliated rejection.

So this was what it had come to - empty platitudes and obligatory excuses to avoid being touched by the husband who had once been unable to keep his hands off you. Somehow your flourishing career and singular focus on work had managed to obliterate any space for him in your world.

Osamu's jaw clenched hard against the torrent of bitterness and sorrow he refused to let overwhelm him. Without another word, he rolled over to put his back to you, fighting against the urge to simply leave and go sleep on the couch. At least then he could sink into his misery in solitude without your unintended presence serving as a constant reminder of everything he'd lost.

The next morning, Osamu awoke to the soft sounds of you getting ready for work. He lay there for a few minutes, eyes still closed as he tried to savor these final moments before the day inevitably pulled you away from him again. God, he missed the times when you used to linger in bed together before reluctantly untangling and starting your day.

Eventually, he couldn't resist sneaking a look at you. Osamu rolled onto his side, sheets pooling around his waist as he allowed his hungry gaze to roam over the alluring display you made. You were bent over the dresser in just a crisp button-down and lacy underwear, applying your makeup with those little focused furrows in your brow that he found so endearing. The firm swell of your ass was positioned enticingly in the air, practically begging for his calloused palms to shamelessly grope and knead the supple flesh.

Arousal began smoldering low in Osamu's gut as he drank in every lush inch of you. Your hair was still sleep-mussed, silky strands spilling over one shoulder in a way that made him ache to brush them aside and trail openmouthed kisses along the naked column of your neck. He found himself licking his lips instinctively, imagining the way you'd taste - how you used to whimper and arch shamelessly into his questing mouth whenever he leisurely explored your body with his own first thing in the morning.

Unable to resist the siren call a moment longer, Osamu threw off the sheets and padded silently up behind you. You jumped a little when his arms wound around your waist, the hard planes of his chest pressing flush against your back. But you didn't immediately push him away as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, sucking in a deep breath of your intoxicating scent.

"Mornin', gorgeous," Osamu rumbled, voice still gruff with sleep. He punctuated the gravelly endearment by walking his fingers tantalizingly up the soft panes of your stomach, reveling in the sharp hitch of your breath when they grazed the lace-trimmed underside of your breasts. "Ya got any time to spend with your husband before leavin' for work this mornin'?"

Something in you seemed to soften at his words, the perpetual tension temporarily ebbing from your frame. Osamu couldn't deny the molten rush of arousal that licked through his veins when you arched subtly back against him - a blatant, wanton invitation despite the strict professional attire.

"I might be able to spare a few minutes," you murmured, tilting your head to allow his lips better access to your throat.

Osamu hummed deep in his chest, the vibration thrumming against your skin as his fingertips continued their leisurely stroking and teasing. His teeth grazed the thundering pulse point at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, not quite biting but exerting enough pressure to make you stifle a whimper. He took his time working over that same maddening patch of sensitive flesh - laving with his tongue, sucking harsh little marks against your salty-sweet skin, utterly worshipping you in a way he hadn't been able to in far too long.

By the time his questing mouth finally slanted over yours, you were already pliant and shamelessly seeking more in his embrace. The kiss quickly turned molten, all clashing teeth and dueling tongues as weeks of pent-up hunger and need poured out between you both. Osamu's hands roamed greedily from your hips down to the lush curves of your ass, squeezing with shameless possession before yanking your lower body flush against the undeniable ridge of his arousal.

You mewled into his mouth, the wanton little sound shooting straight to his cock and making it judder eagerly. For an endless moment, it seemed as though you were on the precipice of giving in fully. Osamu could already envision bending you over the dresser and stuffing you absolutely full of his aching cock, uncaring of how late you'd be to work. He was drunk on the honeyed taste of your mouth, the sultry roll of your hips grinding back eagerly against him.

Then, all at once, you were breaking the heated kiss with a strangled gasp. There was a beat where you simply clung to one another, panting harshly as if struggling to rein in your spiraling lust. When you finally managed to speak, your voice was thick and throaty in a way that made Osamu's cock throb with need.

"Gods, I've missed this, missed you..." you confessed in a throaty murmur, sounding genuinely contrite. You turned in Osamu's embrace then, locking your heavy-lidded gaze with his in a way that made his heart stutter behind his ribs. The naked yearning and simmering desire he saw smoldering in your hooded eyes was like a searing brand against his already feverish skin.

"I'm so sorry for being so distant lately," you continued, chest still rising and falling with dampened little pants from the heated make-out session. One of your hands stroked a tender path down the ridged planes of Osamu's abdomen, nails lightly raking through the crisp trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his loose sleep pants. "I know the work can't be an excuse forever. I promise, tonight I'll leave the office early and we can have the whole evening together...just the two of us."

The husky timbre of your voice combined with that single, deliberate caress had Osamu's neglected cock stirring almost painfully against the flimsy fabric restraining it. He couldn't quite bite back the guttural rumble of need that reverberated up from his very core as your fingers continued their teasing exploration lower and lower. You offered the faintest of smirks as your palm finally cupped and squeezed the unmistakable shape of his rapidly stiffening length through the thin material.

"Fuck, darlin'...ya really know how to make a man suffer, don'tcha?" Osamu ground out through gritted teeth as he moved to sat down on the edge of the bed before his knees gave out entirely. He watched in rapt fascination as your tongue peeked out to wet your plump lips - a deliciously sinful invitation in its own right. But it was the imperious glint flickering to life in your eyes that truly made his cock twitch and strain against the confines of his pants, desperate to be freed and indulged.

You held his heated stare boldly as you continued shamelessly fondling and stroking him to full, throbbing hardness. There was something deliciously intoxicating about having your petite hand working his most intimate places so deliberately, as if he were powerless to resist giving you whatever depravity you desired. As if you knew precisely how badly he craved feeling that velvet grip moments before coating your knuckles in his shameless release.

"I'm not the one suffering here, babe," you purred, giving his aching shaft one final rough caress that nearly bucked his hips off the mattress. "You're the one walking around with this monster straining in your pants all damn day, just waiting for me to give it some attention."

The hairs along Osamu's nape and forearms instantly prickled at your crude observation - not from offense, but from the undeniable bolt of molten arousal zinging straight to his groin at being talked about so blatantly. He gnawed the inside of his cheek, glaring down at you with a heady mixture of reproach and smoldering desire flickering in the gunmetal depths of his stare.

You didn't back down from the challenge, letting your palm drag up and over his length in one torturously slow glide. Then deft fingers hooked into his waistband, tugging the loose material down just enough for his flushed cock to spring free with a harsh intake of breath punching from Osamu's chest. His hands fisted in the disheveled bedsheets as you wrapped your fingers around the thick, pulsing shaft in a firm grip.

"Maybe I should take care of this right now before I head into the office," you mused idly, giving him a few light pumps that had Osamu clenching his jaw to stifle a groan. "At least give me a few more hours before you start going stir-crazy thinking about me all over again..."

The words were barely out of your mouth before Osamu was surging forward, one calloused palm cupping the nape of your neck to yank you into a searing kiss. You let out a muffled yelp of surprise against his lips that was quickly swallowed by his questing tongue delving into the slick, honeyed heat of your mouth. Evidently you'd awoken the ravenous beast within by your blatant taunting and teasing - something dark and blazing now flickering to life behind Osamu's blown pupils.

"Be careful what ya tempt me with, baby girl," he rumbled in a low, gravelly warning as his hips lurched into the tight channel of your fist. "I might just take ya up on a hell of a lot more than that pretty little hand of yours..."

Your pupils blew wider at the explicit promise scorching every word, chest arching into his solid frame as your fingers instinctively tightened around his steely girth. Osamu hissed out a curse at the exquisite friction, thick droplets of precum already welling up and spilling over your pumping knuckles to ease the slick, heated glide.

You licked your lips unconsciously as your gaze dropped to drink in the vulgar sight of your fist working his flushed cock with more fervid urgency. There was an almost transfixed, rapturous look glazing over your features - as if you were utterly enthralled watching Osamu's thick length disappear between your fingers again and again in a messy rhythm. He could feel the rapidly mounting tension lancing through his spine, the telltale tingling heat sizzling out from his groin with each firm pull of your hand along his shaft.

But even as pleasure threatened to steal the last of his composure, Osamu still mustered the strength to reach down, fingers fumbling with the buttons of your dress shirt, intent on returning the favor. His pulse jackhammered against his sternum as he tugged the crisp white material away, revealing the lacy undergarment clinging to the supple swell of your breasts.

He felt the hot bloom of need flare in his gut, unable to resist the temptation to squeeze and knead the ample flesh. Your eyelids fluttered shut with a breathy moan as he toyed with your nipples, teasing them into stiff, rosy peaks that strained against the sheer lace. The air left Osamu's lungs in a harsh, strangled hiss as you tightened your grip around his swollen cock, a fresh wave of precum trickling down the flushed shaft.

It was all he could do not to simply rip the garment off you in a fit of desperate hunger. Instead, he pulled the cups down beneath the generous swell of your breasts, revealing the taut, pebbled buds and making a hungry growl reverberate deep in his chest.

"I've missed these so fuckin' much," Osamu rasped, voice hoarse with arousal. His thumbs dragged across the sensitive tips, reveling in the way they hardened further at his touch. "Been dreamin' of puttin' my mouth all over 'em again."

Without waiting for a response, Osamu leaned down and wrapped his lips around one eager nipple, letting his tongue swirl and flick over the bud. He was rewarded with a soft, breathy cry as your grip faltered, pleasure momentarily stealing away the ability to maintain the steady rhythm. But you quickly recovered, hand resuming its quick, urgent pace while the other tangled in the wild tresses at his nape, pressing his face closer into the inviting softness of your breasts.

A low, needful groan vibrated through the sensitive flesh in his mouth, making you whimper. Your nails bit into his scalp, holding him in place while his tongue worked and laved over the hardened tip, thoroughly lavishing the pebbled peak with his mouth and attention. Osamu's mind was spinning with the intoxicating blend of pleasure and need, the coil in his gut winding tighter and tighter.

He could already feel the tingling heat licking up his spine, signaling the impending explosion. There was nothing he could do to stop it, especially when your thumb swirled across the bulbous tip of his cock. Osamu tore his mouth away from your breast with a snarl, biting his lower lip until it almost bled as his hips shuddered and jerked, the first hot spurt of cum streaking across his abdomen.

He felt more than heard the satisfied hum reverberating through your chest as his cock pulsed and twitched against the slick warmth of your palm. Each new pump dragged a ragged grunt from his throat, milking the last of his release onto the flushed skin of his heaving stomach. It took a long, hazy moment for his vision to stop swimming, the aftershocks of his powerful orgasm still ricocheting through his frame.

In the delirious afterglow, Osamu couldn't resist the primal urge to roll you onto your back and splay himself over your pliant form. His body was still thrumming with the lingering tremors of ecstasy, every nerve ending humming like a livewire in the most exquisite way. But rather than feeling sated, that molten kernel of desire seemed to blaze even hotter at your flushed, thoroughly debauched appearance beneath him.

Your chest heaved with dampened little pants, spit-slick nipples straining against the thin fabric of your unbuttoned blouse. Osamu's gaze roamed shamelessly over the dusky flush staining your skin, down to where the scant lace of your underwear was already soaked through with arousal. He could still taste the honeyed tang of your essence on his tongue from devouring your mouth so ravenously.

With a rumbling groan of renewed hunger, Osamu dipped his head to trail a blazing path of open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips along the elegant column of your throat. You whimpered and arched into the delicious onslaught, clearly struggling to recover your senses enough to protest or push him away. Not that Osamu would have heeded any objections in that heated moment.

"'Samu..." you finally gasped out in a breathy whine as his questing mouth found the swell of your breasts. "I...I have to go or I'll be late..."

He merely grunted against the lush, silken mounds he'd bared so wantonly, tongue swirling over one pebbled peak before sucking the hardened nub between his lips. The broken, urgently tangled sound you made in response sent a scorching spiral of satisfaction lancing through Osamu's groin. For this solitary, lust-drenched instance, you were his again - the gorgeous, needy wife who used to tremble and beg for him to take his time devouring every lush inch.

"Don't think 'bout leavin' this bed until I've had my fill, darlin'," he rumbled, voice pitching even lower and rougher with naked longing.

Perhaps he should have been embarrassed by the wanton, possessive words spilling so unrestrainedly from his lips. But Osamu was too deliriously drunk on the taste and scent and feel of you, the opportunity to rekindle the blazing passion you'd both been so callously denying for far too long. He could already feel the thick insistence of his cock rapidly regenerating between your bodies, seeking that slick source of intoxicating velvet heat.

You seemed to read the explicit intent smoldering behind his hooded stare. With visible effort, you reached up to gently but firmly push against Osamu's shoulders, demurring even as your chest continued rising and falling with shallow pants of desire.

"I really do have to go," you murmured again, licking your plump lips in a completely unconscious gesture Osamu couldn't tear his eyes from. "But...I promise tonight will be just for us. No distractions or work, just you and me reacquainting ourselves properly."

Your sincerity and the dark, heated vow behind those words punched the breath from Osamu's lungs in a trembling exhalation. Part of him - the part that had been aching and insecure for so long now - longed to open his mouth and spill every pent-up insecurity and anxiety. To voice the ugly wonderings that had been festering over whether you harbored deeper regrets about the paths your lives had taken together.

"Do ya...have any regrets?" He found himself rasping out before he could reconsider voicing his private torment. "About us, I mean. Marryin' a guy like me instead of—"

The shrill trill of your phone sliced through the weighted air like a cold slash of sobriety, effectively derailing Osamu's spiraling train of thought. You both froze, heads whipping toward the maddening sound with identical expressions of startled disruption.

Then, as if through a physical force, Osamu felt his stomach plummet all over again when he saw the name that had lit up your screen, accompanying that godforsaken ringtone.

Him. That overly accomplished, smooth-talking coworker you were always praising and mentioning incessantly, whether you realized the implication or not. Osamu's jaw clenched hard enough to grind his molars audibly, hot lance of bitter jealousy flaring with staggering potency. He wanted to ignore the call completely, grab you by the shoulders and shake the truth out of you then and there. Demand honesty about the nature of your relationship with this asshole who always seemed to interrupt and insert himself into their lives, even inadvertently.

But just like that, the rapturous spell you'd both temporarily fallen under was obliterated. Perhaps sensing the drastic shift in Osamu's energy, you quickly sat up and smoothed your disheveled appearance before answering with a terse: "This is [Y/N]. Yes, I was just..."

Osamu barely registered your muffled conversation as white-hot lances of jealousy and resentment pierced through his heartbeat in crashing waves. He simply couldn't stomach listening to the familiar, upbeat tones you always used whenever discussing anything related to that insufferable coworker. The one whose very existence always sent Osamu spiraling into pits of doubt and masculine inadequacy no matter how much logic dictated otherwise.

With stiff, jerky movements, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stooped to hastily tug his pants back into place. His jaw was still clenched so tightly he could feel the tendons straining, every snapping motion charged with scarcely restrained frustration. Part of Osamu didn't even know where this combustible mixture of emotions was coming from - only that it had been abruptly stoked into an inferno within his chest at the sound of that man's name on your lips yet again.

He needed to get out, to escape the suddenly suffocating confines of your bedroom before he had a chance to let the uglier side of his temper detonate in your direction undeservedly. Osamu knew damn well you didn't owe him anything, let alone an explanation for simply taking a call about work in the middle of your morning routines. It was his own traitorous demons and self-doubts rearing their insidious heads yet again.

You'd just begun to make a sincere effort at bridging the distance that had calcified between you, after all. And then he'd managed to go and ruin the moment in spectacular fashion as always. Osamu cursed beneath his breath, shoving his feet into the nearest pair of sandals with jerky impatience as he prepared to storm out and spend the day holed up at the restaurant letting the ovens scour the resentment from his system.

Just as he was yanking on his t-shirt, your soft voice cut through the haze of turmoil ricocheting through his skull: "Osamu, wait..."

He froze in place, muscles coiled tensely as you stepped into his space and pressed your palms over the flushed, taut planes of his abdomen. Your eyes were large and imploring as you tipped your face up towards his, bottom lip caught between your teeth in an unconscious gesture that stirred his lingering lust despite the tangled knot of conflicting emotions.

"I know the timing was awful, but you have to know that call didn't change anything," you murmured, trailing the words against the stubbled line of his jaw in a soft caress. "Tonight is for us, 'Samu. Just you and me with no more interruptions, I swear it."

Those silky reassurances seemed to simultaneously drench Osamu's temper in a dampening balm while stoking the embers of longing and reaffirmation you'd awoken deep within him. He leaned unconsciously into your touch, letting his eyes drift shut as you pressed a lingering kiss to the thundering pulse at his throat. You knew just how to gentle the storm within him, how to properly tame the roiling storm of chaotic need and desire ever-present just beneath his surface restraint.

"You'd better keep that promise, my gorgeous girl," Osamu rasped out gruffly, suddenly lacking the energy to maintain any semblance of distance or aloofness. Abandoning his half-hearted escape attempt, he wound his arms around your waist and crushed you flush against his bare chest. God, how he'd missed the contoured perfection of your body molded to his, the soft delirious surrender of your mouth pillowing into his as the kiss deepened.

After several breathless, devouring moments, you were the one who finally broke away with obvious reluctance. There was an adorable, swollen temptation clinging to your features that made heat bloom anew in Osamu's groin.

"I should...I should really get going before I'm any later," you managed, despite the way your palms drifted aimlessly along his flanks in mute contradiction. "Just...try to have a good day, okay? And be ready to make good on that promise tonight."

The reminder of your imminent departure momentarily dampened the rekindled blaze licking through Osamu's veins, though he managed a faint nod through the disappointment. There would be no more delaying the outside world's demands this morning, he recognized begrudgingly.

"Yeah, darlin', you go on and take care of your business," he rumbled, forcing a tight smirk in place. "I'll be right here waitin' to take damn good care of you later."

With one final, searing look of naked longing and affection, you slipped from his embrace and bustled around to collect your things. Osamu leaned back against the wall and admired every efficient movement and enticing flash of bare skin exposed by your mussed attire. He knew better than to try stealing any further moments beyond what you'd already indulged. Tonight would come, and with it the chance to reconnect with you in all the ways he'd been starving for lately.

That glimmer of hope and rekindled anticipation was enough to infuse Osamu with much-needed patience as he finally watched you head out the door, throwing a coy glance over your shoulder. For the first time in months, the future felt more like an endless oasis to indulge in rather than an empty desert to be endured.

The muffled ticking of the bedside clock seemed to reverberate through Osamu's skull like a steadily amplifying drum of dread. Midnight had come and gone over an hour ago, each agonizing minute distorting into excruciating suspense as he waited impatiently for you to arrive home as promised.

He'd closed up the restaurant early for once, something he almost never allowed for fear of disappointing the loyal patrons who depended on the Miya name. But tonight was supposed to be different - a rare evening reserved solely for reconnecting with the wife he adored yet had been neglecting for far too long. So Osamu made the sacrifice without a second thought, eager to slip into your shared home and set the scene for a night of indulgent intimacies.

Which was why he currently sat perched on the edge of your rumpled bed, stripped down to just his loose sleep pants in anticipation. Flickering candlelight danced in a sensual halo across the dimly lit space, blending with the heated aromas of scented oils he'd taken care to prepare. An indulgent spread of chilled sake and decadent fruits had been arranged on the bedside table, standing ready for whenever you finally saw fit to arrive.

Osamu's jaw clenched hard as his eyes flicked once more to the glowing numbers of the clock, each one seeming to mock his vigil more cruelly than the last. Where the hell were you? What could possibly be keeping you so unconscionably late after making such emphatic promises about spending one uninterrupted evening reacquainting yourselves on every conceivable level?

He fought not to let his mind spiral down the darkest avenues, to those insidious tendrils of self-doubt and virulent envy that had taken root thanks to your increasing emotional distance lately. Osamu knew where those toxic paths led - to irrational accusations, defensive postulating, and the exact sort of explosive confrontation that could shatter the fragile new understanding you'd seemingly reforged earlier in the morning.

And yet the minutes continued their merciless tick...tick...tick down to oblivion, each one stoking Osamu's restless frustration into an inextinguishable furnace despite his best efforts. You'd sworn there would be no more distractions tonight, nothing to divert your attentions from properly reconnecting after so much strain and deprivation between you both. He'd believed you with every fiber of his soul, clinging to that hushed promise like a man dying of thirst finally being offered the sweetest oasis to drink from.

But here he sat, alone and slowly twisting within the flames of his own insecurities and irrational resentments as the night stretched on interminably. Surely you wouldn't be so cruel, so selfish as to actually disregard everything you'd—

The rattle of keys in the front door snapped Osamu from his spiraling torment like a rubberband violently released. He was on his feet in an instant, bare chest heaving from the rapid thundering of his pulse as hurried footsteps approached. There was only the barest glimmer of composure in his expression by the time you came into view, haloed in the soft lighting with your usual unruffled elegance noticeably brittle around the edges.

"Hey, I'm so sorry it took so—" You jolted at the utterly thunderous look twisting Osamu's normally unshakable features. It was as if you'd stepped directly into the crosshairs of a volatile storm system, the roiling tumult threatening to obliterate you where you stood.

"Don't," he bit out through gritted teeth, the words escaping on a scorched exhale. "Whatever excuse ya think ya got, I don't wanna hear it right now."

Your eyes widened fractionally at his harsh tone, so uncharacteristically biting and laced with venom he usually kept on a brutally leashed tether around you. Perhaps you sensed the dangerous inferno searing through Osamu's veins in that loaded moment, the rage and desolation rapidly overriding any attempts at patience or understanding.

"This was s'posed to be our night, just the two of us reconnectin' after so much bullshit strain and distance," Osamu seethed, taking an inadvertent step forward on legs that felt like they may give out from all the unreleased tension. "But ya blew that off, same as everythin' else lately. Can't even be bothered to show up and make an honest try at it—"

"Osamu, that's not fair at all!" You cut him off with a flash of your own bristling defensiveness. "You know this new project has been crazy for everyone in the office lately. Sasaki needed some files finished up for the big meeting tomorrow, so I—"

The mention of that name was like a razor slashing through the final taut threads of Osamu's restraint. His vision whited out momentarily, a primal roar of fury ripping from deep within his straining chest.

"Don't you dare say that snake's name in front of me right now, not after all his bullshit is what caused this whole fuckin' mess!" Osamu bellowed, unable to control the torrent of rage and accusation lashing out in every direction now.

You recoiled as if struck, eyes widening with genuine shock at the venom dripping from Osamu's words. "What the hell are you talking about, Osamu? Bringing Sasaki into this?"

He let out a harsh, derisive bark of laughter completely devoid of mirth. "Don't act so damn clueless! Ya really think I'm blind to everything that's been goin' on lately?"

Whirling away from you, Osamu raked his hands through his disheveled hair with a ragged groan. "Ya can't even be bothered to show up for one goddamn night after promisin' me - promisin' your own husband - that you'd actually make time for us. Instead ya let that wormy son of a bitch take priority over me, over this marriage, just like always!"

He punctuated his outburst by sweeping an arm across the bedside table, sending the sake bottle and plate of fruit clattering to the floor in a violent clatter. You flinched bodily at the outburst, more stunned than anything by the sudden shift into such ferocious rage.

"I don't understand... What does Sasaki have to do with any of this?" you demanded, hands curling into fists at your sides. "He's my colleague, Osamu - my coworker on this huge make-or-break project. You're acting completely insane right now!"

"Oh I'm insane?" he snarled, wheeling back to face you with eyes made incandescent by the inferno of betrayal raging within. "That's rich comin' from the wife who's been slowly driftin' away to give all her time and attention to another man!"

The vicious accusation seemed to hang there, reverberating through the tense silence as Osamu stared you down with heaving breaths. You opened and closed your mouth once, twice, before the hurt and outrage finally burst free in a trembling torrent.

"How dare you..." The whisper was barely audible over the thundering of blood in your ears. "How dare you even suggest that I would...that I could ever..."

You didn't bother finishing the thought, simply hurling it aside as you stalked towards him with fury lending each step a razor's edge. "You bastard! How could you accuse me of something so vile, so unfathomably disgusting?"

Osamu held his ground even as you drove into his space, eyes blazing and jaw so tightly clenched he wondered if molars might start fracturing under the strain. "Well why the hell else would ya keep brushin' me off like some irrelevant afterthought whenever that prick's name gets brought up?"

That earned him a hard shove to the chest that made him stumble back a step. "Because he's my project manager, you insensitive prick! We've been working around the clock to pull this massive deal together, not carrying on some tawdry affair behind your back!"

Osamu opened his mouth, a scathing retort undoubtedly primed to further stoke the raging inferno engulfing you both. But you barreled forward, far too swept up in your own torrent of indignation to give him the chance.

"I can't believe you'd think I was capable of that, of betraying you like that!" You were nearly shouting now, treading the terrifying line of pushing too far with your vehement denial. "Have I really fallen so low in your eyes, Osamu? Have you completely lost all respect for me as your wife just because I've been stressed with work?"

The words seemed to splinter something inside him, shattering the final vestiges of Osamu's tenuous restraint like a wrecking ball through glass. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go - not even remotely close. Yet here you both were, lashing out with scorching recriminations and accusations so poisonous they could permanently scald the bond you'd been fighting so hard to preserve.

The tension escalated rapidly as deep-seated insecurities and resentments came pouring out from Osamu in a torrent of anguished words.

"You think I'm blind?" he rasped, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists at his sides. "I see the way ya talk about him - all admirin' and impressed. Like he's exactly the kinda successful, ambitious man ya wish ya coulda ended up with instead of a guy whose biggest accomplishment is plowin' rice into little seaweed pockets."

Osamu's throat bobbed convulsively, the swell of emotion he'd fought so hard to keep tamped down suddenly rupturing free without restraint. "Don't try denyin' it, darlin'. We both know your family never wanted this for ya - never wanted some third-rate chef as a son-in-law when ya deserved someone who could actually give ya a real, prosperous future."

You opened your mouth to protest - whether to rail against his baseless accusations or to deny the awful truth ringing out from his words, it was impossible to say. But Osamu simply barreled forward, finally giving voice to every twisted vine of anxiety and inadequacy that had been slowly strangling him from the inside out.

"I ain't blind to how impressive that asshole Sasaki must seem in comparison," he forced out in a guttural rasp. "'Course ya had to go fallin' for his fake charms and prestigious career instead of stayin' happy with a foolish dreamer like me who hasn't accomplished a godddamn thing outside the kitchen..."

There was so much raw, visceral pain laced into the venom now, to the point where it seemed to sap the very fire thrumming through Osamu's veins. His shoulders slumped infinitesimally as the next words escaped in a broken exhalation that may as well have torn straight from the tattered remnants of his heart:

"Bet ya regret it nowadays, don't ya? Regret waitin' around for me to finally become a man who deserves someone as outta my league as you..."

The weighted silence that followed could have been sliced with a heated blade. Osamu's chest heaved raggedly with the exertion of finally purging that bottle of poisonous self-loathing and desperate jealousy he'd allowed to steep unchecked for far too long. He couldn't even meet your widened stare, afraid of what condemnation or twisted sense of validation he might find reflecting back in your eyes.

When you finally did speak, the words were laced with a mordant, simmering fury that very nearly made Osamu flinch.

"You absolute fool..." Your voice shook with the sheer effort of leashing your own outrage at such egregiously unfounded accusations. "We've built an entire life together - made innumerable sacrifices and shed blood, sweat and tears to stay by each other's sides against all resistance. And you have the audacity to stand there and suggest I've been regretting my choice the whole time?"

Osamu did flinch then at the naked hurt bleeding into your tone, even as you took a threatening step forward into his space. "You think I give a damn about some uppity corporate suit's status or paycheck? That shallow, meaningless bullshit like money and prestige means anything to me compared to finding a man with the strength of conviction to relentlessly pursue his own dreams and passions?"

Your eyes glittered with unshed tears and something infinitely more searing - the look of utter betrayal that comes from having one's most profoundly held beliefs and principles insulted so grossly. "I chose you, Osamu. Not because I settled or had limited options, but because I saw a fiercely ambitious man who refused to let anything deter him from the path he'd chosen. Who am I to judge or look down on that resolve when it's the very thing that's taken you this far in life and made your wildest dreams into reality?"

You uttered a choked, incredulous bark of laughter then, thumbing away the treacherous moisture from your lashes. "And yet here you are, somehow twisting my admiration and commitment into some kind of damning regret? As if I'd ever be shallow enough to toss away everything we've fought for just because some stuffed shirt made more money than the husband I willingly chose to spend my life with?"

The words hung there, searing into Osamu's skin like a brand of recrimination and disgrace that he knew he'd never fully recover from. His throat worked uselessly as his mouth dried up completely, every fresh inhale feeling like shards of glass being slowly dragged down his esophageal lining.

"Darlin', I—" Osamu's words caught in his throat, the apology and desperate plea for understanding withering on his tongue.

Your expression hardened as you watched him struggle, lips pressed into a flat line. For a tense moment, it seemed like you might indeed turn and storm away, leaving Osamu to wallow in the shattered ruins of his unfounded accusations and misplaced jealousy.

But then your features softened almost imperceptibly. You seemed to truly take in the picture he made - shoulders slumped, eyes downcast with naked shame and regret, hollow ache etched into the lines of his face. Slowly, you bridged the distance between you until you could reach out and gently cup his bristled jaw, coaxing his gaze up to meet yours.

"Oh 'Samu..." you murmured, thumb tracing the sharp plane of his cheekbone. "How long have you been torturing yourself with all these insecurities?"

He worked his jaw but no sound emerged save a ragged exhalation. Osamu felt utterly flayed open and exposed under the weight of your searching stare. As if you could see straight through to the twisted tangle of self-doubt and desperate possessiveness that had steadily tightened its vice-like grip around his heart.

You simply shook your head, features etched with a complicated mixture of sadness, exasperation, and that bone-deep affection he'd watched himself slowly burying over the past weeks and months. "All this time, you've been utterly convinced I was unhappy, that I was regretting my choice to be with you. When the truth couldn't be more opposite..."

Leaning in, you pressed your brow to Osamu's and simply held there for a long, grounding moment. He could feel the featherlight sweeps of your exhales fanning across his skin, smell the warm, comforting fragrance of your hair enveloping his senses. It was like your mere presence acted as a balm against the rawest, most inflamed parts of him.

"I don't know exactly when or how we let ourselves drift so far apart," you eventually continued in a murmur meant only for him. "All I know is how unbearable the distance became, feeling you slipping further and further away from me with each passing day. Maybe I did get too wrapped up in work and missed the warning signs..."

Osamu shuddered out a shaky breath, feeling the knot of shame and guilt inside him swell larger. Your understanding, your infinite well of empathy and wisdom that he'd somehow deluded himself into believing you'd grown contemptuous of - it was all still here, still the most beautiful facet of the woman he'd fallen for all those years ago. How could he have been so blind? So deeply steeped in insecurity and baseless resentments to lash out at you in such a vile manner?

As if sensing his spiraling self-flagellation, you cradled the nape of his neck and pulled him into a searing kiss that he instantly melted into. It was a kiss filled with forgiveness and reaffirmation, a reminder of the profoundly deep love and unwavering devotion you'd sworn to one another through all the hardships thrown your way. When you finally parted, Osamu chased your mouth with a low, plaintive rumble of unvarnished need.

"I'm here, 'Samu," you reassured him with solemn conviction. "We're going to find our way back to each other, just like we always have. But you have to start learning to trust me again. To trust in the choice I made to have you as my partner through everything life throws our way, no matter what."

Osamu could only nod helplessly against the crown of your head, arms tightening their embrace as if you might simply evaporate into the ether without his anchor. He felt hollowed out, scraped raw from finally lancing the fetid well of poisonous emotions he'd allowed to fester for far too long.

But beneath the shame and regret still simmering dimly, a new spark of warmth kindled to life within his chest. You hadn't given up on him, on them, despite his unforgivable lapse of faith. If anything, your understanding and patience seemed to burn brighter in the aftermath of such an explosive confrontation.

"I never stopped trustin' you, darlin'," he rasped out in a voice made husky from the night's tumultuous purging. "Not really. Just got so twisted up in my own bullshit fears of not bein' enough for ya that I...I let it blind me to everythin' else."

Pulling back just enough to brush away the dampness clinging to your lashes, Osamu managed a wan smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ya deserve so much more than some deadbeat who lets his own demons make him lash out at the best thing he's ever had."

You shook your head mutely, fingers tracing the sharp curve of his cheek with infinite tenderness. "That's where you're wrong, 'Samu. I don't want or need anything 'more' than you - than this life and family and partnership we've created together through the years."

Ducking your head, you pressed a soft kiss Just above the thundering pulse at his throat, seeming to savor the solidity of him against your mouth. "Maybe that's where I failed you too. Got so wrapped up in my own career ambitions that I didn't reassure you enough of how precious you are to me."

Osamu shivered at the whisper-light caress of your lips slowly mapping across the column of his neck, your breath fanning in warm gusts against his sensitized skin. There was an achingly familiar heat rapidly rekindling low in his abdomen despite his emotional rawness - like an instinctive, Pavlovian response to your intimate proximity and worship after so much bitter starvation.

"Ya still chose me over everythin' y'know," he managed in a low, strained rasp as your mouth continued blazing an indulgent path towards his collarbone. "Despite all the bullshit expectations and pressures tryin' to push ya towards greener pastures, ya fought to be by my side. Never really understood how that didn't scare a gorgeous, brilliant woman like you away for good..."

A tremor shuddered through Osamu's frame at the deliberate graze of your teeth Just below his ear, the shock of blunted sensation bordering on pain yet stoking the slow smolder between his hips into an inferno. He could feel his cock rapidly stiffening within the loose confines of his sweats, aching arousal pulsing thickly as your mouth meandered lower.

"Maybe the real question..." you purred in a voice gone husky with a new and deliciously different kind of need. "...is whether you think I regret my choice now when you're standing here all hard and fuckable and completely irresistible to me?"

The shockingly filthy endearment combined with the questing path your fingers had begun to blaze down Osamu's abdomen, dipping just below the tempting waistband of his clothes, made his eyelids flutter closed with a harsh exhalation. You knew exactly which of his buttons to push, what incendiary combination of pleasure and praise could undo his restraint at the drop of a hat.

Something wild and ravenous flickered to life behind his lust-glazed eyes as Osamu hauled you flush against him, the evident ridge of his arousal grinding into the soft give of your belly between your bodies. There would be no more talking for the moment, he decided with a low rumble vibrating against your mouth. Just the two of you indulging in the most profoundly intimate form of communication after being starved of it for far too long.

The raw neediness quickly bled away any lingering awkwardness or heavy emotional weight between you. In its place thrummed that deliriously familiar charge - the revved tension of two lifelong partners who knew every intimate tell and trick to unraveling one another with ruthless precision.

"God, I've missed this..." Osamu growled against the swell of your throat, teeth scraping just firmly enough to make you shudder. "Missed havin' ya spread out and whinin' for more of this cock like the rapturous little slut ya are."

You whimpered at the dark timbre of his words, tilting your head back on instinct to bare more of your neck's vulnerable expanse. Despite the crude endearment, you could feel slick arousal already dampening your inner thighs at Osamu's molten promises. This was the raw, unrestrained husband you'd been starving for too - the one who wielded filth and adoration in equally devastating measures.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you taunted breathlessly, raking blunt nails down the ridges of his abdomen. "Fill me up already, make me your whore for wasting so much time..."

A punched-out groan rattled up from Osamu's chest as he hauled you impossibly closer, thick cock twitching insistently against your clothed belly. "Oh I'm gonna take my sweet time, baby girl. Gonna ruin that greedy lil' cunt 'til you're nothin' but a soppy, overstuffed mess beggin' for air..."

There was no more need for foreplay or delicate reintroductions as you both rapidly descended into your basest headspaces. You simply tore at his sweatpants with ravenous impatience until Osamu's thick, flushed length sprang free and into your eager fist. He snarled against the sting of your palm working his shaft in rough, decisive strokes meant to bring him to the very precipice before you'd even entertained the idea of lining him up to your entrance.

But that was the beautiful dance you'd perfected over years of pushing each other's limits - winding one another up into such blazing states of desperation that the eventual payoff was nothing short of psychedelic euphoria. Osamu's huge palms were already shoving up the thin fabric of your top, exposing your bare breasts to his calloused adulation as he rutted shamelessly against your pumping fist.

"Not gonna last if ya keep that up, my gorgeous little cumslut..." he gritted out in a strangled rasp, foregoing any further niceties. "Better start puttin' that cock-hungry mouth to good use already if ya want a chance at gettin' bred tonight..."

Dropping instantly to your knees, you simply quirked a taunting brow up at your husband's wrecked expression before guiding the blunt, drooling tip of his length between your already slicked lips. Osamu gathered your hair in his fist and simply held for a beat, watching the obscene way his swollen girth disappeared in and out of your welcoming warmth with a rapturous expression.

"There's my pretty lil' cockwarmer," he groaned, canting his hips to sink a fraction deeper. "Fuck, been dyin' to have that hot lil' tongue of yours back on my dick..."

The rest of his words melted into a low, animalistic snarl as you bobbed down and swallowed around him, coaxing a fat, pearly droplet of pre-cum from his tip. The rich, salty flavor flooded your senses and made you moan eagerly, the vibrations making Osamu's eyes flutter shut and his cock throb heavily in your grasp.

He looked like a veritable Adonis standing there framed in the moonlight, towering and muscled and utterly, deliciously ruined by the way your lips and tongue were working him over. But the best part was the way he watched you with rapt, devouring attention, utterly spellbound by the lewd, wet sounds emerging from the union of your mouth and his swollen shaft.

It was a heady rush of power to have such a formidable man at the mercy of your mouth - to know you'd driven him so delirious with arousal and affection that he could barely restrain the need to come undone. But you could already feel the telltale tension beginning to tighten in his thighs, the rapid rise and fall of his broad chest as Osamu's breath turned ragged.

"Not gonna last," he finally grunted out in a gravelly rasp, the fingers fisted in your hair clenching involuntarily. "Want my cum all over that pretty lil' face instead of down your throat..."

You simply hummed an eager affirmative, working your fist faster as the wet, rhythmic sounds of suction and friction escalated. The lewd, filthy squelches of you worshipping his cock filled the space, along with the broken, needy groans and muttered obscenities that Osamu couldn't contain anymore.

His hips were snapping forward erratically now, driving his swollen length further and deeper until you were nearly choking. The sight of you kneeling there with his shaft buried down your throat and tears clinging to your lashes made something savage and possessive rear up inside Osamu, something that had been repressed and starved for far too long.

It didn't take more than a few seconds after you hollowed out your cheeks and swirled your tongue around his pulsing girth for him to finally come undone. You felt the instantaneous warning flex and throb of his cock against your tongue, heard the sharp curse ripped from his lips as Osamu spilled his thick, scalding release across your face and the slope of your breasts.

It was an obscene and utterly debauched picture, one that made you moan and rock your hips desperately against nothing as your own arousal flared to a fever pitch. But the look of awe and unhinged lust painted across Osamu's face was more than enough to send a fresh jolt of wetness slicking between your thighs.

He stood there panting for a long moment, staring down at you like the vision straight out of his most depraved dreams. His thumb slowly swept through the thick, pearly ropes painting your skin before tracing the swell of your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open so he could feed you a few decadent, musky drops.

"God, look at that..." Osamu murmured in a gravel-rough voice, gaze glazed over with the kind of pure, primal desire that made you whimper helplessly as he slowly brought you back up to your feet. "Haven’t seen ya like this since our honeymoon, darlin'...Look so damn ravishing with all my cum paintin' that pretty lil' face..."

A breathless gasp punched out of your lungs at the first questing touch between your thighs, the shock of sensation nearly blinding as it ricocheted through you. You were so wound up from sucking his cock that Osamu could have probably slid home without any additional prep, the evidence of that fact seeping from your soaked entrance in a steady trickle.

"Already soaked through yer panties for me, huh?" he purred, thumb stroking your slit teasingly. "What's got ya so worked up, baby girl? Was suckin' my dick really that excitin' for ya?"

Osamu was already tugging aside the drenched scrap of fabric, exposing you completely to the cool night air and his ravenous gaze. He was hard again, already straining against the cradle of your hips as he dragged the fat, glistening head of his cock through your folds.

"Think I remember this bein' the most excitin' part for ya..." he mused, sinking just the tip in and groaning as you immediately clenched and fluttered around him. "When I'd fuck ya slow and sweet, lettin' ya feel every inch as I sank into yer cunt."

A helpless cry wrenched itself from your throat at the first slow, achingly decadent stretch, your spine arching instinctively and hips bucking for more. It was exactly as Osamu remembered, the perfect, sinful way you took him so eagerly - all hot, velvety grip and clenching pressure that drove him steadily closer to the brink.

But the pace was torturously, maddeningly slow - a sensual glide of friction and heat and breathless kisses until you felt like you were about to combust. You clung to him, clawing desperately at his back and shoulders as he pinned you to the wall with his weight, driving his cock into you again and again with a relentless rhythm.

"Oh god...yes..." you whined, voice pitching higher as Osamu's mouth latched onto your throat, teeth sinking in just sharply enough to make you sob. "Fuck, I missed this, 'Samu...filling me up so full of your cock...missed you fucking me like you own me..."

He swore viciously, hips snapping forward so sharply that you could have sworn his tip kissed the deepest reaches of you. Osamu's eyes were glassy and blown black with need, mouth swollen and red from the brutal kiss you'd pulled him into. He looked almost wild, a feral, untamed version of your husband who seemed ready to consume you whole.

"I do own you, baby girl..." he snarled, hand slipping between you to stroke your swollen clit. "This gorgeous little cunt was made for my cock, right? Can't get enough of the way I'm fillin' ya up, can ya?"

You cried out in agreement, legs locking tighter around his waist and nails raking across the planes of his back. Osamu's touch was unerringly precise, knowing just how and where to stimulate you to bring about the most devastating of orgasms. Your head fell back with a wordless wail, body going taut as the pleasure crested and shattered inside you.

Osamu kept driving into you, fucking you through the orgasm and straight towards the next one as he chased his own release. He was babbling filthy nonsense into the crook of your neck, praises and oaths and filth mixed together into a desperate, unintelligible litany. You could feel the slick glide of his cock and the renewed gush of your juices from the overstimulation, the obscene sounds of it all ratcheting your desire higher still.

It wasn't until his cock began to swell and twitch within the grasp of your cunt, spitting ropes of seed deep inside you, that Osamu finally slowed and went boneless against you. He slumped forward, trapping you between his sweat-slicked frame and the wall at your back, still buried to the hilt.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the harsh drags of your breaths and the distant sounds of the ocean lapping at the shore. There was no need for words, just the warm, comforting embrace of a bond and trust renewed.

"We're not done here," Osamu finally rumbled, voice low and raspy with lingering need. "M’ not gonna be satisfied 'til I've had ya in every single room of this place. On the porch. In the kitchen. Even the damn balcony."

A soft, incredulous laugh bubbled up from your chest, but it quickly morphed into a wanton moan when his hips rocked into you. You were already growing wetter, more sensitive, with each languid stroke of his cock.

"I don't think my body could handle a marathon sexcapade like our honeymoon, 'Samu," you managed to gasp out.

A wolfish smirk stretched across his face at the memory of how you'd spent most of your first week together as newlyweds - utterly debauched and insatiable and ravenous for one another.

"We'll see about that, darlin'."

[evilgwrl]

Thinking about sucking Captain Price off while he’s on a business call…

Full lips sudsy with bubbles of spit as you choked on the length that penetrated your throat, sure to leave bruises later. Rough hands wrapped around your hair, making a messy ponytail as he guided you along his cock, your tongue running against the veins as his pubic hair tickled your nose.

“No Laswell, I can organise that myself - fuck - no, I’m okay just stubbed my toe.” His voice hissed as you gargled around his cock, sloppy hand gripping the remainder of his legs, another applying light pressure to his heavy balls that ached with the need to release down your slutty throat.

Spit dribbled down your chin, pooling at your chest as you gagged and moaned along his throbbing member. Price looked down at you, tear drenched eyes staring back as you smiled, soft coo leaving your lips as he began to fuck your throat.

“No I’m fine, just pain in my toe - Jesus Christ - I’ve gotta go,” he practically choked, messy fingers stumbling to end the call as he groaned, your cheeks hollowing out as you kept a rough pace, your eyes never leaving his.

“Fucking dirty whore for me, aren’t you? So desperate to have your mouth on your Captain’s cock that you couldn’t wait 5 minutes?” His voice was rough and degrading, hand gripping tighter around your hair before he held your head at the base of his cock, splutters and chokes filling the room before he pulled back slightly, his hips jutting as he came with a guttural groan, hot pumps of semen sliding down your oesophagus as you swallowed, pulling away from his softening cock as you gasped for air.

He landed a soft pat on your cheek as you sat stationary on your knees, tongue out before he gripped your face, squishing it together.

“Guess you are a good addition to the task force, hm love?”

[ddejavvu]

mean!logan noticing you’re obsessed with his biceps so he makes you use them to get off one day >:)))

Greed - Logan Howlett x Reader

send me mean!logan requests!

contents/warnings: mean!logan, degradation, arm/bicep fucking, strength/power imbalance, don't like don't read

thank you to @hanasnx for helping me workshop some possible positions, even if mine differs slightly from indy's 2 examples i had to consult the arm kink professional for guidance

"'Wish you'd speak up for yourself," Logan grunts one day, voice free of criticism but scrutinizing all the same, "Would be a hell of a lot easier to get you off."

"What?" You blink bewilderedly at him, watching as he slings a wife beater over his head, the white fabric barely stretching to cover his broad chest.

"Every time I flex my arms in front of you, you get all crazy. You never say it," Logan stands at the foot of the bed, watching as you squirm, "But I always smell it."

"Your arms are nice." You supply weakly, throat suddenly dry and hollow, "I like them."

"I know." Logan laughs, a huff that's not mean but might as well be for the way it mortifies you, "Like I said, I can tell. But you never say anything, honey. Why's that?"

You detest the way his attention is fixated solely on you. It makes you writhe in your seat, it makes an ache throb between your legs while your brain desperately grasps at straws to figure out what to say.

"I dunno," Is the brilliant response you land on, and his chest rocks with a silent scoff.

"I know why," He prods, crossing his arms. The arms that you can't stop thinking about. "You think talking about what you like is dirty, and you think you're oh-so-pure. But I can smell you- you smell filthy. You're no saint. I've had you choking on my cock before, you're not fooling me. So what do you want?"

Your eyes fall to his arms without any thought behind the motion. He notices, of course, because he's studying you for any miniscule reaction.

"That's not enough." Logan growls, frustration tinging his gruff voice, and you're sure he's smelling the growing arousal between your thighs, "I said tell me."

"I- I want..." You falter, the words on the tip of your tongue but more raunchy than you'd ever be brave enough to voice.

"If you can't ask for it, you're not getting it." Logan decides, the muscles in his biceps flexing as he tightens the way they're crossed against his chest.

You consider abandoning ship. Seceding into silence, and letting Logan down as well as yourself. Taking the safe route.

But you're throbbing. You're aching, Logan's scrutiny combined with the look of his flexed arms is sending you into overdrive, and there's a steady heartbeat between your thighs that's begging for attention. It works the same way booze does, emboldening you, and you blurt out with courage never-before-seen, "I want to ride your arms."

He looks half impressed that you'd said anything at all, and half stunned that you'd said that much, that plainly.

His brows raise, bushy and angled to create a perfect arch.

"Wow. Pretty nasty stuff." He muses, faux-considerate as if he hadn't demanded a voice from you. Still, he doesn't move- so why had he asked?

You shift gently in your seat, but his eyes track your every move like a hunter.

"Well," He lingers in place, arms still crossed, the perfect eye-candy for you, "You gonna say please, or what?"

"Please," You blurt with burning cheeks, and he snickers at your eagerness.

"See? You're not so sweet." He advances, arms coming uncrossed to brace his weight on the bed, meaning thick cords of muscle strain against the confines of his skin, showcased as he crawls towards you, "You couldn't even remember to say please, just demanded to get off on me like I'm some toy."

"Logan, that's not-"

"Inconsiderate." He decides, eyes on your body instead of your face as he scans over your thinly-clad chest, "You're only in it for the sex, aren't you, you little minx?"

"Stop." You plead, feeling as dirty as his words imply. You're not- Logan is the love of your life, but you won't pretend you hate sex with him. But he's making you feel so dirty, like a fiend who wants nothing but his dick.

His hand trails between your thighs but it's different this time, and his fingers toy with your clit only as a prerequisite. You let him open you up, you let his fingers ease your muscles looser as his mouth eases your own loose. His tongue dips inside and licks you into submission, your brain activity lowering the more he kisses you. He soon snakes his arm between your legs, offering you up your real prize: the thick, muscular width of his bicep.

It's an awkward angle, you won't lie. But squeezing your thighs around his arm presses delicious friction against your clit, and the rocking of your hips is an instinct more than it is a thought-out motion.

Logan rests on his stomach on the bed, his arm stretched out in front of him to provide your seat. It means he has to crane upwards to see you, and you thank his supernatural strength for the way that he doesn't break a sweat as you rub yourself wantonly on his arm. His face is not exactly at your own level, which means you can't kiss him silly like you want to. But craning his neck upwards means that his face lands between your tits, and you feel the rough burn of his scruff against your skin as he nestles into your warm skin.

Logan is, perhaps, the ideal individual to suit your cravings for arm muscles. Not only does he have the perfect build, but his increased strength means that he's able to bare his bicep for you to get off on, even lifting it off of the bed to offer you increased friction. Perhaps a normal man would tire in seconds, but Logan- Logan could hold on longer than you.

Grinding against the plentiful mass of muscle in his bicep means that you're rutting up against him, and you have to spread your legs as far apart as possible to ensure that your cunt is met with the already-slickened surface of Logan's bare arm. You're making a mess despite still being in your pajamas, because the shorts you'd been sleeping in offer very little fabric to defend Logan's skin from your copious arousal.

Logan nips at a spot on your left breast, humming gruffly into your chest as you gasp slightly at the intrusion. It breaks your concentration and you have to grip harder at the sheets to fall back into your laborious rhythm.

"Not easy, hm? You've gotta work for it," Logan grunts, mouth moving against your chest as he takes a nipple into his mouth, "Nasty girl, 's a real workout to fuck this dirty, isn't it?"

"Logan, I- I'm not dirty," You whimper, tears beading in your eyes at his gruff accusations, "I'm not."

His laugh is more of a bark than anything, and he ducks his head away from your chest to point with his chin at the mess you're making on his arm.

"That's not dirty? You're dripping- you're making a real mess'a my arm, sweetheart. Dirty little cunt's drooling all over me."

The image of your slick coating Logan's arm, glistening against his muscles throws your pleasure into overdrive. Your orgasm rapidly approaches, the memory of his fingers inside of you only minutes before making up completely for the lack of penetration you get from his bicep. You squeeze your thighs even tighter around Logan's arm, pinning it to your cunt with an almost painful force as you hump against it desperately.

"You're fucking filthy." Logan hisses against your tits, taking one in between his teeth and biting, hard, "Humping my arm like a damn dog. Feel good, honey? Feel how strong I am?"

He flexes harder, tenses his muscles just that much more, and you feel them stiffen impossibly harder beneath your pussy. It's that and the way he mouths at your tits, growling such indecent accusations into their flushed warmth that sends you over the edge, a feeble cry escaping your lips as your hips begin trembling, twitching as you grind against his arm impossibly faster to fulfil your orgasm.

You're sure the bedsheets have suffered your release as much as Logan's arm has, but he's never seriously chided you for making a mess, and you're sure he won't this time. He groans himself as you ride through your orgasm on his arm and you realize only now as you come down from your high that he's been rutting against the mattress, cock still trapped in the confines of his sweatpants. If he hasn't managed to get off on the mattress you'll help him now, granting him access to all the slick warmth that his arm provided.

Now the pressure of his bicep is overstimulating as it presses constantly against your cunt and you ease off of it, giving Logan a prime view of your ruined, sensitive cunt as you whine at the sensitivity.

"Impressive," He hums, "Never thought I'd have you rubbing all over my arm like that."

"It's really strong. You're- you're really strong, Logan, it's nice."

"Yeah?" He grins, more of a smirk perhaps, as something sharp invades his eyes, "All that muscle gets you going? Knowing I'm stronger than you?"

"You are," Your breath shudders as you let it out, and he pushes up on his arms, one still covered in your slick release. He seems suddenly intent on showcasing that strength difference, muscles bulging as he crawls across the mattress to slot himself on top of your fucked-out form.

"I am." He agrees, mouth pressing hungrily to yours as the same arm you'd just got off on curls around your back and cements you to him, his hips already rutting against your own, "Wanna find out how much stronger I am?"

"Yes. Logan, yes, I-" He seizes your mouth in another kiss, cutting off your desperate pleas.

"Fucking try to move." He grunts, almost a growl with how guttural and gruff it sounds against the hollow of your parted lips as his other hand holds your hip firmly, almost crushingly in place, "I'll pin you down 'n hold you still, greedy girl."

[blessedmisery]

✰ cw; gun play, use of daddy, size kink

toji holds a gun to your head when he fucks you.

"eyes on me doll, wouldn’t want me to use this on ya would you?" he drawls, pressing the cold barrel of his loaded gun against your temple. sweat beads at your forehead and your eyelids grow heavier as you ride him for the fourth fucking time in a row. you're exhausted and fucked out by this point but he won't let you stop— and with a gun pressed to your head, you're not exactly willing to take that risk yourself.

why was his gun such an active participant in your sex? you didn’t actually know. but you what you did know, was that toji loved to fuck with you—loved to push and prod just to see how far he could take things with you. and to him, this was just another one of his twisted little mind games. he wanted to see what a pretty, innocent thing like you looked like when you came undone.

you let out a small yelp as he spanks the soft flesh of your ass, a sharp sting lingering in its wake. "ah- toji" you whine desperately, hoping he'll be merciful tonight and let you off after this round. wishful thinking.

"fuckin' whore, makin' daddy do all the work huh?" he snarls, tightening his bruising grip on your waist and pushing his hips up into you, practically splitting you open on his fat cock. toji is so fucking thick—despite this being the fourth time you're getting stretched out on his cock just tonight, it still fucking hurts.

"m-meanie" you utter, choking back a heavy sob. your thighs tremble around his, barely able to move another inch. and because of this, his patience with you has reached the end of the line. he's holding nothing back, fucking his cock up into you, rougher and deeper with each thrust—so deep that his fat tip hits your cervix, every. fucking. time.

toji chuckles deeply at your pathetic attempt at an insult. so cute. you flinch a little as he removes the gun from your temple and slowly drags it down the length of your body, passing over the sensitive skin on your nipples and pausing right below your belly button—right where the bulge of his thick length is visibly pressing from deep inside you.

"such a tight fuckin' pussy—fuck" he groans, dick throbbing with pleasure as he releases his warm seed inside of your tight, wet cunt again. you exhale shaky breaths, your aching hips just beginning to rise off his cock when the cold tip of his gun presses into the hollow of your neck, sending a jolt of fear through your entire body, locking you in place.

"i didn't fucking say we were done" he hissed, a rough hand pushing you back down on his cock. looks like the night was far from over for you.

[eupheme]

— show me, sweetheart

logan howlett x f!reader

rated e | 700 words

tags: PiV, come play / eating / swapping, logan pov, multiple rounds, mating pressss, just pure filth

logan never leaves a job half-done.

His cock still throbs, when he finally eases out of you.

Hands still gripping your waist - claws half-punched through whitened knuckles, edged with red. Hips still rutting into the air, letting himself drip down against your swollen cunt.

Marking you, from the inside out.

As good as it feels to spill inside you, it’s this moment that Logan likes the best. Bliss still humming in his veins, as his hand wraps around.

Making sure every drop is spent where it should, making sure he gleams across your skin.

Parted lips that match yours, panting out a breath as you drift back down from your own high. Wrecked beneath him, a gasp pushed from you when his hands hook beneath your knees.

Pushing leaden legs up, then open. Shameless in the way his eyes drop, to see how you gape in his absence.

“Come on.” He rasps. “Lemme see.”

Logan’s name comes out hushed.

Cute, how embarrassed you are.

As if you weren’t begging for him a moment ago. Greedy for his touch. For his come, wanting it spent deep inside you.

He gave it all to you, and now you owe him.

A slight edge slipping into his voice.

“Show me, sweetheart.”

The rough and commanding sound makes you clench, but it’s what he wants. Pretty and empty and he think you must be aching to be filled again, with the way he watches himself bead up inside you.

Spilling over.

“Fuck.” It’s hissed out through gritted teeth.

He lowers. Head pressed against a thigh, hearing the way your pulse gallops beneath your skin.

Gathering himself up. Two fingers fitting inside you as he pushes his come back in - groaning at how wet and warm you are around him, gripping him from fingertip to knuckle.

It’s filthy, the sounds you make. The moan paired with the lewd pump of his fingers. Pitching high when he can’t resist the urge to taste the way you blend together.

The flat of his tongue tracing from filled hole to clit, then back again. A pleased hum when you clamp down around him, bucking into his mouth each time.

Another lazy lick before he’s moving, all thick muscle and sinew - fingers withdrawing as your thighs are pushed up towards you chest again.

Your slick and his release smeared across your skin, as his mouth presses to yours. Lips parting for the swipe of his tongue, a muffled moan when he passes himself to you. Deepening it, until he’s all you can taste.

“Again, yeah?” His nose ghosts across your cheek, when the kiss finally breaks. Nuzzling his face the hollow beneath your ear, inhaling.

Your body arches against his, “Yes.”

Always yes.

Always more, and something in his chest tightens at the thought of him being the one to give this to you.

A hand slips down in answer, wrapping around his cock. Guiding it back inside, a sharp snap of his hips as he drives himself home.

Even after everything, you still hiss as you make room for him. Toes curling as your legs flex - knees digging into his ribs.

“Shit,” He growls, low in your ear, “There we go. Atta girl.”

Reveling in the bite of your nails, as your arms wind around his neck. Scraping against his shoulders as he swallows your moan.

Bottoming out until he’s back where he belongs, crushing himself flush against the folded curve of your body.

The cold kiss of his dog tags against heated skin as he fucks down into you, again and again. The bed creaking with the force of his weight, as his spread knees digging into the mattress.

Close enough to hear each and every breath pushed from your lungs. The ragged gasps that pitch higher when his cock pounds against that spot inside you, again and again.

It send a rush of warmth through him. A tightening in his core with each sharp plunge of his hips - but tonight, he lets that feeling build.

Chasing it, even - a rough growl against your throat, when he feels you start to stiffen beneath him in anticipation.

The tell-tale whimper that tells him you’re close - nails piercing already-healing flesh. A permission to let himself follow, as soon as he feels you pulse around him, once more.

Because after all, if his girl wants to be filled-

Then he’s sure he’s got a few more rounds in him.

thank you so much for reading! 💕

[whosashan]

SELF-DOUBT

Pt. 2

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x reader (reader is implied to be the MC in Caleb's part)

SYNOPSIS: Doubt creeps in, unraveling the fragile thread between you, pulling you further from him before anything even takes shape. (relationship not established)

A/N: I wrote this with a glint of mischief—hope you enjoy it!

Xavier

You sat on a bench, swallowed by the vast silence of the night. Darkness draped over you like a heavy cloak, its quiet lull almost enough to pull you into slumber. Almost. But no matter how exhausted you were, sleep never came. The streets stretched empty before you, hollow and waiting, save for the restless whisper of leaves dancing in the wind.

Beside you sat a half-empty bottle of wine, an offering to quiet the storm in your mind. But instead of drowning your thoughts, it only seemed to amplify them, making every ache more vivid, every insecurity more unbearable.

You were burning—boiling in the realization of how effortlessly Xavier existed.

How carelessly he moved through life, how mistakes never seemed to chain him down. He would stumble, but he would never fall. And if he did, he would rise again, never sparing the past a second glance.

He was magnetic in ways he didn’t even try to be. People were drawn to him, lured by something unseen, something inexplicable. A presence so commanding, so sure. The kind of certainty you would never know.

And you—you were nothing like him.

Every small misstep clung to you like an unforgiving shadow, dragging you back, keeping you tethered to doubt. You were plain where he was extraordinary. Silent where he was effortlessly captivating. A mere bystander in the presence of someone who burned so brightly, he could outshine even the stars.

You exhaled sharply, pressing your palms against your temple, trying to steady yourself.

You were unfit for him.

He was a constellation—distant, celestial, unreachable. While you were the remnants of a flower long past its bloom, wilting under the weight of your own self-doubt. Once, perhaps, you had been something more. But now? Now you were just a shell of what you wished to be.

The thought alone made your head throb, your chest ache in that quiet, suffocating way that reminded you you were still alive.

How ridiculous—how utterly foolish—to believe you could ever be his equal. That you could be worthy of his attention, his time, his kindness. The very same kindness so many others already fought for, already deserved far more than you ever could.

Your gaze drifted upward, meeting the expanse of the sky. A tear slipped free, streaking down your flushed cheek. You let it fall. For once, you wished you could have something that was meant to be yours. Just one thing. Just this.

But fate had never been kind. And you had long since learned that some wishes were never meant to be answered.

Your phone buzzed, the brightness of the screen making you squint.

"You up?"

Xavier.

Probably wanting to watch a movie, play that new game he wouldn’t stop talking about. Something easy, something simple.

But doubt had already woven its way into your bones. You weren’t going to reply. You weren’t going to pretend.

And then, the phone rang.

You should have ignored it. You should have let it ring into oblivion. But maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the ache in your chest—whatever it was, you answered.

"So you're not asleep."

His voice was soft, wrapped in that familiar gentleness you had always admired. No matter what happened, no matter what he said, there was always that warmth beneath his words.

It was unbearable.

"You should stop contacting me." The words spilled from your lips before you could stop them, sharp and cruel, colliding violently with the tenderness of his voice. "I don’t want to speak to you."

A lie. A desperate, pathetic lie.

Silence. You could almost picture his expression—the slight furrow in his brows, the way his lips would part just slightly in confusion.

"What are you talking about?" His voice, once steady, wavered with the weight of worry. "What happened?"

You hated it. Hated that he cared. Hated that he was giving you an out, a chance to explain. Hated that he was proving, yet again, that he was good, too good.

And you? You were selfish. Weak.

"Goodnight, Xavier."

You didn’t wait for his response. Didn’t let yourself hesitate. You hung up, turned off your phone, and let the silence settle in.

It was just you and the stars now.

You wondered if he was looking at them too. If he could feel the weight of your absence the way you felt the unbearable gravity of his presence.

For now, you convinced yourself you were doing him a favor. Letting him go. Giving him the freedom to chase something greater, something more.

Because that something could never be you.

Zayne

Zayne was the kind of man who belonged to the world. A man of purpose, of unwavering resolve—one who mended shattered lives and stitched together the fragile threads of existence. He was a savior, a beacon, the kind of person people clung to in their darkest moments, the reason they saw another sunrise.

And you hated how much you envied him.

Because you, too, had once longed to be someone like that—needed, irreplaceable. Someone whose absence would be felt, whose existence bore meaning beyond the mundane. But the truth was far less poetic. You were no savior, no guiding light. You were painfully, cruelly ordinary.

Drifting through life on autopilot, grasping at dreams that always seemed just beyond reach. And then there was him—Zayne, the ever-composed gentleman. The embodiment of grace under pressure. Always calm. Always certain. Always right. And perhaps, in some twisted way, that certainty made you resent him. Because deep down, a part of you whispered—maybe you could have been that, too. Maybe, in another life, you would have stood beside him as an equal.

But you weren’t his equal. You were a footnote in his story, an afterthought. And it was foolish—so terribly foolish—to believe you had ever belonged in his orbit. To think, even for a fleeting moment, that you were worthy of his time, his presence, his affection.

Yet a quiet, desperate part of you clung to the fragile hope that perhaps—just perhaps—he needed something ordinary to anchor his brilliance. That in the midst of his immaculate world, he might have craved something simple, something real. That maybe, against all logic, there had been a space for you beside him.

But hope was a dangerous thing. And you had long since learned to silence it.

The notification of a new message shattered the silence of your thoughts. You glanced at your phone, breath hitching as Zayne’s name appeared on the screen.

"You’ve been awfully quiet these past couple of days. Is something bothering you?"

Your fingers hovered over the screen, but you didn’t type a response. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

You had become quite skilled at keeping your distance. At building walls around the parts of yourself that longed for him in ways you couldn’t control. And now, as your feelings for him grew into something perilous, something unbearable, your instinct was to retreat. To destroy what little remained before it could destroy you.

You prayed he wouldn’t push. That he would let you slip away unnoticed. But deep down, you knew better. Because Zayne was kind. So painfully, frustratingly kind. And his kindness made you furious.

You didn’t want his concern. You didn’t want his pity.

And then—the phone rang.

You stared at it, heartbeat hammering in your ears. For a moment, you almost answered. Almost let yourself believe in the impossible.

But instead, you let it ring.

It was better this way. That’s what you told yourself. That’s what you would keep telling yourself, over and over again, until the bitterness was all that remained.

Every time you stepped outside your apartment, a quiet dread curled around your ribs, squeezing tight. You feared crossing paths with him—not because you despised him, but because you feared what his presence would unravel within you. Would he say anything? Would he even care?

You followed a familiar path, the one your feet had traced countless times before. The setting sun stretched long, spindly shadows across the pavement, casting the world in hues of gold and sorrow. The evening breeze whispered against your skin, grounding you in the present, yet your mind was elsewhere—trapped in memories you had no strength to relive.

You sought solace in the scent of coffee beans and freshly baked pastries, in the soft murmur of a café that had once been a haven. But even that, it seemed, was not yours to keep.

As you scanned the display, preparing to order, a voice—low, steady, unmistakable—cut through the air behind you.

"A slice of cheesecake for me, and—" a pause, deliberate and weighted, "_____ for the lady."

Your heart clenched. Heat bloomed in your cheeks. You didn’t turn around—you couldn’t. But your fingers curled at your sides as if bracing for impact.

He remembered.

Even after everything, he still remembered.

Silence stretched between you like a fragile thread, taut with everything left unsaid. You should have walked away. You should have spoken, filled the empty space with something, anything. But hope—foolish, insidious hope—kept you rooted in place.

"Would you grant me a moment of honesty?" His voice, smooth and measured, held an undertone you couldn't quite place. A plea? A demand? Perhaps both.

You swallowed, your gaze fixed on the counter. "I'm not sure what you'd like to talk about."

"Come now," he said, his tone impossibly gentle, "do not insult my intelligence—or yours—by feigning ignorance. We are both aware of the distance you have so carefully placed between us. I only wish to understand why."

There it was. Direct, articulate, impossible to misinterpret.

Panic stirred in your chest, a quiet, insistent thing.

"Zayne, please—"

"Please what?" His voice softened, yet his words remained precise, deliberate. "Pretend I have not noticed your absence? Ignore the way you avert your gaze, as if the very sight of me has become a burden you can no longer bear? Is that truly what you wish of me?"

Your breath hitched.

"Sometimes," you whispered, "some things are best left unknown."

You turned before he could see the way your expression crumbled. Before he could see the way your hands trembled at your sides.

The café door chimed as you stepped outside. The reason you had come here in the first place—the pastry he had ordered for you—lay forgotten.

But he didn’t follow.

He didn’t reach for you.

And that, somehow, was the cruelest part of all.

Left standing in the empty hollow of your own choices, you wondered—was this truly the only way? Or had you simply chosen the path that hurt the most, just to prove to yourself that you still felt something at all?

Rafayel

It was all too easy to drown in self-doubt when standing beside Rafayel.

He moved through life with an effortless grace, as if uncertainty had never dared lay its hands on him. Confidence clung to his every step, an unshakable certainty in the way he spoke, the way he created, the way he existed. No matter the circumstance, he would find a way—because that’s just the kind of person he was.

And you? You were a spectator in his orbit, a mere shadow to his brilliance.

You hated how easily he captivated others, how rooms seemed to hush when he entered, drawn in by the cruel beauty he possessed—not just in his features, but in his very being. There was something infuriatingly magnetic about him, something that made people linger, hoping for even a fraction of his attention.

And you? You lingered too.

Not because of his art, though his talent was undeniable. Not because of the way the world adored him, though it was impossible to ignore. But because he was him—a force of nature, a storm and a masterpiece all at once.

You tried to keep up, you truly did. But no matter how quickly you ran, he was always ahead. Already reaching new heights, already standing atop mountains you hadn’t even begun to climb.

Rafayel was the ocean—vast, unknowable, and devastatingly beautiful. Deep with mysteries, with uncharted depths you would never be allowed to explore. You had always been afraid of drowning, but with him, you almost welcomed it.

How pathetic.

You resented how easily he had wrapped you around his finger, how effortlessly he kept you tethered without even noticing. You were there, always there, like a loyal dog at his heels, waiting for scraps of attention, pretending it was enough.

But it wasn’t. And deep down, you had always known it wouldn’t be. You wanted to be selfish, just this once.

Because one day, he would move on. He would walk into a world filled with greater things, greater people, and you would be left behind—forgotten, discarded, chained to memories he would not care to revisit.

You refused to let that happen. You refused to be another fleeting thing in his life, another season passing unnoticed. So, you did the only thing you knew how to do—you vanished before he could make the choice himself. You let yourself slip away, gradually, like the last breath of winter surrendering to spring.

Your phone buzzed. Unread messages. Missed calls. His name appearing again and again on the screen.

You read them. Or, at least, you skimmed the words before doubt crept in, wrapping itself around your throat like an invisible hand. You couldn’t do this. Couldn’t let him see you like this, drowning in the weight of emotions you could never voice.

"Cutieee, did you forget about my art exhibit??? You were supposed to be there."

No, it was better this way. You would return to the life you had before him—a quiet, simple life, untouched by the chaos he had introduced into your world. A life of routine, of predictability. That was what you needed, wasn’t it?

Then why did it feel like suffocating?

You exhaled, sinking deeper into the couch. The room was messier than usual—evidence of his recent visit, his presence lingering in every overturned book, every misplaced sketch, every forgotten jacket draped over the chair.

You refused to clean it up. Not yet.

Not yet.

Your fingers hovered over your phone, mindlessly scrolling—until an advertisement flashed across the screen.

His new exhibit. His name in bold letters, his work displayed for the world to marvel at.

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that would erase the ache in your chest. As if it would silence the part of you that still longed to be near him, even now.

But longing was dangerous. It was cruel, deceptive.

Your jaw tightened as you closed your phone, fingers moving with practiced finality. One tap. Then another.

Blocked.

You shut your eyes, swallowing down the lump in your throat, willing yourself to believe the lie you had been repeating for days.

It’s okay.

You’ll figure it out.

Even if it kills you.

Sylus

The night air curled around you like an old lover—cold, indifferent, familiar. It filled your lungs, sharp and biting, yet no matter how deeply you inhaled, it wasn’t enough. You were suffocating, drowning in something invisible, something that clung to your ribs like a parasite.

The glass of wine in your trembling hand felt like an anchor. Heavy, grounding. The very same wine Sylus had once recommended, his voice smooth as he described its velvety texture, its lingering finish. You had listened, hung onto every syllable, because that was what you did with him. You listened. You remembered. You cared. And you hoped he did, too.

Your reflection in the glass balcony doors was pitiful—ruined mascara streaking your face like ghostly remnants of hope, smudged lipstick from where you had worried at your lip too many times. You looked desperate. Because you were desperate. And wasn't that the most humiliating thing?

You were nothing more than a fool playing house in a mansion you were never meant to enter. A child trying to hold onto a storm and then crying when it slipped through their fingers.

Because it had slipped.

You had slipped.

Sylus had made you believe, even if only for a fleeting moment, that you could be something—someone—to him. That you were different, special. That the way his gaze lingered meant something, that his rare smiles were meant for you alone.

What a lie. What a cruel, beautiful lie.

You tilted your head back and emptied your glass in one swallow. The burn was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the fire in your chest.

Foolish.Pathetic.Naïve.

You had let yourself believe you could matter to a man like Sylus.

Sylus, who was untouchable. Who could have anything and anyone. A man whose very presence commanded rooms, whose name carried weight heavier than entire empires. He was revered, feared, an unstoppable force of nature.

And you?

You were nothing.

A momentary amusement, an interlude between greater things.

The worst part?

He had never once given you a reason to think this way. Never lied to you. Never made empty promises.

No—this was all you. Your own mind, your own doubts, curling around you like a noose, squeezing, whispering, you are not enough, you were never enough, you will never be enough.

Your phone buzzed against the railing, the sudden vibration slicing through the quiet. You didn't need to look to know who it was.

Sylus.

Of course.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, but you didn’t answer. Not yet. Instead, you let your eyes fall to the lock screen, to the photo you refused to delete—Sylus, asleep, his features unguarded, softened in a way you rarely got to see. It had been a stolen moment, a cruel mercy the universe had given you, because you had wanted to believe he was yours in that moment.

But he wasn’t.

And he never would be.

Your chest ached so deeply it felt like your ribs would crack under the pressure.

You should block his number. End it now before it consumes you whole.

But you couldn’t. Because you were weak. Because even now, when every voice in your head screamed at you to run, you wanted him to call again.

You wanted him to tell you you were wrong.

You wanted him to chase after you, to demand answers, to prove you wrong.

But he wouldn’t.

Because Sylus didn’t need you.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the most painful part of it all.

With a heavy exhale, you turned off your phone, shutting out the only person who had ever made you feel alive.

For now, you would convince yourself this was the right choice.

That you were doing this to protect yourself.

That you weren’t just running away before he had the chance to leave first.

Caleb

Oh, how much you loved and hated that man.

Caleb, the golden child. The one who had always been effortlessly everything.

The one who turned heads when he entered a room—not just because of his sharp jaw or the way his stupidly soft hair always fell into his eyes, but because he was Caleb. Because he had that energy, that confidence, that natural magnetism that made people want to be close to him.

And you—well, you were just the one who had always been there.

The one who followed a step behind, the one who laughed at his ridiculous jokes even when they weren’t funny, the one who made sure he stayed grounded when his reckless nature got the best of him. His constant. His safe place.

But never his choice.

Never the one he reached for in the way you reached for him.

You let out a slow breath, staring at the ceiling of your dimly lit room, your fingers gripping your phone like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality. The screen glowed softly, Caleb’s name lighting up in the dark.

Missed call.

Another missed call.

A message: "Pipsqueak, Where are you? You good?"

It was almost funny. Caleb always knew when something was wrong. Always had that frustrating intuition when it came to you.

And yet—he never really knew.

He didn’t know what it was like to stand beside someone so bright, so undeniable, and feel like you were flickering out. Like you were just background noise in a song that was never really yours.

You clenched your jaw, heart twisting painfully. It was suffocating—this love, this stupid, unwanted love that had lodged itself in your ribs, too deep to remove without destroying something vital.

God, how had it come to this?

When had your best friend become the thing that hurt you the most?

You weren’t even sure when the shift happened. Maybe it was the first time you realized how beautiful he looked under streetlights, his laughter warm enough to make your chest ache. Or maybe it was when you started noticing the way his lips curved just slightly before he smirked—like he already knew exactly what you were thinking. Maybe it was the nights he snuck to your room just to ramble about some nonsense, and you let yourself believe—for those fleeting moments—that you were the person he wanted to be with.

Maybe it had always been this way, and you were just too blind, too hopeful to acknowledge it.

But hope was a dangerous thing. And you were so tired of losing to it.

Your phone buzzed again. Another call.

You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers trembling.

You wanted to answer.

You wanted to hear his voice, let him pull you back in with that stupid, teasing warmth, let him fix this in the way only Caleb could—without even realizing what needed fixing.

But you couldn’t.

Because every second you spent with him, you fell a little deeper. And Caleb… Caleb never even noticed he was holding the rope that could either pull you up or let you drown.

Your throat burned as you stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the call.

And for a moment—just a moment—you let yourself imagine what it would be like. If you answered. If you told him everything. If you laid your heart bare and let him see just how much of it he had taken without even trying.

Would he laugh? Would he be kind? Would he let you down gently, tell you that you were important to him, but not in the way you wanted?

Or worse—would he pity you?

The thought made something inside you shatter.

No.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t let yourself be that vulnerable.

So instead, you did what you had always done. You swallowed the ache, buried the yearning deep where he would never find it, and turned off your phone.

Maybe in another life, things would have been different.

Maybe in another life, Caleb would have looked at you the way you looked at him.

But in this one?

You were meant to love him in silence.

And he was never meant to hear it.

[losermuse]

CW: 18+ (mdni), fem!reader, fingering, cunnilingus, rimming, deepthroat, squirting. AN: very short and rushed before I go to sleep. I just need this out from my brain!!

69 with Caleb, but he seems to have forgotten this is supposed to be mutual. You don’t know how long it’s been. Your jaw aches, your lips stretched wide around his cock, but he hasn’t let up for a second. 

His grip on your hips is firm, keeping you pressed against his face as he devours you like a man starved. The wet sounds of his mouth working against your cunt fill the room, obscene and relentless, while his cock throbs heavily on your tongue.

You try to keep up. Try to take more of him as you hollow your cheeks, the little hairs at the base tickling your nose as you press deeper but the way he’s eating you out makes it impossible to focus. Every time you suck him deeper, his mouth drags over your clit just right, sending sparks through your body, making your legs shake around his head.

He notices, of course.

Caleb hums against you, that smug bastard, his tongue dipping deep before dragging slow, torturous circles over your clit. With no warning, two thick fingers plunge inside you, stretching you open. His pace is slow at first, teasing, and testing, before he picks up speed, curling them just right. Your body reacts instantly, clenching around him, dripping down his wrist.

You don’t even realise you’ve stopped sucking him off, too lost in the way he’s working you open, fucking you with his fingers while his tongue flicks against your swollen clit.

And then his mouth moves higher.

A sharp gasp catches in your throat as he trails wet kisses past your entrance, his fingers still pumping deep inside you. He licks over the tight ring of muscle below, pressing a slow and deliberate kiss there before dragging his tongue over the sensitive skin. Heat rushes through you, making your back arch.

By now, you’ve lost count of how many times he’s made you cum. Three? Five? It doesn’t matter. Your body feels like it’s floating, overstimulated and boneless, while Caleb is still devouring you like he’s just getting started.

“Caleb—” Your voice is wrecked, muffled around the thick length in your mouth.

He pulls off just long enough to rasp against your dripping heat, “Go on. Make a mess for me, baby.”

You whimper, fingers tightening around his cock, stroking him lazily, feeling the heavy weight of him on your tongue. He twitches, precum spilling onto your lips, salty and thick, but you barely have time to swallow before he’s back to devouring you.

Your body locks up as pleasure hits you like a tidal wave, your thighs trembling violently around his head. A desperate moan rips from your throat as you gush all over his face, soaking his jaw, his chin, and the sheets beneath you.

Caleb groans like he feels it, like the way you come undone on his tongue is better than his own release. He doesn’t stop and will not stop until he’s wrung every last shudder from your body. He needs you spent and twitching beneath him.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his lips glistening and his expression dark with hunger. His cock is still hard, aching, neglected, a mess against your lips.

He swipes a thumb across his mouth, tasting you, before murmuring, "Now, be a good girl and clean me up."

[imgoodimhealthy]

nct dream reactions

arguing with them because of their idol life

— mark, renjun, jeno, haechan, jaemin, chenle, jisung.

— angst, comfort, established relationship

note: i almost dropped this one, too busy to continue but glad i did so:) ++ this is what i imagined them to be, some are too angsty for liking hehe.

MARK:

"im just tired, i was saying that maybe we could just talk this out tomorrow.." mark’s voice wavered, trying not to raise it too much. he feared that being louder would make things worse, like his words would carry a weight he couldn’t take back. his body ached from the long day at work. back-to-back meetings, endless demands, and managers breathing down his neck had drained every ounce of energy he had left. his head throbbed, and his limbs felt heavy, as if even standing was a struggle.

you scoffed, arms crossed tightly against your chest. "you always say that! you always keep saying tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow! at this point, our relationship feels like a joke!" your voice cracked, but you refused to back down, standing right in front of him with your brows tightly knit together. your chest rose and fell quickly, frustration coursing through your body like a storm that wouldn’t settle.

mark sighed deeply, rubbing his face with both hands as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion clinging to him. "fuck, i just need some rest!" his voice was rough, more desperate than angry, but the sharpness of it still cut through the room like a blade.

you flinched, your eyes widening slightly. he never sounded like that — not at you. your grip on your sleeve tightened, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

mark slowly lowered his hands, and when he finally opened his eyes, he looked wrecked. his shoulders slumped like he was carrying the weight of the entire day, and his gaze softened when he saw the way you took a small step back. panic flickered across his face, and he reached out instinctively. "please, y/n... fuck, im sorry. okay? im tired, hey-" his fingers barely grazed your arm before you slapped his hand away.

the sting of rejection lingered on his skin, but he let his hand drop to his side, fingers curling into a loose fist.

"let's just talk tomorrow," you muttered, echoing his words in a bitter tone. you didn’t look at him as you opened the door of the apartment, stepping out without another glance. mark stood frozen in place, staring at the closed door. his chest tightened, his heart hammering painfully as the silence settled in. he felt everything and nothing all at once, the ache in his body now overshadowed by the hollow feeling in his chest.

RENJUN:

"i need to go, i just can't skip that. they were waiting for me," renjun explained, already grabbing his bag as he spoke. his voice was steady, but his movements were sluggish, still weighed down by yesterday's sickness.

you stepped in front of him, blocking his path with a worried look. "no, you were literally sick just yesterday. what can one day of rest hurt them?" your voice softened, but your concern was loud. you searched his face, hoping he’d change his mind, hoping he’d choose to take care of himself just this once.

renjun stopped, his fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. he let out a slow breath, his brows furrowing as he looked at you. "look, i know you're worried, but i can take care of myself," he said, voice laced with frustration. "i don’t need you to always remind me of things i already know."

and that. that hit you like a punch to the chest.

your arms slowly dropped to your sides, and you stared at him, blinking as his words echoed in your head. your chest ached, and you swallowed hard, trying to push down the hurt rising inside you.

renjun’s face fell the moment he saw your expression shift. he realized what he’d said, and regret immediately washed over him like a cold wave. "hey..." he muttered, stepping closer, "look, i’m fine, okay? i was sick yesterday, but not anymore —"

you turned your head away, cutting him off with a quiet, "just go."

renjun froze, his heart sinking. his fingers twitched at his side, torn between reaching out and giving you space. the room felt unbearably quiet, the tension so heavy it was almost suffocating. he stood there for a moment, staring at the door, then at you.

"i won’t go..." he whispered, barely loud enough to hear.

you looked at him, confusion flickering across your face. "what?"

renjun slowly sat down on the corner of his bed, his shoulders slumping as he rested his elbows on his knees. he rubbed his hands together, staring down at the floor. "i won’t go anymore," he repeated, voice steadier this time.

you took a hesitant step toward him, still unsure if you heard him right. "but... you said it’s important," you reminded him, your voice quieter now.

renjun finally looked up, his eyes tired but filled with something gentler. "not anymore," he said, shaking his head. "if it means losing you, then it’s not important anymore."

JENO:

you looked at him, frustration burning in your chest. "so you're just not going to acknowledge it?" your voice cracked as you scoffed, eyes locked on him, searching for some kind of remorse or understanding.

he met your gaze, his own filled with exhaustion. "acknowledge what? what did i do again?" his voice wavered, not with anger at you but at the situation — the cycle you both kept falling into. he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as he tried to keep his composure.

he hated feeling this way. he hated feeling like loving you drained him more than it should. he loved you so much it hurt, but sometimes, he wondered if love alone could fix everything.

"you were literally in a dating rumor with someone else!" you snapped, stepping closer as your chest heaved with each word. "how am i supposed to react to that? be happy? congratulate you?" your voice shook, laced with hurt and betrayal.

he blinked at you, disbelief washing over him like a cold shower. his heart pounded, and he felt his head spinning. "it was a dating rumor, y/n," he said, voice breaking as he tried to steady his breath. "how am i supposed to stop it? do you want me to post on my socials and spell it out? say it isn’t real? it’s not that deep — they’re just rumors. you’re the one i’m with. you’re the one i love," he pleaded, stepping closer as if closing the distance would fix everything.

but you stepped back.

"i feel like you’re not even doing much," you said, voice quieter but sharper, like a blade slipping between ribs. "if you wanted to, you would."

he closed his eyes, sighing so deeply his chest caved in. "not every time can i do what i want," he muttered, voice rough from exhaustion. "you know how the industry works, y/n. i can’t just go out there and say whatever i want... even if i want to scream it to the world."

you looked at him, chest tightening. "so you’re all talk and no effort?" your words hit like a slap, and he flinched.

he swallowed hard, his hands trembling at his sides. "i’ve been trying so hard to make an effort..." he whispered, voice thick with unshed tears. he looked at you, eyes glassy and desperate. "was it never enough for you? was i never enough?"

HAECHAN:

"wait for me, i'll come over quick." his voice was urgent as he pressed the phone to his ear, weaving past his groupmates mid-practice. they called after him, confused, but he didn’t stop. he barely even registered the way their voices faded as he ran out of the studio.

his breath was heavy by the time he reached your apartment, about thirty minutes later. his heart pounded—not just from running, but from something heavier settling in his chest.

he quickly typed in the code to your door, pushing it open. and then, he froze.

you stood there, tupperware in hand, just as frozen as he was. on the table, there were a few decorations, a cake, and the quiet reminder of what today was.

his stomach dropped.

"fuck," he muttered under his breath, realization hitting him like a truck. he had forgotten.

you let out a short, humorless laugh, setting the tupperware back on the table. "i thought you wouldn’t come," you said, crossing your arms. "thought you were too busy hanging out with your... friends."

he swallowed hard, suddenly feeling too ashamed to step further inside. but he did, closing the door behind him. "i'm... sorry. i wasn’t just hanging out. we were practicing—there's an upcoming choreo for the comeback and—"

"you always say that," you cut him off, your voice flat.

he bit his lower lip, frustrated at himself, at the situation. "it’s true—look, i’m sorry. i was so busy, i didn’t realize... let’s just celebrate, okay? we still have time, right?" he tried, his voice softer now, hopeful.

you shook your head, looking down at the untouched food. "i don’t think i even have an appetite anymore," you muttered.

his chest tightened. "i already said sorry," he whispered, stepping closer. "what more do i have to do? please, let’s not fight again—"

you looked up at him, your eyes burning with something raw. "how can we not fight again when you’re always like this? you haven’t changed at all, haechan," your voice wavered, but you didn’t stop. "you’re still the same person who promised me you'd do everything for this relationship, when you can’t even do one thing."

his breath hitched. he bit down hard on his lower lip, but it didn’t stop the sting in his eyes. your words hurt. and maybe what hurt more was that... you were right.

JAEMIN:

“don’t go.” jaemin’s voice wavered as he grabbed your wrist, his fingers curling around it gently, almost like he was afraid you’d break if he held on too tight.

“i have to,” you said with a soft laugh, trying to ease the tension. “you know i have work at 9.” you tried to tug your arm away, but he didn’t let go.

he clenched his jaw, his grip firm but not painful. “we barely spent time together today... can’t you skip work? just this once? for me?” his voice softened, almost pleading. “today’s my free day, and i just... i wanted to be with you.”

you carefully slipped your hand from his grasp, stepping back. “i can’t just skip work like magic, jaem. i have a job too,” you said, your tone steady, but something in your chest ached.

he looked away, guilt settling on his face. “i know... i just... i feel like we’ve barely seen each other lately,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. he stood up, the space between you feeling wider than the few feet that separated you.

you scoffed, brows knitting together. “you called me at 6 p.m. last night, told me to come over, and then you just slept,” you said, voice sharper than you intended. “i know you’re tired, but how long are you going to be this selfish?”

jaemin’s eyes snapped to yours, hurt flashing through them. “selfish? all i did was love you—”

“love me?” you cut him off, your heart pounding. “you call that love? calling me over late at night and asking me to ditch work for you?” your voice cracked, and the realization hit you just as hard as the words you were saying.

he ran a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling quickly. “i’ve just been tired these past few days, okay? if it was too much, you could’ve told me to come over to yours instead,” he argued, voice strained. “i didn’t know i was a burden to you.”

you blinked at him, frustration boiling over. “so it’s my fault now? is it my fault you don’t try hard enough—”

“i don’t try?” he cut in, his voice loud enough to echo in the small space. “all i did was ask you to come over. was that too much? i didn’t mean to make it sound that way, but if you don’t want to, then fine. it’s not a problem.”

your heart sank, disbelief washing over you like cold water. “so it’s my fault?” you repeated, voice trembling. without another word, you grabbed your bag and stormed out, leaving jaemin standing there, staring at the door like he wished he could take everything back.

JISUNG:

“i have to go, i’ll come back later, alright?” jisung said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. he smiled, but the warmth faded when you suddenly pulled away from him.

he blinked, his smile disappearing. “did... did i do something wrong?” he asked, voice hesitant, eyes searching your face for an answer.

you crossed your arms, looking away. “you said you’ll go, so just go.” your voice was laced with disappointment, your chest tightening as you spoke.

jisung didn’t move. he just stood there, frozen in place, confusion written all over his face. “are you mad at me?” he asked, voice quieter now. “i promise i’ll just check the studio real quick and try to come back as soon as i can...” he trailed off, unsure of what to do.

you shook your head, frustration bubbling up. “i don’t know. you’re leaving me just to check something at the studio? can’t you do that tomorrow?”

he bit the inside of his cheek, nervously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “mark hyung asked me to come over... he said there’s a change in the choreo, and he wanted me to see it,” he explained, his voice uncertain, like he was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

“just go tomorrow,” you muttered, glancing at the clock.

jisung shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. “i wish i could... but mark hyung might not be free tomorrow, and he said it’s important to—”

“so you’re not busy? being with me doesn’t count as being occupied?” you cut him off, your words sharp, eyes burning as you looked at him.

jisung’s mouth fell open slightly, completely caught off guard. “h-huh? no, i never meant it like that, i just—” he stammered, words falling apart before he could even finish a sentence.

you sighed, turning away. “whatever. just go,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

jisung stood there, heart sinking, watching your back as he tried to figure out whether leaving or staying would hurt you more.

[ihatefrvits]

aced it (part 2)

part 1 can be found here!! this is the end of this series, tysm for all the love ʕ ᵔⰙᵔ⠕ʔ pls lmk what u think ab aced it

genre: smut (mdni 18+), oral male receiving, dom!jisung, sexual frustration, overstimulation, oral (female receiving) unprotected sex (i shouldn’t be the one to warn you to not do this) lmk if i missed any!

wc: 3.2k

synopsis: continuation of aced it so go check part 1 out !!

➶ ｡˚ 　° ──────────────────

your stomach tightens at the way he’s acting so nonchalantly after everything that has happened, he’s so perfectly in control.

instead of thinking, you react by lunging at him. your hands grip his hoodie, fist the fabric and pull him towards you.

jisung barely has time to blink before you’re climbing into his lap, straddling him, pressing down against his already-hard cock through his pants.

he inhales sharply, “that’s not studying,” but his hands immediately find your waist and grip you tight instead of pushing you away.

“i couldn’t give any less fucks” you whisper and kiss him.

he groans as he returns the kiss, keeping you pressed against him as you roll your hips into him in the same slow pace he used to tease you with.

in few seconds you feel it—you feel his cock twitch beneath you. you break the kiss to whisper, “let me have it.”

jisung tilts his head back, “i told you,” he smirks, “you don’t get to cum until you ace your exam.”

you barely have time to react before he flips you back onto the bed and your back hits the mattress. his hands pin you down, fingers curled around your wrists, holding you like you’re going to fight back.

you should be pissed, you should be arguing, yelling about how cruel it is to leave you like this, at the edge, with you body aching, clenching, throbbing, desperate for relief.

but you don’t. instead, you smirk. because if he won’t let you have what you want, then you’ll just change everything.

you shift your hips beneath him, rolling up just enough to feel his cock, so hard, pressing against you through his sweats.

“i’m the one that doesn’t get to finish,” you murmur, “i don’t remember you saying anything about yourself.”

he exhales sharply, “desperate much?”

huh? you arch an eyebrow, “i’m desperate?” and grind up against him, which lets you hear the shaky breath he tried so hard to hold back. “let me suck you off, sungie” you grin.

“let you what?” his voice is so strained, almost like he’s holding something back.

“you heard me,” you continue rolling your hips up, dragging the heat between your legs against him, who was painfully hard. “i wanna suck you off.”

jisung groans and tilts his head forward to get a clear view of you. “let me make you feel good, ji”

for a second, you think he’s going to refuse, cause he murmured something about you being insane, but he leans back and lets you push him down on the mattress while you slide off the bed and get onto your knees in front of him.

you reach for the waistband of his sweats and pull them down, letting his cock spring free, flushed and already leaking of pre-cum. his chest rises and falls too fast while his fingers twitch against the sheets.

your hands slide up his thighs slowly and you take him in your mouth. the second your lips wrap around him, his head tilts back and his breath shudders.

your tongue drags along the underside of his cock, tracing the vein teasingly before you take him deeper.

his hand flies to your hair, gripping it to hold onto something, like he’s barely keeping it together. you hum around him to let your tongue flick against the tip, tasting the precum that’s already leaking out. you can feel his thighs tense under your hands.

“you’re—“ you slide down further, hollowing your cheeks and taking him deeper.

“fuck,“ he gasps and his hand tightens in your hair.

you pull back slightly and let your hands replace your mouth just for a second as you stroke him slowly, “what happened to all that control, sungi?” you whisper, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

his eyes snap down to you, and the sight would be enough to make you climax, his pupils blown, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling fast.

it didn’t take long for you to go back to your original position, wrapping your lips around him once again and he twitched on your tongue.

“you’re crazy,” he breathes and you slow down, he quickly adds, “please don’t stop.” so you take him deeper and faster.

your fingers dig into his thighs while his fingers tangle in your hair, his abs clench and his hips stutter, almost like he’s barely holding himself from fucking into your mouth.

you moan around him, tightening your throat, taking him even deeper, almost fully, and his hips snap up, his grip tightens and his whole body tenses.

“you—“ his breath hitches, “i’m gonna— fuck, baby i’m—“

you feel it, you feel his cock pulsing on your tongue, liquid spilling down your throat while his whole body is trembling beneath you.

after swallowing it whole, you pull off, licking the corner of your mouth, while he just stares at you completely wrecked.

his condition makes you smile, “was it worth it?”

jisung groans and drags a hand down his face, “i fucking hate you.” which earns him a chuckle from you, because you both know it’s not true.

➶ ｡˚ 　° ──────────────────

on the day of your finals, you aren’t even thinking about how everything depends on passing this test, you’re thinking about him and how he completely fucked you up.

these last few days have been hell, reviewing and practicing problems with jisung.

every time you whined, begged, rolled onto his lap and tried to grind against him for relief, he just laughed, completely unbothered.

“you’ll get what you want baby,” he told you every single time, “just be patient.”

so now, you’re sitting at your desk, tapping your pen against the table while your legs are pressed together under your skirt because your body is still aching for him.

your fingers tighten around your pen, i don’t get to cum until i earn it? fine, i’ll ace this exam, and when i do, he better finish what he star—

your thoughts get interrupted when the test hits your desk. your brain switches into survival mode and you completely black out.

you fly through the questions like every problem youre solving is one step closer to finally getting what you truly desire.

this is all because of jisung.

jisung, with his perfect fingers, his calm deep voice telling you to “focus, baby,” while you were trembling in his lap.

jisung, who is sitting a few rows away, completely relaxed, who knows exactly how desperate you are to finish this.

after what feels like eternity, you scribble down the last answer and you dramatically drop your pen.

you exhale slowly, realising you finished way too fast. you earn few confused glances from students and the professor raises an eyebrow when you march up to the front and hand in your exam.

before you walk straight out the door, you glance at jisung, who’s already staring at you and you mouth out “i aced this shit,” smiling at him until you finally leave the hall.

➶ ｡˚ 　° ──────────────────

you don’t leave your house for the next few days.

it was all the same; waking up soaked, desperately touching yourself late at night only to stop, because if jisung finds out you broke his rule, he’ll just drag it even longer. it’s torture.

you’re going to kill him right after you fuck him into the mattress.

the email with your exam results is supposed to arrive today, and you’ve spent the last hour pacing your room, lying on your bed, debating whether or not you should turn your phone off completely.

but then you hear your phone buzz two times which bursts your bubble and you finally grab to check the notification.

jisung [7:42 PM]: come over

jisung [7:42 PM]: lets look at ur results tgt

your stomach flips, you don’t even think. the second you read his text, you grab your keys and bolt out of the door.

you don’t check your reflection, don’t fix your hair, don’t even put on a bra under your hoodie. not like it matters, because if the results say what you think they do, then you and jisung aren’t going to be talking much or paying attention to what you’re wearing tonight anyway.

you don’t bother knocking, he left the door unlocked. almost like he knew you’d come straight in.

you find him in his room sitting on the edge of his bed with his laptop open and phone in his hand. he’s so calm, as if he doesn’t know that the second you see your results, you’re going to ruin him.

he barely looks up when you step inside, “you’re exactly on time.” you ignore him.

your hands are shaking when you check your phone for the time. it’s exactly 9:00 PM. you let out one last nervous breath until you open your email app.

jisung watches as you stare at your screen, scanning the numbers, rereading the same thing over and over…

your stomach drops.

your heart jumps.

you made it.

you passed.

your eyes light up. jisung barely has time to react before you throw your phone away, climb into his lap and desperately crash your lips against his.

your fingers tangle in his hoodie, yanking him closer to you. he groans out of surprise, but his hands find your waist and grip you tight.

“you—“ he tries to speak, but your lips swallow his words. your hips grind down against him, feeling how he’s getting harder and harder through his sweats. jisung curses under his breath, gripping your hips tighter, “didn’t even tell me your score,” he says and trails kisses to your jaw, then your throat.

your breath shudders, “i passed.”

jisung grins against your skin, “yeah?”

you tilt his chin up, locking eyes with him, “yeah.”

you push him back against the mattress, straddle him, slide your hands under his hoodie, grind down against him. but when you start to go for his waistband, he grabs your wrists. he stops you.

your head snaps up, “jisung—“

“not yet.”

your stomach flips, “but—“

“you’ve been waiting for a long time,” his grip tightens, “but so have i.”

he flips you onto your back and the mattress bounces. a surprised gasp leaves your lips as jisung spreads your legs, pushes your skirt up around your waist and presses a palm against your soaked panties.

“you—“ the rest of your sentence dies in your throat when he leans down and his lips brush your inner thigh while his fingers are hooking into your panties. you notice they’re gone when you feel the cold air hit you and your gaze drops down on him.

his lips ghost over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, pressing little kisses and feeling how your muscles tense beneath his touch every time.

his fingers trail up your thighs and spread you even further. he presses his thumbs into your skin, just enough to make sure you can’t close your legs around him when it gets too much, to make sure you know you’re not going anywhere.

you finally feel the first swipe of his tongue. your tighten your grip on the sheets and a sharp gasp leaves you.

his hands flex against your thighs to keep you right where he wants you. “you’re dripping,” he whispers into you.

you twitch, “jisung—“

his tongue flicks against your sensitive bud. your hips jerk into his mouth to chase more friction, he chuckles, “be patient, baby.”

patient? wait even more? no, scratch that, you’re done waiting.

your hand flies to his hair and tangle into the strands, tugging. you try to get him to move faster.

his tongue drags over your clit again slowly with more pressure and you let small whimpers out of pleasure. the pretty sounds that escape your mouth makes him go lower. his tongue presses inside you and you could swear you saw stars from how he was licking you from the inside.

a vulnerable moan comes out of you when you feel his nose bump against your clit and you grind against him while he fucks you open with his tongue.

the pleasure is building up so fast you can’t even notice how much you’re shaking. “jisung i—“ your words die in your mouth as his tongue gets replaced by his fingers and push into you quickly.

his fingers thrust in deeply, finding that sweet spot he abused just a week ago, but that doesn’t seem to be enough for him as his tongue meets your clit once again, sucking in a way that makes your thighs tremble even more.

“you’re close hmm?” his fingers fuck into you faster and his tongue continues to move against you. somehow his pace speeding is all it takes for your orgasm to slam into you. your whole body is tensing, your thighs are snapping around his head while he holds them open, letting you grind against him and ride out every wave of pleasure.

your vision starts to blur and your moans are leaving you uncontrollably as he keeps his fingers deep and his tongue continues to flick over your clit which drags out your pleasure until the weak sounds you make and the way your body twitches from overstimulation steals his attention and he finally pulls away.

you finally came back to your senses but your body is still feeling the aftershocks of the painfully intense climax you just had seconds ago.

you can’t even register what’s happening when he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand or when you hear soft rustle of fabric caused by him pushing his sweats down until you feel him pressing against your entrance. the realization makes your thighs instinctively tighten around his waist.

“shh,” jisung soothes you, “i got you baby.” his hands are sliding up your sides and you look into his eyes, “want you so bad ji,” you whisper weakly.

“you’re really sure though, right?” he asks in a concerned tone and it’s enough for any doubts in your mind to go away with the way he’s looking at you like that, so you shift your hips slightly, the head of him barely catches against your entrance and you two moan at the same time.

“please,” you whisper. he guides himself in patiently. the stretch is a bit overwhelming, the burning sensation makes your fingers dig into his back, and you can’t help but let out a sound.

“fuck—” he breathes out while he’s burying himself inside you inch by inch. your nails scrape his back and you’re almost struggling to adjust to the fullness of him.

he gives you small kisses on your jaw, your cheek, his lips are so warm and comforting, “tell me if it’s too much.”

you exhale, “you can move,” he grips your waist and pulls out just a little before easing back in. the feeling is so good, too good even, you’re starting to memorise how it feels to wrap around him.

your body tenses as he fills you completely. every movement of his sends waves of pleasure through you, it’s dragging every ounce of sensitivity left from your last orgasm.

jisung watches you, eyes dark, lips parted as he drinks in the sight of you; your flushed cheeks, the way your brows knit together, the way your lips fall open with every gasping moan you try to swallow down.

“so pretty,” he murmurs, dipping down to kiss you, slow and deep.

he rolls his hips again and it makes him press deeper. your back arches off the mattress, a soft cry spills from your lips.

jisung groans, dropping his forehead to yours. “shit.. you feel so good baby” his voice is wrecked, like he’s barely holding together.

“jisung—” your voice is breathless and desperate.

he swallows hard, his grip tightening on your hips. “tell me,” he murmurs, “tell me what you want.”you roll your hips to meet his, taking him even deeper, signaling him to speed up.

jisung curses. his rhythm changes, his thrusts grow rougher and desperate. he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur. suddenly you’re gasping, clutching at his shoulders, your body arching against his.

“there?” jisung asks, though the answer was obvious from your reaction. you nod instantly.

he groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he fucks you harder, deeper, his body pressing against yours like he never wants to let go.

pleasure starts coiling tight in your stomach and it’s getting overwhelming.

“you’re so perfect,” he whispers, his voice strained. “so perfect just for me.” his words send a shiver down your spine, you’re almost there, the edge rushing towards you too fast.

his hand slips between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. “finish for me,” he murmurs, “let me hear you.”

his words are all it takes. pleasure crashes over you in waves once again, this time more intense and lasting longer. jisung curses under his breath the second he feels you tighten around him, your walls pulsing and squeezing him so tightly it’s unbearable, a ragged groan tears from his throat.

“fuck—baby, you’re—” he barely gets the words out before his vision goes white, his body locking up as he fights to hold himself back.

but it’s impossible with the way you’re milking him for everything, and he’s right there, ready to let it go, but then his mind catches up.“shit—” his voice is strained, wrecked. “i—i can’t—”

before he can even finish, your hand slips up to cup his jaw, your fingers brush against his flushed skin, your eyes, dazed, lock onto his and you give him the smallest nod. it takes him a second to register, his breath shudders and his restraint snaps.

his whole body tenses as he buries himself deep, his head dropping to your shoulder as he lets go, his release hitting him so hard it nearly knocks the air from his lungs.

then finally he exhales, pulling back to meet your eyes. his hair is damp, sticking to his forehead, and his lips are swollen.

he instantly removes himself off you and plops down next to you. he pushes his damp strands away from his forehead as he turns to just look at your pretty face.

“gosh,” you catch your breath and tilt your head, “do you fuck everyone you tutor like this?”

he raises an eyebrow, “yeah, it’s one of my most effective techniques, my personal study program, y’know?”

you roll your eyes and playfully smack his shoulder, “what an asshole..”

jisung just smiles at you and his fingers skim over your waist, “you’re still a dumbass.”

you eyes snap at his, “what?” you smack his arm again, but this time he catches your wrist, pulling your hand to his lips and pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your knuckles.

“i mean it,” he says against your skin, his voice quieter now. “you’re the only one.”

your heart stumbles over itself as he lifts his head, meeting your gaze again.“got it?”

you swallow hard, your fingers curling slightly against his. “yeah,”

his smile softens, and he kisses you again like he’s doing it for the first time again.

➶ ｡˚ 　° ──────────────────

taglist: @jwisteroid7 @tyongspice1 @champagne1221 @yurizcn @asteroidzs @4chensungs @hoshidnd @seulpinkk @h00neyydew @idkwhatursayinh @seokiesung @shirokakitsune @patitotodd @playersung @7zennis @lanaaameowyy @ilovehaechie @withlovemark @ncthoe69 @robin-obsessed @nosungluv @blueblazings @baeyrah

[issysh3ll]

Snowball ☆ Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Matt lets you try something new Warnings: SMUT, kissing, blowjob, snowball kiss, cum swapping, consent included :) Wordcount: 720

Stumbling and fumbling your way into the bedroom is easy. Matt's arms are wrapped around your waist, holding you to him with your lips locked in a heated kiss. Messy moans and whines escape between breaths as your hands claw at each other, your bodies demanding to be closer. Clothes are long forgotten, shirts discarded along the path to the room, pants meaningless with the way you can feel Matt's erection pressing against you.

The minute the bedroom door swings closed, you wriggle out of Matt's hold and drop down to the floor, your hands dragging down his chest until your knees are on the ground. More fumbling ensues, your fingers rushing to tug his pants down, taking his boxers with them.

A loud slap sounds as his cock snaps up from his waistband, hitting against his stomach. But the sting of the sudden contact is quickly eased as your lips pepper it with soft kisses, tracing up and down, around the tip, across that sweet little spot on the underside. Every tiny kiss you give him elicits a sharp breath or a quiet moan.

"I want to try something," you say, your hand wrapping around his length as your kisses grow sloppier.

Matt responds with an eager series of nods, "yeah, anything."

"Kiss me when you're done." The suggestion is met with another eager nod and his cock twitches in your grip, a small bead of pre-cum starting to bloom at the tip.

Unable to wait any longer, your tongue flicks out, guiding his length into your mouth and your groan around him immediately. Something about his thick length resting on your tongue so vulnerably just feels right to you, and you know he feels it too.

“Shiiit. Yeah, just like that” The words leave Matt’s lips on a shaky breath. His dazed blue eyes are fixed on you, watching closely as your lips slide up and down around his throbbing length. The ache in your jaw is worth it for the way his eyes look drooping closed above you.

Your hair is tangled between his fingers, his grip twitching and tightening with each little flick of your tongue over his tip. The floor below your knees is almost certainly forming bruises, but you don't care. Matt's abs tense and shiver as you move along him, your nose brushing over his pelvis.

The sight of him like this is beautiful. His eyes droop and hang half closed, his jaw slack with quick heavy breaths passing through his lips, a small line of drool forming at the corner. It’s all you need to spur you on, sucking him in further as you hollow out your cheeks.

“Oh f-fuck,” Matt gasps, the added suction making him jolt forward slightly, his fingers tightening in your hair. “I’m close.”

At his warning your mouth waters with anticipation, your tongue moving in circles over him and your cheeks sucking inward. Your gaze is locked on his face, ready to watch the way he falls apart. Eager to taste him.

With a stuttered groan, a spurt of his hot, sticky release sprays into your mouth. Load after load shoots onto your waiting tongue and you hold it all in your mouth until his twitching eases and you can slowly let your mouth off him with a pop.

Standing from the floor, you come up to meet his eye line. Matt smiles back at you with a blissed out look, his hands releasing from your hair and instead reaching for your face, drawing you in for a kiss of appreciation. As your lips meet his, a small smile break across your face and you allow his tongue to dip between your lips, into your mouth.

There’s a loud moan as Matt’s tongue is met with the puddle of his release still waiting in your mouth. His grip on your face tightens, tugging you further into the kiss. Tongues are tangled between your mouths, swapping over each other and rolling the pool of salty cum between you.

Together you both ease out of the kiss, the remains of your shared reward coating your lips and tongue as you grin down at him.

“Fuck that was so hot.” Matt pants, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s gonna start happening more often now.”

Masterlist

[dismalflo]

"you've got a bit of a reputation"

sirius black x fem!reader who deal with aftermath of a one night stand ✩ 2.8k words

cw: angst, some fluff at the end, allusions to sex, sirius and reader are awful at communicating, matchmaker James, mutual pining

an: this ended up being longer than expected but i really enjoyed writing it

Your eyes feel as though they’re sewn shut, the heaviness of sleep still clinging to you as you begin to stir. Sunlight filters softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.

Then you feel it, a warm weight pressing against your waist. Your heart skips a beat, and as you finally open your eyes, the disorienting blur of unfamiliar surroundings snaps into focus. This room is definitely not yours.

A dull ache pulses behind your eyes, the aftereffects of last night still lingering in your body. Slowly, you turn your head, and that's when you see it—his black hair, messy and tangled on the pillow, and the tattoos decorating the exposed skin of his torso.

Sirius Black.

Shit.

The memories of last night flood back, vivid and dizzying—a drunken night out with your friends that somehow spiraled into this. His touch. His lips. The way he felt against you, the way everything else seemed to blur. A single glance at the bed’s crumpled sheets, the clothes haphazardly scattered on the floor, and the throbbing in your head are more than enough to confirm it.

You start moving to get out of bed, taut muscles and bated breath, wanting to keep this a secret locked far in the back of your mind. It hurts to wish you could have him in one way, but not this way, never this way—the way he’s so close yet so far, and the way you know things could never be what you truly want.

Apparently Sirius isn't as deep a sleeper as he appears, he stirs, feeling the absence of warmth next to him and before you can prepare yourself his eyes are on you as you attempt to gather your belongings. 

His voice is groggy, barely above a whisper, “What... what are you doing?”

You freeze, heart slamming against your ribs.

“I’m going home, Sirius.”

His hand scrubs at his face, running through his tousled hair as if trying to clear the fog in his mind. “Wait... why?” His voice is thick, the confusion in his eyes still evident as he blinks up at you.

You try to smile, but it feels more like a mask than anything genuine. "We don’t need to talk about it," you say, words tumbling out in a rush. "We had a stupid night, that’s all. Fun, yeah?" You look at him, trying to gauge if he feels the same way, if he’s as uncomfortable as you are.

The silence between you stretches, heavier than anything. Sirius doesn’t answer, and you take that as agreement, making for the door.

“I’ll see you later, alright?” The words feel empty, a hollow attempt to mask the awkwardness of the moment as you hurry out the door.

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“I don’t know, James... I just froze up. I couldn’t say anything, and now—poor girl,” Sirius says, his voice thick with frustration as he slumps onto the bed, his head buried in his hands. James’s voice crackles through the speakerphone, trying to piece together what happened.

“Why would you sleep with her before talking to her, Pads?” James’s voice is laced with concern, a slight edge of disappointment cutting through the words.

“I don’t know. I just... I don’t get why she would think it was only a one-time thing,” Sirius mutters, looking up at the ceiling, his eyes clouded with confusion

James exhales sharply, a dry chuckle escaping him. “Mate, I love you, but you’ve got a bit of a reputation, you know?” He pauses, trying to soften the blow. “And hey, nothing wrong with that—rights for sluts and all that—but you can’t really blame her for thinking it’s just a fling.”

Sirius groans, rubbing his face in frustration. “Nicely put, thanks, James. That really helps,” he snaps, sarcasm thick in his voice.

“Pads, I’m just being honest,” James replies, his tone still concerned but firm. “Look, you’re not a bad guy. But you’ve got to be upfront with her. You can’t just throw her into the deep end and expect her to know what’s going on in your head.”

Sirius stares at the ceiling, his mind racing. “I didn’t throw her in, I just—I don’t know what happened. I didn’t want to make things worse, so I didn’t say anything.”

James sighs, the frustration in his voice growing. “Mate, not saying anything is making it worse. You left her hanging, not knowing where she stands with you. And now—well, now she probably thinks it’s all a mistake. That’s not fair to her.”

Sirius’s voice drops, quieter now, filled with guilt. “You’re right... I know you’re right.” His hand covers his mouth, his thoughts a tangled mess. “When did you become so wise?”

James scoffs, but there’s a lightness to his tone. “I’ve always been this wise, Pads. You’ve just been too busy looking for my flaws.” He pauses for a beat, then speaks quickly, almost too fast. “Oh, and I might’ve overheard a very upset Y/N on the phone with Lily before you called. Anyway, good luck, mate.” He hangs up abruptly.

Sirius stares at the phone in disbelief. “For fuck’s sake…”

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It takes Sirius the rest of the day to pull himself together and start the walk to your flat. The walk feels longer than it should, each step sinking him deeper into the pit of regret that’s been gnawing at his gut. The streets blur past him, the usual noise of the city now muffled under the weight of his thoughts. Sirius isn't even sure what he's expecting—if you’re even going to talk to him, or if you’ll slam the door in his face the moment he shows up. He shoves his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket, his breath clouding in the chilled air.

He arrives at your flat just as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of purple and gold. He hesitates for a moment at the door, hand poised over the doorbell. But then he thinks of your reaction earlier, the way you’d quickly rushed to leave, and a feeling of dread settles in his chest.

His finger presses the button before he can overthink it any further, the sound of the doorbell echoing through the silence.

The door swings open, and there you are—eyes a little puffy, still wearing the same clothes from earlier, but there's something different about the way you look at him now. Your gaze is guarded, your lips pressed tightly together as you stand in the doorway.

“What are you doing here, Sirius?” you sniff, looking anywhere but him.

Sirius swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he stands there, feeling the distance between you like a chasm he isn’t sure how to cross. For a moment, he wonders if maybe it would have been easier to stay away, let things fizzle out and slip into an unspoken mess. But that thought lasts for only a second before he steps forward, his voice unsteady.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his words soft yet filled with weight. “I just… I needed you to know that it wasn’t a stupid night of fun. Not to me.” His eyes search yours, desperate for some flicker of understanding.

You scoff, your features shifting from sadness to anger in the blink of an eye. “Wow, Sirius. Classy. I didn’t need a review of my performance,” you snap, your voice sharp.

Sirius blinks, momentarily confused, until realization hits like a punch to the gut. You go to slam the door, and panic surges through him.

He rushes forward, his foot wedging in the door’s path before it can close. “No, no—wait! I didn’t mean it like that, I swear,” he pleads, his voice tinged with desperation.

You pause, your hand hovering over the door handle, and for a moment, you just stare at him—really look at him. The way his eyes search yours, wide with regret, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts as though he's just sprinted a marathon. It's hard to hold onto the anger, though. Despite the hurt, despite the awkwardness and frustration, there's a small part of you that just wants to listen.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep the irritation in check, and finally speak, your voice barely above a whisper. “Then what did you mean?”.

He looks like he's been punched in the chest. “I meant that I… I don’t want to make it sound like it's just a one night thing. Like it was just something that happens and gets brushed under the rug.” His hands move as though he's trying to find the right words, but they come out scattered, a mess, much like everything else he’s feeling. “I never wanted to make you feel like that, like it didn’t mean anything. Because it did. It does.”

Your heart skips a beat, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. He stands there, vulnerable in a way you've never seen, and it's hard to ignore the sincerity in his eyes, the rawness in his voice. It feels like he's trying to claw his way out of a hole he dug himself into, but there's a part of you that wants to push him back in.

You exhale sharply, feeling the exhaustion of the day wash over you. “You’re making it harder, you know,” you whisper, stepping back just enough to let him in.

Sirius hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking down to the ground before he steps inside, moving slowly as if he's afraid that any sudden movement might break something. Once the door closes behind him, there's an uncomfortable silence between you.

“I didn't mean for any of it to get so messed up,” he says, his voice quieter now, as if the weight of his emotions has crushed his usual bravado.

You lean against the wall, your arms crossed, trying to find the strength to keep the distance you’ve been clinging to. “What did you mean to happen? You didn't say anything this morning, what did you expect?”

Sirius looks down at his shoes for a moment, gathering his thoughts before finally looking up at you, his expression serious and raw. "I guess... I thought we'd talk," he admits, his voice low. "But I didn’t know how. I should’ve said something. I was too caught up in my own head, and I—" He pauses, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. "I didn’t want to make it worse by saying the wrong thing."

“You can’t expect me to read your mind,” you snap, the words coming out softer than you want them to, each one tinged with exhaustion. “You could’ve said anything—anything—and you didn’t."

He flinches at the edge of your tone, the regret flashing in his eyes like a warning. "I know. I know I fucked up. But... you didn’t say how you felt, either. At least not really."

Anger flares up again, burning hot in your chest. “Because that shit’s normal for you, Sirius! It’s not for me, I don’t do that!"

Sirius’s face falls, his jaw tightening, but his eyes soften in understanding. He takes a cautious step toward you, the frustration in his own chest now replaced with something quieter, more vulnerable.

“I get it. I really do.” he pauses searching for the right words, “I’m sorry, that I didn't stop you from leaving this morning… Sorry that I haven't made my intentions clearer.”

“I don't do casual, Sirius,” you say, shaking your head.

“And, I don't want that from you.” 

Sirius's words hang in the air like a fragile thread, connecting you both in a way that feels both comforting and terrifying. For a moment, you wonder if you heard him right.

You swallow, trying to steady yourself, your emotions threatening to spill over. "You don't want that from me?" you repeat, your voice quieter, more fragile now.

He nods, slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I should've said that. I should've told you what happened... It meant something to me. More than just some mistake. More than just a stupid night."

Your mind races, trying to process his words. Part of you wants to believe him—wants to reach out and close the space between you. But then the fear creeps in again, reminding you of everything that’s been left unsaid, the potential for more hurt if things go wrong.

"You’re serious?" The question leaves your lips before you can stop it, and immediately, you curse yourself for sounding uncertain, for not just believing him.

"Deadly." Sirius takes another step closer, his voice steady now, though the vulnerability remains. "I don't want to screw this up. I know I messed up already, but I want to try to make it right. If you’ll let me."

You search his eyes, trying to read him, trying to find something you can hold onto in the midst of all the uncertainty. The sincerity in his gaze is undeniable, and something in you—something you can’t quite name—shifts. The tight knot of anger and hurt in your chest starts to loosen just a little, but fear still lingers, it's cold fingers wrapped around your heart.

“You can’t just say that and expect everything to be okay,” you finally whisper, your voice trembling, but this time with vulnerability instead of anger. “You can’t just—”

"I know," he interrupts softly, his expression earnest. "I can't undo what happened, or how I made you feel. But I’m not asking you to forget. I’m asking you to let me prove it—to show you that I mean it."

A beat of silence stretches between you both. You take a slow breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions brewing inside you. But you can’t deny the pull between you, the spark that’s been there from the moment you met him. And maybe, just maybe, you don’t want to walk away from it yet.

You meet his gaze, your chest tightening with a blend of hope and fear. "You’re sure about this?" you ask, needing to hear it again, needing to believe him.

"Yes," he replies firmly, his voice steady. "I'm sure. I want this. You—not just the fun, not just the moment. I want to make it right. I just need you to let me try."

You take a shaky breath, letting the warmth of the room and the raw sincerity in Sirius’s eyes seep into you. His words have struck a chord deep inside, but your fear still holds you back. What if this is just another one of his fleeting whims? 

But then you remember the softness in his touch from last night, the way he looked at you, the way he kissed you, the way everything else seemed to fade when he was near. And suddenly the thought of denying him feels silly. 

You nod, a soft tentative smile on your lips, “yeah, okay.” 

Sirius's expression softens immediately, relief flooding his features, as though a weight he's been carrying for hours has finally been lifted. The tension between you both seems to ease, even if only a little. He takes another step forward, his hand reaching out hesitantly, as if waiting for permission.

You don’t pull away.

His fingers brush against yours, a tentative touch at first, but then the warmth of his hand spreads through your skin, grounding you in the moment. You feel the unspoken promise between you—of understanding, of maybe something more, but only if you're both willing to take the time to figure it out.

"I’m not perfect," Sirius says quietly, his voice low as his thumb traces the back of your hand. "But I want to make this right... with you." His eyes hold yours, earnest and steady, his words weighted with a sincerity that feels different from everything you’ve known about him before.

For a moment, you simply watch him, your heart still beating too fast in your chest. You finally speak, your voice soft but firm. "We’ll take it slow," you say, the words more a promise to yourself than to him. "I’m not ready to just... jump into this. But we can try. To figure it out."

Sirius's expression softens even further, the relief in his eyes mixing with something else—something tender and sincere. He nods slowly, his thumb continuing to trace patterns on the back of your hand. “Slow sounds perfect,” he agrees, his voice barely above a whisper, as though this might shatter if he speaks too loudly.

You give him a small, tired smile, your shoulders relaxing just a fraction. It’s a fragile moment, but it feels like a beginning. Like you can trust him, or at least, trust yourself enough to see where this might go.

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let me know what you think of this! <3

[evilgwrl]

Ghost x Reader x König

Paris

Summary: You were bored at home so your roommates gave you a visit to the Eiffel Tower!

CW (MDNI): MxFxM threesome, PIV (no protection, cream pie), oral (M receiving), degradation mixed with a bit of praise, rough sex, face fucking, spanking, one facial slap, talk of anal, slight ass play, the boys r a bit perverted and don’t rlly see u as a person when they’re fucking u, reader doesn’t orgasm but it’s insinuated she will after ;) sorry

Word Count: 1433

Masterlist

You weren’t sure what prompted this situation. Maybe it was your constant whining and bitching about how boring your small town was and how you were destined for more. It wasn’t your fault, their lack of talking always led you to yap more, and more, and more and they had to shut you up somehow.

The room was filled with splutters and gargles as König held your head down on Simon’s girthy cock, his angry mushroom head tickling your tonsils as you choked, bile threatening to rise before you were pulled off for a second. Your nose was running, drooling almost as you gasped for air, tear-shed eyes staring up at your roommates as you coughed.

“Not so talkative now are you, Liebe? Just needed a mouth full of cock, ja?”

König’s words were degrading, yet you found your wanton mouth panting as you chased the taste of Simon’s precum again, the salty tang quenching your throat as you kitten licked the tip, a hiss-sounding from his throat as you were guided back down his length again.

You let out a pleasant hum as your mouth shallowly bobbed around his cock, two hands working the remainder of his length in gentle flicks of your wrists. “Good fucking slut, hm? Dirty cock whore loves being used by her roommates, isn’t that right?”

You nodded in agreement, gargling around his member as you took more of him down your throat, a hand coming up to gently squeeze at his heavy balls, a light fuzz of pubic hair littering them. A gentle hand stroked your cheek as Simon groaned, bucking his hips further into your mouth as König muttered gentle praises about how good you were.

“That’s it baby, so fucking good at this. Just like that – fuck.”

You felt a warmth of satisfaction in your chest as you hollowed your cheeks against the throbbing cock that buried itself in the warmth of your mouth, your tongue flat against the veiny shaft as you traced along every one of them, Ghost’s hips stuttering before he let out a guttural groan, the taste of his thick cum gorging down your throat.

König pulled you away hastily as the finishing spurts landed on your parted lips, tongue quickly darting out to lap at the residue as you panted. “You deserve a treat for doing so good, don’t you Maus?”

You practically whined in response, thighs rubbing together as heat radiated off of you. Your throat was dry as you squeaked out a ‘yes’, desperate hands resting on Simon’s meaty thighs as he pulled you up, the pair leading you to your bed as wanting hands groped at any flesh they could find. You were far past embarrassment as they stripped you off, König’s actions rough as he flipped you onto your stomach, holding your hips up to present your aching holes to them.

Simon sucked in a heavy breath, his cock straining against his hand as he wrapped a hand around it carelessly, giving it slight tugs. Messy digits pulled your cheeks further up, the site of your gooey entrance beckoning them as your asshole puckered, coos leaving their lips as König pressed a thumb against the tight crevice, laughing at how your body jolted in reaction to the unusual sensation.

“Another day, Taube. Need to feel that wet mouth tonight.” His voice was rough and presiding, calloused hands reaching out to his belt as Ghost’s hands gripped the flesh off your ass, a rough smack landing on it as he watched in satisfaction at the jiggle.  

“Please,” you begged as you felt riotous digits rubbing at your slit, admiring the way your slick spilled from your twinging entrance. You were pulled back roughly, cotton burning your knees as you felt the familiar hardness you took in your mouth. Simon’s tip leaked precum once more as he spread the fluids in between your folds, nudging your sensitive bud as he barked out a laugh at your mewls.

“Desperate girl, aren’t you? Don’t know why it took us so long to do this.”

“Worth the wait, nein?”

Simon made a gruff noise as you buried your face into the sheet, a tight burn spreading across your body as you bit down on your blanket, a foreign stretch searing through you as you let out a pained whine. He laid a reassuring hand on the small of your back as he told you to relax, your legs spreading slightly as you let out shallow breaths.

“Fucking Jesus, she’s tight,” Simon barked, fingers spreading your cunt open as he sunk his cock in deeper, soft squelches sounding the room as he hissed in pleasure. You let out a wail as he bottomed out, your pussy stretched to the brim as you felt him nudge against your gummy cervix.

You let out a series of expletives as Ghost’s hands grabbed at your hips, gripping the flesh roughly, a series of bruises most likely to appear tomorrow. König’s hands reached out to lift your head, beady eyes welcomed by the site of an enraged cock, the tip a flushed purple, the impressive length supported by two handfuls of girth, sensitive veins visible as your mouth watered. Both were large, but as to be expected with the Austrian’s sheer size, he was bordering insanity and you clenched in both fear and arousal at him breaking in your tight ass like he suggested he would.

Ghost held your hips still as you attempted to rock against him, pussy aching in desperation as you huffed. “Patience,” he snapped, heavy hand sounding down on your ass, the crack sending vibrations through your body as you barked out a yelp.

“Horny thing,” König quipped as he gripped your mouth, holding it open before he leant down and spat in, strings of spit sliding down your throat as you wet your full lips, tongue darting out to lick at his sticky tip, flushed with his own arousal. The moan you sounded was pornographic as you felt Simon pull his aching cock out before thrusting it back into the hilt, the jiggle of your breasts sounding together as he kissed your sensitive spot.

Your mouth lapped around the Colonel’s cock, working the massive length into your throat slowly as you drowned it in your spit. You were a mess, your chin dribbled in slobber as you moaned and whined around König’s dick, horny hands gripping tightly at the shaft as he held your hair in a firm ponytail.

You looked up at him, doe-like eyes shedding with tears through wet lashes, a satisfied grunt leaving his lips as he guided you along his member, his thrusts matching with Simon’s as they worked you like a hooker, pounding both entrances with little respect, chasing their highs through desperate pounds.

“That’s it slut, taking us both at the same time.”

“Pathetic whore only shuts up when she’s stuffed with dick, schmutzig Mädchen,” König cooed perversely. Their thoughts were littered with perverted images of you, drowning you in their cum as they forced you to take them hour upon hour, bruising your holes and mounding their walls to the shape of their cocks.

You gargled around the giant man’s cock, every agonising thrust from Simon sending him further down your throat as you spluttered. “Jesus – gonna cum in this cunt, hm? Fucking breed your pussy? You would like that wouldn’t you?”

“F-Fuck – yes,” you begged, pulling away from König’s dick before he landed a harsh slap across your face, forcing you back down. You hummed around him happily, spit pooling at your chest, puckered nipples aching in the air as your tits bounced rhythmically.

Simon let out a satisfied laugh, his pace picking up as he slammed his hips against the flesh of your ass, heavy balls banging against your clit as you whined as well as you could. His pace faltered slightly, growing sloppier before he groaned once more, hot cum staining your walls as you choked, slowing your movements against König’s cock as he growled.

Rough hands gripped at the side of your head, holding it in place as he set a brutal force, shoving his member down your bruised throat as he growled before he pulled off from you, fists gripping his cock as he milked his length across your face, painting it with hot flashes of ejaculation. Your eyes closed as you collapsed, worn-out body shivering with pleasure as you felt the leak of Simon’s semen drooping from your abused cunt.

“We’ll let you rest for a moment, Liebling, but don’t forget we haven’t seen that pussy cum yet.”

Pic credits: @ave661

[littlelamy]

I need a lawyer rafe smut BAD😭😭

Reader is his assistant and she can tell he is stressed out bad and wants to help him out.

Idkhelpme

lamy's note: i felt hot just writing this oml 😮‍💨

you can tell the moment he steps into his office. the way his jaw is set, the way he tosses his briefcase onto the desk with a little too much force. rafe doesn’t have to say a word for you to know—he’s had a hell of a day.

“long day?” you ask, voice soft, careful.

he drags a hand down his face, exhales slow. “you have no idea.”

you do, actually. you’ve seen the back-to-back meetings on his calendar, watched him down his third coffee before noon. his tie is still perfectly knotted, but his shoulders are tight, his patience thin.

“let me help,” you murmur, stepping closer, fingertips grazing his wrist.

his eyes flick to you, something dark, something needy flashing across his face. his breath is heavy, controlled, like he’s holding something back. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

you don’t wait for permission. you step between his legs, press your hands to his chest, feeling the solid weight of him beneath the fabric of his dress shirt. his pulse jumps under your touch. your fingers work the buttons, slow, deliberate, each one undone revealing more of his tanned skin.

“fuck,” he mutters, half under his breath, half into your hair when you lean up, lips brushing the sharp line of his jaw. “you know what you’re doing.”

“i do.”

you sink to your knees, the carpet burning against your skin, but you don’t care. all that matters is him, the way his breathing turns ragged, the way his fingers tangle in your hair. the way the tension finally melts from his body as you take care of him, just like you said you would.

his belt comes undone with a sharp clink, and his cock is already straining against his briefs. he groans when you palm him through the fabric, a needy, desperate sound that makes you ache between your thighs.

“fuck, baby,” he rasps. “you really wanna take care of me, huh?”

his words are a challenge, but you don’t hesitate. you tug his briefs down, freeing him, and your mouth waters at the sight. thick, heavy, already leaking for you. you drag your tongue along the head, savoring the taste of him before sinking down, taking him inch by inch until he’s pressing against the back of your throat.

“jesus—” he chokes out, head falling back against the chair, fingers tightening in your hair as you bob your head, sucking him down with filthy, wet sounds. his hips twitch, his control slipping as you hollow your cheeks, take him deeper, let him use you the way he needs.

his breath is ragged, his thighs trembling beneath your hands as you work him over, tongue teasing the sensitive underside, lips wrapping around him tight. he’s close, you can feel it in the way he throbs against your tongue, in the way his grip tightens, desperate, possessive.

“fuck, baby, i’m—”

he doesn’t get to finish before he’s spilling hot and thick down your throat, and you take it all, swallowing around him as he groans, his whole body shaking beneath you.

when you finally pull back, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, he looks down at you with dark, satisfied eyes.

“damn,” he breathes, pulling you up onto his lap. “you really do take care of me, don’t you?”

and when he kisses you, deep and dirty, you already know—he’s not nearly done with you yet.

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