#took a FAT L

[inamedmyvaginafrancis]

Opened my tiktok to find out my crush hard launched her White Girlfriend™

[pleasedontcareaboutme]

Imai and Hide simultaneously jumping around makes me so happy 😭😭

And then Yuta with his majestic bassssss holy moly

Show after dark you are so iconic 🧎🧎

everything about this tour is perfection

The song is Django!!! for the ones who dk 🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛

[randybutternubber]

My Jester design

Planning to change up the clothing since it’s virtually identical to Low’s and the kids from LN 2 comic six’s outfits.

NO LITTLE ASIAN BOY DONT GO INTO THE BATHHOUSE!!!!!!

[clowningaroundmars]

ppl abt hobie brown: oh nooo he's so hard to draw he's sooooo skinny!!!! idk how to draw long lanky thin-limbed teenage boys... it's so hard! :(

me doodling hobie poses, remembering that i'm comin in from the Long Lanky Thin-Limbed Teenage Boys fandom:

[cherryflavoredbutch]

i looked up the lyrics to rebel heart by rod stewart bc I wanted to post about a line i like but i guess ive been misunderstanding literally all of the lyrics the entire time because that song is apparently about trying and failing to fuck a (butch?) lesbian as a man. okay thank you rod. weird choice of subject matter not sure how i feel about it but i appreciate your honesty

[thrilling-oneway]

the annoying thing about the CG WORLD magazine is that it mainly focuses on costume design and a lot of the actual character design stuff is blurred out.

there's some stuff on tcrf that i think was ripped from one of the beta builds but Damn is it annoying that there's hardly any accessible beta and cut content

[daegorth]

Lmfaooooo. Nah, this is too funny🤣🤣🤣 Gotta give it to 'em, that's a nice gloat.

I mean, it would be a better gloat if they had beat Miami with Messi somewhere in the vicinity of the pitch (especially the pizza gloat) but this is creative.

[cleaningbones]

wall ball -ed so hard the ball landed on the roof, rolled to the other side of the building, through a parking lot, across the street, and into a neighbors mysterious overgrown back yard

[gonzodangerfeels]

Horses make me nervous.

I never saw a need to rely on riding an animal that bad.

[satrs]

ATTENTION.

✎ A/N; They got me y'all. The voices told me to do this I'm telling youuu!!!! Did I do the ripping part in both Sylus' and Rafayel's intentionally? Yes, yes I did. SUE ME!!!

SYNOPSIS; surprising them in lingerie!

FEATURING; Sylus, Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier x fem!reader (l&ds)

TAGS; NSFW CONTENT! MDNI! s€xual intercourse. Teasing. Unprotected intercourse. Dirty talk. mating press(Sylus). blindfolding. pü$$yjob. (xavier). slightt dumbification(rafayel). cunnilingus. overstim. (Zayne)

WK;4.2k.

♡ SYLUS

"Take a picture, it'll last longer", you tease the white haired man who cranes his neck in your direction, bloody eyes examining your attire.

"I might."

A giggle escapes you in response to Sylus. He can't help but let a sly smirk creep up his lips, scanning your black stilettos up to your red lingerie, the polished red gemstones decorating your cleavage, and adding the cherry on top.

You cage wine-red lips between your teeth as you lift your hand to rest on his naked chest, droplets of water indicating his previous shower, your band of rubies slightly slipping down your tender wrist in the process.

Raising his eyebrows at your action, he watches you raise on the tips of your toes, your hot breath fanning across his neck as you whisper into his ear. "I think I'll go change."

Change? Change now, after you dolled yourself up just for him (quickly, for that matter) whilst he took a shower? Definitely not happening.

He manages to take hold of your arm with a questionable look on his face. "Oh, please", he begins, intrigue causing his silver brows to twitch, "The party's already done? What a shame."

The innocent expression on your face only sparked excitement in him- and his pants, a sly smirk exposing his motive as he takes careful steps to your shared bed until he sits on the edge, dark orbs still asserting dominance even though he’s looking up at your captivating form.

You giggle in response, and he doesn't miss your delicate hands gliding down his exposed chest, finding comfort in the towel wrapped around his waist.

"Do tell," he continues, his intense glare roaming over every part of your body, followed by his hands finding comfort on your rear. "What are the stilettos for?"

Pointing his chin towards your hidden surprise, you’re quick to follow up with a swift movement of your leg, pushing him down his back carefully with your heel before seating your covered pusssy on his growing bulge. as you bite back, "to keep you in check."

A glint of amusement dances across the man's features as he scoffs at your pathetic attempt of dominance, giving a firm squeeze to your behind, earning a yelp from your lips. "We’ll see about that."

Before you can even think of a cheeky retort, he smashes his lips against yours in haste, sighing into your mouth as if it's been a lifetime since he last had a taste of you.

His digits creep around your spine to take hold of the back of your neck, swiftly but carefully pushing you on the king sized bed, your back hitting the cold touch of the silken sheets.

He smashes his lips against yours, swallowing your sounds eagerly, hastily fumbling with your lingerie before a loud rip! Sound echoes through the room.

You let out a gasp in realization, ready to scold the man for his animalistic behavior, tragically failing to do so once he teases your exposed space.

“I’ll buy you a new one. Two, even.” He grunts between kisses, digits fumbling to get rid of his towel, grinding your cunt down on his exposed length as if his life depended on it. “Hell, I’ll buy the whole store.”

Within a blink of an eye, you already feel his bulky, fat tip nudging at your puckering hole, pushing past the tight ring of muscle with a low, resonant growl as he swiftly swings your legs over his shoulders.

Whining at his ridiculously bulky head engulfed in your snug hole, you try to close your legs in a desperate attempt to escape the astonishing stretch of his thick length. "Sy, I wanted to- ngh!, W-wanted to be on top."

"Don't be ridiculous, honey", he interrupts before smashing his hips harshly against yours, fully burying his pulsating cock inside your pussy, "You don't mean that", His slender fingers spread your glistering folds apart, in awe at the sight of you swallowing his cock with each push of his hips.

Ecstatic is how to describe your current state, low hanging eyes clouded in the thick mist of pleasure as you watch him ram into you helplessly, your legs danging off his shoulders as he pushes you further and further into a mean mating press.

You can see his tip nudging your lower belly, prominent dent apearing and dissapearing again, causing you to claw at his beefy arm, trying to slow his movement down, only to be smacked away with a scoff.

"Awww, baby. Don't give up just yet. You still got to 'keep me in check', no?" You whine as your orgasm hits you in surprise, letting out a loud cry of his name as your pussy spasms all over his pelvis.

Once you saw that fat grin on his face that you would've loved to slap off his face, you know your fucked. Maybe you even knew that from the start. But,

"There's no backing out now, kitten."

♡ XAVIER

"Can I look?"

"Wait!"

He sighs, impatiently tapping his foot on the floor, trying to adjust to the darkness covering his eyes. How long is this childish game going to take? Why won't you just let him see you?

"C'mon, wanna see you." You chuckle at his whiny plea as you step closer to him, seated on the couch, reaching out to grasp his hand in yours.

"Just be patient. You will." his composer tenses once he feels his fingers grazing the lace material adoring your soft skin and fuck, his dick twitches in his pants in pain as he imagines how you look right now in all of your glory, body decorated in seducing lace. "It's white, you know. Just how you like it."

Strength, that's what he needs—because he doesn't know how much longer he can play this game of yours before he might die.

"You won't die, silly." A hue of red adores his face in embarrassment, groaning at your light chuckle once he realizes he just said that out loud.

In light of the moment, he takes the chance and grasps at the flesh of your ass, causing you to gasp. "Please", he begs, his hand pushing you further towards him until he faces your tummy, "I w-want to- need to see you."

A shudder runs down your spine as he places wet kisses all over your exposed skin, an unoccupied hand cupping a feel of your clothed breast, earning a lustful pur from you in return.

You don't miss the sly smirk spread across his face once you push him deeper into the couch, his back hitting the rest in acceptance of defeat.

"I told you to be-"

"Patient, yes. You know I can't stand waiting when it comes to you, love." You sigh, trying your best to retain your sounds by caging your lips between your teeth, and you're thankful that he can't see your contorting expressions from his shameless hands roaming over every inch of your body. Yet.

"It's rude to interrupt someone while they're talking, you know." Your words come out hollow, not even fully reaching his ear, because all he could focus on were your hands freeing his aching cock from its restraint, his tip slightly nudging at your now exposed pussy, laced panties pushed to the side.

At that moment, his head falls back, a frustrated groan roaring from his lungs, a hard grip on your hips as he rocks your body on top of his, your wet folds adoring his shaft in the glistering essence of your sweet nectar, the warmth of your heat causing him to whine, longing to see and feel the full extent of your addicting pussy.

"Y-you're making it hard for me, you know." He notices the slight waver in your voice, and he also notices your hand gliding along the back of his neck, up, up, up until your finger hooks under the blindfold, giving into his endless pleas.

All he can manage to choke out is a gluttonous "F-fuckkk", as he, finally, sees what you've been holding back from him. And sight behold, it's even better than he could've ever imagined.

You can feel his dick twitching between the mold of your folds once you release the blindfold from his face, letting it dangle down at his neck, slightly pulling him closer by it until your lips were inches apart.

As you admire his pussy-drunk gaze, you notice his glossy eyes, kissing away the dried trail of tears running down his cheeks.

His eyes stay glued between your legs as you halt for a moment to align his angered tip at your excited hole, before you snap him out of his trance by firmly gripping at the blindfold.

"Like what you see?", you tease, words falling onto deaf ears as you sink down onto his length, his hands quick to lift you from his cock before harshly slamming you down again, catching you off guard.

"Fuck yeah."

♡ RAFAYEL

"Oh?"

His voice rings in the thick, clouded air, the filled with lust. With the quick movement of his eyes, scanning every inch of your body and the tight lace hugging your figure so deliciously, he can't help but wet his lips.

"Oh." The man's tone is low, seductive even, his hungry eyes devouring your very being. That's a surprise, alright.

This feels like a dream; with each step you take towards him in the massive pool, his head spins and dizziness overcomes his senses.

The water soon reaches your upper body as you begin to swim towards the man, all under a watchful eye.

In an act of malice, you decide to dive underneath the water, out of sight of his predatory gaze. Or, so you thought.

Gaze, not wavering from your silouette, swimming closer and closer to his spot, amused grimace coming to light as you emerge from the dark water, just to poke your head to the surface.

"Careful now." He warns at your greedy touch against his body, fingers hooking under the waistband of his shorts to mess with him, " What? I'm just testing the waters."

He chuckles at that, arms lifting you as you instinctively wrap your legs around his slutty waist. "The waters you're testing are deep, you know."

You smirk at his words, your arms caging him in place as they lock around his neck, eyes gazing into his, radiating pure lust and desire. "Deeper than you fucking me?"

You've done it now.

A flip switches inside him instantly, breath turning ragged while his hands are busy freeing his aching cock, impatiently, ripping your adored bikini, exposing your cunt to the cold pool water.

You protest, whining as he holds the pair of panties up in victory, examining them while balancing you on one strong arm. "Couldn't see shit from afar", he begins, his tongue poking out to lick across his lips.

"Looks wonderful on you, baby. Heavenly, even. But right now, I'd rather see you," releasing the fabric that covered your tits in rapid motion, he throws them behind him without care before resuming, "-naked."

"Sorry, you were saying?", His brought-up innocence, causes your brows to knit in frustration, soon disappearing once he bullies his entire cock deep into you. "Oh yeah, I remember. Something about me fucking you, right?"

The wail that you let out only earns you a twitch of his pulsating cock inside your comforting heat, repeated thrusts of his causing the water to shudder from his crude movements.

Nodding hastily, your nails clamp down on his shoulders - trying to adjust to his rapid movement with your body bouncing up and down up and-

"Hellooo, anyone up there?"

If you could, you would wipe that snarky smirk right off his face, but you couldn't. You couldn't even protest as his hands followed up to your head right after, a light knock against your forehead with his index finger.

"Hm? My girl's turning all dumb when she wanna come, yeah?" Strong arms trap you in a strong hold, his hips rutting into you at a ridiculously fast pace, his hands spreading your ass cheeks apart, nudging your gushy spot repeatedly as you threaten to come undone in his hold.

"Tell me, baby. Tell me you wanna cum, wanna hear my girl say it." he mumbles against your kiss-bitten lips, a slight stutter escaping him at the delicious squeeze of your cock-drunk pussy. "M-hm, 'm so close, soso- oh nghhh!"

Displeased with your answer, he clicks his tongue, his slender fingers threading their way between your legs to squeeze your clit meanly between his fingers. "O-ohhww! Hnghh!"

"Nuh uhhh. Say it and you'll get to cum, silly girl." You spill whine after whine from your lips, legs shaking in sync with the water.  "W-wanna cum, need ta' nghhh pleaseee- Oh!"

Incoherent nonsense rushes past your lips, and before you even realize it, you're coming undone in his arms.

Silent cries of his name fly over his head, his whole attention focused on you. From your widened eyes to your mouth hanging open, all the way to the squeeze of your plush walls, begging him to fill you to the brim.

And he does.

At his wits end, his hips stutter into yours with one last pathetic thrust. Fat chunks of white spurted into you, followed by a broken wail from him. "Y-yeahh that's my girl. Take it all. That'sss it."

You crash your lips on his, moans drowning in the hot mess. With your head laid against his heaving chest, eyes scrunched together as you came down from your high.

"C'mon, baby", he snaps you out of your daze, hazy eyes gawking at you. And, oh - you know this look all too well.

Biting your lips in excitement, he hoists you up until his dick slips out of you in quick motion, a slight hiss from him indicating his impatience.

The cold breeze engulfs your bodies as you leave the pool, your arms clinging to his neck in seek of warmth. With his quick feet, he hurries to reach the inside.

"You know we ain't done yet."

♡ ZAYNE

"You should've told me," His breath hitches against your neck, pampering your neck with kisses, hands groping your flesh. "I would've, w-would've got off earlier."

"Where'd be the fun in that?" you tease, trying to hide your smirk, your fingers delicately brushing through his dark strands, and fuck, you could cum by just looking at his lustful expression.

His hair messy and face lost in complete bliss, with his eyes screaming that he's hungry for more. And who could blame him?

Exactly, no one.

"Fuckin' hell", he mutters under his breath as you climb on top of him, laced panties hovering just above his face.

Hell, he'll for sure just might end up there if he doesn't get a taste of you in the next three seconds.

"What are you waiting for, darling?", His fingers dig deep into the flesh of your hips, forcing your hips further down, and he can't believe his eyes. Your juices bleed through the dark lace. You little minx.

Three.

He stops in his tracks at the faint whiff of your juices hitting his nostrils, squeezing your hips so tight that your flesh spills from the gaps of his fingers.

Two.

"Well?", you snap him out of his trance, catching his gaze. Your fingers brush through his strands before firmly gripping them, his lips mere inches away from your leaking hole, "What are you waiting for?"

Fuck that last second.

Shameless and dirty. Two words you'd never expected tohear with your Zayne in a sentence.

It's downright nasty, how his tongue is lapping and sucking your lips through the fabric, teeth teasingly grazing against your clit earning a gasp from you.

"Pull it off, can't wait. I gotta taste you." Zayne is fast, fingers hooking under the fabric to reveal your glistering cunt with a hungry growl, "All of you."

"S-so impatient." Shaky voice betraying yourself as your fingers tangle in his dark roots, offering him the dark blue lace that does a poor job of covering your crotch, thighs twitching in his hold.

"Please, darling", wavering voice whispers against your hidden folds, your sweet nectar reaching his nose once he hooks his finger under the flimsy fabric, pushing it to the side to gawk at your exposed cunt, glistering.

He breathes in, heart rapidly beating in his chest in anticipation, before he stops himself with one deep, threatening growl. "Fuckin' sit."

With that, he firmly grips your hips, smashing you down on his awaiting mouth. The gasp that leaves you only eggs him on, making out with your lips as if it were his last meal.

And it might be, if he continues to push you down further and further, his tongue already pushing past your tight walls, eager to taste more of you.

Humming into your heat as he gazes up at your contorted expressions, the plush of your thighs nearly suffocating him. Not that he’d mind, of course.

„Mhm, take it.“ His words are muffled against your puffy folds, barely reaching your ears. If you even heard him over the squelching sound of the wet mess beneath you, that is.

Big, beefy hands take a firm hold on your ass, squeezing the flesh tightly in his embrace. Groaning into your heat, he musters up his strength to rock your cunt over his face, ears perking up at your increase in volume.

You feel hot blood rushing through your veins as each breath of air gets heavier and hotter by any minute, his tongue lavishly exploring your tight tunnel.

His keen movement yearns for your release, growing more desperate in his movements. He just can't help himself, really. "Quit, squirmin', " He just barely lifts your hips, his words scrambling against your heat before he resumes to his meal, slightly biting down onto your poor clit in warning.

Your surprised squeal only eggs him on further. Mouth working faster, nastier, downright making out with your cunt shamelessly, even going as far as spelling his name over and over again.

Z-A-Y-N-E-Z-A-Y-N-E-Z-

„I‘m s-so- close! Fuck!“ As those words leave your mouth, a sudden euphoric wave overtakes you, and you gush all over the man's face, his face shining in your juices as he eagerly slurps up every bit you offer him.

Humming in content, his hand rips against the flesh of your ass, faint paint of red adoring your behind, before his strong arms swiftly throw you onto your back, leaving you in pure bliss from your orgasm.

But before you can notice the switch in position, his mouth is back on your cunt, hands now roaming over your body, making sure to trace the adorable cerulean lace, even going as far as sneaking through your bra to get a feel of your soft chest.

This is so strange, so unlike him- Zayne, the usually chill and composed man, full of self-control and diligence, now rutting his hips against the bed in impatient thrusts, all kinds of mumbles and groans lost between your spread thighs.

"'S too much, just hold on, Zayne!"

The overstimulation catching up to you, a string of electricity running down your spine as you try to escape his firm grip by wiggling, thighs squeezing tightly around his head - anything. But just from his warning glare, you knew it was impossible.

Sure, your legs are just about to give out on you, your poor, abused pussy pulsated non-stop, and you could already see the shining stars threatening to litter your vision.

It's too much, but it also feels all too good, maybe a little too well. With trembling fingers, you reach for his hair, contemplating whether to push him away or pull him impossibly closer. Now it was up to him to choose.

Zayne's resonated voice is already answer enough, face lifting from the cavity of your fluttering heat. His mouth completely covered in your slick, his grin completely catching you off guard.

He's placing a last, sloppy kiss right at the crown of your clit for good measure. Heavy breath brushing against your abandoned clit, causing a shiver to creep up your spine, before he's leaving a trace of wet kisses up your belly, eyes not leaving yours even once.

"You know I can't do that, darling. I'm not even halfway done with you yet."

©︎𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙍𝙎 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[muttlyparasitic]

[sundrop-writes]

BRAINWASHED

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Everything’s clean - except for my thoughts. (Thinking about me getting you off.)

Can��t stop thinking you got me B R A I N W A S H E D .

Summary:

Stiles likes you. He really, really, really likes you. It's bordering on obsession, but he likes to believe that he has it under control.

So when you accidentally leave a pair of your panties in his presence, ripe for the taking, and they're in his backpack faster than he can blink - he realizes that he might not have it as under control as he would like to think. But he can't find it to be too much of a problem when he has those panties wrapped around his cock.

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Best Friend!Fem!Reader. Pining!Stiles/One Sided Fantasies. Panty Stealing. Smut/PWP.

Word Count: 8,000

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns and is described as having a vagina; Stiles and the reader have been best friends since childhood and they are in high school now (they are both the same age) (for argument's sake, they are both 18, but the horny parts were motivated by the hotness of a 20-something actor so idc what age you interpret the characters as); the reader's looks are mostly undescribed and left neutral in terms of race, hair texture/colour, height, etc. however the reader is implied to be fat/plus sized; mentions of the reader wearing dresses and tights (things that the other characters on the show would typically wear); mentions of the reader having a cat - I did not give the cat a name so you can imagine it's the same as your cat's name/what you would want your cat to be called if you had one; use of Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); brief mention that the reader would like wearing bikinis; the reader calls Stiles 'good boy' in non-sexual contexts and it turns him on; mentions of Stiles looking up the reader's skirt when she doesn't know it; some slight dubious consent because Stiles steals the reader's underwear without her consent and uses them in a sexual act (his masturbation); masturbation (Stiles touching himself); this is a one-sided/pining fic - all the sexual acts take place inside Stiles's mind as sexual fantasies while he masturbates; the reader character is described in these sexual acts as they play out in his mind, so that's why she is included heavily in the warnings; Stiles is submissive (even in his own fantasies) and he fantasies about the reader being dominant toward him; Stiles becoming aroused by the idea of the reader not shaving her pussy; technically there is edging - because Stiles edges himself to make his fantasies last longer; panty sniffing (though the panties Stiles took are freshly launder and not used ones); scent kink/sweat kink - Stiles likes the way you smell, including your sweat; kinks and sexual acts mentioned only in Stiles's fantasies (taking place only in his mind in this fic): car sex (in the back of the Jeep (typical, I know)), fingering (reader receiving), degradation kink (Stiles receiving - he likes the idea of the reader insulting him and being mean to him); pussy eating (Stiles fantasizes in depth about this); Reader makes a joke about spanking Stiles and Stiles has a small fantasy about being spanked by her; I think that's finally it.

A/N: Title for the fic comes from the song Brainwashed by Waterparks. Warning - Stiles might be a bit OOC in this because I wrote it before I started re-watching Teen Wolf again (and before I started watching Season 1 for the first time, because previously I had only seen 3B and beyond). In this, I have said that he's flunking classes and he's not really great with studying, while in the show, he's really smart and bookish and really well studied - but it could just be chalked up to the fact that he has a huge crush on the Reader that is distracting him from studying. So, interpret it how you want. I hope that you enjoy it, and please read through to my end notes to find out about a potential sequel to the fic!!

...

Stiles was hopeless. 

That was the only way to describe his current state of being. Completely, utterly hopeless. 

He was a complete and total loser, hopelessly in love with his best friend. And he was getting more stupidly caught up in that crush every single day. And of course, he didn’t even have the courage to admit his feelings for you so that it could be awkwardly out in the open. So that the two of you could get the rejection part over with, at least. 

Basically - his feelings for you were slowly ruining his life. 

Stiles had been in love with you for as long as he could remember. Well, maybe not that long. 

See, you, him, and Scott had all been friends since the beginning of kindergarten, and naturally, Stiles always liked you as a person. He always thought of you as a good friend, even if he gravitated toward Scott more.  

But he distinctly remembered the first moment when he had started to develop a crush on you. It was a very special memory to him - the day when you shifted in his eyes from annoying, slightly nagging friend to a beautiful, fierce woman. 

It was the day when the three of you were out on Halloween night during the third grade - and that was around the time people started whispering about crushes in school, when people would have playground girlfriends and boyfriends that they broke up with every other week. That night, a group of eighth grade bullies began chasing the three of you, trying to take your candy. 

Without hesitation, you picked up the largest rock in sight and threw it at one of them, causing a large cut across his forehead - and you loudly told them to ‘fuck off’ (the first time Stiles had ever heard such a word when it wasn’t coming from his dad). They had run away, somehow terrified of a girl a foot shorter than them. 

That night, you had become his hero. 

And since then, you had been the only object of his affections. 

Of course, over the years, Stiles had plenty of opportunities to tell you about his feelings for you. He just… always felt too cowardly to do so. 

In seventh grade, he had come very close to asking you out to the winter dance - only to have Scott beat him to the punch. When he pulled Scott aside to ask him about it, Scott confessed to him that he also had a crush on you. This resulted in their first ever fistfight. The first ever true rift in their otherwise close, brotherly friendship. 

The boys didn’t speak to each other for days. Which, naturally, annoyed the hell out of you. Especially because, of course, neither of them told you why they were fighting, not wanting you to know that you were the source of the rift in their friendship. And to you, this only made the fight seem more stupid and immature. 

So finally, when you demanded it, they called a truce. They agreed that they didn’t want to lose their friendship or lose you. They didn’t want to make you choose between them when it wouldn’t make any of you happy. 

So Stiles proposed that the three of you should go to the dance as friends, which you loved, and they both got you a corsage, one for each wrist - and the three of you still laughed at the pictures of you holding each of their arms. 

Eventually, Scott grew out of his crush on you and moved onto other girls, and he loved that he got to keep you as a close best friend, someone he could go to for dating advice if needed. Scott kept trying to convince Stiles to simply ‘man up’ and tell you about his feelings, but Stiles kept that same sentiment they had concluded upon years ago. Telling you about his feelings would only ruin the friendship. Not just between you, but between the entire group - it would fuck up the pack. 

Though it felt like the more he tried to ignore his feelings for you, the more they festered like a tumor. While Scott was able to mature past his crush on you, Stiles only grew more intense, and more insane when it came to his ‘crush’ on you. 

Over the years, his crush on you had grown from something sweet and childish into something much more. When puberty truly took over and lust was added into the mix, he now had to deal with the fact that you had grown into a gorgeous woman. He could barely control his arousal when looking at you, hearing your voice, smelling you, talking to you, thinking about you - even simply being in your presence made something in his mind melt. And it was growing much worse with each passing day. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t wake up with a raging boner fueled by sexual dreams of you. 

And naturally, he would say that not telling you about his feelings for you was ultimately the best thing for him. He would steadfastly refuse to admit that him being distracted by all these fantasies of you was slowly eroding your friendship from the inside out. Slowly, bit by bit, his worst fears were coming true - your friendship was being ruined by his crush anyway. 

But he tried to ignore that. Even if you were the most gorgeous, perfect being ever put on the planet, he tried his hardest to simply enjoy the platonic version of you. He tried to act like he wasn’t stupidly, head over heels in love with you. 

He tried not to act like it. 

But on nights like this, it was just so hard. 

Tonight, the two of you were studying for an upcoming English mid-term that would be worth a decent portion of your final grade. 

Logically, Stiles knew that he should have locked himself in his room and forced himself to study independently. Or he should have taken up Scott on his offer to study with him and Allison. 

But no, he just had to ask you for your ‘help’. 

And you pitied him and said yes, because he was doing poorly in the class. The only reason for that being because it was one of the classes that he shared with you, and he spent all of his damn time staring at you across the room during it. He had tried to tell himself that he really would study tonight, that he would really take advantage of your intelligence here and now to get his shit together in order to up his grade. 

But no. That was just one of many daily lies that he told himself. Since the moment he had set foot in your bedroom that afternoon (and it was dark out now, well into the evening) - he hadn’t been able to focus on anything but you. 

Sure, sometimes that worked to his benefit. Hearing you recite Shakespeare, the words coming off your sweet lips - it did force him to focus on the material at hand for at least a short period of time. But it wasn’t like he was actually retaining any of it. He was just thinking about how gorgeous your voice sounded and how amazing you would be in an adaptation of Romeo and Juliet. One where he played Romeo, of course - and he would get to use someone else’s well-crafted words to romance you, finally getting to kiss you for the first time. 

Again - he was hopeless. 

Currently, Stiles was laying diagonally on your bed, sitting among a mess of books - the English textbooks, the assigned novels, the published copies of the play, along with binders of your notes and other notebooks, stray papers. He couldn’t pay attention to the notes he was supposed to be writing, not for a moment, not if his life depended on it. Not when you looked this stunningly beautiful while busy writing your own notes. 

With the soft lighting from your bedside lamp brushing across your skin, making that skin look even softer, you were a goddess-like vision sitting on the bed across from him. You were wearing the simple dress that you had worn to school earlier that day, your modest tights since shed off in the name of ‘comfort’ (and so that your cat wouldn’t rip holes in them while crawling across your lap, you had remarked to Stiles). When you had stood at your hamper and peeled them off your legs, Stiles had a hard time not letting the drool spill out across his chin. 

Your thighs were gorgeous. Thick, wide, spread out like a buffet for his eyes to feast on every single time you sat down. From his angle, laying down the way he was, he was up close and personal with the dimpling cellulite and stretchmarks you had there. The hem of your dress had ridden up when you had adjusted your position to get comfortable, and he felt absolutely spoiled by how much more of your thighs were revealed to him. 

A few times throughout the evening, he had to physically clench his fingers, tight, to remind himself not to reach out and touch. To remind himself that he wasn’t allowed to touch. The last thing he wanted to do was to creep you out by randomly reaching out and touching your thigh. But he wanted so badly to touch. 

How many times had he imagined what those thighs would look like bouncing and jiggling while you rode his cock? How many times had he imagined those thighs clamped around his head while he licked your pussy? (Far too many times for the good of his own sanity.) 

Not to mention the concentration spread across your face - you were so fucking hot when you showed off your intelligence. Hell everything about you was hot - your sweetness, your laughter, your sarcasm, even your bitchy side. But your bookish side had to be one of Stiles’s favorites. 

The way you would nibble your own lip when thinking, the way your brows furrowed slightly in thought. Everything about you - from the bra strap sticking out of the neckline of your dress to the chipped edge of your nail polish where you had chewed on it - you were a fucking vision. And Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off you, no matter how hard he tried. 

It was a wonder that you didn’t notice Stiles staring at you - not as often as he did it. 

Stiles felt strangely caught when you put down your pen and looked up from your notebook, then. He quickly scrambled to grab his own pencil and start writing something, to look busy. But of course, he just looked like more of an idiot when the eraser end began scraping across the page in nonsense patterns. 

“Stiles,” You scolded him with a sigh, a way he was used to hearing his name come off your lips. “Have you gotten anything done? I told you to copy down at least half my notes-” 

Of course. You pegged his blank page as simple laziness, rather than his brain slowly melting out through his ears due to his inability to think about anything but you (especially when he was in the same room as you). At least he hadn’t been caught staring at you in that creepy way yet. 

You snatched up his notebook to check his work, and his heart dropped - if you looked too carefully, then he would be caught. In the back of that notebook, there were about three pages of his name and yours in hearts, and a few times he had practiced writing his signature as ‘Mr Stiles L/N’. (He was a feminist, and he liked the idea of starting a new tradition.) There was even a drawing he had made designing your theoretical wedding cake, including a cake topper where he was Superman and you were riding on his back while he was flying. 

“Y/N, uh-” 

He quickly snatched the notebook back, causing a glare from you while he sighed in defeat. 

“Fine.” He shrugged, knowing that he had to admit to a smaller crime in order to cover up the larger one. It was something that he did with his father all too often. “I didn’t get anything done. I was slacking off. You caught me.” 

“Stiles!” You scolded him again, reaching out to gently smack his shoulder. “If you keep this shit up, you’re never gonna graduate!” 

Sadly, you were probably right. His crush on you was absolutely going to ruin him. 

“Well, you could just let me copy off you,” He replied, giving you a wide grin that let you know he was mostly kidding. 

You rolled your eyes in reply, and soon your gaze caught sight of the clock on your nightstand. 

“Well, it seems like you have wasted enough of my time for tonight.” You scoffed sarcastically. 

Stiles knew that you had intended this to be a joke - but he couldn’t help the twinge of pain the words caused in his gut. The idea that he was truly just a waste of time in your life. He pressed his lips tightly together to suppress a frown and didn’t say anything more, and then you continued. 

“It’s almost your curfew anyway.” You pointed out, gesturing toward the clock. You were right. Stiles hadn’t even noticed how late it was getting - too busy enjoying his time with you. “We’ll pack it up for the night - but you should meet me at the library tomorrow morning, early, so we can go over everything again before the exam.” 

Of course, you were still invested in the idea of him getting a good grade, even if that seemed unlikely to happen. 

“You’re gonna make me get up early?” He whined, hating the idea of missing out on even ten extra minutes of sleep. 

“Yes.” You stressed. “I want you there at seven o’clock. Sharp.” 

Your ultra serious voice ordering him around was undeniably a turn-on for him. No matter what sexual fantasies Stiles cooked up about you in his mind, he could never picture himself having full control over you. In fact, most of the time, he found himself covered in cum at the idea of you having complete control over him. And it was likely because this was how most of your friendship went - you told him what to do, and he did it. And that was a huge part of why he fell for you in the first place. 

When he didn’t verbally confirm the time, too caught up in his infatuation yet again, you let out a gentle growl of frustration. 

“Stiles!” You called out his name. “You have to be there at seven. So you can’t get out of bed at seven - you have to set your alarm for like six-thirty, got it? Don’t make me come over there and get your ass out of bed like last time.” 

This thought caused Stiles’s stomach to clench. 

The last time you had come to his house to wake him up for school (because he had agreed to help you with some bakesale project and you were pissed off that he wasn’t there early to help you set up tables and whatnot) - you had charged into his house in a fury. You had your own key, of course, and his dad wasn’t there to busy you with conversation or pleasantries. 

And you charged right up the stairs and nearly caught him with a hand around his cock, jerking off to a picture of you in a bikini from the summer before. And he had rushed to shove the picture in his nightstand and cocoon himself in the comforter to hide his body just as you made it to the top of the stairs, shouting at him for being late. Luckily, he had gotten away with the lie that he had slept in, rather than revealing the truth that he had been distracted because he had woken up with morning wood after having a heated dream about you. 

When Stiles didn’t respond yet again, you grabbed a smaller decorative pillow from behind you and lightly hit him with it for emphasis, causing him to burst into laughter. 

“Promise me you’ll be on time!” You said, smacking him with the pillow again. 

“Yes, yes! I promise!” He finally agreed, his face becoming pink from laughter. 

You dropped the pillow then, and leaned down, causing his eyes to inadvertently go straight to your cleavage while you gave him a gentle, friendly kiss on the forehead. 

“Good boy.” You responded, praising him for agreeing to your terms. Obviously, it was another joke. 

But these praising words combined with your lips even slightly brushing against his skin, along with your tits dangling so close to his face, had his cock swelling to hardness nearly instantly. He grabbed the pillow then, trying to look subtle as he put it over his crotch, desperately trying to hide the very obvious bulge that had popped up at the front of his jeans within seconds. 

He was lucky when you shifted your attention away from him, now busy with cleaning off the bed, gathering your textbooks in a pile and moving to put them on your desk in the corner. You being distracted gave him a few moments to try and mentally will his dick down, which worked slightly. Only slightly. 

“You could help me, you know.” You mocked him lightly - distracting him from his thoughts of baseball, trying to will the blood out of his cock. 

He looked up and saw you standing there with his backpack, putting away his textbooks and notebooks now. He had been so dumbly distracted by his own dick that he hadn’t noticed you taking the kind initiative to clean up his things for him too. 

“Right, sorry.” He jumped into action and did so, taking things from your hands and shoving them into his bag with haste. 

“You don’t have to rush out, I just need the bed cleared off so I can pick out my clothes for tomorrow.” You told him. 

“Wait - you actually pick out your clothes in advance?” He asked, thinking that this was entirely adorable, and explained why you were always so well dressed. 

(And it explained why you were always so punctual in the mornings while Stiles was usually a mess - running around his house still half-asleep, shoving his head into a shirt that he had sniffed to see if it was clean, shoving things frantically into his bag in order to get out the door five minutes late.) 

“Well you know not all of us are okay with just throwing on last week’s mustard stained tee shirt,” You said, playfully pointing to a mustard stain that he had on his shirt from lunch. 

He rolled his eyes in return, trying to ignore the slight twist of embarrassment that wanted to swell up inside of him at the comment. 

There had been a point where he used to make a very pointed effort to impress you. Back when his crush on you had first gotten serious - likely around the beginning of high school. He used to get up early every single morning, spending a lot of time being intensely picky about the clothes he wore. He drowned himself in cologne (until you had complained about it), he wore certain colors just because you mentioned liking them. But none of it seemed to garner any more of your attention than usual. 

And so, he resigned himself to be the loser best friend who would always just float at the corners of your life, drowning in his secret affection for you until some better, hotter guy came along and swept you off your feet one day. 

He was just glad that day hadn’t come yet. 

Stiles was hesitant to leave - he wasn’t done being around you for the day yet, too emotionally attached. But he guessed that he would need to get some decent sleep before waking up at the asscrack of dawn in order to see more of you the next morning. (Even if it would include the horrors of studying at the library.) 

“So - I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” He posed, ready to take his leave as he swung his backpack over his shoulder. 

“Ooh, wait one second.” You said, eagerness twinging through your voice. 

His heart pounded hard in his chest for a moment, wondering if this could be the moment he had been waiting so long for - would you stop him there, grab him by the shoulders and kiss him hard, and then tell him that you had been feeling the exact same way as he had for all these years? 

“Which one?” You asked, spinning around from your closet to face him, holding up two dresses on hangers. 

Oh. You were asking for his opinion about what you should wear to school the next day. 

“The blue one.” Stiles said, motioning towards it. “That shade of blue looks beautiful on you - it compliments your skin tone well, and it makes you shine. But ya know, you look gorgeous in everything. You could wear a paper bag to school and everyone would still be jealous of how amazing you look.” 

He rambled on for a moment too long, and realized that his genuine fondness for you - something straying too far into romantic territory - was slipping out. 

“But - uh, yeah. I’ll see you later.” He quickly added on, now eager to leave before you could make any further comments. 

Then he dashed out of your room and down the stairs, getting out the front door so fast that he practically left a poof of cartoon dust behind him. 

He got into the Jeep and tossed his bag into the passenger’s seat - which, he hadn’t realized was not even zipped up. (A habit you often scolded him for - going around with his bag unzipped.) Papers and books spilled across the seat and underneath it, and he let out a loud growl of frustration. 

“Idiot!” He screamed, scolding himself as he leaned down, trying to clean everything up. “Idiot, idiot, idiot!” 

Partially, he was feeling so idiotic because he had just been so vulnerable with you and you probably thought he was weird for it. Actually, that was mostly why. 

As he was picking up his things, he realized that - yup, he was missing his English textbook. He had forgotten it in your room. He heaved out a sigh and collapsed back against his seat. He could leave without it - but then he would get an earful from you in the morning about how he was ‘forgetful’ and ‘irresponsible’. Ugh. 

He got out of the Jeep again and shuffled his way back into your house - your mom was working late, so there was nobody there to question him running out of the house at top speed and then appearing back so soon. All he got was a curious chirp and a head tilt from your cat, who was sitting on the top of the stairs. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Stiles remarked to the animal, stopping for a moment to pet him. “I’m pathetic. But you can’t rat me out, okay? I know she thinks highly of your opinion and I need you to put in a good word for me. Got it?” 

The cat purred and pushed his face into Stiles’s hand, so he assumed that was a positive affirmation that he would root for Stiles - or at the very least, keep his secret. 

Stiles linger for a moment to scratch the cat’s furry cheek, and then he stepped over the cat and made his way back toward your room. He passed the closed bathroom door and heard the shower running, and he almost cheered. If you were in the shower, then you wouldn’t notice him slipping back in to grab his book, so you couldn’t scold him for being a forgetful idiot. 

He went into your room, and the second he made it through the mouth of your open bedroom, his eyes locked onto your bed like a hot target. Your clothes for the following day were spread out so neatly, and right there, on top of the blue dress he had suggested - there was a pair of lacy purple panties that were something right out of one of his fantasies. 

Stiles had thought about your underwear before - many times. Too many times to count. 

He had even caught small, passing glimpses of your underwear before - when you had worn dresses without tights and bent over in front of him. But he had only seen enough of it to determine the color, not to know if it was lacy or silk or cotton. And even that was enough to send him into a tailspin that had him rushing to the bathroom to relieve his aching cock. 

In the back of his mind - or truly, the forefront of his mind whenever he jerked off to thoughts of you - he always wondered what kind of underwear you wore. What kind of decorative wrapping your pretty pussy would come in if he ever got the other-worldly privilege of getting his hands up your skirt. 

Would they be simple, practical cotton underwear? Would they be cute? Would they be sinfully sexy? Would they be those underwear with the days of the week written across the front? 

But seeing this now - seeing the tangible evidence in front of him that you actually planned to wear purple lacy lingerie to school - it was something that had all sense draining from his mind as blood rushed to his cock once again. He barely had time to think about it - and he didn’t think about it. Because then, they were in his hands, in his pocket, and he was back in the Jeep, hiding his stolen goods in his bag and hastily zipping it up so he could slam his foot on the gas and race home. 

He didn’t even have a chance to think about the fact that he left without the textbook that he had gone back into your room looking for. He didn’t have the attention span to notice that said textbook was in a stack along with your own - almost as if purposefully kept there like an excuse to lure him back into your room, rather than clumsily forgotten by him. 

… 

When Stiles got into his room, he slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, now entirely frantic, and thankful that his father was working a late shift again. He sat down on the edge of his bed, his hands shaking with anticipation as he unzipped his bag and pulled out the thing he had so hastily snagged. 

His mind was warring with so many sensations. Guilt for taking the panties, paranoia that he would get caught, shame that he even had the urge to take them in the first place - but all of that was easily toppled over and forgotten in the name of lust. Overwhelming lust and arousal that he felt for you. Greed and joy at knowing that he had something so private of yours in his hands now - something so secret that he shouldn’t have. A perfect little piece of you. 

His little secret piece of you. 

He still couldn’t believe that this was the kind of underwear you wore on a daily basis. 

Just imagining that this was what you wore to school - thinking about the fact that this was what you were wearing under your clothes during your everyday interactions with him: it drove him wild. 

He easily pictured this pretty lace sticking to your cunt when you were wet, the lavender colored material getting slick and slightly darker, soaked through and visibly sticky when you spread your legs for him to see. He wondered if your pussy would be shaved or not - but you didn’t have a boyfriend, so currently, you didn’t have anybody to shave for. 

He remembered a conversation from a few weeks ago where Scott had wondered if he should shave his pubes for Allison and you had remarked that ‘putting a razor near your junk’ was ‘ill-advised and stupid’ - so you probably didn’t even like shaving your pussy on principle. 

This immediately put a picture in his mind of your pussy being covered in soft hair that matched the shade on your head - maybe a bit darker. It would clump together with your juices and become soaked when you got wet. The little hairs would probably stick out cutely from the sides of the bikini cut underwear, peeking at him. 

Your pussy would be the prettiest thing he had ever seen, he knew that for certain. 

Stiles imagined getting you in the backseat of the Jeep one night after a game. 

He would still be covered in sweat from his efforts, worn out from trying his best. Sure, he wasn’t the best player, but you wanted to ‘reward’ him for his efforts on the winning side, even if he hadn’t directly contributed to the win. 

So as soon as the game was over, before he even had time to change out of his pads or shower, you hauled him to the parking lot and shoved him into the car. His gear was only half-off, ditched hastily by your feet, and you were in his lap - a perfect prize after all the hard work he had done, sitting astride his already sore thigh muscles while you kissed him - hard. Your mouth greedily sucked the oxygen out of his lungs while you shoved your tongue past his lips, painting his tongue with your sweet spit - and fuck, it felt like he was made for this. 

He got sucked so deep into the fantasy - it felt so damn real. 

He imagined having his hands splayed out against your beautiful, plump ass, gripping you tightly, noting wanting you to separate from him for even a section. While you held on tightly to his face, sealing him into the kiss until his lips were sore. And you would only pull back to look into his eyes with glossy desperation and utter out: 

“Please, Stiles. I need you. I need you to touch my pussy.” 

And what else could he do but obey? 

So he would lift up your skirt - a particularly short skirt that you had worn with nothing else but a pair of knee-high socks. Something that you knew he loved to see you cheer for him on the sidelines while wearing. Even though it was a chilly night, you couldn’t feel too cold when you saw him glancing at you every single chance he got. Of course, those distracted stares had gotten him screamed at by Coach more than once. But he loved the way your skirt would flutter up in the nighttime breeze, teasing him. The way the fucking beautiful thick fat of your thighs would jiggle whenever you would jump around in order to cheer him on. 

He was a man of simple, divine tastes. 

So - he would lift up that perfect skirt to find those purple lacy panties underneath; to find the perfection of your wet cunt waiting for him, growing slicker by the second, more needy for him. You were humping yourself against his athletic cup, which his hard cock was practically dying inside of, bursting to get out of the hard shell of plastic to touch you. But he ignored his own needs for a few minutes longer in favor of yours. Reaching forward, sliding his fingers along the wet spot at the front of your panties, absolutely indulging in the beautiful gasp you let out when his touch grazed across your swollen clit through the fabric. 

“Stiles, please.” 

He could almost hear it - it was so fucking clear inside his mind. The way your voice would be so pitched with desperation, so perfectly needy curled around his name. He wanted so badly to hear it in real life. 

And he would push those panties to the side, pushing his fingers inside of your hot, wet cunt-

Back in the real world, Stiles’s cock gave a needy pulse, leaking into his boxers. 

He heaved out a sigh, his cock practically vibrating with blood. He had driven home the whole time trying to ignore that boner, but he simply couldn’t do that anymore. He just had to give in. 

He hesitantly put your panties aside - already feeling a strange sense of attachment to them - and reached to his nightstand, grabbing the bottle of lube that he had in the drawer. Shamefully, it was already half empty, mostly due to the fantasies that he had about you. He undid his pants and had them around his ankles in record time, and whipped off his shirt for good measure, knowing that he was quite a ‘splasher’ and not wanting to get cum on it to pair with that ugly mustard stain. 

He lubed up his cock more than a healthy amount, knowing that it would contribute to the fantasy of you being so wet around him. It was a distant fantasy that he would never actually get to achieve, but hell - a man can dream. Then he began to slowly pump his cock in hand, wanting to milk it and truly enjoy it, and he let his mind get back to work. 

He thought back to your place. A place he was comfortable, spent a lot of time at hanging out with you. 

He imagined that early that night when he had forgotten his book, rather than you being in the shower, he went back to your room and found that you had been getting ready for bed. You were rubbing sweet-smelling lotion on your arms, pulling back the covers, wearing nothing but a pair of cute little socks, a tiny camisole - where he could very visibly see that you weren’t wearing a bra, with the natural teardrop shape of your breasts bared to the eye, your nipples poking through the fabric - and those purple lace panties. 

When he would appear in the doorway, you would gawk at him and ask: 

“Stiles? What are you doing? Did you… forget something?” 

But you would be positioned half leaning over the bed, taking back the covers so it would be comfortable for you to sleep - and your ass would be unintentionally on full display. Your sweet pussy lips peeking at him from behind, the roundness of your ass so fucking inviting, daring him to leave bite marks across the beautifully fat flesh. 

And after a few moments of him staring so brazenly, saying nothing, simply drinking in the gorgeous sight of your body bent over, wearing so little clothing, wearing those perfect little lace panties-

(Stiles sped up his hand on his cock, the lube sounding downright sloppy in the silence of the room.) 

You would stand up to your full height, come to him in the doorway, put your face so close to his and say: 

“If you’re gonna spend so much time staring at me like a gaping idiot, then you should do something about it.” 

Stiles had to stop the swift movements of his hand and clutch his grip tightly around the base of his cock, making his entire dick throb hard as he edged off his own orgasm. 

He still wasn’t sure why the idea of you calling him an ‘idiot’ in such a brazen tone made him want to cum so hard - but he didn’t have time to unpack all that now. 

He grabbed up the panties again with his non-lubed hand. Something in the back of his mind thought that it would be a crime for him to get them dirty. Another part argued that he would absolutely love to get them covered in his cum, not clean them, and then return them to you. That it would be fucking thrilling to have you wear them in that dirtied state. 

Though he knew that would never fucking happen. 

If he returned the panties to you covered in his cum, then you would slap him, call him a pervert, and likely have Scott beat the shit out of him with his newly harnessed werewolf strength. Stiles pushed this thought to the back of his mind, though. 

Out of curiosity, he lifted the fabric to his nose and took a whiff. They smelled like fresh laundry - a nice lemony detergent. Of course they weren’t ones you had previously worn - they were a pair you had been planning on wearing tomorrow. 

He distantly wondered if that meant you would not be wearing underwear tomorrow, because he had taken your intended pair. And that could have led his mind down a whole different filthy track, but instead - he began to wonder what a pair of your dirty underwear might smell like. 

You should take a pair of used ones. A voice in his mind told him. Snatch them right out of the hamper. Come on, you’re over at her place all the time. She won’t even notice them gone. 

Terrible idea. Terrible rabbit hole. 

But what would they smell like? 

He wasn’t deluded enough to think that pussy smelled like roses. He had never been close enough to one - a real pussy - before to actually know. Yes, he was a virgin. He could have said that he was waiting, ‘saving it’ for you - but every other girl, including you, was smart enough to look past him. There were plenty of other guys who were better looking and more charming than him, and probably better in bed than him, that girls had chosen instead of him. 

He wondered if your pussy smelled like that perfect bit of sweat that you gathered at the end of a long day. Sometimes when he went to hug you before the two of you parted ways, he would catch a whiff of the tiniest undertone of musk, a good amount of sweat paired with the berry scented body spray you had put on that morning, and orange tic-tacs you had popped after lunch. It was a delectable combination. 

He imagined that your cunt would smell like that bit of sweat, combined with the blueberry body wash you used - the one he knew about and loved because of the time you had insisted he use your shower while stinking up a study session because he had skipped the showers after lacrosse practice when he was late to be with you. 

He imagined getting hints of that blueberry body wash smell coming off your thighs when his head was buried between them. What would your cunt taste like? That was a mystery he wanted to solve live. 

He could always imagine the other aspects so well. 

He could imagine the feeling of the heat under his tongue, the perfect feeling of your wetness mixing with his spit. He imagined getting to bounce your swollen clit against his tongue and while feeling your moans and cries of his name vibrate through your body as he pleasured you so well - the feeling of your pubes brushing against his cheeks as his entire face became soaked with your wetness. 

But the taste - that was something he could never conjure up in his mind, no matter how hard he tried. 

He knew that eating your pussy would be perfect. Not just because he would be giving you pleasure, serving you. But he so often dreamed of having his head smothered by your thighs, having you grab his head and shove him tighter into your cunt, you purposeful and demanding. You having that beautiful control over him while he drowned in your wetness. 

He knew that he would likely cum in his pants from eating you out if he ever got the privilege of doing so, and even if you laughed at him - stupidly, he would find that hot too. 

Stiles picked up the pace again, pumping his cock in hand evenly and firmly - even reaching down with the other hand to cradle his balls, gently rolling the flesh in his hand as he got lost in another fantasy of you. 

He imagined the two of you in his bed - textbooks forgotten and pushed off onto the floor, your dress hiked up around your hips, and again, those fucking purple lace panties. He was on top of you, hovering on his knees so that his hard cock wouldn’t brush against you (even through his jeans) while the two of you sloppily made-out. 

It wasn’t long before you pulled away from his kiss-swollen lips. 

“Stiles,” You purred into his ear, kissing along his neck. “You know, you’re so pathetic.” 

These words had his cock jumping, spurting out precum - in his fantasy, it made his underwear messy as you undid his fly. 

In the real world, it made his hand messy as he continued to rhythmically jerk his cock. 

“I’m not gonna let you fuck me.” You told him, contrasting these words with your intentions as you put your hands inside his waistband and shoved his pants and underwear down over his hips - down to his knees until his hard, throbbing cock was exposed. “Not until you prove yourself.” 

Before Stiles could ask the question, the beautiful, fantastic you that he had made up inside his mind gave him the perfect answer. 

“Get yourself off by rubbing your pathetic dick against my panties. And then - I might let you fuck me.” 

In the real world, Stiles let out a throttled moan - a choked sound that surely would have had his father knocking on the door to ask if he was okay if he was at home. And then he rushed to grab the panties again, and without even thinking, he used his sticky lubed up hand to position the fabric around his dick. It was a coarse roughness compared to the slick smoothness he had previously been feeling, but it did wonders to complete his fantasy as he delved back to the you inside of his mind. 

He started rubbing the slightly lube-sticky rough fabric up and down his dick at a very slow pace as he imagined it: 

Being perched between your thighs, with the fabric of the panties stuck to your wet cunt, his cock hard and leaking as he tucked himself right up against you and began to rub his dick against you in order to get off. Just like you wanted, just like you had ordered him to do. 

“Please.” Stiles chanted, the words leaking out of his lips, chanted into his empty bedroom as he pleaded to the imaginary you that would always have a hold over him - just as tight of a hold as the real you had. “Please, please - oh fuck.” 

He moved the fabric over his cock faster as he moved his hips faster in the fantasy, imagining how hot your pussy would feel against him, imagining your nails digging into his hips as you looked up at him with mocking and adoration in your eyes. He imagined you forcing his hips faster, trapping him in place with your knees bracketed around his thighs, showing him absolutely no mercy. 

“Please, please, please.” He chanted, knowing with a distant part of his mind that he must have sounded utterly delirious. “Please, Y/N, lemme cum-” 

“Cum for me, Stiles.” 

Confirmed by that fantasy version of you and truly unable to hold it any longer, Stiles arched up off the bed, cumming all over his own fist. Just as he had predicted, it was an utter, uncontrollable mess. He shot cum all over his stomach, and absolutely soaked the fabric of the panties - making a horrible mess of them. Which, the lube had definitely already done. He laid there for a single moment catching his breath before it truly hit him. 

Fuck. He had fucked up. 

You would definitely notice the underwear missing after a while and he certainly couldn’t return them to you in this condition. 

… 

Stiles spent the next hour in the bathroom, absolutely panicking over how to get them clean. Luckily, he wasn’t a total idiot and he looked up the washing instructions online - and after hand-washing them in warm water with a ‘gentle’ detergent (handsoap was the best that he could do), they came out perfectly clean. 

The only problem? 

Hang to dry. 

He set his alarm for early, earlier than you suggested, and prayed that he wouldn’t sleep through it. In fact, he set three more alarms just to make sure. He couldn’t have you or his father barging into his room to wake him up when he had a pair of your stolen panties pinned to his corkboard in order to properly dry them so that he could sneak them back to you in good condition. 

… 

The next day, he departed for school by 6:45 with the stolen goods hidden away in his bag, ready to sneak them back into your room later that afternoon. He made it to the library ten whole minutes before seven, and you seemed shocked that he was not only on time - but early. 

“Wow.” You said, having just gotten there yourself, spreading out your items at a table - including a tray with some coffees. “You know, Stiles, I am impressed.” 

“You don’t have to act so - so shocked.” He replied, partially interrupted by a yawn. 

You leaned over to get a pen from your bag, and Stiles’s eyes immediately went to your ass, unconsciously trying to spot panty lines through your dress and tights - wondering if you were even wearing underwear because he had stolen the ones you had intended for today. 

Focus, Stiles. Focus. 

“Well, if you weren’t here by seven sharp like I told you, I was gonna pour this in the garbage.” You told him, taking his coffee out of the paper tray and sliding it toward him. 

“You don’t have to be so mean.” He chuckled, airy and light - very secretly annoyed with the way your ‘mean’ streak affected him sometimes. Why did he have to be turned on by you scolding him and punishing him? Why? 

“Hey, if I’m not mean then you never get anything done.” You told him truthfully. “And you know how it works by now. Good boys get rewards and bad boys get spanked.” You told him, letting out a bright laugh - indicating that it was clearly meant to be a joke. 

But instantly, it shook his mind with imagery of you bending him over the table, ripping his pants down and spanking him until he came untouched and cried for mercy, forcing him to agree that he would behave and listen to you. He became downright dizzy at the thought. 

You meant it as a joke - he had to sharply remind himself. But the way you so casually called him a ‘good boy’, said that he was deserving of a ‘reward’ - it sent chills down his spine and already had his cock waking up. Too early. Bad rabbit hole. 

If he was any sort of brave, he would have pushed it more and asked you what kind of ‘reward’ you had in mind. But he wasn’t, and he was too tired to analyze the potential consequences. 

“Oh!” You said, as though suddenly remembering something. You moved to grab your bag again and Stiles closed his eyes to forcefully keep himself from staring at your ass. “You left this at my place last night.” You told him, sliding his English textbook across the table toward him. 

He was too busy trying to calm his own lust that he missed the smirk on your face - the mischief lingering in your eyes, the intention in your tone. He was too caught up, drowning in his own affections for you that he never would have pieced together that you had taken in and hidden it on purpose as a ploy to get him to come back. That you had put out some other bait for him to find. 

“Thanks.” He said quietly. “So - what do we need to go over before the test?”

“Everything.” 

Stiles groaned.

...

Edit to my notes as of Oct. 9th, 2024:

It is now my biggest regret announcing that there is a sequel to this fic in my drafts, but there is one that is fully written and just needs to be edited (but that is something that takes time and effort - neither of which I am going to put into the fic right now). However, it will not be posted anytime soon, and it is delayed infinitely. It will be posted when it is posted (and currently I don't know when that will be), and I would appreciate people not chasing me down and not asking about it.

Originally, my point of having a comment and reblog goal on this fic was so that a certain percentage of the people who read and liked the preview for this fic would have to reblog it, but the ratio on this fic is still absolutely horrendous, and it's clear to me that once people saw that goal was met, they didn't care to reblog this fic or comment on it if they enjoyed it - they only care to nag me and chase me down for the sequel while this fic sits at over 600 likes and less than 100 reblogs and comments (including my replies to people's comments).

If you are reading this fic after the edit, I hope you enjoyed it. I hope you do stick around on my blog while I work on and post other things. But the sequel to this fic will not be coming out anytime soon because I am a person with shifting interests, not a robot. Those shifting interests (and me chasing them organically) is the reason that I can produce 200k of fanfiction in a year and post all of it for free for people to enjoy.

And as always - if you enjoyed this fic, please comment about the body of work that has been written. And perhaps, consider reblogging it to show your appreciation. Please do not comment about the sequel.

If you want to be tagged in the next part, you can ask to be put on my Teen Wolf taglist by interacting with this post, but please know that if you don't follow my taglist rules, you will be removed from the taglist promptly. If that happens, you are still welcome to read and enjoy future fics, you just won't be included in my taglists ever again.

Happy reading, and I hope you enjoyed the fic!!

[ovrour]

𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ─── matthew b. sturniolo.

# 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . . matthew b. sturniolo x gf!reader

# 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 . . . matt is so inlove with you.

# 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 . . . fluff!! (a little surprise at the end hehee)

# 𝐖𝐂 . . . 0.4k

# 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 . . . angel baby by Rosie and The originals

He was so mesmerized by your beauty.

“Baby, how do I look?” You asked Matt, walked out of the dressing room. He was speechless, Matt thought you looked out of this world.

“Baby?” You repeated. He hummed finally hearing what you said. “I-i think you look amazing baby.” He replied, clearing his throat. “Are you sure? I feel like I look fat.” You responded looking in the mirror. “Honey, you don’t look fat at all, baby.” Matt stood, walking towards you. Matt wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your cheeks.

“Okay okay fine.” You sighed, a small giggle slipping from your lips. You turned around to face him, “alright sweet boy, I got a couple more dresses to try on and we can go okay?” Matt just smiled, going back to his spot. Matt liked all of the dresses you tried on, but his favorite was the blue one.

He loved the way it was strapless, the way it hugged all your curves, but most of all, he liked the way you smiled when you looked at yourself in the mirror. “Baby, you HAVE to get this one. I think you look like a goddess.” He meant every word he said. He didn’t say it just because you're his girlfriend, or because you’re going to be his future wife. But, because it was all true. Every word Matt said was true, and he knew it.

“Are you sure? Do you like it?” You asked, a smile plastered on your face.

“I love it, sweet girl.”

“Okay, yes to the dress then.” You replied, with a small giggle. You noticed Matt didn’t say anything to you, he just stood there, head on your shoulder, and he was just zoned out.

“Baby, is everything okay?” You asked, worried he was rethinking his answer. “Sweet boy?” He took a deep breath, and smiled.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah pretty, why?”

“I said I would get the dress.” You repeated. “Wait, really?” Matt smiled like a little boy. “Yes baby, of course.” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “God” He sighed. You giggled.

“What baby?”

“You’re so beautiful. I’m so lucky to have you baby.”

“And I’m even luckier.”

In that moment, Matt pressed his lips to yours, it was sweet, and delicate. After you pulled apart, Matt quickly pulled out a small box, getting on one knee. There was no way this was actually happening. Was it a fever dream?

“Y/n L/n, you’ve been my best friend for years. Throughout these years you’ve always been there for me. Even when I wasn’t around much for you. I promise to cherish, and love you forever and more. Will you Marry me?” Matt spoke, tears starting to swell. “Yes, I will!” You laughed, watching as he put the ring on your finger. He quickly got up, kissing you over and over again. For all he knew,

you were his god given solace.

A/N: I feel like this is super shitty cs I’ve never written anything like this before omg

©️ ovrour

taglist!! @flouvela @missmimii @sturniolosarethebest @stvrnmc (comment if you would like to be added!!!)

[ellecdc]

pt remus and medic reader becoming the mum and dad of the hockey team

YES

PT!Remus Lupin x team medic!reader who don't have favourites [681 words]

CW: hockey, NHL players being large sulky babies, PT + medic being tired af of them all (affectionately)

“Whoa whoa whoa, where the fuck do you think you’re going, Fenzy?” You demanded as you stepped into Benjy Fenwick’s way, causing a near domino-esque collision as the guys behind him were forced to come to a stop in their trek down the shoot towards the ice.

“Uhm…practice?” Fenwick answered in the form of a question, and Sirius craned his neck to see what the hold up was to see your brows pinch in disbelief.

“Fat fuckin’ chance; go sit down.”

“But doc-” 

“Fenwick, you have a concussion, I said you were benched.” You pressed as you stepped aside, dragging Fenwick with you by the fabric of his practice jersey to let some of the guys carry on even though he completely towered over you in his skates.

“I thought that meant for games!” Fenwick whined. 

“It’ll mean indefinitely if you don’t go get your kit off.” You threatened severely, and Fenwick let out a theatrical groan before he turned and muttered profanities under his breath as he stormed back towards the locker room. 

“If you’re playing bad doc today, does that mean Lupin’s playing good doc?” Sirius quipped as he made his way toward you, only to hear Remus - already out on the bench overlooking the players warming up - shouting at Viktor Krum.

“I can see you tensing from here, Krum! So I’m gonna ask again, and I want the fucking truth: is that hip still bothering you!?”

“Is only sore when go down, Loops!” Krum called back. 

“Well what good is a goalie going down if he can’t get back up again, Krum?” 

You let out a sigh as you walked out of the shoot with Sirius to find Remus leaning against the boards like he was about ready to hop them himself as he shouted across the rink, and James who was standing on the ice watching the exchange with a look of morbid fascination. 

“They’re gonna be the death of me, L/N, the death of me.” Remus muttered in disbelief as he kept his gaze locked on his problematic goalie.

“Well I just caught Fenz trying to sneak onto the ice.” You grumbled back as you stepped up onto the bench, Remus finally breaking his gaze to look at you incredulously.

“I thought you said he had a concussion?”

“He does have a concussion.”

“That son of a bitch!” Remus nearly shrilled, earning him an almost smile from you.

“Kids these days, am I right?” James offered from his place on the ice, leaning heavily against one skate as he rested both gloves on the top of his stick, and his chin on his gloves. 

“That’s why we’re mom and dad’s favourite, Potts.” Sirius added with a wink as he skated by and tapped his stick to James’ ass. 

“You do those stretches I asked of you, Black, then we’ll talk about favourites, yeah?” Remus called out to him, causing Sirius to let out a nervous squeak as he took off quickly down the ice. 

A couple of drills later, James came and sat heavily on the bench in front of you, taking a few deep breaths and squirting gatorade into his mouth before turning to look at you. “Who is your favourite, doc?”

“I don’t have favourites, Potter.” You offered simply as you continued watching the players on the ice. 

“Please.” Sirius argued as he climbed over the boards, nearly spilling onto the bench beside James. “Every mother has favourites.”

“Not when she’s parenting a bunch of sods.” You grumbled, causing everyone on the bench to let out varying sounds of protest.

“That’s rude, mom. You’re rude.” James lamented, earning him a swat up the back of the helmet from Remus.

“Don’t speak to your mother that way.” Remus scolded earnestly; his lips quirking only when he heard your snort of laughter from behind him. 

“I hate when they gang up on us like this.” Sirius murmured to James.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Cling-wrapping their office later?”

James held out his fist as he nodded at his friend and teammate. “Cling-wrapping their office later.”

[lady-lauren]

❥ SILVERS RAYLEIGH X FEM!READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 1.3k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: daddy kink, age gap, established fuck-buddy relationship, Rayleigh is a dirty old man who calls you kid, inappropriate use of haki, did he once upon a time take your v card? of course he did, creampie

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

The tide always brings you back, no matter how hard you push against it. An enrapturing, enigmatic pull into an embrace that smells like memories.

Rayleigh is too self-satisfied as his calloused fingertips trace over scars he remembers exactly the stories behind. Some he gave, some he saw etched by your naive bravery.

“Been too long, kid. Was startin’ to miss you.”

The bar is closed but your legs are open, spread wide across his lap with your knees sinking into the velvet couch.

“I told you I wasn’t coming back.” 

Yet your hands are in his hair, twisting silver locks into knots and pulling, tugging until he smirks and brushes his lips to yours. Heavy hands press your naked hips down against his cock, the thick heat of him smearing between your folds. 

“You always come back to Daddy.” 

Sinking down onto his cock makes film reels roll behind your eyes. The first time he took you was just like this, only slower, gentler, rocking your hips to the sway of a ship. Now he pushes into you with purpose, passion, like he knows just where he belongs. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans into your neck, glasses glinting and slipping down his nose. 

Muscular arms do the work he wants, fisting the fat of your ass and bouncing you in his lap. 

Your head falls back at the warm pleasure, cunt stretching and squishing from every push into your heat.

“Sh-shit, Rayleigh,” you breathe out as your clit brushes against silver curls, the sensation making your eyesight glassy. You try to focus on the cracks in the ceiling, not the feel of him stretching inside of you, yet lose your concentration when his lips find the perfect spot on your neck to suck.

You feel small against his chest as he pulls you closer, tighter, thrusting deep enough to make you hiccup from bliss. 

Rolling your hips to match his pace, you sink yourself farther down his cock, bucking to chase your pleasure.

“Atta girl.” Rayleigh swipes his hot tongue up your arched neck. 

Your nails scrape down his shoulders, the smell of his skin filtering into the scent of sex.

You know his body like he knows yours; you know to press your tits to his chest, to wait for the grumble he gives at the feel of your hard nipples before leaning forward to kiss your way up the stitching scar that curls over his pectoral. 

His cock twitches in your depths and you feel his cockhead thump against your walls. He pushes and pulls, groaning when your nails find the defined muscles of his sides. 

Bodies fall into a comfortable rhythm, your head lolling against his shoulder as you take what he gives. It’s as if he fucks you to your quickening heartbeat, every thrust drumming into your guts with perfect tempo.

The scruff of Rayleigh’s beard rubs against your cheek, looking for your attention. 

“What’s on your mind?” He bounces you a bit harder in his lap, thumbs digging into the crease of your hips. “Tell Daddy.” 

His voice is like warm water dripping down carefully placed stones, so casual yet poignant. He won’t rest until you give him what he wants. 

Distracting yourself by kissing up his neck, you taste his sweat and move your fingers to his hair. 

You catch your breath between the shoves of his cock, “I…” you moan deep, “always end up here.” With him, in his arms, with his cock pressed so deeply you feel it days later. 

“You know why,” he smirks as he leans you back, gripping your ribcage between careful hands, thumbs brushing against the undersides of your breasts.

The change in angle on his lap has his cock smoothing against the back of your cunt, cockhead nudging your soft spots with every plunge. 

You shake your head in a bit of defiance, content to just feel him, not to think.

“Do I need to make you say it?” 

The lopsided grin that splits his face makes a thrill run down your spine. He looks devious, like the Dark King is ready to play. 

After a few beats of slick silence, Rayleigh moves forward, putting a big palm between your bouncing tits and pushing until your back hits the low table behind you.

He leaves your body only for a moment. He gets on his knees on the fraying rug before spearing his thick cock back into your cunt, the quick thrust making you slide against wood.

“Fuuuuck,” you hiss, hands flying above your head to grip the edge of the table for stability. 

Silver hair falls over your face as he kisses you, a little frenzied as he falls into the pleasure of being able to put more force into his thrusts. One hand grabs your breast while the other flattens over your stomach, pushing down until he can feel himself moving inside of you. 

“God, you feel so good, Daddy,” the title is always heavy in your mouth, like an admission of guilt, “make me feel so, so good.” 

“That’s right.” Rayleigh’s thighs slap against the table as he picks up his pace. “No one’s better than your first, hm?” 

Grunting, his massive body straightens, both hands finding a home on your hips. 

“I ruined you for anyone else,” he reminds you every time you come back. The gleam in his eyes, darkened by the shade of his glasses, makes you squeeze around his pounding cock. 

“Oh shush, old man.” 

Yet you’re panting, sweat dripping down the back of your neck, pooling under your tits. Pleasure is spreading every time he presses into your core, rippling like webs underneath your skin. Everything is hot—the spread of your thighs, the grip in your knuckles, your ears listening to every deep moan he releases as he finds gratification in your body.

“Oh come on, kid,” Rayleigh tuts, snapping his hips a little harder. 

Long fingers move over your hips, both of his thumbs coming to press against your clit that aches every time his taut stomach presses against it. He keeps his pressure light, just enough to make you whine and jolt to where your head nearly hangs off the coffee table. 

“Ain’t no other man can do this to you.” 

He swirls both thumbs over your clit as he thrusts deep, pinning your hips with his strong hands to keep you from squirming away. The onslaught is quick, sharp, lights flashing behind your eyes. The coil of orgasm strikes your tummy like lightning, making you bite a scream between your teeth. 

“Shit, fuck!” 

Rayleigh grins and mumbles to himself, something about how he shouldn’t have taught you to have such a dirty mouth. 

You know the rules, he doesn’t even have to say them. You know if you want to burst, you’ll have to beg. 

Your throat feels dry from all your gasping and moaning, it takes a few passes of his cock in your cunt before you’re able to try and find your voice. 

“Please, please, Daddy, please, I need…” 

You can hear the table creaking under your weight, the legs scraping against the floor, leaving marks you’ll look at the next time you end up back in this bar. 

“Yeah? You can do bett—”

“God fuck Daddy please, fortheloveoffucking god, Rayleigh, make me cum!” 

Your words bleed together over the sound of his skin slapping against yours, sinking into the smell of salt and sea on his skin. 

He pauses, pulling your hips down until you hurt from being spread around him. Grinding his cock into you, you feel the lick of his haki slicing over your body, your mind, searing straight between your legs until his power and the rub of his fingers over your clit make you forget to breathe. 

Your cunt sucks so tightly that you can feel him throbbing within you, pulses of his cum mixing with the shattering of your orgasm. You crest and fall for what feels like eternity in just a few seconds. 

Your nails take chunks out of the table, his knees slip against the rug.

It’s not until you feel Rayleigh’s long hair spread across your chest that you realize where you are, what you’ve done, again.

“Welcome home, kid.”

[bunnys-kisses]

hey bunbun 🤍 can i have persian rolls and a pastry braid with champagne for lando norris? thank youuu

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i'd love to hear from you! thank you to everyone who has submitted, these have been a lot of fun to work with! i love writing these <3 and for this once, i love a good sugar daddy au! so thank you for the submission and i hope you love this <3 (remember comments & reblogs are always welcomed!!)

persian rolls: "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat." + pastry braid: "your job is to make me cum. now get to work." + champagne: sugar daddy situation served by lando norris (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, sugar daddy!lando, oral sex (lando receiving), couch sex, cowgirl position, orgasm denial, hair pulling mean!lando

"pretty girl, such a pretty girl." he chuckled as he rubbed his cock up against your cheek. from the bridge of your nose to the corner of your mouth. he even watched your tongue dart out to taste his hard-on.

"lando." you whined.

he chuckled as he held your head by the hair with his other hand, "you really are something, huh? you want that pay raise. you want a little bit more in your wallet every week?" lando would freely give you whatever you wanted. he was smitten by you. but, if you were going to work for it. and work for it so hard. then who was he to deny you?

you were the sugar baby of one of the top drivers in the world, it was plain and simple. the story of how you two met was boring, but the life you lived after you two met was far more exciting. and while you were spoiled with all manner of the nicer things in life, everything came with a price.

and while lando would happily kiss you on the lips while on his boat or let his gaze linger when you showed him something you wanted to buy. his payments were compensation for his aggressive sexual kicks. every hickey was paid for in gold jewellery. every bruise on your hips and ass were paid for in cute clothes and stuffed animals. every mean word was paid for in orgasms. lando norris would bruise you behind, spit in your mouth and call you a slut, but by the time you were back home, you had a notification that l. norris had deposited money into your account.

so with his fat cock grazed across your lips, his heated words burned into your brain, "your job is to make me cum. now get to work." and hissed when you did exactly that.

your blow jobs were sloppy, but in the best way. they weren't refined the way a professional slut would've been, they were messy in a cute way. but you were always mindful of your teeth. your spit got on your chin and lips as you tried to take him to the root. you held onto his thighs as you worked your mouth on his cock.

lando loved the sight in front of him. he was on the couch with his cock out of his sweatpants and you were without any clothes, sucking him off like an obedient girl. he yanked your hair, "i love you like this. such a pretty little slut, you know exactly how to get me off. but, i want more. up on my lap now, where you truly belong."

you pulled your mouth off of his cock and wiped your mouth with the back of his hand before you scrambled to get up into his lap. you were trained to the t, you were so good for him. lando was a little surprised just how good you were. he helped sink his cock into you, your cunt was easy to slip into. you were soaked that the word 'soaked' didn't do it justice. regardless, it greatly turned lando on. you were quick like a rabbit, and lando had to grip onto your hips to slow you down a little.

"it's not a race." he said, softly yet firm. as much as he'd love to eat your cottontail, neither of you were rabbits so there was no need to move so fast. not that you were cumming anyway.

lando loved denying you orgasms, to watch you squirm and whine on his cock. you moved slower, guided by him. he kissed at your neck and chest while you took him impressively. he knew he was well above average and the biggest you've ever had. but you took it all so well. you bucked your hips with each of your movements and it made lando's mouth water.

"such a slutty girl." he purred, "you are so painfully slutty, would do anything for a little extra green in your pocket." he almost laughed and you moaned a little louder. he pulled you closer by your hips and let you ride him.

you could feel the pleasure fill your gut. you clutched onto his shoulders as you rocked your hips a little faster. the movements were hard and it only turned you on even more. that was all part of the game, how you two fucked. lando liked when it hurt a little, he liked when you moaned and squirmed. even when you were on top, you were still under him. he could move you anyway he liked.

"i'll always want you. someone's gotta keep my cock wet. no one else would let me treat them the way you let me treat you. you get off to it all, being used and paid off. you liked the money in your account and my cock on your lips."

you moaned as the pleasure only grew and grew with each of your movements. your nails bit into his shoulders. he looked hot in the black tank top and grey sweatpants. he was the type of man that women got addicted to.

he started to move your hips faster. he was chasing his own high over getting you to climax. he wanted to finish inside of you, he wanted to know a part of him was in you at all times. that left him excited,a shiver up his spine as he had you bouncing on his cock quickly once more. your eyes rolled back a little at the stimulation in your body.

"lando..." you moaned.

he quickly finished inside of you with a heavy groan and you stopped riding him. you sat there, legs on either side of his waist. you looked down at him with your near blissed out expression. you hadn't cum yet, but lando already beat you to it.

he looked up at you with a bit more clarity in his vision. he slapped your ass, the sound echoed in the living room. he raised his eyebrows at you and said, "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat. if you want to finish, you better work for it. now, c'mon, actually work for once in your life." and with shaky knees, you rode him like your life depended on it.

you knew that lando would make up for in the language he spoke. vast amounts of money tucked into your bank account. and when you limped him it would make the pain in your back a little less <3