#while you wait for honey heres some smut

[pjisskullourful]

𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓼

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

🌼Damiano × reader

part 23 of ??? [parts 1-22]

NSFW🔥 for sluts only, nasty, kinky fuckery

° Damiano David/female reader insert  

wordcount::::  7,914 ° request ×3, anon& @vittoriaisfuckingpathetic wanted a bratty kitty getting punished, another anon wanted:  lots of aftercare and cuddles and cuteness 💋 thankyou for awesome/inspiring requests [requests are open! but commissions get priority, secure the 7th spot in my cue here!]

You removed your high heeled shoes during the elevator ride up to your floor - unable to stand their punishment for another second. Your night out with Max had lasted much longer than you had anticipated and the fatigue you were starting to feel was inevitable. You were more than ready to peel off your false eyelashes and stop feeling the pressure from the underwire of your bra.

It had been Max’s idea for the two of you to go out, because a gay club that she loved was closing down. This was being marked with a drag show, a huge amount of local performers coming out for their last time on this stage.

Prior to the show starting, you had taken a break from dancing with Max (and some new friends you were making) to message Damiano. He was currently home in Italy and you wanted to let him know not to wait up for you to come home, you were in party mode, you intended to have a damn good time.

Have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. He had responded. I’ll just keep it to myself that I miss you.

Aw. I miss you too Daddy. You had enough time to send this message before you were grabbed by Max, taken to do some bright-coloured shots, with names that had gotten increasingly funnier as the night had gone on.

Then the show had begun - the music blasting as different acts took to the stage in varying styles. One drag queen performed Björk, another had six outfit reveals during the course of a single song. A Pokémon-themed number had made you lose your shit. There were drag kings in the mix. Some performers knew their lyrics better than others. You lost count of all of the times you saw someone do the splits.

With regular intervals, Max had made sure you had a glass of wine in hand for most of the night. During one of these times that she was gone at the bar, some of the friendly people you had met struck up a conversation, wanting to know how much of the show you planned to watch. When you had said that you weren’t sure (you and Max were just taking the night as it came), there was a scramble from all of them jumping in to give recommendations of which acts you had to see. They had given you close to the same line - ‘you can’t leave without seeing…’, each completing this statement with a different performer's name. You had agreed with all of their enthusiastic suggestions, ready to keep the night going.

Not long after that, you had received a new message from Damiano. I think I’m gonna go to bed, he had told you. You had exchanged ‘I love you’s and wished him sweet dreams. You checked the time before slipping your phone back into your handbag - 1AM.

About an hour later, another message came in: isn’t it past your bedtime? You hadn’t hesitated with your response: since when do I have a bedtime? He had soon sent something back: silly kitten, you don’t make or control the rules.

Before you could begin to work on your reply, Max had leaned in, getting your attention. “Should we head off soon?”

One of your new companions had heard this over the music and they jumped in to answer for you. “You can’t go yet. You’ve gotta see Glue.”

“Glue?” Max repeated, her brow in a deep crease.

They had elaborated, talking about how Glue was an amazing and unique drag queen. As you listened, you had returned your phone to the darkness of your bag. You made the decision to leave Damiano on read. It wasn’t polite, but you hadn’t felt bad about doing it. He was very keen on having you home with him, but if you made him wait, you could make him want you even more, getting you a more exciting reaction to your return.

Thinking about him calling you a brat due to this behaviour didn’t intimidate you or make you feel like you should change your tactic. If you were being a brat, it was because you could.

You had become thoroughly distracted when the show had started up again.

It had turned out that Glue was worth sticking around to watch. In a sparkly robe, with skull makeup painted on, she had been channelling a witch. There had been a lot of props on stage as she spent the duration of the heavy metal song theatrically concocting a potion, along with lip-syncing each lyric. The audience was brought into the act as she dusted her glittery potion upon spectators, as well as throwing toy frogs into the crowd.

But once she was finished, you hadn’t felt the motivation to head in the direction of the exit. You were still having a good time with Max and with no work responsibilities on the books for tomorrow, you wanted to keep soaking up this wonderful atmosphere.

“We’ll stay for one more song.” She had said to you.

At the end of the next performance, you had said the same thing to her. And it became a trend, the two of you sharing the phrase back-and-forth without showing any real interest in leaving the club.

It wasn’t until almost four o’clock that you followed through, both of you agreeing it felt like the right time to call it a night. Your ears were ringing when you had emerged onto the street, laughing at something she had said.

Then you parted, getting into different Ubers, with the promise to message one another once you were safely at home.

Sitting in the back of the car, you had opened your text conversation with Damiano again. When you hadn’t responded to the last message, he had sent a passive aggressive question mark. You didn’t acknowledge this, typing as if you were oblivious to the fact that you would be in trouble when you got home.

On the way home.

You hadn’t been surprised when his response came to you quickly, of course he hadn’t gone to sleep. You wondered if he had spent all of that time stewing while you had been dancing, cheering and laughing.

So you remembered how to get back here?

Some ways to respond had quickly come to mind as you looked at the screen of your phone. But you didn’t type out any words, you didn’t send him a single letter.

You had smiled to yourself, trying to guess at how many more spanks you had earned. Ignoring him would surely add more strikes to your overall punishment. Or maybe he wouldn’t get physical at all. You had considered this might be the time when he brought back writing lines, it felt like it had been a long time since he had taught you a lesson that way.

You unlocked the door to your home, certain that you still smelled like the club as you stepped inside. You had plans of fetching yourself a glass of water from the kitchen before seeking him out to face your consequences.

Immediately this was derailed. Because from your spot at the doorway, you could see straight into the lounge room, seeing that it was currently occupied. He was seated in the armchair, turning to look as you entered. Was he pleased to see you, relieved that you had made it home safely? You couldn’t tell, the only fitting word to describe his look was icy. He was already in character and it was time for you to catch up, to figure out how you were going to play it from here.

“Hey Daddy.” You greeted, approaching him.

“Hey yourself.” He said. He appeared mostly calm and collected, all of his simmering happening just beneath the surface. It was also the exact opposite of the energy that you had been surrounded by for so many hours.

“I thought you would be in bed.” You said. You stepped in front of the chair, it was close enough that you could have touched him, pushing his hair back from his face if you wanted to. But it felt like it would be incorrect for you to initiate the first touch.

“I couldn’t go to sleep while I’ve got something that needs to be dealt with.” He told you.

“Me?” 

“That’s right.” He said. “So you think that you can get away with ignoring me? No, you silly kitty, it definitely doesn’t work like that. Go and get your ass on the bed.”

You didn’t wait, at once following along with what he said. You quickly walked out of the living room, you weren’t drunk enough to stumble any of your steps. But you had had enough to drink that you were already feeling warm and giddy.

You dropped your shoes by the door and placed your handbag on the chair that faced your vanity table. You didn’t take any of your clothes off because you hadn’t been instructed to do so. You sat down on the unmade bed, facing the doorway.

He was soon coming in to join you. He walked in to stand at the foot of the bed, instantly enforcing his authority by looming over you. You looked up at him, feeling the titillating intimidation now.

He lifted his hand to your hairline, beginning to stroke his fingers through your hair, brushing nicely against your scalp. It was soothing and if not for the stony look on his face, you might have reacted with a smile.

“I hope your night out was worth it.” He said. “Honestly, I hope you had lots of fun, because from here on out, it’s gonna be…” His hand curled into a fist around your hair, tugging hard enough to sting as your head was forced further back. “...rough.” You clearly saw the fire in his eyes when he leaned down, his face inches from yours. “What’s your safe word?”

“Pumpkin.” You supplied instantly.

“Good girl. Don’t get too used to hearing that tonight.”

Your hunger was brought to the surface, allowed to be acted upon when his lips crashed against yours. His hand released your hair, moving to hold the back of your head as he sought a deeper kiss. Your hands went to his bare biceps, gripping onto him while his tongue was gliding into your mouth.

He pushed his body weight into you, resulting in you moving backwards until your back landed on the mattress. Without hesitation, and without breaking the kiss, he climbed on top of you. He massaged your tongue with his and you could feel how short of breath you were getting.

His arm reached around you, his hand going to the centre of your back. His fingers explored, refusing to settle in one spot. He ran his hand up-and-down your spine, his fingers grabbing at the material of your dress.

“Where’s the fuckin’ zipper on this?” He asked.

You took your hands off of him. “It’s on the side, here.” You found the tab and started to pull it down, loosening the dress.

“Oh.” He recovered from this fumble, getting the zipper the rest of the way down so that he could get the velvet dress off of you. He tugged it off of your hips and then you pulled your legs free. The next thing to go were your fishnet stockings. He made quick work of removing your bra and underwear. Now, in his cotton shorts, he had the most clothes on. You knew better than to try to get these off of him at the moment - you weren’t about to rebel against the dynamic he was establishing, you had done enough rebelling for one night.

He resumed his position on top of you, his forehead resting against yours as he came in close enough for a kiss. But this didn’t come. His eyes were fixed on yours while his hands explored your nakedness. It felt like your skin scorched in response to his touch, matched by the smoulder in his look.

“I’m gonna give you something that you absolutely cannot ignore. That’s how I’m gonna correct my kitten’s behaviour.” He told you.

You nodded as you licked your lips. But he continued to pass up the opportunity to kiss you, this time he moved off of you. He instructed you to go to the head of the bed, to lie as you typically would while he left the bed.

You watched him go over to the wardrobe, opening the door and looking to the spot where the box full of sex toys sat. The item that he wanted was seemingly at the very top, because mere seconds after looking inside, he was approaching the bed with a bundle of speciality rope. You saw the beginnings of a smile on his face, showing you how much he wanted to get started on this punishment - you doubted there was a single other thought currently occupying his mind. You felt like the centre of his world.

“Hands up to the headboard.” He said, he was unwinding the length of black rope as he got closer.

You lifted your arms up above your head, lining your wrists up with one of the metal rungs of the headboard. You could see the boner developing inside of his shorts as he kneeled on the bed next to you, spotting this was just another drop to add to the hot pool of desire between your legs.

He fed one end of the rope around the rung, the approximate middle of the rope’s length rested against the metal bar. With each half of the rope, he created loops around both of your wrists. His hands were soft, as was the rope as he worked. He brought your bound wrists together, securing them in position with a couple of knots.

“How is that, it’s not too tight?” He asked, checking the look on your face.

“It’s good, Daddy.” You said.

Satisfied with his work, he moved onto the next step of his plan for punishment - this took him back to the toy box. With no time wasted searching or digging through the other objects, he plucked out the vibrating wand he had gifted to you so long ago. He carried it over to the bed, where he sat down facing you. You squirmed in your anticipation, unable to prepare yourself when you weren’t sure what he was going to do next. There was a pause before he turned the vibrator on, during which your mind raced, trying to fill in some of these blanks.

He pressed the power button and selected the speed he wanted (it sounded fast). Your legs had already been lying apart, but he grabbed your ankle with his available hand and moved it, creating a larger gap between your thighs. Then his hand went to your cunt and he used two fingers to push your labia majora back. You felt a shiver when your moist clitoris was exposed to the cool air.

He didn’t give you any kind of warm-up, just putting the toy’s vibrating head to your clitoris and all thoughts were ejected from your mind. Your heart launched into your throat as surprise flooded you. You were weak in response to the power of the toy, so many sensitivities were sparked to life in the same instant, it was too much for you to keep track of. Your jaw went slack as you struggled to adjust to the intensity.

“I have a question for you, babygirl.” He said. You forced your eyes open, looking at him through your daze as you tried to catch your breath. “How do good girls come?”

It was hard to think and it felt like your nerves were on fire. The words didn’t come immediately and you just stared at him, probably looking stupid right now. “Um, with their master?”

“No. Try again.”

You weren’t confident that you had the answer he was looking for. “Loudly?”

He sighed. “No again. You get one more guess.”

“Am I in trouble if I’m wrong?” You asked.

“No, this really doesn’t affect your punishment.”

“Good girls come, um…” Your eyes went up to the ceiling, as if the answer was written somewhere there. “Good girls come when they’re told to?”

“Yes.” He said, easing the vibrator off of you. “You’re right, they get given permission to come. And that’s exactly what you’re gonna do, because you wanna be a good girl, don’t you?” You copied him and nodded your head. “So no matter how much fun you’re having, no matter how amazing Daddy is making you feel- you won’t come until you’ve got permission.”

“Uh-huh.” You said. “I would say that we could pinky swear on it, but that’s not the easiest thing for me to offer right now.”

“That’s okay, I can just take your word on it.” He said and you saw the movement as he started to bring the toy towards your cunt again. “Your wrong guesses didn’t affect your punishment, but coming without permission will definitely get you into more trouble. You understand?”

After you had nodded, he returned the vibrating wand to your clit, filling you with all of that intensity all at once. As everything inside of you swelled, you tried to maintain what remained of your composure so that you could consider what he had just said, what you had agreed to. He was hinting at another level of punishment, which meant that he had thought of doing more than just overstimulating your clitoral hood. He wanted to do more than use your wand against you.

But could you handle that? If you went to that next level, would you rise to the occasion, or would you fold pathetically? You couldn’t be certain, leading the intimidation to beating your curiosity, especially given how rattled you already were by the toy.

You squeezed your eyes shut when he began to wiggle the handle of the wand, prompting the head to rub against you so that you were feeling the intensity from all angles. He was making sure the head was reaching every inch of this area, bringing sensitivities into it all. This made your body twitch involuntarily a couple of times as you felt yourself on that invisible incline. You tilted your pelvis, taking the stimulations in deeper.

He moved the toy off of you and you let out a shaky sigh. But you weren’t without the vibrations for long. Before you had time to open your eyes, he was training the head of the wand to the area just beneath your navel. You couldn’t help squirming, unable to calm yourself down while you were feeling the vibrations down to your knees.

You steadily blinked your eyes open and found him carefully observing you. He was watching your building reactions with all of the interest that he would give a well-crafted TV show. He was keenly aware of what he was doing to you, and what he would need to do to get you to the state he desired.

“Can I say sorry?” You asked.

You had surprised him and the pressure from the vibrator eased off a little. “Because you want me to stop?”

“No.” You quickly said.

“Good.” He said with a smile and he pushed the toy into your skin again. Twirling the handle, he had the vibrator rolling side-to-side along the curve of the underside of your belly.

“‘Cause I am sorry, I wanna apologise for ignoring you.”

“It’s okay.” He told you. “I know you’re sorry, that’s why you’re letting me punish you. That’s why you’re gonna take it for me.”

Before you could say anything more, he was distracting you by moving the wand down. He soon had it back on your clit, at once redirecting your focus. Your chest swelled as the vibrations affected you on an immediate level.

He didn’t hold it still, letting you feel it all over your clit as he stroked you with it. He manipulated it in waves and the friction that this gave you had you craving more. You arched your back, very interested in gaining greater pressure.

You got invested in this feeling and you began to move your hips. You tried to match his rhythm as you sought to discover just how much he would let you get away with. He didn’t discourage your rocking and it felt so much better to be in motion.

Before you could get too settled into this, he was taking it away again. This time the vibrating head was going downwards, moving onto your inner-thigh to pulse against the muscle here. He kept it high on the leg, about an inch from your crotch, as if to hint at what the toy could be doing for you.

You continued to feel the tingling of your clitoris as the anticipation for more lingered. He rolled it up-and-down each of your thighs with you keeping your legs spread for him. Under different circumstances, this would have been a relaxing massage - but it did nothing to calm you down as you felt more blood pumping into your cunt.

You let more of your resolve crumble as he set the wand between your labia again. The desire was an ache inside of you and your hands were shaking. The wet noises from your cunt accompanied how he moved the wand, stroking it up-and-down between your folds, encouraging the sensitivities to spread even further. Your moisture was shared all over your cunt.

You loved how it felt when he moved the wand to its lowest point yet, letting it rest at your entrance. Your puffy lips parted, conforming to the bulb-shaped head. Your head slumped back, a choked sob coming from you as you indulged in this new sensation.

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy getting all worked up like this. You’re taking it like the perfect toy and it’s driving me a little crazy.” He said, giving you a burst of pride. “Keep taking it for me.”

“I will, Master.” You whispered.

You grinded yourself down harder on the toy, dazzled by how this accelerated the passion inside of you. You wondered if this would be enough to get you off, if he left it there long enough as your hips enthusiastically stuttered in the air. It was promising and you would happily explore more of how it felt.

You weren’t surprised when he left you wanting more, the wand taken away. You drew in a shaky breath, letting go of your frustration over not being allowed to access that next level of pleasure. You were still being kept from becoming complete.

You felt his arm wrap around you as he moved in closer. This was so that he could press the vibrator against the small of your back, which wasn’t enough to distract you from how wet you were.

Your eyes opened at the feeling of his breath warming your face. He was looking down at you,  very amused by your current state. You could feel how much you were blushing, unable to hide your neediness with him staring straight at you.

You gave an excited whimper as his lips met yours. You savoured the feeling of him so close, letting yourself get a little lost in his kisses. Your fingers burned to be running through his hair, to get to experience more of him.

You were ecstatic when his hips met yours and you expressed some of your neediness in your movements. You were happy to get to grind against him, lining your slit up with his covered cock. You didn’t spare a thought to getting into more trouble for spreading your cum on his shorts. Because you were hardly aware of the fabric, just concentrating on how good this felt to be almost going through the motions of fucking. His tongue gliding into your mouth felt like an invitation to carry on.

The wand’s vibrating head moved down lower, with him guiding it onto your butt. He followed the line of your asscrack with it, inviting you to feel the vibrations in a new way, from an angle you would have easily overlooked. All of this served to get you feeling even hotter, adding to the tension that would need to be worked out of your pussy.

He didn’t stop moving the wand until he was almost at your entrance. Less than an inch from the hole, in this hidden spot, he held it. You were soon whining against his mouth, teased by the enduring almost of this moment. It was almost in the right place and it was almost enough to take you higher.

“Does that feel good, kitten?” He asked, giving it a little wiggle without letting it get any closer to your cunt.

“Uh-huh.”

“I know it does. But you’re not about to come without permission, are you?” He asked. “You’re gonna be a good girl and keep taking it for me. ‘Cause I’m not done yet.” You whimpered in response to hearing that. “I’m really not.”

You had stopped trying to grind yourself on his cock, now you were wiggling back onto the vibrator, seeking to get more from it.

But before you could truly tap into this potential, he was taking it away. At the same time, he was peeling back from you, shifting his body weight away. You kept your eyes shut, trying to gather yourself amidst this feeling of so many frayed nerves.

He was startling you out of your daze when he brought the toy to one of your nipples. Your legs flinched and you briefly sobbed, your whole system given a start. He pressed it against the hardened peak and it was like a white hot poker right to the core of your being. Your throat clenched as you struggled to comprehend this intensity. 

“Kitten…” He whined, making those two syllables go on for much longer. “All these noises, you’re just…” He placed the vibrator on your other nipple. “I was gonna wait to fuck you, but you’re making it… I can’t wait.” You raised your head, daring to hope that he was about to put an end to this torture, that he was about to let you progress. “You are making it literally too hard.” He turned the vibrations off and took the wand away.

You opened your eyes to find he was in the middle of taking off his shorts and briefs. You took in the sight of his freed dick, looking forward to something new. Your eyes darted from his face to his cock and back again as you decided that you didn’t have a preference over what he did next, you were simply enthused by the prospect of him making another move.

He settled himself down again, sitting off to the side of your knee, instead of climbing on top of you. He wrapped his hand around his shaft, instead of laying a single finger upon you.

You watched him start to jerk himself off and you were feeling a little dumbfounded because it didn’t look like he was prepping himself for you. It looked like he was comfortable in his current position, oblivious to you as he settled into his ideal pace.

His breathing was coming in heavier as he looked up at you. “Do you see, babygirl? Do you see how ridiculously hard you’ve made me?”

“I do.” You responded in a small voice.

“You’re so sexy that you’ve disrupted my plan.” He said. “But we can adapt.” With his available hand, he picked up the vibrator again. He switched it back on. “You get to enjoy more of your vibe while you watch.”

“Watch?” You repeated unhappily.

“Yep.” He moved a little closer so that he could reach you with the toy. Its buzzing head was brought to your pubic mound, immediately creating a pressure that couldn’t be ignored. “You’re gonna ride that edge a little longer for me, okay? Not too much longer, don’t get so pouty. Just a fraction more edging, that way you’ll be nice and grateful when I get you off.” You bit into your bottom lip as you thought about how much gratitude you could show if he let you come right now. “I said don’t pout. Now, you don’t have to smile, but you do have to tell me that you’re still down for this and that you want to finish your punishment.”

You did your best to draw in a deep breath. “Please punish me more, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” Hearing him say this was just as soothing as having him caress your forehead - it was a little inspiration to keep at it.

He had the wand steady, pressing it right up against your pubic bone. You squirmed through the building sensitivities, feeling the threats to your resolve from every possible angle. It seemed like all of your body was attuned, a desperate harmony that cried out for the climax.

You couldn’t help moaning as those consistent vibrations kept you so weak, kept promising more. And you watched as he chased for his own serving of more. His hand kept at his dick, starting to draw wet sounds. As he worked, his hips moved, with him going deeper into his tempo. His eyes were darting all over your body, not wasting a single piece of inspiration.

The clenching of your inner-walls felt pathetic, even though you couldn’t help it. You were stuck with just recalling the feeling of that cock driving into you as deeply as you needed it. You watched the motions of his strokes, imagining how it would be to have your pussy stroking him instead. Before too long you were lifting your hips, rocking into the relentless wand. You weren’t trying to match his speed, but you craved movement, you needed to get some of this energy out.

“Fuck…” He moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he got faster in his rhythm.

Your eyes locked onto his tip as you saw how it started to leak. You put more power into your hips, feeling yourself getting closer as you bought more into the fantasy of fucking, getting caught up in the sensations that typically came with it.

“I’m close.” He said. “Can I have your mouth? Please let me shoot into that pretty mouth.”

“Yes, Master.” Having him in your mouth was the next best thing to having him in your cunt. You were craving his taste.

He stopped caring about the vibrator and you didn’t lament losing its pulsations. He took his hand off of his dick as he came toward you, figuring out his next move.

“I’m not gonna untie your hands.” His voice had lost most of the earlier harshness.

“Okay.”

“But I’ll hold this hand.” He said, placing one of his hands in yours now that he was close enough. “And you give me three squeezes if you need to breathe.” You were nodding as he got into position over your face, placing his knees on either side of your head. “Or you can just give me a kick if it gets too much.”

You didn’t refuse any aspects of his advances, just opening your mouth as you loosely wrapped your fingers around his hand. With him so close to your face, you were given the scent of his pure lust, a hint at what was to come. You extended your tongue over your row of bottom teeth, watching as he shifted and secured his balance.

He angled his hips and brought the head of his cock down to your tongue. He was looking into your eyes as he moved his shaft down your tongue, your saliva mixing with the moisture that was already coating him. He moved for the warmth of your mouth and you obediently wrapped your lips around him.

You could feel how he was throbbing as he eased more of his length into you, his eyelids beginning to flutter. He didn’t go all the way in, not striving to overwhelm you straight away.

His hand held yours a little tighter as he pumped forward, then back again. He worked himself back-and-forth, your slicked lips rubbing him as he established the tempo that suited his needs. You stayed with him, all of his reactions adding to the arousal that dominated your experience.

He was soon using your mouth almost as quickly as he had been moving his hand. You kept your cheeks drawn in as he locked into his goal. You weren’t craving your own stimulations, that had faded from importance, his climax clearly more significant. The pleasure that you derived came from being used, came from being exactly what he needed right now.

“Fuck…” He moaned.

His available hand reached down, collecting some of your hair between his fingers. You were feeling the extra warmth in your mouth as his dick started to leak more consistently.

“Make me come and I’ll give you the next load in your pussy. We’ll come together, okay babygirl?”

You had to find a way to agree that wouldn’t require you to take him out of your mouth. You sucked your cheeks in more, willing to sacrifice your ability to breathe easily for the moment. You also lifted your tongue to press against the underside of his shaft as he kept at this pacing.

The wet insides of your parted thighs twitched as you felt the burning desire to watch him fall apart. You could tell that he was getting close to losing himself when his hips unpredictably jutted forward a few times.

“Mmn, mmn…” His whining was getting louder as he grinded harder into your face. His eyes squeezed shut as his chest expanded and the hand holding your hair gripped tighter. Your world froze as you watched, desperate to see him move into that ecstasy.

He threw his head back as his body weight rocked forward. The cum surged into your mouth, heavy drops sliding straight down your tongue and into your throat. You kept your lips tensed around him as his half-coherent moans filled the room.

You began to move your tongue against him, making something of an effort to clean his dick. He let go of your hair, but his hand in yours squeezed. You massaged your tongue all over the shaft filling your mouth as he steadily caught his breath.

“That wasn’t how I planned it.” He said, withdrawing over your messy lips. “But you just…” He moved off of you, putting his butt on the mattress. “With every noise that you were making, it had me questioning why I was working so hard to keep control, ‘til I got tired of not having an answer.”

You had thoroughly licked your lips, but you could feel how wet the immediate area around your mouth still was. You turned your head, bringing your face to your elevated arm. You used your bicep to wipe off the lower half of your face, rubbing back-and-forth. When you were done, you saw a couple of streaks from your purple lipstick mixed in with the combination of spit and cum.

You didn’t hesitate to set your tongue to work cleaning this up. His cum was the beginning of your reward and you wanted to savour every bit of it. You heard his little excited gasp when he noticed what you were doing - all without being asked to do so, you were feeling very much like a good girl. You enjoyed having his taste coat your tongue for a while longer.

“Should we revise what you learned earlier?” He asked.

It took you a moment to realise what he was hinting at. “Good girls come with permission.”

“Uh-huh, and are you ready for your permission?” He asked, moving closer.

“Yes, Daddy.” You said, your breath coming in faster as he climbed on top of you, this time placing his body over yours. “Yes, Daddy.”

He kissed you, undeterred by the taste of his own cum. The time spent without the vibrator hadn’t seen any dulling of your desires. Just because you’d had the chance to catch your breath didn’t mean you were any less turned on than you had been when he was in the middle of punishing you. All of those sensitivities lingered, just waiting to be rediscovered by him.

You remained so close to that edge, exactly where he wanted you. Your whimper was muffled by his lips when the head of his hard shaft began to spread your swollen pussy open.

So much of your body was attuned to his movements that you were feeling it beyond your cunt when he moved in deeper. It seemed like every fibre of your being had been awaiting this penetration.

“You look so good like this.” He said in a husky whisper as he started to rock his hips into yours.

“You think that I look good takin’ that dick?” You sought to clarify. “I’m glad.”

“That goes without saying, babygirl. I meant how pretty you look with your makeup all ruined and running.” He said as his eyes moved across the features of your face. “You looked hot all made up at the start of the night, you always paint yourself to perfection. But there’s somethin’ about how you look right now- unf, it’s doing things to me.

“Your lipstick is absolutely destroyed. All that pretty shadow under your eyes is streaky, so much is smeared. And it’s beautiful. And it’s the perfect representation of how much I’ve corrupted you. I can see through the facade, I can see how much you’ve let me ruin you.” He said. “And it’s so sexy, it’s so…”

You wrapped one of your legs around his waist, bringing him in closer as you tilted your pelvis. “Corrupt me more, I want more.”

He picked up speed, spending more time buried deep into your cunt. “I will, oh I fuckin’ will, I will, I will…”

He got faster again and it became difficult to think amidst all of the sensations that his persistent thrusting was stirring up. Your walls spasmed and clamped around him, with every collision feeling better than the one that preceded it.

You shut your eyes as your whole body felt full of tingles, pulsing in your desperate state. Your hands were shaking and it was consistently getting harder to hold back the overwhelming conclusion.

“Please.” You burst out, ready to give in to your monumental orgasm.

“Yes babygirl, yes.” He moaned, his stamina remaining as he finished you off with some more pounding. “Come for me, come.”

You cried out in relief, so glad to let it all go. As you were moving into your perfect moment, the clamping down of your cunt was enough to take him over his own edge. Buried deep inside of you, this new wave of cum was unleashed.

All that you could do was go limp, you were spent in every sense of the word.

“Oh my fucking God.” You gasped as you finally felt him loosening the rope around your wrists.

“How do you feel? Are you alright?” He asked, cradling your face in his hands.

You opened your eyes to find him looking you over with eyes full of concern and you wanted to get rid of that as quickly as possible. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m- I’m alright.”

“Good girl.” He said, giving you a kiss on the forehead, reinforcing the fact that the scene was over. “You’ll let me know if there’s anything I can get you, yeah?”

“Mm-hm.”

He let out a deep sigh. “I think I need a cigarette after all of that.”

You drew your arms and legs up to your torso as you continued to work at catching your breath. You were still feeling overwhelmed, you didn’t know how to even begin coming down.

In the process of finding his pack of cigarettes and lighter, your inactivity had caught his attention. He walked back over to the bed. “Hey, how are you feelin’?”

“I- I’m alright.” Your mouth felt dry as you talked. “I just-... it can wait ‘til you come back from your smoke.”

He sat down beside you. “No, no waiting, tell me now.”

You couldn’t explain it but there was a shyness that you felt as you gradually lifted your eyes up to his face. “Can I have cuddles?”

“Fuck yes you can have cuddles.” He said as he quickly laid down with you. He scooted his body in closer and wrapped his arms around you. “Is this what you had in mind?”

“Yes, this is perfect. I like how safe I feel in your arms.”

He was gently stroking your hair back from your face, moving the strands to rest behind your ear. “That’s good because you are safe in my arms. You’re safe…” He kissed you on the cheek. “You’re valued…” He kissed your other cheek. “You’re respected…” He switched back to the other cheek, but this time his kiss was placed much closer to your lips. “You’re understood…” He mirrored another kiss. “And you are fucking adored.”

His next kiss went directly onto your lips. You shut your eyes, caressing his cheek as you enjoyed a subtle warmth blooming in your belly. You marvelled at how fast he could help you feel less unsettled in your own skin.

“And if you’re not feeling all of those things, then I’m not doing my job as your dom.” He said.

“It’s not that I don’t feel those things. It’s just such a big rush of emotions and the crash after the adrenaline- I guess it caught me off-guard. And the alcohol probably doesn’t help all of that.” You said.

“How much did you have?”

“Uh…” It felt like you were looking back further than just a few hours ago. “Three glasses of wine and some shots.”

His eyebrows raised. “Some shots?”

“I don’t remember specifics, Max was buying them.” You said. “But one that we had was called a purple nurple.”

“And was it nurple-y?” He teased.

“Um, it was purple.” You said. “Anyway, my point is that me getting discombobulated is not a failing on your part. Maybe I just need a little extra aftercare tonight.”

“Awesome. You know that I’m always down for aftercare, I’ll aftercare you into next week. As much fun as I have during our scenes, I wouldn’t rank that time above this.” He said as he traced his fingers up-and-down your spine. “I love getting to take care of you and nurturing you like this- it’s honestly so good for me too. I like the feeling of us restoring the balance.”

You didn’t doubt that he meant what he said, but you still sought another piece of validation. “You like it so much that you don’t mind me keeping you from a cigarette?”

“My pet is far more important than any cigarette.” He said.

“Because I’m cuter than a cigarette?”

This earned you a chuckle from him. “Yes. On the long, long list of things that you are cuter than, is cigarettes.” He gave you another kiss. “Was there another part of aftercare that you had in mind, or are you only about the cuddles?”

“Actually, can you do me a favour?” You asked, prompting him to immediately nod his head. “On my makeup table, it should be out with the other stuff- can you get the box for these lashes?” He started to sit up. “I’m desperate to take these off. It feels like butterflies have landed on my eyes.”

He walked over to the disorganised mess that was your makeup table. “Well they look very pretty and they didn’t move a single inch.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I made sure I glued that shit down properly.” You said. “Do I really look like the kind of chick that would go to a drag show with a wonky eyelash?”

“No, you do not.” He said, returning to the bed with two things in hand. He showed you the pack of face wipes. “I figured I could help you take the rest of the makeup off.”

You were pulling one of the false eyelashes off of your lid as you sat up. “Thanks, but I’m probably better off just having a shower ‘cause I’m gonna need coconut oil to get this eyeliner off, it’s the heavy-duty shit.”

“Should we shower? I’ll cuddle you in there too.”

The two of you went into the bathroom. While he was getting the shower water to the perfect temperature, you stepped up to the mirror to inspect the makeup he was so taken by. Immediately you were laughing at what you saw. You were such a mess, it appeared that you had been partying for days, or that you had started trying to wipe your makeup off, only to get bored and fall asleep not even halfway through the process.

You commented that you didn’t understand how he could call you beautiful in your current state, a fucking dumpster would look more put together than you. At that he had rushed to your side, kissing you on the cheek before launching into an explanation of how your natural sexiness shone through. It seemed that he had an endless amount of sweet words to tell you, ready to counter all of your self-deprecating statements.

He was still talking when you stepped into the shower with him. Under the pleasantly warm stream of water, he took the lead in removing your makeup. You held the jar of coconut oil and he dipped a portion of the washcloth in, tenderly wiping this across your face, one section at a time.

“Can I tell you about my night?” You asked.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been dying to get the full story. You sent me, like, two Snapchats when you first got to the club, then nothing.”

You did your best to keep everything in chronological order as you shared what you had experienced within the doors of Honcho. You told him about the best drag performances, sharing details of the outfits and repeating any funny comments you had made at the time. You described the friendly people you had met (becoming mutuals with a couple on Instagram) and you explained how you had been convinced to stay so late.

“I’m sorry, I just wanna make sure I heard you right…” He cut in. “Did you say Glue, this queen was named Glue, that’s the whole name?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” You said. “Do you not like it? I love it, it’s hilarious.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just really random.”

“That’s what’s so great about it. So you wouldn’t go the silly route if you were picking a drag name?” You asked.

He shook his head. “Nuh-uh, I think my drag name would need to be something super slutty.”

“‘Cause you’d be-”

He started talking in the same second, your words somewhat synchronising. “Because I would be a slutty queen.”

“-a slutty queen.”

He smiled at that. “Ah-ha, so you’re familiar with my work?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen you on stage two or three times, I guess.” You joked.

You started trying to come up with the perfect name for his drag queen alter-ego, brainstorming aloud. You attempted to combine the word slut with common names and he joined in. You were both laughing as the practice seemingly became a competition to come up with the dumbest thing.

»»————-　♡　————-««    

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[daemonbrain]

Part 2

1.8k, cw: ghosts a pervert, smut, readers husband is piece of work, not proofread.

Simon Riley who first saw you at the butcher's shop on the phone. 

You were a pretty thing. Wearing a pink little yoga set, one arm holding your mat and the other holding your phone to your ear as you wait for the butcher to bring out your cut of meat.

Which was taking a long time

Simon would’ve had it chopped and packed to go by now. Though, he can’t complain with the view he has of your ass- you. The man was touch starved. He hadn’t been back home in a while, back-to-back deployments keeping him occupied. His only company being his calloused and scraped hands roughly jerking himself until he came, bordering on unpleasurable. Not what some could consider enjoyable, but try being in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere for weeks on end and see if you care so much about gentle.

The borderline perverted look you were blissfully unaware of was tracking down your form. He stared at the way the material tightly clung on to every bit of you in a welcoming way, a second skin. The sweat on you from your little session.

Just how flexible does yoga make a bird like you?

It was only when he heard a grating sound come from your phone that he snapped out of his trance. Even with his bad ears from all the bullets whizzing past him, bombs going off within meters of him, and the usual shit show he did for a living he could hear the voice which bled through your phone's speaker.

"Get me a steak this time. Nonna that nasty shit from last time!"

You hurriedly turned your volume down as it blasted in your ear, startled by the voice. Chewing on your lip you pivoted towards the counter to see if your order had been brought out; the motion to no avail as the employee continued chopping away in the back room.

It was only when your other hand came into full view from the motion he noticed the absolute rock on your finger.

"Honey, I thought the salmon was pretty good." That prick clearly firing something back as you winced away from your phone once again. Gritting your teeth as if biting back your arguments, looking around to occupy your time as the man on the phone continues to speak. "I know... I'm sorry. Don't worry, it'll be ready by 7." You placatingly cooed.

"Listen, I have to go. I love y-" You began, but the moment the words tumbled from your lips you pulled the phone fully from your cheek to see a blank screen with the time staring back on you. The asshole hung up!

What a fuckin tosser.

Simon hears the butcher finally call your name with familiarity and with a sigh you step towards the counter. 

He leaned on to the wall further as he had been the entire time. Silent. Unsettling. A stark contrast to your bright appearance in the shop, the larger man brooded in his corner waiting his turn.

“See ya’ next Friday!” You still managed a bright smile at the butcher who handed you your meat.

A mild thing like you really shouldn’t be talked to so thoughtlessly, some guys are fuckwits though. He never liked the type. Why lock a bird down with a ring if you were gonna be mean to her?

“S’cuse me sir, i’m just gonna push past you here” You asked. With widened eyes, Simon gruffly mumbled a “Yeah,” out before creating a stupidly small space.

Maybe he really did want you to push past him. Or just push up on him but oh well.

Sweeping past him, you give him a toothy smile as you had so sweetly done to the butcher, as if you hadn’t got yelled at less than five minutes ago. God you really have no common sense, beaming up at the lurker in the corner at least twice your size. A girl as pretty as you should really stick to herself.

From that interaction on, Simon found himself being guided by the memory of you back to the butcher shop the next Friday.

And the next…

And the next.

Every week progressively standing closer and closer to you as you picked up your usual order. One day you had taken the liberty of starting small talk with him after recognizing his unmistakable stature. After all, there were only so many people you had seen in this shop and none so… large.

You could not deny you found this mystery man disquieting. Always dressed in dark colours, not so much as a word coming from him. Like clockwork you would come in after hot yoga, greet the butcher, he would come in, silence would ensue as you both waited for your meat, and you would leave with a quick smile.

It was rude. He had never even said a simple hello to you! Though, you suppose that it could be due to your own curt exits. The thought of the unkindness you might’ve exhibited subconsciously sent your mind into a spiral, leading to your abrupt introduction.

After all, who were you to judge! Kindness is and should always be the response in your books.

At this kindness, Simon swore he had to take a breath in as you politely outstretched your hand and spoke your name casually. Tilting his head down to your face he raises a brow skeptically, and then firmly shakes your head.

He failed to hide the shudder which wracked his body. The way your hand effortlessly slipped into his. Soft and manicured engulfed in his.

“Simon.”

“Well it’s good to meet you Simon” With the twinkly little smile you would grace him as you hauled it out of the shop. He felt the shiver go down his spine a second time when you spoke his name for the first time.

And then- it happened.

You giggled. A soft thing, no doubt intended to be small. It wasn’t to Simon though. It reverberated throughout the room, rang so prettily in his ears. Fuck. He would remember that sound later on tonight.

“Are you cold? You keep shivering. It’s pretty harsh out there right now.”

“Nah. Not really.” His accent thick as he shrugged.

Letting out a little “mhm” you nod and look back to the counter.

“I was freezing outside! Usually I walk home-” Simon already knew that “-but today I called my husband to come grab me! Way too cold!”

That visibly made him stiffen. Of course. Perfectly normal that guy is coming to get you, he’d be an idiot to leave you walking home alone in the cold.

If you were his girl, Simon wouldn’t have let you out of his sight. Fuck sakes you practically had “come mess with me” written all over you. There were creeps all over the place nowadays, (thought the creep).

He would’ve carried everything for you, scarfed down whatever the hell you had taken the time to prepare him. That husband of yours doesn’t like your salmon? Simon would. Hell if he didn’t, he’d cram it down his throat with gratitude anyways. He doubted anything could be worse than some of the rations he’s eaten on duty. 

That train of thought is pretty redundant when he takes note of how you wouldn’t be able to leave the bed to make anything.

Maybe you’d cram something of his down your throat in gratitude.

Shaking his head subtly, he hears the bells of the store door opening. He watched your face fall as you step away from him and it’s when he sees your husband's look of complete irritation he understands why.

You had grabbed your order swiftly and with a quick wave goodbye you were on your way back to your husband. Simon could only register your husband's whisper-yell as he disapprovingly glared his way. “The fuck are you doin talking to him?”. And with that you were hurriedly ushered out.

You deigned it necessary to continue greeting Simon, have little chats about the weather, any plans he had for the weekend. Tossing in your stupid jokes that he would laugh at. You interpreted it as something closer to a breathy snort-hopefully positive- and it went on as such for weeks

And every time he returned home Friday night, he came home with only one thought after. You.

As he laid in bed the same thought persisted as he slipped his cock out of his boxers, red and weeping for some sort of stimulation. He took to his usual harsh pace. You’d be so much softer.

You’d be so nice to him wouldn’t you? Coo some compliment as he lets you tug at him. Fuck he wouldn’t know what to take first.

Would you give him a blowie or a hand job? 

No. You wouldn’t be on your knees- not yet. If you’d let him have you, you’d be on your back in an instant. He’d rip the stitches of those leggings right down the middle, your panties next.

“Fuuuuuck” he moaned into the quiet of his room. He’d stick it in slow, he’d try. It would be torture not to ram himself right up to the hilt, but he’d do it for such a good girl.

That’s what you were, weren’t you? Always a nice word for someone? What would you say to him when he began to rut into you like a madman. When you would feel the pummeling intrusion, his head knocking into the deepest parts of you.

He’d be able bend you into so many different positions that you’d better hope that yoga has taught you well. Split your legs open to accommodate his imposing body size as he’d take purchase between them. Then you better hope your cunny can accommodate his other size when he spears you open on his cock.

Would you take it smiling? Would your tears roll down your cheeks, the prodding bordering too much? You’d take it either way, he knew you could. He’d rub at your clit with such tenderness he never afforded himself (as gentle as he could anyway). He’d make sure you begged to stay on his cock forever, fuck himself so deep you would be too stupid to pull away unknowing of where he ended and you started. Not that you’d have to care.

He’d flip you on to all fours and rip away your clothes entirely, pounding you from the back and instead of just his own labored breaths, the sound of skin slapping together would ring out.

In silent stoicism, he feels his balls tighten up at the thought of your perfect face stuffed into the pillows screaming your thank you’s. You probably were just as nice with someone stuffing themselves into your pussy.

At both his ruthless ministrations and boundless imagination, his release spurted all over his hand with a breathy sigh. When you were here he’d make sure to slam his hips to yours and keep them flush against you, coat your insides in hot cum better than your limp-dick husband ever could. That man wouldn’t be able to fuck you the way Simon knew he could. You deserve someone who could make you go stupid on his dick, not cry of frustration like you probably did everytime that knob who thinks himself a man rolled over after finishing himself off.

Not that you’ll have to worry about that soon

…

He wouldn’t be around for much longer anyways.

[b-lossm]

•+*The New Workout Plan*+•

Caitvi x reader Smut ;)

synopsis: Cait and Vi went out of town for their job for a week, leaving you weak and alone..

Smut +18 only, MDNI

Pure filth, Threesome, Dom Caitlyn Kiramman, Switch Vi [mostly dom], Sub Reader, Reader is kind of a brat tbh but like not rlly, subspace??? kinda im not too sure but ill put it here just incase, nudes, lingerie, Mommy and Daddy kink, Praise, Degradation, hair pulling, marking, fingering, strap ons, spitting, pussy slapping, edging, biting, refers to strap as 'cock' and 'dick', begging, trip to strap town with a stop at squirt city, face riding, 'bitch', hickeys, biting kinda Aftercare!!!!

Its been rough without your girlfriends, being all alone for a week is NOT for the faint of heart. They had to go on some business trip for their job, leaving you all alone, making you drive to your Pilates class all by yourself and getting froyo by yourself. Wanting to tease them, you put on their favorite set that you have and you take a cute picture of yourself

you text your groupchat

you: Vi!!! Cait!! :(

Cait<3: What's up princess? is there a problem

You: noo I just missed you guys ;(

You: 1 pic

Cait<3: Look out the window baby

Quickly, you look out the window and see Vi's big truck, they're back and your fucked. You rush to go put on some clothes to greet them outside "Cait! Vi! I missed you!" you hug them and Vi gently bites the shell of your ear, "Saw the picture you sent Sunshine, your so bad for getting us all worked up while we wanted to give you a nice suprise" you squeak as Cait pinches your side "Misbehaving without us? Thought you where better then that honey" damn it,, well..atleast you got to hug them before your punishment!

--

"f--fuck p--please c--cait--mommy pleace let me touch" you moan out as cait slowly teases your clit while Vi worked on your folds, she tuts "ah I'm not sure... last time I checked good girls got what they wanted.. isn't that right Vi?" Vi nods and talks into your pussy "m--mhmo h-- oh you've been a bad girl" Cait then tugs Vi’s hair slightly “Dont talk with your mouth full” Vi moans and lifts her head up “m-mm okay Mommy” she then dives in “m-m’ close p-please let me c—um mommy” you moan breathily as you hold your hands together, Cait then pulls Vi’s head our from your thighs “Hold it” she commands getting up from her spot behind you to get between your legs while Vi gets both of their straps.

Cait pins you to the bed with one hand as the other works your messy cunt out “thought you could get away with that hm?” she thrusts harshly only slowing to scissor your insides “thought you could just tease us while we where on the trip?” she licks a stripe up your tummy to your breasts and takes one of your nipples into her mouth, sucking and biting softly "You better be a good girl for us baby, god-- who knows what's gonna happen if you aren't" she gives you a cocky grin, spitting on your chest just to lick it back up again. As she fingers you she can tell how close you are, your whimper's and breaths become quick, your legs tremble more your cunt clenches deliciously around her fingers "Wait a second Princess" she giggles and pulls out, slapping your cunt a few times before bringing her fingers up for Vi to taste "mmph.. so good Princess" she moans softly as she lewdly swallows your juices from around Cait's fingers

As Cait secures the harness around herself Vi presses dark, angry hickeys against your neck and thighs "mmph you gonna be a good girl f' me and mommy?" Then you feel Cait's strap tapping at your mouth "Suck." she commands. Hoping to not piss them off--or at least Cait off, you do as she says and press a kiss to the tip of her strap then you slowly take it into your mouth humming as you do so. Cait moans as you send slight vibrations directly to where her clit and the base of the strap meet "being a good girl for once I see" she takes a handful of your hair and forces her strap down while Vi begins to push into your folds softly "Say peach if its too much okay baby? or tap Mommy's thigh three times" Vi says, finally bottoming out so you can feel her large, girthy, cock. With a moan you nod your head, struggling to say something along the lines of 'okay daddy' as you swallow Caitlyn's dick.

You moan and clench up around Vi "oooh I think someone here is bouta' cumm" she teases, halting her movements and looking at Cait to give the final call if you should get your release or not “Hmm do you think you should be able to cum?” Cait asks you, pulling your head off of her strap “M—mhm—p-please Mommy p—please Daddy lemme c—Ah~—cum” you whine and beg desperately as Vi’s thumb finds your clit, toying with you and keeping you on edge. Vi tuts "I think you can beg better then that princess" she takes her thumb away, slapping your messy cunt a few times "lemme hear it babes" Vi ghosts her thumb against your clit more as Cait slaps her strap against your cheeks "Come on, beg for mommy and daddy" you can hear her cocky chuckles "M-mommy ah-! daddy please--please lemme cu--m I'll b' the bes--ohhhghguuhh--best girl for you pp--please mo-mmmy ah! p--please dAddy~" you whine out as they make out on top of you, both fighting for dominance. Under them you feel like a toy in the best way possible, truth be told, you love it when they fight for dominance over you, you especially like it because one of them always ends up being a little subby, kind of like you right now. They eventually break the kiss, ending because Vi comes, just by strapping you down "go make our girl come Vi. Now." Cait commands as she takes her strap off and lowers her pussy onto your hungry mouth "eat." she then feverishly makes out with Vi while riding your face.

Its all too much for you. Caitlyn's sweet wet juices all over your face, her clit bumping the tip of your nose while yours gets tortured by Vi's middle and ring finger as she thrusts into your hungry cunt rapidly "fucking take it bitch--" Vi moans softly into Cait's mouth "C--Close" Cait whines and speeds up her movement, Vi doing the same to make you moan into her cunt "Fuck-- same" Cait's hand finds Vi's clit and rubs it to add to her pleasure "O--oh gosh!'" you moan into Cait's messy--messy pussy as you lap up her juices, squirting in the process "Shit baby.." Vi says as her whole bottom half is covered in you. Cait gets off of you breathlessly, laying next to you as Vi pulls out and lays between you two "God we need a bath.."

--

After a quick power nap, Vi gets up and runs a bath for the three of you, her orgasm not effecting her that much due to her extensive stamina. You then feel two pairs of strong arms lower you into a warm body of water, quickly joining in with you "Thank you mommy" you cuddle up to Cait "No babes, s' just Cait and Vi now okay?" she clarifies, rubbing shampoo into your hair as Vi massages your body "Mhm that's right cutie. S' just Cait and Vi" she kissed your collarbones softly, as opposed to the harsh hickeys she left in the same spots.

After the three of you bathed each other and got the care you needed they take you out of the bath to dry you off and brush your hair, feeling a little bad after your kind of harsh session "you okay princess?" Cait asks, blow drying your hair away from your skin "m-mhm.. that was nice" you say sleepily, Vi then comes back with your favorite pajama set, a cute tank top and its matching shorts "this is the one right babes?" she kisses your temple and holds your hand to help you get dressed. They both appreciate these domestic moments, even if its right after a rough session, they just like taking care of you. Yes, they do know that you are well prepared to take care of yourself, but they cant help but baby you sometimes, they just love you so much! Cait carries you to the bed and sets you down on the fresh sheets "you okay to sleep honey? got everythin' you need" she whispers into your ear, kissing the shell "mhm m' okay.. jus' need you guys" they both let out a small 'aw' as they cuddle into you from both sides "G'night, love you guys" you say sleepily "love you to Princess, and you too Vi g'night" Cait settles into her spot "G'night babes, love you guys" Vi mumbles, her words slurred as she quickly passes out.

you lucky duck

———————————————————————————

I hope you guys love this!! click here for Aftercare hcs [it'll be linked in a few hours if your early]

umm when caitvi sesbian lex scene drops im sorry for the persom im going to become.

tags but just for this fic because they commented :)

@ethandelgado1 @ cleeblatt but they wouldnt link the right acc @vivispace @lightningferel @orbitsaturn

[societyfolklore]

Oka soo I dare to send in a Bucky imagine <3 Maybe one where you're dating but you're not an avenger, so you sometimes feel not good enough for him even though he always makes you feel special and he loves you more than anything. One time while he's at a mission, you're back at the compound waiting for him, but then also Sharon comes up to you being a bitch again and makes you feel even more unwanted and leave before Bucky returns. Later then he's happily waiting to see you, but frowns when he finds out you're not there. So he calls you, asking you to come over and you reluctantly agree. As you finally confront him with your doubts he immediately tries getting this thought out of you and gives you also his dog tags to prove he's yours forever and it's all cute then and also some soft smut where he tells you how much he loves you ? ♥️

Here we go! Here's our boy making everything better when the doubts creep in and we can shut it down on your own. Title: Yours to Keep

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x SHIELD Analyst!Female Reader

Summary: You feel like your not enough, and when Sharon gets in your head it makes it so much worse. But to Bucky you’re the reason to make it home.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Insecurity, emotional manipulation (from Sharon because she's a mean girl), soft possessiveness, smut, unprotected sex, established relationship, oral (f- receviving), praise, dog tag kink, Angst with Fluff, Romance.

A/N: Something softer for everyone this weekend. Thank you for the ask @wintersoldierchronicles

The compound was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that seeped into your skin and clung to you like static. You sat curled into one of the deep leather chairs in the lounge, knees tucked beneath you, a tablet in your lap. The screen glowed softly, lines of mission data scrolling as you half-heartedly skimmed them, reading intel you’d collected yourself over the past few days. Every enemy movement tracked. Every building layout mapped. Every communication protocol updated and tested.

All to help keep the Avengers safe. To keep him safe.

You should’ve felt accomplished. Proud. Instead, you felt like a ghost in your own home.

No one had said anything, not directly. But they didn’t have to. The looks, the nods you didn’t get in the hallway, the way everyone seemed to talk around you instead of to you. It all added up. They were Avengers. Legends. Gods. And you were… what? Just the analyst who happened to be dating one of them. An ordinary woman in love with an extraordinary man.

And somehow, no matter how often Bucky looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, the thought kept crawling back up your throat like bile: You’re not good enough for him.

You bit the inside of your cheek and tried to focus, tried to chase away the fog settling over your mind. But it was no use. The feeling had been a quiet whisper in the dark for months now, and lately… it was starting to scream.

You had seen the way people looked at Bucky- like he was a living monument to strength and survival. A relic of history wrapped in modern muscle and trauma, wearing his past like armour. People admired him. Revered him. And yet, he came home to you. You, who shuffled files and ran analyses. Who flinched when the training team sparred too close to your desk. Who once got winded jogging down the corridor when your badge lanyard snagged on a doorknob.

What could he possibly see in you that someone like Sharon, like Natasha, couldn’t offer in a more fitting package?

Footsteps echoed lightly down the corridor, the sharp click of designer boots hitting the polished floor like a countdown. You didn’t even need to lift your eyes. That cadence was familiar, the kind that always made your stomach twist with a mixture of dread and forced politeness.

Then came the voice. Smooth. Sweet. Laced with superiority.

“Still here?” Sharon Carter stepped into view, her tone dipped in passive-aggressive honey. She was perfectly made-up, of course, with not a single hair out of place, her sleek suit hugging her figure in all the ways that made people notice when she walked into a room.

She looked you up and down like you were something out of place, something small, insignificant. “Thought they kept the admin staff in the basement.”

It was a joke, probably. One of those faux-friendly jabs that everyone was supposed to laugh at. Except she wasn’t smiling. Not really.

You fought to keep your expression neutral, fingers tightening slightly around the tablet in your lap. You weren’t going to let her see how deep that cut went, not when she was already poised to twist the knife.

You gave her a polite nod, trying not to let your discomfort show. “Just going over the post-mission data. They’re due back in an hour.”

"Must be hard. Being with someone like Bucky." Sharon's smile was the kind that never quite reached her eyes.

“What do you mean?” You stiffened, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the tablet.

She stepped closer, arms folded casually like this was just idle chatter.

"I mean- he’s one of us. Field-ready. Weapon-trained. A living legend. And you… well, you make great coffee."

You swallowed hard. "I do more than-"

"I know," she said quickly, with that same dismissive tilt of her head. "You’re smart. Very behind-the-scenes. Essential in your own way, I suppose. But let’s be honest…Bucky’s built for war. He needs someone who understands that. Who can keep up. Who can be more than just a comfort waiting at home."

Your heart pounded painfully in your chest, each word driving in like a nail. It was everything you'd feared, laid out in someone else’s voice. Someone who was supposed to be on your side.

"He probably misses someone who can actually stand beside him out there," Sharon added with a shrug. "You know… someone who belongs."

The tablet in your hands blurred as tears threatened. You blinked hard and forced yourself to breathe through your nose.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because if you opened your mouth, you weren’t sure whether you’d scream or sob.

So you just stood, quickly and quietly, and walked away- shoulders stiff, throat tight, eyes stinging. You had to get out of there before someone saw you fall apart.

You left the compound entirely, slipping out the back entrance and taking the long way home. Your mind ran in circles the whole walk. What if Sharon was right? What if everyone had just been too polite to say it out loud? What if the only reason Bucky was with you was because you were safe? Easy? A soft landing after years of running and pain?

~#~#~#~#~#~

Bucky came back two hours later, bruised and sweaty but grinning. The mission had been long, much longer than expected. But successful at least. He was covered in dirt and grime, dried blood flecked across one temple, the strap of his weapons bag cutting into his shoulder. His muscles ached, and the adrenaline had long since worn off, but one thing kept him upright, kept him moving: you. The thought of you waiting at the compound, probably curled up with your tablet and a warm drink, maybe looking up every time the door slid open- yeah, that thought had gotten him through worse days than this.

He slung his weapons bag over one shoulder, still covered in dirt and dust from the mission, and scanned the lounge immediately.

“Hey, Sam,” he called. “She around?”

Sam looked up from his protein bar, brow furrowing slightly. “She left a while ago. Didn’t say much. Looked kinda off, though.”

Bucky’s shoulders stiffened. “Off how?”

Sam stood, tossing the wrapper aside. “I dunno, man. Quiet. Real quiet. Didn’t even look me in the eye. Thought maybe she was just tired, but now…” He trailed off, reading the worry blooming on Bucky’s face.

“You think something happened?” Bucky asked.

Sam gave a slow nod. “Could be nothing. But you know her better than anyone. If it’s not nothing- you’ll fix it.”

Bucky’s heart dropped. Something was wrong. You always met him after missions. Always.

Without another word, he turned and pulled his phone out of his pocket, hand still a little bloodied. ~#~#~#~#~#~

You pulled your car over to the side of the road, the quiet hum of the engine the only sound breaking through your spiralling thoughts. You hadn’t made it home. It felt too far. Too final. The space inside your car was tight, suffocating, but it was still safer than walking through the front door like nothing was wrong.

The phone vibrated in your hand again, lighting up with his name.

You stared down at the caller ID like it was a bomb about to go off. You didn’t answer right away. How could you? How could you speak to him when all you wanted to do was disappear?

You were a coward. That much was clear. Running off like that, not even saying goodbye. You should’ve stayed. Faced it. Faced her. But the words Sharon had said... they hadn’t been new. They were just the same cruel thoughts you’d had about yourself, dressed up in someone else’s voice.

You weren’t right for someone like Bucky.

You were just an analyst. A desk jockey. A tagalong to the world of gods and heroes.

And he was... everything.

He was strength and legend and pain and hope, all wrapped up in that scarred, steady way he looked at you like you were worth the whole damn universe. And you? You couldn’t even look yourself in the mirror right now.

The phone buzzed again.

Guilt stabbed through your chest.

He’d just come off a mission. He was probably still aching, tired, maybe even hurt—and here you were, making it all about you. Selfish. So unlike him. He always made you feel like the only girl in the room. One look from him and the world melted away.

You swallowed hard, blinking back the sting in your eyes, and finally picked up.

“Hey,” you said, voice too quiet.

“Doll, where are you?” he asked, voice already softening. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just… needed some air.”

There was a pause.

“You lying to me, sweetheart?” he said gently.

You closed your eyes. He knew you.

“No.”

Another pause. “Come back to the compound. Please. I need to see you. You're scaring me.”

Your chest cracked open. He sounded so… real. So Bucky. You found yourself nodding, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Okay,” you whispered.

~#~#~#~#~#~

He was already waiting by the elevator when you arrived, walking slow, tense loops with his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His jaw was tight, lips pressed into a thin line, the lines around his eyes carved deeper than usual. Every few seconds, his gaze darted toward the entrance, like he couldn’t help but check again, hoping- needing- you to appear.

The moment his eyes landed on you, he stopped dead. Everything in him just stilled. Relief hit him like a wave, shoulders dropping, hands unclenching—but his expression didn’t ease completely. No, his eyes stayed cautious, flickering across your face like he was afraid one wrong move might send you running. Like you were something breakable he didn’t dare press too hard.

He didn’t speak. Just opened his arms.

You tried to fake a smile, to smooth the cracks in your mask. But it was shaky, barely there, and he saw right through it. You saw the flicker of sadness in his eyes at the attempt.

You stepped into his embrace slowly, almost shyly, as if uncertain you still deserved it. The moment your body met his, the dam inside you cracked.

You buried your face in his chest, exhaling like you’d been holding your breath since you left the compound.

“Hey,” he murmured into your hair, voice rough with emotion. “There’s my girl.”

You clung to him, fingers twisting in his shirt like you were afraid he’d vanish, afraid this was all a dream that would dissolve when you let go.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asked eventually, drawing back just enough to look into your face. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, like he wanted to catch the remnants of that broken smile.

You looked up at him, eyes glassy and aching. “You’re Bucky Barnes. You’re an Avenger. A war hero. And I… I sit at a desk.”

“Stop,” he said instantly, thumb now tracing your cheekbone like he could wipe the pain away.

“I don’t fight aliens. I don’t have powers. I’m just… support staff.” Your voice wavered, trembling like your heart might break in two right there in front of him. “Sharon said you’d get bored of me. That you’ll want someone who can stand beside you in the field.”

His jaw tensed like he’d been struck. A flicker of something dark and cold passed through his expression, steel sharp and silent. His entire body went still.

“She said what?” he asked, voice low and dangerous, but even as the fury gathered behind his eyes, he didn’t let it take hold. He inhaled slowly, grounding himself. Because right now, you were what mattered.

You looked down, ashamed. “Doesn’t matter. She’s not wrong.”

There was a pause. Not long. Just the space of a heartbeat and then the weight of metal settled into your palm with a soft metallic clink.

“Look at me,” he said, voice low but unwavering.

You looked up, surprised by the intensity in his gaze.

“You see these?”

You nodded.

“These?” he said again, his voice thick with meaning as the tags clinked quietly between you. “These don’t just mean soldier. They mean survivor. They mean second chances. They mean you, okay? I don’t give these to anyone. I want you to have them.”

You stared at them, too stunned to speak, too overwhelmed to breathe. They were warm from his skin. Heavy with meaning.

He cupped your face gently, both hands trembling slightly now.

“You’re not support staff. You’re the person I come home to. My person. You keep me grounded. You’re the one thing that’s real.”

Your lips trembled, voice caught in your throat. “Bucky…”

He leaned down, voice husky and sure. “Put them on. Right now.”

You slipped the dog tags around your neck, hands shaking, heart pounding so loud you could hear it in your ears.

“There,” he said, eyes gleaming- not with pride, but with something softer. Fierce, unyielding love. “Now everyone knows. You’re mine. Forever.”

~#~#~#~#~#~

In the hallway, without a word, he scooped you up into his arms. Not rushed. Just worshipful, like you were something sacred he’d been aching to hold all day. You wrapped your arms around his neck, face tucked into the crook of his shoulder as he carried you, his footsteps steady and full of purpose, all the way to his room. Every step was careful, intentional, his hold firm but gentle, like he wanted to shield you from everything that had hurt you today.

He kissed your forehead as he laid you back on the bed, then your cheeks, your jaw, each press of his lips like a vow.

“So beautiful… so smart…” he murmured with each kiss. “Couldn’t do any of this without you.”

His soft kisses pressing into your cheeks, the corners of your mouth. 

“You’re everything to me,” he said, pulling your shirt over your head. “Every breath, every second.”

His mouth moved to your collarbone, your chest, trailing down your stomach , while his hand eased you out of your pants. 

“You think I don’t need you?” he said between kisses, each one a soft promise against your skin. “Baby, I fall apart without you.”

His mouth moved lower, worshipful and unhurried, kissing every inch of you like he was reacquainting himself with something sacred. By the time his tongue slid between your thighs, you were already trembling.

He groaned when you gasped, the sound low and reverent. Not just desire but devotion. His tongue moved with slow, deliberate precision, savouring every soft, slick response he pulled from you. He licked a long, teasing stripe up your centre, then circled your clit with a maddening tenderness, his hands gripping your thighs just firm enough to keep you open and trembling beneath him.

He moaned into you, like the taste of you was salvation, like he’d starved for this and finally had permission to feast. One hand slid up your stomach, grounding you as your hips bucked gently, chasing every press of his mouth.

“So sweet,” he murmured against you, voice thick with love, his lips brushing your most sensitive skin. “Taste like heaven. My heaven.”

He didn’t stop. Not yet. Not when you were trembling so perfectly for him. His tongue moved in slow circles, each pass deliberate and precise, coaxing you higher with gentle persistence. His grip on your thighs tightened slightly as your breath caught, his mouth parting you with reverence.

He flicked his tongue softly, then flattened it, letting the heat of him soak into every nerve ending, every gasp. He alternated pressure and pace, reading every twitch of your body like scripture. When he sucked your clit into his mouth and moaned, the vibration made your entire body arch into him.

“You’re not allowed to think you’re not wanted,” he rasped between strokes, his voice wrecked with affection and need. “Not when I love you.”

You cupped his face as he kissed up your body again, pausing to nuzzle the dog tags now lying warm between your breasts. “You feel like home,” you whispered, eyes glassy, voice raw with truth.

When he finally pressed inside you, it wasn’t fast or greedy. It was achingly slow, like he was trying to carve a place for himself inside you, not just in body but deeper. He let out a low, unsteady breath as he sank in, his forehead dropping to yours, his hand tightening around yours like he couldn’t bear to let go.

He didn’t thrust. Not right away. He stayed there for a beat, deep and still, forehead resting against yours as his breath caught in his throat. His hand stayed tangled in yours, his vibranium one anchored at your hip, grounding you both. “I need this,” he whispered. “Need you. Like this. Just us. You make everything quiet.” Bucky needed you to feel every inch, every part of him that belonged to you.

And then he moved like a tide rolling in to soothe what had been broken, to wash away everything that hurt. His hips rolled back with unhurried grace, then pressed forward again in a smooth, reverent stroke, making sure to drag himself along your velvet walls with each motion, slow and devastatingly deep. The way he filled you, the way he moved inside you. Like he was writing his name into your soul with every breathless thrust, imprinting himself where no one else had ever reached. Every motion was a promise: that he was here, that he was yours, that you were loved in the most complete, carnal, and emotional sense of the word.

Every slow push and pull was deliberate, reverent, the kind of lovemaking that felt like a conversation without words. He kissed your cheek, your jaw, your temple, murmuring softly between each breath.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice cracking as you trembled beneath him. “So damn much it hurts. You make me feel like a man. You see me.”

You cupped his cheek, tears sliding down your temples. “You see me.”

He let out a soft, shaky breath and kissed you again, Bucky pouring everything he had into it.

His rhythm stayed slow but insistent, hips pressing into yours with aching tenderness, like he wanted to be memorized, like he never wanted to be forgotten. The friction, the closeness, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that had ever made him feel whole—it all built into something consuming, something soft and sacred.

When you came, your soft cries muffled into the curve of his neck, he held you tighter, like anchoring himself to you, like if he let go, the whole world would tilt. He whispered your name over and over again like a prayer, like a lifeline, like a vow, following close behind you with a quiet, broken groan into your skin.

And you knew, in that moment, that this wasn’t just sex.

It was coming home.

~#~#~#~#~#~

Afterward, he wrapped the blanket around you both, tucking you into his chest like he was trying to shield you from the rest of the world. His metal fingers traced soft, soothing circles against your spine, grounding you in the silence that settled warmly between you.

“You ever doubt your place again,” he murmured, lips pressed to your hair, voice rough with sleep and sincerity, “I want you to remember tonight. Remember how I touched you. How I looked at you. Remember this.”

You nodded against his chest, overwhelmed, your cheek pressed to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Your fingers curled around the dog tags still resting over your heart, the weight of them a quiet promise.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, the words small but certain.

He smiled, eyes closed as his arm tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

“You always were,” he said, so softly it was nearly a breath, but you felt it more than heard it, like a vow etched beneath your skin.

[seren1tyhaze]

Unconditional

PAIRING: jaehyun x afab reader

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

SUMMARY: dating a hot actor is great and all, until you find some texts on his phone that make you wonder if he's really the man of your dreams

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm back after another unplanned hiatus. Even when I'm not posting here, I'm always thinking about writing things and wanting to share more. I have written a couple things for Ao3 so those will be up there soon. As usual, Mr. Jeong Jaehyun himself has ruined me again with his new song and video to the point where I sat down and wrote this in one sitting and never looked back. More from me soon, I promise xx

WARNINGS: established relationship, domestic fluff, explicit smut, swearing

PLAYLIST: Unconditional by Jaehyun, Smoke by Jaehyun, Birthday by Ten, Honey by John Legend

--

--

“I just don’t believe you Jae! Do you think I’m stupid?”

Your cheeks are burning red and you know your chest is splotchy as your temperature rises, heart pounding. Ever since you were a kid, your skin would turn bright red the moment you started to get agitated, making you a terrible poker player and never one to even try to lie to anyone. It was one of things that endeared you to Jaehyun immediately, his bright red ears the moment someone teased him or he felt embarrassed.

“Baby, baby,” he starts, groggily reaching a large hand to you from the mountain of pillows and plush white sheets. His hair is still pushed back in that stupid plastic headband he fell asleep wearing the night before, making it hard to take him seriously in the heat of the moment.

You wipe a single tear from your eye before it can slip down your cheek and turn away from him, throwing his phone onto the covers with more strength than you thought you had in the moment.

Dating a famous actor who spends most of his time at premieres in Seoul and on movie sets around the world wasn’t easy. You had turned Jaehyun down the first few times he slid up on your Instagram stories, a mutual stylist friend having introduced you at a small birthday dinner you both were invited to.

Grabbing his phone off the nightstand instead of yours this morning had sent you into a spiral, shaking him awake in the bed to ask for an explanation about why he’s messaging someone about a “gorgeous girl named Honey” and how he “can’t wait to spoil her the way she deserves.”

“We’ve been together for a year and now you’re going to start cheating on me? Really original, Jeong.”

Your eyes roll back into your sockets and you scoop all your long, curly hair onto the top of your head, pulling running shorts and socks from the dresser near the window as you continue to grill him.

Jaehyun sits up fully, the comforter slipping off his shoulders and exposing his bare, chiselled chest. He’s still pale from having spent the whole winter filming in Canada, not having had enough trips to the nearby beach to have his adorable freckles reappear on his cheeks. His hair is bright white, platinum, and long in the back, soft in the morning light streaming in the floor to ceiling windows.

“You know I went out with Mingyu last week to that Dior party and he said if I ever wanted it to be a real date, just say the word and he would drop everything and everyone.”

“Dior? You wound me,” Jaehyun replies, mockingly rubbing his pec as he rolls his eyes. You know how much the statement had to hurt him, he always had been worried about your closeness to his friend Mingyu (and Mingyu’s long wavy hair, sparkly eyes, and massive biceps), even if he lets that go unsaid now.

“I’m going for a run and when I get back, I really hope you’ve managed to get up, shower, and figure out how you’re going to tell your PR team about this, unless they are all in on it too,” you finish, wobbling near the foot of the bed as you try to put your socks on while standing.

A firm hand is on your wrist, instantly balancing you. You look up to meet Jaehyun’s eyes, soft and glittering and sending you back to the first time you ever met.

“Who needs the candy, you look sweet enough to eat,” he had practically purred in your ear, pressing a hand between your thighs, under the silky material of your Vivienne Westwood skirt in a private booth in the back a dark room, surrounded by tall crystal jars of sweets.

Your marketing executive job had your team planning events for high end clients on a regular basis but this event had been extra special as your best friend had finally launched her own luxury cosmetics brand. The event was a mix of rich pops of red, velvety cushions and extravagant accessories, diamond necklaces draped across necks of models with artistic and bold eye looks. You had spared no expense for your friend and your assistant had the mountains of receipts to prove it.

The guest list was no exception, you had made sure every A-list name had received an invite and hundreds of attractive and trendy faces from fashion and entertainment filled the event space. That included Seoul’s hottest star, known for his striking and stoic look and deep, rich voice.

“You are not using that as an opening line on me,” you had sighed, trying to push down the moan bubbling up in your throat as long fingers toyed with lace dangerously close to slipping out of place.

“Technically, I asked you if the brownies had tree nuts because my body guard is allergic,” he quipped back, thumb brushing over you with intention.

You had bit your lip in frustration and swatted his hand away, grabbing his phone from his coat pocket and giving him your number, insisting that he had to reach out first because you were busy with a “real job”. He had laughed, sucking his now wet thumb into his mouth and letting it slide out with a loud popping noise and a simple “Yes, ma’am”.

That same phone was now in his hand a little under a year later, his fingers moving quickly against the glass screen.

“You don’t have anything to say?” you ask in shock and before you can say another word, your doorbell is chiming and he’s up from the bed and down your hallway, wearing nothing but his stupid boxers with lemons on them.

You roll your eyes and move to your large kitchen for a glass for water, almost letting it slip from your hands as he places a large Prada shopping bag on the marble island.

“A bag? A fucking purse is supposed to make me forgive you? How did you even get that this fast?”

“Baby, just look inside and it will explain everything,” he speaks calmly, sliding the bag carefully closer to you.

You untie the ribbon holding it loosely closed and you think you’re losing your mind when you see the bag move on its own. As soon as the thick paper opens, a tiny brown and curly head of fur appears. Neatly groomed ears are shaking and a tiny black Prada collar is clasped around the neck of the puppy.

“A dog?!” you exclaim in disbelief. The puppy lets out a small but high pitched bark, demanding to be let out of the bag with a fluffy paw nudging your hand.

“A chocolate French poodle puppy,” Jaehyun corrects, moving behind you and wrapping his arms around you, pressing his bare chest into your back. He lifts the puppy from the bag and places her into your waiting arms, the puppy taking no time at all to snuggle into your neck.

“Her name is Honey,” he tells you and you can practically feel his smile from the way he speaks.

“Honey…” you repeat. The dog’s eyes are wide in curiosity, head tilting to the side as she appears to recognize her name.

“Yeah, baby?” he jokes back, pressing warm lips to the short hairs at your hairline. You can tell he thinks he’s funny for that joke and you don’t need to turn to see what kind of look is in his eye. He trails his mouth to your ear, nudging the metal hoops along the shell and kissing the “14” ink at the skin behind your ear.

Your mouth is suddenly so dry that you can’t speak so you simply turn in his arms, letting Honey drop to the floor and bound excitedly on your slippery floors.

“How long had you been planning this surprise for me to just ruin it with my paranoia?” you murmur against his forehead, pressing a tender kiss to smooth skin.

“A couple months, I was just trying to find the perfect puppy for us,” he replies, fingers drawing circles on the bare skin exposed between your sports bra and shorts.

“I’m so sorry,” you reply, feeling embarrassment heat up your cheeks and sweat start to prick at your hairline.

“Don’t be,” he smiles back with his million watt smile that landed him his first commercial at eight years old, plucked from his class trip to a theme park by a talent scout.

“You know how I feel about you, nothing is going to change that. Not even if you go on 127 million dates with Kim Mingyu,” he finishes, sealing his lips over yours.

You open your lips and greedily press your tongue behind his annoyingly perfect teeth, lifting your fingers up to tug at the hair almost touching his shoulders.

“God,” Jaehyun growls in between kisses, grabbing at your ass to hoist you up on the counter, tugging roughly at your shorts to push them down to your ankles and ripping your legs open.

You’re panting, resting back on your wrists as he holds your knees open and presses wet kisses to your inner thighs. His energy is wild and chaotic, exactly as you’ve always expected from him and your mind is starting to go to that numb place it always goes when gets his tongue on you.

You arch your back in pleasure, letting moans tumble from your lips freely, trying desperately to ignore the adorable face now perched on your couch, eyes curious but also dozing off from exerting energy after running the full length of your penthouse.

You let your eyes fall to the rolling waves out the window, morning sun blinding you and forcing you to look down at the bobbing head of the blonde man between your legs. He meets your gaze with sparkling eyes and drops a kiss to his self proclaimed favorite tattoo of yours, a small rose on your hip bone. You smile softly at him before shrieking and almost crushing his head with your thighs when he takes sharp canines to the spot, almost drawing blood.

He jumps up and starts running towards your bedroom, scooping a startled Honey off the back of the couch and holding her in front of him he runs backwards.

“Jaehyun, you cannot use our child as a shield!” you yell, almost slipping in your socks as you bound after him.

When you round the corner, you slam into his bare chest, standing at the foot of the bed. Honey is curled up on the same pillow Jaehyun had tucked under his arm as he slept, already dozing again.

“Our child? I like the sound of that,” he says seriously, his voice velvety and tempting. His hands are at your waist again and you are having a hard time thinking straight.

“Calm down there, mister,” you chuckle, pushing him back to sit on the edge of the bed and dropping to your knees in between his open legs.

“Let’s see how you do with this dog first,” you mutter, hands pushing down his boxers easily to take his hardened length between experienced fingers.

He smiles with his whole face at your words, eyes crinkling up in the corners and shoulders shaking a bit as you move your mouth over smooth skin, letting his soft moans fill the room and calm your racing heart.

[mayahawkesfirstwife]

dom se-mi fucking f reader w/ a strap?

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

Needy

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

Pairings: Dom! Se-mi x Fem! Sub! Reader

Summary: Se-mi fucks you with her strap.

Warnings: Smut, strap-on sex, praise kink, degrading kink, Se-mi refers to her strap as her “cock/dick”, etc.

Author Note: This is my first time posting smut😭 Hope you like it, sorry if theres any spelling mistakes or anything like that. (I didn’t read over it so there probably is.)

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

“Fuck, you’re needy huh?” Se-mi asks, she’s smirking up at you as you rock your hips into her while you straddled her lap.

You were so needy for your girlfriend, she has been so busy with work lately that she hasn’t fucked you in over a week.

“P-Please…” You whine lowly, she chuckles.

“Please what?” She teases, smirking up at you.

“Please, fuck me…” You grip her T-shirt, tugging it and pleading with your eyes.

“What was that, honey? I didn’t hear you, speak up.” She says, rocking your hips into her harder.

“Please just fuck me!” You speak up, she hums, “That’s my girl, take your clothes off.”

You rush to get your tank top off and when you get to your shorts you stood up and she got up on her elbows.

“Slower, what’s the rush?” She smirks, she watches you tug your shorts down slowly like she said and then your black panties.

“Good girl, fuck you’re so hot.” She sat up, tugging her sweatpants down and opening her nightstand.

“Lie down.” She says, you crawl into the bed and lay down on your back.

You grab a pillow and place it under your hips, you couldn’t wait any longer.

She gets her strap and puts it on herself, crawling over to sit on her knees in front of you.

“Spread your legs for me.” She says, motioning with her hands. You obey her and open your legs, she grabs your thigh, holding it as she gets closer to you.

She grabs the toy, rubbing the tip across your slit, making you whine. “Is this okay?” She asks.

“Yes, yes!” You grip the bottom of her T-shirt she wore, holding it tightly in your palm as she teases your hole.

“Please fuck me, Se-mi.” You whine, she chuckles as she holds your thighs down, pinning them into the bed as she slid into you.

You gasp and tug at her T-shirt some more, “O-Off, please take this off.” You whisper.

She tugs her T-shirt off and you watch as she unclasps her bra, tossing it aside.

“Y-You’re pretty.” You whine, nervous.

“Oh, yeah? I’m pretty?” She snaps her hips into you once and you moan loudly.

She thrusts into you, making you moan loudly. “How pretty am I? Tell me.” She whispers into your ear.

“S-Se-mi! You’re so p-pretty! You’re perfect!” You whimper.

Her hips snap into yours, “Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” She grabs your hips and your thighs instantly start to move off the bed.

“Keep those legs open.” She pushes them open, digging her nails into your hips.

You open them as much as you can, “Yeah, like that. You’re such a good girl.”

“H-Harder!” You whine, she starts to thrust her hips into you harder.

“Such a fucking slut.” She grabs your neck, squeezing lightly.

“Just-oh! Just like that! D-Don’t stop.” You toss your head back, caught up on how good she was fucking you.

“Oh, i’m not stopping.” She pants, fucking into you just how you liked.

You whimper, gripping the sheets in your palm and squeezing them.

“I-I’m close!” You moaned loudly.

She chuckles, “Already? Fuck, go ahead and cum on my cock.”

You whimper as she thrusts into you harder and you came down on her strap.

She fucks into you harshly one more time before pulling out, letting you take a breath.

She laid down beside you, panting with you as you cuddle into her side.

“I’m not done, come here.” She grabs your waist, pulling you on top of her.

You were straddling her stomach as she lifts your hips and slips her strap into you again.

You quickly grab her shoulder, letting out a whine.

“Ride me, come on.” She says, squeezing your hips.

You slowly lift yourself up before sliding back down. “Faster, do it faster. You got it.” She nods.

You start to go faster, bouncing on her strap as she groaned.

“Yeah, that’s it. Good girl.” She hums, watching you bounce and squeeze her shoulder harder.

“Oh, fuck!” You whimper, nails digging into her shoulder so hard it would leave marks.

“You look so fucking good when you ride my dick, pretty girl.” She says, eyes trailing down your body.

“Oh, Se-mi! Se-mi!” You moan her name just right and she groans, throwing her head back.

“Keep moaning my name, don’t stop.” She felt as if she could cum from how you moaned her name.

You continue to moan her name over and over until she starts thrusting her hips up into you, fucking into your pussy like she never has before.

“Right there! Oh my! S-Se-mi! Please, that’s it.” You whimper loudly.

“Oh, yeah? Right there?” She thrusts into that spot even harder.

“I’m so close, please don’t stop!” You moan loudly, hands moving to her stomach to support your bouncing.

She grips your hips tightly, hips slamming into you relentlessly as you came down on her cock.

“Fuck…” You whine, slowing down as you finish.

She slowly pulls herself out of you, your slick coated all over.

You lay beside her with a whine, “Clean your mess up, you little slut.” She whispered in your ear.

You pout, sitting up and crawling between her legs. She grabs your already messed up ponytail and gripped it tightly.

You suck the tip and stroke what you couldn’t take but Se-mi impatiently shoved it into your mouth.

You gag once, hands still stroking it as you suck what you could.

“So pretty.” She grabs your cheek and felt the bulge in your cheek.

“Such a fucking slut, you take it so well.” She pulls you off to breathe.

“You alright, honey?” She asks and you nod, wiping your lip with your hand.

“Hey, this time I want no hands, you got it? I want to be down your throat.” She says, you nod as you lean in and open your mouth.

She shoved her cock into your mouth and you gag, gripping her thighs as she bopped your head up and down on her cock.

You gag over and over, tears filling up in your eyes.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty when your mouth is stuffed of my cock.” She smirks, fucking into your mouth.

You squeeze your eyes shut, drooling onto the mattress as your nails dig into her thighs.

“Such a good girl, you suck it so fucking good.” She chuckles, giving you a few more harsh thrusts before pulling you off.

You gasp lightly, as you pant and tears fall down your face.

You wipe your lips with the back of your hand, “You’re such a good girl, you did so well for me honey.” She rubs your face, wiping your tears away.

“Come here.” She wraps her arms around you, pulling you in to cuddle her.

“I’m so proud of you.” She hums, caressing your back.

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

[asxgard]

Companionship | pt. 12

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: You and Michael have an honest conversation about your insecurities and expectations. The sexual tension comes to a head.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: this chapter was not as fleshed out in my outline as the others lol sorry it took so long! Thank you for all the likes, comments and reblogs💜💜

note to self: need to up the word count? add smut lol

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: age gap, mild angst, foul language, mild jealous!Robby, fluff, SMUT (MINORS DNI), afab!reader, fingering, p in v, light praise kink, pet names (sweetheart, honey, baby)

not beta read

In the dates that followed, a contentment settled. You felt like you would be able to forgive him for the harsh words he had hurled at you, and build the relationship based on mutual trust in time. You took it slow, usually going to restaurants or the museum, and he only ever kissed you goodnight, though he always lingered just enough to steal another.

Days bled into weeks, dates into quiet nights in. The holidays came and went, though you spent them separately. Michael worked several holiday shifts, while you spent time with friends and family. “Next year, we’ll spend them together.” and that was good enough.

Marsi kept pressing to meet him, which Erin would echo, and it became increasingly difficult to fend them off. You were enjoying your time with Michael, and did not want to rush anything. The feelings twisting around in your chest had other plans, however, tangling deeper with every day you spent together.

Michael paid for your utilities that month, as “a late holiday gift” and then paid for the CPA review course as “a graduation gift”. He then splurged and took you out to the fanciest restaurant in Pittsburgh, to celebrate.

It made you feel like you were taking advantage of him, but part of you also felt massive relief that those bills weren’t on your shoulders. It also stirred something in your stomach at being spoiled, something you had not quite experienced before.

“I appreciate it a lot, Mike, just…” You sighed, flipping the chicken in the pan.

He watched you expectantly, setting his wine glass onto the counter.

“That’s not why I’m here.”

He smiled gently, “I know that, trust me. I paid off my loans some years ago, so I understand how stressful it can be. If I can help, I want to.”

“Thank you.” You said softly, “Feels like something a boyfriend might do…”

“Aren’t I?”

You looked over at him in surprise, blinking a few times. “I knew we were exclusive, I just didn’t realize we had given it a name yet.”

He cupped her cheek, “Then, would you like to make this official and be my girlfriend?”

Your cheeks heated, and you grinned at him, looking at him through you eyelashes. This still felt slow, easy, but the title made you feel more secure. It felt like a breath of relief.

“I’d like that a lot, yeah.”

“Label or not, it’s you and me?”

“You and me.” You agreed. “But I like the label.”

He smiled, “Me too.”

He leaned down to capture your lips and you savored the kiss, tasting the wine on his tongue. He ran a thumb over your cheek before pulling away.

It was easy enough to guess how Marsi had tricked you into meeting Michael. An offhanded comment about going to a bar with Michael, and a coy, “have fun!”, and then there they were in the bar waiting for you.

You paused at the door, Michael nearly walking into the back of you.

His hand found your arm, “You alright?”

“Well fuck me.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to say this in advance: I’m so sorry.”

“What?”

Erin approached first, “So you must be Michael.”

Michael’s eyes looked over to Erin, taking in her smirk and carefree expression, though her eyes were subtly assessing him. Marsi, next to her, was being less subtle.

“Michael, these are my friends, Erin and Marsi.” You introduced, looking up at Michael with an apologetic smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Erin grinned back at you.

Michael offered a careful smile, “Nice to meet you.”

Marsi hummed, while Erin clapped her hands together.

“So glad you’re here! Drink?” Erin grabbed your hand and pulled you to the bar.

Michael followed dutifully.

“What the hell, Erin?” You hissed lowly. “I mean, seriously?”

Erin smiled innocently, blinking her eyes at her, “What? We like this bar too, you know.”

You groaned, “You completely blindsided me. He deserved a warning.”

Marsi scoffed, “He’ll be just fine.”

You let out a long breath of air, and ordered a drink. Michael slid in beside you, ordering a beer.

You leaned in to Michael to whisper, “This was not my idea, I’m sorry.”

He smiled easily, “Don’t fret. I’m glad I’m able to meet some of your friends.”

“You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“Not at all, I’m your boyfriend. I expected to meet them soon, anyways. We can plan something with some of my…friends, if that makes you feel better.” He offered.

Butterflies filled your stomach, nerves rattling around your bloodstream, but you nodded. “Yeah, yes, please.”

He smiled.

—

Erin and Marsi were pleasant — though Marsi was not-so-subtly grilling him. Each question made you hide behind your hand, mouthing “I’m sorry” to him. He brushed it off and grabbed your hand.

With his hand on your lower back, he began to notice the eyes. It made him bristle, removing his hands from your skin. You noticed his shift in mood easily, raising a simple eyebrow to ask what your were likely thinking. He only offered a small smile to answer that he was fine.

He was not fine. It felt like the bubble around them had finally burst — letting in all the outside judgements that had been lingering the entire time. He tried not to care, but it made him self conscious. You were very clearly younger than him, even in the low lighting of the bar, and he could feel other men circling like sharks.

When you excused yourself to get another drink at the bar, Erin and Marsi departed to dance, and heat rose to his cheeks. He felt out of his depth, sipping his beer at the table they had secured, alone and yet, completely occupied by his racing mind.

Could he truly do this to you? Tie you to him and ruin your youth? He always tried to be a gentleman, but wasn’t the noble thing to do to let you go? His stomach churned, mind and heart battling it out.

He wanted you, in every way a man could want a woman, for as long as you would have him. The warm, fuzzy feeling swaying around his chest made a hard fight against the guilty, self deprecating thoughts.

They all screeched to a halt when a man approached you at the bar, hand on you back to whisper something to you. He watched, frozen to his chair, as you scrunched your nose at him, shifting out of his hold.

How could he blame the man? You were gorgeous. Stunning. Beautiful in mind and body. Smart, so incredibly smart, with a laugh that eased all the haunting feelings in his chest.

Your eyes meeting his across the bar and he was out of his seat, making his way over to you. Your eyes softened when he approached, the man’s back still facing him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Michael said, getting his attention.

The man only glanced sideways at Michael, “Get lost, old man. Trying to have a conversation here.”

“That’s my boyfriend, asshole.” You snapped before Michael could even open his mouth again.

Michael smirked, looking back at the man. His voice lowered closer to something dangerous, “She likes her space, so disrespectfully, you get lost.”

The man raised a questioning eyebrow at you, disbelief flashing across his features, before he must’ve decided it wasn’t worth it. Michael slid closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Was that jealousy?” You asked with a playful eyebrow raise, sipping your drink. “Can’t say I hated it — it was kinda hot — but, still. I could’ve handled that. I’ve chosen you. Random men aren’t going to be able to change that.”

“Kinda hot?” He raised a teasing eyebrow.

You chuckled, “Of course that's what you got out of what I said.”

“No, no, I heard you. Just wanna revisit that bit.”

You rolled your eyes playfully.

He pulled you close and kissed the top of your head. “Just want everyone here to know you’re mine. Even if they judge us.”

You flustered, and your mouth opened and closed several times. He noted how those words made you fluster, and tucked it away for another day.

“I want you, Mike. I know people are gonna look at us, and yeah, I don’t love that. But I can’t let that stop me from being happy, you know? You make me happy.”

He blinked, searching your eyes, “They’re never going to stop.”

“You said you wanted everyone to know I was yours.” You swallowed, eyes flicking between his. “I want everyone to know you’re mine, too.”

He smiled, kissing your lips in more than just a fleeting meeting of mouths. It was passionate, and made the blood rush down.

“So we might as well get used to it, or ignore it.” You breathed against his lips. “I want to be here, with you. No one else.”

“You and me against the world, then?”

“You and me.” You confirmed.

—

Over dinner one night, you were twisting the pasta on your fork, your focus was clearly elsewhere.

“You okay?”

You looked back up at him and smiled, “I forgive you. Thank you for giving me the time to.”

He blinked, swallowing his food. He reached across the table and grabbed your hand.

“Thank you.”

Sometime after dinner on the quiet night in, you found your way to Michael’s lap, exploring further than you had gone together. You straddled him, hands on each side of his face, kissing him deeply while his hands explored the skin around your waist. When your lips parted, Michael’s pupils had blown wide, black devouring the brown of his iris. He was taking deep breaths, watching you intently.

You moved your lips to kiss down his neck and his hips jerked up just enough to elicit a whine from your mouth.

Your eyes found each other again, testing, teasing, tentative. Your fingers fiddled with the gold chain near the back of his neck, the other going to his chest where his shirt separated you.

“We can call it here—”

“Do you want to?” You asked, eyes trying to read his expression.

“No.” It sounded mildly strangled. “But we can, if you’re not comfortable. I want to do this right.”

“Michael, I want you. This feels right.”

His eyes darkened, hands tightening around your hips. His lips were back on yours, greedy, hungry, and your tongue darted into his mouth. You swallowed his moan, hips moving in search of friction.

Leaning forward slightly, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he stood up. You squealed, wrapping your legs around his hips to hold onto him. He had his hands on the back of your thighs, keeping you from falling, as he made the journey to his room.

“Michael—!” was more surprise than protest.

He grinned against your mouth, moving into his bedroom. You would have taken the room in, if it weren’t for Michael distracting you completely. He leaned down to plop you onto the bed, and you instinctively reached back up for him.

Michael was looking down at you with a smile that reached his eyes, soft and serene. He kissed you lightly, and you scooted back on the bed, pulling him with you. He settled between your legs, breath hot against your neck, kissing down the column of your throat and making you whine again.

Your hips moved up to gain some friction, making him suck on the skin at the base of your throat at the juncture of your collarbone. You gripped the hair at the back of his neck, trying to keep hold of your senses.

Michael moved to sit back on his haunches, removing his shirt and unbuttoning his jeans. A rush of excitement flooded your chest, and you sat up enough to remove your blouse. With your bra, Michael pulled off your pants until they each were only left in your underwear.

When he got back down to kiss you, the heat of him between your legs made your head grow hazy, consumed with him him him. The smell of vanilla and sandalwood filling your nose, the taste of him on your tongue and his large, warm hands exploring your body.

His hand gripped your thigh and squeezed your flesh, and with his tongue back in your mouth, the rest of the world fell away.

Michael kissed over your shoulder, one hand slipping between you until it met your panties.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.” You choked out, his fingers slipping underneath the fabric to meet the wet heat.

He gathered a bit of your slick before rubbing soft circles on your clit, making your jolt, a moan escaping. He kissed back up your throat and across your jaw, beard tickling your skin. His fingers moved in a steady motion and heat pooled low.

“Want to feel you.” You mustered, grabbing at his biceps, thoughts going feral at the feel of them flexing beneath your hold.

“I’m in no rush tonight, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

When one of his fingers slipped inside, you lost the meaning of patience, eyes screwed tight. He curled it expertly upwards, rubbing against that delicious spot inside you, making you mewl. His thumb kept its pace on your clit.

“Michael.” You ground out, trying to remember to breathe. “That feels so good.”

He hummed against your throat, kissing your skin. He added another finger, and heat built up, licking up your abdomen. You felt that coil tighten, like a rubber band being pulled taut.

“Please.” You begged, panting slightly, one hand still on his bicep, while the other gripped tightly to his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, come on.” His lips met yours.

You moaned when he added a little pressure to his thumb, that burning ecstasy just within reach. Trying to breathe, it was that all consuming feeling of him everywhere that kept you tethered. Your eyes met, and your orgasm came swiftly, the rubber band snapping. You gripped him tightly, squeezing your hands on his shoulders as several lewd moans left your mouth.

“So good, sweetheart.” He kissed your cheek, not letting up.

It quickly became over sensitive, and you reached down to grab his wrist to stop him.

“Fuck.” You let out with a smile, followed by a whine when he removed his fingers.

His fingers glistened and he held your gaze as he stuck them into his mouth, sucking on them. You felt your pupils dilate, a pulse starting again between your thighs as the desire for him heightened again. You had such an urge to get your mouth on him.

“Taste so good, sweetheart — can’t wait to get my mouth on you.”

Your hum was dangerously close to a whine, “Need you now. Please.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to.”

“Michael. Do you want me to beg for it?” You asked, hands on either side of his face, fingers on the back of his head in his hair.

A sly smirk grew on his lips, “It could be arranged.”

You groaned, throwing your head back on the pillow, making him chuckle lightly.

“Maybe another time, then.” He said, kissing up your torso, stopping to pay attention to your nipples.

He took a peaked nipple into his mouth and your fingers found his hair, a whimper escaping. His tongue rolled over the bud, before sucking hard and moving to give the other his attention. His hand moved to the one he had just left, rolling it between his fingers. It sent sparks straight to your core, walls clenching around nothing. A few breathless moans left your mouth, lips parted as your eyes closed, relishing in his attentions.

Need pulsed through your system, throbbing with want and driving you mad. Red tinted lust clouded your mind, hot and heavy, driven by his skilled fingers and hot mouth.

“I need your cock, Mike…fuck—please.”

He groaned against you, adjusting his hips and you eyes fluttered at the weight of him. His eyes met yours and you could see he was torn between worshipping you and taking his time to unravel you again slowly, and fully just submitting to the desire.

It seemed to be a conundrum you were both stuck between: wanting to savor the moment and throwing patience out the window. Though you had abandoned patience as soon as he got his hands on you, but you also knew you did not want to rush something you had been thinking about for ages.

Making the decision, you moved one hand to the band of his boxers, slipping underneath and a gasp stuck in your throat when you wrapped your hand around his length. He stilled and savored your hand on him, his eyes closing.

You pumped a few times, and Michael shifted to pull his boxers completely off, revealing his hardened length to you. Your eyes nearly rolled back into your head at the sight of it — big enough to elicit excitement and not fear, girthy without being too much, a nest of brown curls at the base. Your thoughts spiraled, pussy clenching again around nothing.

Reaching for the nightstand, Michael pulled out a condom, and put it on quickly, without fanfare. Once it was rolled to the base of him, he slotted himself between your spread legs, kissing your jaw and cheeks before pecking a few to your lips.

You gripped his shoulders when he ran the tip through your folds, stopping to add a bit of pressure to your clit. He ran the bottom of his cock over your clit until tears gathered at the corner of your eyes — half from overstimulation, half desperation.

He lined himself up with your entrance, pushing in the blunt head of his cock in slowly. You sucked in a shallow breath, tightening your grip on him. A groan echoed low in his throat, eyes closed, forehead resting on yours as he drove in deeper. He let out a long breath, grabbed one of your thighs and pulled it up to his hip. He then steadied himself with both forearms at either side of her head, hips fully meeting yours.

The kiss he captured was deeply passionate, and you wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to you. You reveled in his weight on you, and the stretch of him between your legs. Devine and adding to the aching heat in your core. You wrapped your legs fully around him, criss-crossing your feet at the small of his back, which gained a tiny moan from Michael.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you feel so good, sweetheart.” He said, burying his face in your neck, still holding still.

Your back arched slightly at the praise, clenching around him, a curse slipping past your lips. “Oh my—Mike.”

“Don’t—” he choked, “—fuck, you keep doing that and I’m not going to last.”

“Can’t help it—feels so good.” You whispered, trying to keep your from clenching again at the sound of his husky undertones.

“I know, honey, I know.”

He took a long moment without moving, instead looking into your eyes with an intimacy that spread warmth down your spine and made your heart race.

When he started moving, it was slow, deliberate, each thrust a vow, a phrase they had not yet been said. Moving out just enough before moving back in at a languid pace, the long drag of his hips filled your lower belly with heat. It felt like words had been stolen from your lips, staring wide-eyed up at him and treasuring the way his eyes held steady, filled with equal parts adoration and desire.

Reaching between them again, his thumb met your clit and he rubbed a slow circle. Searing heat flooded your bloodstream, and you throbbed around him. You panted out soft breaths of air, swallowing thickly before leaning up to kiss his lips.

The rhythm grew steady, and each drag of his hips felt more lovely than the last. Filling so full of him, all of your senses clouded with his smell, his taste, his touch, and it made everything more delicious, more divine, until he was every thought in your head.

The coil started tightening again, and you moaned. You thought you might never have your fill of him. With each snap of his hips, you then knew with certainty that you would never get enough. He brushed the spongy spot inside you that had you tensing, curling your toes, sinful noises rolling off your tongue without permission.

The familiar euphoria started expanding low in your belly, your eyes hooded with pleasure that was nearly overwhelming. The perfect feeling of him, being so stuffed full — there were no words for it.

"You're mine. Say it." He whispered huskily, eyes on yours.

The words traveled right to your core. "Yours, Michael. All yours."

The kiss he met your lips with was greedy, like he was devouring the words, roughly taking in your bottom lip. Hands in his hair, you gave it all to him.

Michael’s face scrunched up as pleasure must have been spreading through his system, though his kisses were still slow and controlled.

Feeling the edge of your release, you felt like you never wanted it to end, even at the cusp of your second orgasm. You wanted to savor it. Though with each thrust in and out, you fell into a desperation to feel the crashing wave of heat, clinging to him.

It felt overly indulgent to approach your second climax of the night, and you knew he was going to spoil you in every way he could.

“Mike—ohmygod—I’m—” you cried out, gripping his shoulders like your life depended on it.

“That’s it—I can feel that you’re close, sweetheart. I wanna feel it, give it to me, come on.” He encouraged, tone breathy in your ear.

He moved the hand from between them to intertwine their fingers beside your head, and replaced it with his other hand without missing a beat, not leaving you wanting for long. He added pressure with the pad of his thumb, and your thoughts stalled out. Just burning pleasure in your core, echoing outwards.

“Can feel you getting tight—fuck, sweetheart—come on my cock for me, come on.”

A high pitched whine left your lips, and everything tightened — your grip, your legs around his waist, your pussy clenching making him gasp and groan, your whole body tensing.

His low hiss of your name threw you over the edge, sending your hurtling into the white-hot heat that was all-consuming. The coil snapped and fire exploded through your system, all your resolve shattering. Your eyes screwed shut, pussy pulsing around him while he fucked you through it.

A mix of his name and incoherent moans came from your lips, scorching heat overcoming every nerve. It kept rolling as his hips kept moving and you sucked in a deep breath, as he whispered soft praises in your ear. You panted, trying to catch your breath — you felt like you were floating above your body, pleasure stinging every nerve until it slowly started ebbing away.

“Mike—oh!” Your back arched again, feeling his skin flush against your, as his cock continued to drive into you. “You feel so good, baby.”

“Yeah? Like being full of me?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted, each word matching with each thrust into your wet heat.

His new pace was faster, making stars dance behind your eyes, his grunts and groans making you unconsciously pulse around him. He moved his hand from between your legs to beside you, moving up just enough to stare down at you. Pleasure started contorting his face, your name on his tongue.

His forehead met yours, panting, each snap of his hips growing sloppy.

“Mmm love being so full of you, Mike. You feel so good.”

Michael kissed you, unfocused and messy, moaning into your mouth as his orgasm overcame him. His hips stuttered until they stopped, and the feeling pulled a final low moan from your lips.

He heaved a few breaths, your chest rising and falling in time with his. He met your eyes and smiled.

When he pulled out, it left you feeling empty, but you slipped to his side after he discarded the condom. He wrapped an arm around you, kissing your forehead. You traced tiny shapes along his chest, feeling so full of an emotion you did not yet want to name, but it thrummed just beneath the surface.

“I’m falling in love with you.” He said quietly, like it was a secret.

Your heart hammered against your ribs.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “I’ve been falling for you, too.”

Michael’s face lit up and he leaned down to kiss you tenderly.

“You and me?”

“You and me.”

[ Next ]

want to join any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Companionship taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @clementine111002 @virgomillie @emily-b @kaygilles @lt-jakeseresin @imonmykneessir @kniselle @gabsgabsvaz @rosiepoise88 @calivia @holdonimwalkingmysnail @valhallavalkyrie9 @blahkateisdone @shadowhuntyi @fuckalrighty @elli3williams @yournerdmodziata @i-know-i-can @dickheadturner @dcgoddess @pittobsessed @glamorizethechaos @blueb33ry-cat @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @burningpenguinwitch @evienorville @equallyshaw @heyysolsister @justrandomthougt @babygirlagenda @lauracantsleep @rogersbarnesxx

Dr. Robby taglist: @cherriready @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys @happyfox43 @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @girl-obsessed-with-things @laurenkate79 @woodxtock @rosie-posie08

(50 tags have been reached with the combo of all three taglists, so unfortunately some of Dr. Robby & all of The Pitt taglist for this series will be added in a reblog right after this is posted - I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience!)

Gimme that man

Didn’t realize how expensive it was to be a CPA after graduating with your masters lol, Robby you’re a real one

[valeisaslut]

Thinking about eating collide!ellie out backstage while she still has her mic on 🤭

oh you’re evil. you’re evil bcos you’re abusing the fact i’m ovulating and writing smut blurbs like a maniac. and you just painted THE picture. and i love you for that.

so, here we mf go.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

it starts reckless. the way it always does with you two.

ellie’s just finished the second-to-last song of the fireflies’ set. she’s glowing, sweaty, flushed, guitar slung across her back, breath heavy into the mic when she mutters, “five minutes, and we’re back for the finale.”

crowd goes wild. lights dim. backstage techs scatter. she tears the guitar off, tossing it to some poor assistant, and stumbles into the green room, wiping her face with the hem of her tank top.

you’re waiting. arms crossed. glitter on your cheeks and something sharper in your smile. you’re dressed in sin—tiny little skirt, lips glossed, eyes hungry.

“jesus christ,” ellie pants, grabbing a water bottle off the table and downing it. “you’re gonna kill me lookin’ like that.”

you just smirk, sauntering up to her, running a finger down her chest. “maybe you deserve it.”

her eyes darken. she drops the water bottle. “yeah?” she murmurs, low and cocky. “gonna punish me, popstar?”

you hum, almost sweetly. “thought i’d reward you. you’ve been so good out there.”

you drop to your knees like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

ellie swears under her breath. “fuck, baby—”

you shove her against the wall. quick. efficient. she’s still got the mic pack clipped to her jeans, the wireless mic tucked up at her jawline.

she clicks it off—

—or thinks she does.

you tug her jeans open, low and desperate, and whisper:

“you sure it’s off, rockstar?”

“honey, i'm a professional,” she pants, cocky as hell—then gasps when you lick up the line of her thigh, slow and teasing.

you don’t respond. you just dive in.

ellie’s head hits the wall with a soft thud. one hand tangles in your hair, tugging. the other spasms at her side, desperate for somewhere to grip. you’re relentless—messy, thorough, licking into her like you’ve been starving for it.

“fuck—fucking perfect, baby,” ellie groans, trying to keep it together. her hips jerk. her thighs clamp around your shoulders. “mouth like a fuckin’ angel. s’good—”

you hum against her, smug, and she almost collapses.

what neither of you realize—because you’re both too wrapped up in each other, too drunk on it—is that when ellie clicked her mic off, it didn’t fully disconnect.

the faintest, broken noises are still spilling into the speakers—breathless gasps, little whimpers, the wet obscene sounds of you licking her open.

the stadium listens. confused, at first. then the realization hits like a shockwave.

wolf whistles.

shouts.

chanting her name.

ellie comes apart with a sharp, raw cry—choking on your name, hips bucking, thighs trembling. you ride her through it, slow and filthy, tongue greedy, nails scratching down her hips

she sags against the wall, panting, eyes wild, still shaking.

“holy shit,” she breathes. “holy fucking shit.”

you wipe your mouth, look up at her with a wicked little grin. “you’re welcome.”

but then, the unmistakable sound of 20 thousand people chanting–

“ELLIE IS GETTIN’ LAID! ELLIE IS GETTIN’ LAID! ELLIE IS GETTIN’ LAID!”

you both completely freeze.

look at the mic pack clipped to her waistband.

then at each other.

“…no fucking way,” she whispers.

you blink. “way.”

“holy—holy fuck—i—” ellie scrambles to yank her jeans back up, smacking her head into the wall, her face blazing red, looking like she’s about to die on the spot.

you collapse onto the floor laughing so hard you can’t breathe, wiping your eyes.

“BABE. BABE. YOU JUST GAVE A WHOLE-ASS MOANING CONCERT TO AN ENTIRE STADIUM. YOU’RE PROBABLY TRENDING ON TWITTER RIGHT NOW.”

ellie flips you off. then pulls you up by the wrist, drags you flush against her chest.

“you think you’re funny, huh?”

you grin up at her, all faux-innocent. “i know i am.”

she kisses you like she’s starving. still tastes like sin. still tastes like you.

in the distance, someone yells into a mic:

“PUT IT ON THE BIG SCREEN!!”

and even more deranged chanting

“GET IT ELLIE! GET IT ELLIE! GET IT ELLIE!”

and when she goes back onstage for the final song, cheeks flushed, lips bitten red. taps the mic, smirks at the crowd, and mutters,

“don’t act like yall didn’t like it.”

the screams almost collapse the stadium.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

[catiuskaa]

𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬.

syn. the nights were mainly made to worship all that we loved during the day —in chan’s case, there’s nothing else, as he crawls back to you, always.

wc. 3.8k

cw. minsung mentioned, chan is a simp, they are whipped for each other, someone has daddy kink (and it’s both of them), teasing, explicit content, oral (f.rec), a healthy dose of marking, protected piv sex (love to see it), soft soft aftercare, fluff + smut convo honestly, and i think that’s all, folks!

req! by annonie right here. i see ur vision pookie, and i hope i did it justice! i fear i maybe did more smut than aftercare…? idk… sorry i took so long too</3. hope you like!

[☆★🤎★☆]

Honey, I’m home.

It’s such a common statement. A way of not only announcing the fact that one’s finally back from the hardships they had to endure during the day, there it be copious amounts of work, bullshit from dumb colleagues who wouldn’t know common sense from a toaster even if it burned their house down, how Jisung managed to forget his lyrics yet again, and his phone is dead, so he has to call his “husband” —his words, not mine— and make Minho bring him his charger to the studio…

Overall, in broad, general sense, the statement is used to express the feeling of welcomeness that being not just back in one’s house, but home, always brings. Not only that, but it too serves as a way of expressing it to whoever waits within those walls of comfort.

And, for the first time in a long while, it so happens that Chan was already home when you arrived.

But there was none of that when you closed the door behind you, took your shoes off by the entrance and headed to his room, knocking on the already open wooden surface.

Chan turns his head first, moving the desk chair on its axis to face you propperly.

“You’re back,” he smiles.

His eyes don’t leave your figure, not as you lean on the doorframe, not as you let out a soft chuckle and finally get close to him.

For some people, love is felt most clearly through touch—the warmth of a hand on the back, a lingering brush of fingers, a head resting on a shoulder. Being touchy isn’t about neediness, but about closeness, about wordless ways of saying “I’m here” and “you matter.” It’s how comfort is given and connection is deepened, in gestures that feel small but speak loudly. Whether it’s an absentminded thumb tracing a palm or a full-body hug after a long day, physical affection becomes the language that says everything else doesn’t have to be said.

That’s how Chan knows something’s up. Because, instead of throwing yourself to his bed face first, ready to tell him about the day you had —common when your day was specially bad—, you make it a point to stand between his parted legs, your hands traveling to his neck, threading in his hair.

You’re biting your lip. He’s one second from cheekily offering to bite it for you, when you finally speak.

“I was scrolling down Twitter in the bus,” you say softly, your voice smooth. His hands travel to the back of your thighs as you keep on speaking, a sheepish smile on your face. “Someone… someone posted something I think it’s funny.”

He blinks. He’s a bit lost now, but you chuckle, seeing it in his eyes.

“It was a reply to a post a stay made,” you giggle, blushing. “About your solo act in tour.”

“What did it say?” He smiles, giggling with you.

There’s a light pause, and in your eyes you’re pretty sure it’s obvious the ginger hesitation from stating what the post said out loud, but then, staring at his eyes, you just let it out.

“I hope someone can give him head to thank him for this amazing performance.”

Chan dies.

It’s the way you say it—soft, almost teasing, like you know exactly what you do to him. Your voice brushes against his ear, low and playful, and something in him just short-circuits. His hands, already resting on your waist, tighten instinctively, fingertips digging in just enough to make you shift closer. Suddenly his pulse is everywhere—thudding in his chest, his throat, and lower. His breath hitches, and he drops his head a little, trying to compose himself, but it’s no use.

Get fucked, ‘honey, i’m home.’

“I liked it. Reposted it, too.” You confess with a soft chuckle. “And then I thought, you know.” You swallow dry, blushing , which almost kills him again. “I can. Matter of fact, I have.”

He hums in response, and tugs you closer, making you sit on his lap.

“Okay,” he chuckles, sinking his head in the crook of your neck, into your hair, and you move your arms around his neck, giggling too. “That’s a way of getting me off my computer.”

“Good,” you tease softly, next to his ear. “It’s late anyways.”

“It’s going to be so much late when I’m done with you,” he confesses in a low voice, not bothering to think if that’s correct grammar or not.

Instead, he presses a soft kiss on your cheek, then your jaw, until he moves back, one of his hands moving from your ass to cup your cheek.

It starts with a single kiss. A soft peck, quick and familiar. Then another. And another. Each one lingers a little longer, his lips pressing into yours like he’s testing the edge of restraint —whether yours or his, he doesn’t really know, merely wsiting to see who breaks first. Secretly, he knows he will.

His hands pull you closer until the chair that holds the both of you groans from the combined weight. When he finally pulls back, just a breath apart, he’s already smiling—low and crooked, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“I missed you today,” he says, voice rougher than it usually is. Then he’s kissing you again, deeper now, slow and intense, like he’s trying to make up for every second you were apart. His mouth moves with purpose, stealing your breath, and when his fingers slide up your spine, you arch into him without even thinking.

You move from him, peppering kisses all over his face. It’s coaxing, or at least you attempt it that way, until you notice him smirking.

“Don’t tease me,” you whine, pouting.

“Why, princess?” He smiles, faking innocence, letting out one of those squeaky laughs of his. “Something wrong?”

You groan dramatically, hiding your face in his neck as he laughs and holds your body closer.

“You’re a meanie,” you mumble against his skin.

“And you’re blushing.”

You huff. “Meanie.”

His hands stroke your thighs slowly, up and down. “You’d like me even more if I was meaner,” he grins teasingly. “Wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

Moving away from his neck, you pout again.

“I’ll leave,” you squint your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

Chan tongues his cheek. He wonders if he can tease you a bit more, which he knows he probably can, but there’s only so much he can resist you. So he licks his lips, smiling at you.

“Really, princess? You’d leave daddy alone, even after what you’ve told me?”

You can’t stop smiling, not as he looks at you like you hung the stars, as your stomach flutters and as your cheeks burn. You try to play it cool, but your laugh comes out a little too breathless, and he definitely notices. The way he touches you doesn’t help either—his hands cheekily going anywhere they want, fingers brushing your arm, his hand resting low on your back like it’s always belonged there. You’re giddy, lightheaded, way too aware of how close he is, how good he smells, how your body is already leaning into his without asking permission. Not to him, exactly —that’s saved for a different night—, but to you, your own brain closing the door behind and leaving you all alone.

“Finally,” you kiss him cheekily. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

The kisses start playful. You’re still giggling when he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, and you feel yourself melt against him, warm and dizzy from how good it all feels.

Yes. Home. Finally. Sitting in his lap feels too easy, too natural—like you were meant to be there. And then, without thinking, your hips shift—just a small roll. Unintentional, but nevertheless, the second it happens, you both freeze. His breath catches against your skin. Your cheeks flare hot, the air between you thickening.

Chris lets out a somewhat breathless chuckle next to your ear, threatening to send shivers down your spine. He bites your cheek, teeth not sinking in, but rather like a way of teasing you back. Judging by how your breathing stops and hitched, he stands corrected.

He smirks. The look he gives you threatens to rip your clothes off one by one, undoing you almost entirely. That slow, knowing smirk curls at the corner of his mouth, equal parts smug and hungry.

“Oh,” he says, low and teasing, like he just discovered something dangerous. His hands slide over your hips, firmer now. “You sure you missed me just a little?”

Your face goes warm immediately, and you bite back a smile, ducking your head just a little. Of course he noticed. Of course he’s smirking like that. You nod, sheepish but honest, and he chuckles softly—the sound low and familiar, the kind that always makes your heart do a flip.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, already slipping his hands lower, settling them on your hips like he’s done it a thousand times before. He moves you slowly, guiding your body against his with that quiet confidence he only ever shows when it’s just the two of you.

The grind is subtle, teasing, but the heat it stirs is immediate. You let out a shaky breath, forehead brushing his as your fingers curl into the back of his neck.

“Missed you more than a little,” you whisper, and he grins—cheeky, warm, already leaning in for another kiss that promises he missed you just as much.

“Daddy missed you too, princess.”

His lips find yours again, deeper this time, and the way he shifts beneath you makes your breath hitch. The chair creaks softly under the weight of both your bodies, his hands steady at your hips, but it’s not enough—not anymore.

He kisses you once more, slower, like he’s making a decision, then pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.

“Come here,” he murmurs, voice rough with warmth, and in one fluid motion, he stands, lifting you with him like it’s second nature.

Your legs wrap around his waist without thinking, arms around his shoulders as he carries you the few steps to the bed. The room blurs around you, all focus narrowing to the way his hands hold you, the way your bodies stay close, connected. When he lowers you to the mattress, it’s careful—reverent almost—but there’s a promise in his touch, in the way he leans over you again like he can’t stand being even a breath apart.

The mattress dips under his weight as he follows you down, never quite breaking the kiss, just shifting it—slower, deeper, until it’s all heat and breath and the soft rustle of the bedsheets. Chris’ hands roam, familiar, but still making you shiver.

He kisses you again, deeply, tasting you like a candy he’s been craving to have before he starts trailing those kisses lower. Down your neck, over your collarbone, taking his time, savoring every inch of skin. His hands glide down your sides, smooth and steady, until he reaches the hem of your shirt and helps ease it off with a sudden softness that somehow he always carries and still it makes your breath catch.

He glances up at you as he shifts lower, and there’s something in his eyes—affection wrapped in heat, like he wants to give, not just take.

He watches you the entire time, eyes dark with focus, with want. “God, I love when you look at me like that,” he murmurs, voice rough.

Your hips shift slightly under his hands, your fingers mindlessly scratching his hair, as they lock around his neck.

“Like what?”

“Like I could ruin you,” he says simply, before kissing your collarbone, “and you’d let me.”

His mouth never fully leaves your skin—kisses trailing down your stomach, each one slower than the last, until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. He looks up at you with that teasing glint in his eyes, the kind that makes your pulse trip. “Let me,” he murmurs, voice rough and low, and then he leans in.

You feel the scrape of his teeth first—light, playful—just before his lips close around the zipper. He tugs it down slowly, deliberately. The sound of it lowering fills the quiet between your breaths, each inch building the anticipation curling low in your belly. When the zipper’s undone, his hands take over, easing both the denim and your panties down your hips with a touch so gentle it borders on worshipful. And then he’s leaning in again, kissing the newly exposed skin with a smile against your thigh, like he’s exactly where he wants to be.

When he settles between your thighs, he doesn’t rush. His hands stroke your hips, your thighs, grounding you as his mouth finally finds you. The first touch of his tongue is slow and warm, and the sound you make earns a satisfied hum from him. He keeps going like that—unhurried, attentive—learning every reaction, every twitch of your hips, every moan and every gasp.

It’s not just about pleasure to him. It’s about you.

And when your fingers slide into his hair and your back arches off the bed, he only holds you firmer, as if to say, I’ve got you. I’m not stopping until you fall apart for me.

You shiver and tremble beneath him, letting out heavier moans and whines. He hums, the sound traveling through you, threatening to make you come already.

Your fingers tug his hair, and he smiles against your thigh. “Seems you’re already letting me ruin you,” he bites your thigh, cheeky. “Like when daddy ruins you, princess?”

You gasp at the bite, a shiver running down your spine. His words send a thrill through you, and you can feel yourself growing more excited by the minute. You feel your cheeks flush as you imagine what he's promising.

"Yes, daddy," you whisper, your voice already a little breathless. "Please ruin me, make me yours."

He chuckles, the sound low and husky. "You're such a good girl for me, aren't you?" he murmurs, his lips tracing a path up your thigh, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. "And you know that I always take good care of my princess, don't you?"

His fingers slide along your inner thigh, his voice dipping.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You shake your head, hand still in his hair. “If you stop now, I swear I’ll kill you.”

Your fingers curl and your nails scratch his back without thinking, and he lets out a soft gasp, his shoulders going slack as he leans into your touch.

“Anything for you, princess,” he whispers, licking his lips, almost drunk on the taste of you, his gaze already completely under your spell. “I’ll give you whatever you want, but please, keep touching me like that.”

He moves up and kisses you, relishing on the moans he swallows that spill from your lips as his hands move to take place where his mouth has just been, his fingers moving, slipping inside with wet ease.

“Oh, princess. You’re close already?” He watches you nod, moaning almost breathlessly, and slows down. He chuckles softly at the sound of your whine, unable to resist the adorable look on your face. "You're so cute when you're needy."

Nibbling on his lower lip, he pulls back just enough to reach toward the nightstand, eyes still on you, lips parted like he doesn’t want to be away for long. He grabs the foil packet and flashes you a look —half teasing, half focused—before tearing it open with his teeth. It’s effortless, practiced, but the sight alone makes your stomach flip.

His smile fades into something softer as he finishes rolling the condom on, hands steady but reverent, like he’s handling something precious. Then he’s back over you, fitting between your legs with ease, his skin warm against yours, his mouth returning to your neck, your collarbone, every place that makes your breath catch. The pace slows for a moment—like he wants to savor it, like rushing would be a waste. His forehead presses to yours, noses brushing, and he whispers your name like it’s a secret, grounding you both in the quiet, electric space between heartbeats.

When he finally presses into you, it’s slow—measured, but deep. You gasp, legs tightening around his waist, and he groans low in his throat, the sound rough and honest. His hands slide under your back, pulling you impossibly close, his mouth finding yours again in a kiss that’s all heat and promise. The rhythm builds naturally, guided by every stuttered breath, low whine, and whispered name, until it’s just you and him.

He builds a steady pace, slowly losing it’s rythm as pleasure takes the lead.

“You sound so… so good… so, so… f-fuck…” he moans against your skin, his body holding you so tight, his movements getting just a bit more desperate and rough as he attempts to hold back, trying to last just a little longer.

“S-so close… I’m so… so c-close…” You moan, desperate, your body shaking and trembling, on the very edge of a release.

His hand finds yours, interlinking your fingers. He whines lowly as you come, his heart pounding and body shaking. He can’t hold back any longer, his body completely overwhelmed by the feeling. He moans your name, every second feeling more intense as you continue to move against him. Holding onto you tightly, he comes not too long after you, almost letting his body fall over yours, unwilling to let you go.

He clings to you, feeling completely raw and vulnerable, his body trembling with the aftermath of such intensity. The world goes black and white, and for the smallest moment, time seems to almost stop between the sounds of your breaths in sync, the trembling of your body, the heat your body lets out… It’s all so intense, in his mind almost impossible to explain or describe.

The two of you stay like that, for a few moments, breathing in sync, holding onto each other as the aftershocks take over. You feel him pull away, and you can feel the loss of him, but in the blink of an eye, he’s right there, condom discarded, but he’s still right there, as he helps you get under the bedsheets. Holding your face in his hands, he kisses you, softly, gently.

He stays close, arms wrapped around you like he needs to keep you there, grounded against him. His fingers trace lazy patterns along your back, and his voice is quieter now, softer.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing your hair away from your face.

You nod, smiling. “Yeah. You?”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Never better.” He shifts slightly, reaching for the blanket at the edge of the bed, draping it over both of you. “How’s that? Warm enough?”

You hum, already melting into the calm of him, nuzzling into his neck. “Mmhm.”

You’re curled up against his chest, legs tangled with his, your breath soft and steady as your fingers absentmindedly trace circles on his arm. He’s quiet—so quiet you glance up to check on him. But he’s already watching you.

That look in his eyes makes your breath catch. It’s intense, unguarded. Like he’s seeing you for the first time and falling all over again.

“What?” you whisper with a smile, almost sheepish under the weight of his gaze.

He shakes his head a little, smiling like a fool, like the feeling in his chest is too big for words.

“Nothing. Just… you.”

You giggle.

“That’s not an answer, mister.”

He laughs under his breath, then kisses your forehead, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Want me to run you a bath?” He offers softly.

You lay your hand over his, stroking the back of it as he cups your face. “Only if you join,” you wink.

His answer is immediate. “Done.”

He shifts to sit up, but not before giving you one more kiss—slow, sweet, like a promise. “I’ll be right back. Stay cozy.”

You hear the soft creak of the faucet turning on, the gentle rush of water echoing faintly from the bathroom. He moves around quietly, opening drawers, setting things down, and humming under his breath as he prepared this little ritual he’s done a hundred times for you.

When he returns to the bedroom, he’s shirtless, damp towel in one hand, and smiling like he just lit every candle in the world just for you. “It’s ready,” he says, voice warm. “Perfect temperature. Bubbles and all.”

You sit up, letting the blanket slip off your shoulders, and he immediately steps forward to wrap it back around you, his hands brushing down your arms with affection. “Want help getting there?”

You nod, and he lifts you easily, bridal style, because of course he does, earning giggles from you. He carries you into the softly lit bathroom, where the tub is already steaming, the scent of lavender and something faintly sweet in the air.

“There we go,” he smiles, helping you in. The water ripples as he steps in behind you, warm and careful, settling in with a low sigh. His arms come around you almost automatically—slow, steady—and you melt back into him with a sleepy grin.

His chest is pressed to your back, his legs on either side of yours, and his chin rests on your shoulder. He exhales deeply, his breath brushing your skin.

The warmth of the water surrounds you, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his skin against yours, the way his fingertips draw slow patterns along your arms beneath the surface. Every now and then, he presses a kiss to your shoulder or cheek, unhurried, like he has all the time in the world just to love you like this.

Your fingers stay twined with his. You don’t talk much—there’s no need. It’s one of those rare, quiet silences that says everything. He leans his head against yours and lets out a little hum, content.

Eventually, the water cools just slightly, and he shifts, his lips brushing your ear. “Come on,” he whispers, soft and coaxing. “Let’s get you dry before you fall asleep on me in here.”

You let him help you up, both of you dripping and a little giggly as he wraps a towel around you and one around himself. He dries you off gently, his hands sweet and familiar, pausing to kiss your shoulder, the curve of your neck, your forehead.

You step out of the bath, feeling the steam cling to your skin, and glance at him with a sheepish smile. “I just need to pee real quick,” you say, before slipping away toward the toilet.

Bathtub empty, both of you dry and spent, he pulls the blankets down and helps you crawl to bed first, then slides in behind you, pulling you into his chest like it’s instinct. His arms wrap around you again—just like in the tub—and this time, the sheets are warm, the room is quiet, and your skin is still damp in that post-bath glow.

He kisses the back of your shoulder once more before whispering, “You okay?”

You nod, sleepy and safe. “Mhm. You?”

His reply is immediate, low and sincere.

“Never been better.”

Home has never felt so warm.

[☆★🤎★☆]

~kats, who has listened to hozier’s cover of “do i wanna know?” an unhealthy amount of times.

permanent taglist! @svckrpvnch @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @lyramundana @cheeksung @staytinyluva

[gh0stsp1d3r]

cowboy au Masterlist | KOFI

Cowboy Rafe Cameron meets the farmers daughter. MDNI. Smut ,18+

You were on your bed, your feet swinging back and forth, reading a book. You heard a knock on the door, you paused, furrowing an eyebrow. Who could be here?

You put the book down and walked over to the door. When you opened it, you were met with the sight of a very attractive boy. Your eyes widened, mouth agape slightly. You lost your words.

He looked back at you, cocky smile on his face when he noticed your reaction. “Hey.” He said, you swallowed and breathed out.

“Hi, what can I do for you?” You asked, voice an octave higher than you expected. God, his smile. It made your knees weak.

“Your pops home?” He asked you, nodding to the interior of the house.

“Uhm.. no. He’s out on a run right now. I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Rafe. Rafe cameron.” He held his hand out for you to shake. You shook his hand, heart racing at the slightest contact. “Your dad hired me to do some work. My pa figured I could use it.”

“Y/n…Wait, Cameron? As in Cameron-“

“Cameron Acres. Yeah.” He chuckled, scratching the nape of his neck.

“Uh- well- if you want, I- you can stay until he comes!” You stammered out, he smiled, thanking you and walking in.

That’s how you ended up getting your face shoved into your red pillow sheets, hands fisting the comforter. Rafe was behind you, his thrusts fast and hard, his hands gripping your waist tight.

“Fuck, this might be the best pussy I’ve ever had.” He grunted out.

“Rafe!” You cried out, voice muffled by your pillows. He still wore that cocky smile, one of his hands moving to rub down your clit.

“I know. I know.” He cooed out, fingers rubbing vigorously against the button, feeling your walls clench on him. “Cum for me, honey.” He told you, and that was all the permission you needed.

You let out a cry of his name, and he moaned out, he came inside, painting your walls while you came all over his cock. He looked down, smiling in defeat. You panted heavily, whining when he pulled out.

He put his pants and underwear back on, went into the bathroom, grabbing a rag, and came back over, cleaning your hole, making you jolt.

“Don’t worry, ‘m jus’ gonna clean you.” He told you quietly. “Fuck, I got you good, huh?” He chuckled.

“Mm… shut up.” You whined, hitting his shoulder lightly.

The moment was interrupted when you heard your dad call out your name and open the front door.

“Fuck. Hide! Hide!” You told Rafe, grabbing his shirt and hiding it behind your back. He went to the other side of your bed.

“Y/n?” He knocked on your door.

“Gettin’ dressed, daddy!” You told him, rushing to put your clothes on.

Rafe held his hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing.

“Alright.” He said, walking away from your door. Rafe came out again, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Is it okay to say I think I’m in love wit’ you already?”

“Oh, shut up, boy.” You rolled your eyes, throwing his shirt in his face.

[makeitworse]

DANG, IS SHE THAT GOOD?

talking ji-yong through topping you.

nsfw. minors dni. c/w: fem!reader / sub!ji-yong. glimpses of domestic life. age gap. praise. unprotected sex. soft smut. a/n: typed w one hand tbh

ji-yong always found himself under you during sex. that’s just how he liked it best.

he’s a busy man, and he’s not young anymore either. after a long day at work, he just wants to kick his feet up and let you take care of him. and that’s fine by you! you’ve got youthful energy to spend, and there’s not many sights as precious as the king of kpop himself sprawled out beneath you, completely at your mercy.

he finally has the rare chance of some free time with you— a breather amongst his packed schedule during his comeback. actually managing to get him out of bed on his days off was a rarity. but today he’s eager to take you out, dedicate a day to you; make-up for how work’s been demanding most of his focus. you shake your head when he pulls out his black card, but he’s not taking no for an answer.

later that day you found yourselves tangled on the couch in a hot flurry of kisses. he couldn’t keep his hands to himself while you were out; you had to tell him off for being so touchy in public, cameras could be anywhere.

pinning you down was the first thing on his mind once you were back home. your hands are lost in his hair, his are snaked under your top. his knee’s hiked up and digging into your core, and he mumbles a cuss as you rock yourself on his leg. you figure, since you’re already here, you may as well ask:

“ji, baby. would you be on top?”

he’s taken aback. for a beat, he hums and tosses the idea over. it’s certainly been a while since he’s had the energy to take the reins of your intimacy. the imagery of you beneath him gets ji-yong hot— sending a pulse straight to his dick. then, he kisses you with such force that your head cranes back. he’s hungry and his tongue’s on yours and he’s grinding down into your core with a newfound vigour.

you’re fully committed: you’re biting your lip, arching your back. you even encourage him with soft mewls as he sucks at your neck. he’s already panting at the sight of you. you slide a hand between your bodies to palm at him, finding his trousers damp with his arousal. ji-yong trembles over with a moan. on instinct, he’s keeling over for you to take control.

your mouth’s hot on his ear as whine how bad you need him. with that, he practically rips off your bottoms, and is too impatient to tug his own all the way off as they bunch at his knees. your hand is atop his as he guides himself in, his face scrunching as he fills you to the hilt. he stays there for a beat— dick twitching inside of you. you hum:

“fuck me, hun.”

and he obeys. ji-yong sets a gruelling pace, snapping his hips in and out of you like crazy. you egg him on by letting moans slip from your mouth, and he has to bite his lip to muffle his own. you guide his hands all over your body: fondling your breast, squeezing your neck, even tilting your own hips up so each of his thrusts hit the sweet spot.

even though he’s on top, you’re directing ji-yong through his actions: “kiss my neck there again.” “go faster, i can take it.” “put my leg up, honey.” and of course, you reward him with compliments when he follows: “that felt really good, ji.” “you’re doing so well for me baby.” he was hanging on to your every word. the noises spilling from him were diabolical— he sounded like a pornstar.

a little greedy, you tease him with a few pulses of your core. ji-yong’s thrusts turn shallow before he pauses, dick spasming inside of you. as little whines left his mouth. your hands find his pelvis, coaxing him to move, but his body falls onto yours and pins you against the couch.

he shudders, “w-wait, please..”, you can feel his muscles flexing on your bare stomach. he’s begging you to not make him cum. he has to screw his eyes shut and focus, else your naked body’s going to teeter him off the edge. he does a quick snap of his hips— but has to immediately pull out and suck in a breath between his teeth. you soothe him, caressing his sides and pressing reassuring kisses to his nape. he frowns at himself. he’s not usually so quick..

“i want it, ji. c’mon,” he huffs out a sheepish laugh. “if you couldn’t tell..” his dick twitches on time. something cruel stirs in you; you snatch his hips and pull him to thrust back into you. his hands fumble in an attempt to restrain you, and he’s out of breaths to say it with words. you’re undeterred, leading him in and out for your own pleasure, and ji-yong can’t help but take it as you grind onto him. his head’s buried into your shoulder, your ear soaking up all of his cries.

“if you keep, ah,.. i can’t—” “go on, hun.” ji-yong tried to move his own hips between your control. he’s a whimpering mess as he cums, laying lifeless on-top of you as warm ropes shoot inside of you. you hum, pleased with him, drawing lines over his back muscles.

“ah, i don’t have the back for this.” that made you chuckle. “you made me feel so good, baby.” he groans, disagreeing about his performance. “no, i’m sorry. you didn’t cum,” he pressed his sweaty forehead into your neck. “sorry, just give me a minute and i’ll, yeah..” his voice was hoarse, still breathless from his orgasm. but he snakes a shaky palm to your cunt and fidgets for your clit. you giggle, moving his hand off of you with a reassuring peck. he had no idea you were about to roll over and ride him till you came.

💌 | @emmiesoverthemoon @kam0p @gguktro @990002 @captain-ducks-swim-in-the-pond

[chilumi-shipper]

Can we have some more of genshin men eating us out?

Eating You Out (2)

Thoma x Fem!Reader / Arataki Itto x Fem!Reader / Alhaitham x Fem!Reader / Kamisato Ayato x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, Oral Receiving, Horny Characters, Overstimulation, Squirting

Summary: Genshin men eating you out I mean c'mon now what did you expect me to write here.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Thoma

At any moment, can just make you spread your legs, suck on your pussy, and make you cum, then just go back to his house keeping chores like he didn't just eat cunt.

Will approach you casually with a cute puppy smile, then proceed to tell you the foulest things ever with said smile.

"You're so pretty, honey! I wanna eat you out in that dress."

"I wish I was between your thighs right now, but I'm not done with my chores yet :("

"You should get ready for later! I think I might go really rough and leave you sore for a week."

He's just so cute! Ohh, but you know that he's capable of the most vulgar activities, and you know that he does them well.

The way he eats you out though...

Like the sweet puppy boyfriend that he is, he makes sure that you're enjoying it as much as he does.

Thoma gets so happy when you let him eat you, almost like he grows a tail and it wags with happiness as he laps up your wetness.

Your moans motivate him, whenever you let out a particularly sinful moan, he perks up, trying to do what caused you to moan so deliciously.

And he likes to stare into your eyes as he sucks your pussy. You just look down and see him with bright eyes looking up at you, and when you make eye contact, he goes even harder.

When you cum, he would try so hard to have it all squirt out into his mouth, then get up to look you in the eyes before swallowing the whole thing.

And finally, he would go back in and lick your pussy a few more times just to clean it up and make sure you're nice in comfy.

He would then lay beside you and snuggle into your chest.

Thoma would enjoy eating you out so much, that he would forget about the raging hard-on in his pants and just go to sleep.

Itto

Very brave, does it wherever he wants.

In a field where you could get ambushed by monsters? Seems like the perfect place to eat some sweet sweet pussy.

Eats you out like a hungry animal, no control whatsoever, just straight sucking and licking.

Absolutely loves it when you grab onto his horns, even more so when you pull him closer into your cunt.

He is a menace and will literally not stop until he's satisfied, overstimulating you so much until he's tired. No force in this world could part him from between your thighs.

Itto is so determined to eat you out that he will sacrifice breathing just to not break away from you, he's only going to stop when he starts feeling lightheaded from the lack of air.

He would guide your hand to grab his horns, urging you to grind your hips into his face. You would usually be feeling so good yet so annoyed that he just pulled you into some sort of cave and then proceeded to give you the greatest realization of pleasure with his stupid mouth.

He would be sweet talking to your sex, looking so love-struck as he says things like:

"Ohh, look at you all dripping, can't wait to suck all that into my mouth."

"You're so soft, so delicious."

"Look at you, all twitchy and puffy, but we're not done yet..."

He says such things while staring right between your legs, with so much conviction that it almost makes you jealous.

Itto will then carry you back home to eat you up some more.

Alhaitham

Possibly the most nonchalant pussy eater of the bunch.

This man calculates everything.

So you bet he knows just how to prod at the right spots when he's between your legs.

He knows the right amount of pressure to apply with his tongue, how hard should he suck, how long he has to play with your clit before you're nice and relaxed for him. He just knows everything.

Alhaitham eats you out as if he's completing an assignment, everything is planned and calculated, and despite looking submissive with his lips pressed against your folds, his intense gaze studies you like a book. His expression remains stoic despite the work his mouth is putting on your pussy.

The morning after he had eaten you out to the point of not being able to keep your eyes open, he would absolutely embarrass you with questions.

"Did you prefer that I keep my tongue on your clit or do you wish for me to explore you a bit more?"

"I observed that after your first orgasm, you seem to push my face further into you. Do you always prefer to have multiple orgasms when I eat you out, or is one enough?"

"Shut up, Alhaitham!" You would scream at him with your cheeks tainted red.

"What? Did you not enjoy me eating you out last nigh-"

"SHUT UP!"

But then he offers to do it again and who are you to refuse.

Kamisato Ayato

For someone rather high-ranking within the nation, this man shamelessly eats out his wife in his own office, in the middle of the day, doors unlocked, possible witnesses buzzing about the estate a room away.

Thoma is often the victim witness of your escapade, but he understands his lord quite well (read Thoma's part).

Ayato is a very busy man, with his unrelenting duty and whatnot, he finds that a good break from his busy hours would be to have his face squished between your thighs, lazily enjoying the taste of his beloved wife with his mouth.

He eats you out as if he was savoring a meal prepared by the finest cook of Inazuma, indulging himself by tasting every part of your cunt.

He would be slowly licking into you as you were sat on his desk, his head rest comfortably on your thigh as he starts to make out with your heat.

He would then part for a bit to catch his breath, then to look up at you and smile while a strand of wetness still connected his lips to your pussy.

This man is a lazy pussy eater, enjoying his meal for hours on end, ushering orgasms out of you ever so slowly as he makes sure to lick up every crevice.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Mmmmmh, yummy update...

[frostiexavier]

/) /) ~ ┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓ ( •-• ) ~ ♡ down to the last word ♡ /づづ ~ ┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

☆ MINORS DNI | 18+ ONLY ☆

ミ☆ summary: Xavier has been improving on a lot of things lately such as cooking, cleaning and even staying up with you. But when he finds something you have been keeping from him, he has a few questions about your desires.

ミ☆ warning: smut, Xavier x fem! reader, unprotected p in v sex, bare grinding?, shirt used as a restraint, fem reader tied up, dom! Xavier, fluff the beginning and end, idk Xavier is very vocal and says dirty things

ミ☆ word count: 5k

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

You finally clock out for the week at the hunter’s association. Your energy is drained but you are excited to spend the weekend off with Xavier. He got to leave early today because he finished his work early, as always, but you procrastinate.

Just as you were leaving the building you got a phone call from Xavier. You smile seeing his face pop up on your screen. You quickly answer the call.

“Hello?”, you smile while placing the phone to your ear.

“Hi honey, you haven’t eaten yet right?”, he says softly over the phone. Your heart melts hearing him call you the nickname he picked out for you. It’s so sweet that he is accustomed to it now. At the start of your relationship he was hesitant but now its second nature to him.

“No I haven’t, should I order us some takeout? I can pick it up on the way home”, you say as you get into your car, lock the doors and put the key into the ignition.

“There is no need, I cooked for us. It’s waiting for you when you get here but take your time. Be careful on the road”, he says sweetly over the phone but you freeze. He cooked? Should I order the takeout anyways? No, it would hurt his feelings. You hold back your sigh and respond to him.

“Okay then, are you sure you don’t want me to pick up sides or anything to go with it?”, you ask him and he chuckles over the phone.

“I know what you’re thinking but it's edible trust me, just come home”, he urges you. You chuckle and agree. You say your goodbyes and hang up the phone. You make it to your apartment complex within 20 minutes and make your way up to your apartment. Xavier is still technically your upstairs neighbor but he practically lives at your apartment, he only leaves to change clothes or if he forgets something at his place.

You open the door to your apartment and immediately the aroma of freshly cooked food fills the air. You take off your coat and hang it on the coat rack near the door. It smells amazing and you wonder what Xavier used to mask the smell of whatever he may have burned.

“Oh hi, wait right there let me set the table first”, Xavier moves quickly to set up your plate and scoots the chair out for you to sit down. The lights are slightly dimmed and he has a few candles lit on the table as well.

You take a seat and stare down at a plate of spaghetti with garlic bread on the side. It's topped with parmesan cheese and some diced tomatoes. The garlic bread looks freshly baked and the spread looks delicious on top. It smells delightful and no signs of anything looks burnt. You look over and all the dishes are cleaned and put away and the kitchen is spotless. Xavier grabs you both a drink before he takes off his apron and sits down across from you at the table. He is wearing a white button down shirt with nicely fitted black pants. A couple buttons already undone at the top. His hair is neatly combed but in his normal hairstyle he likes.

“I am so excited for you to try this. I’ve been working on dinner all day”, he said excitedly and you smiled at him.

“This looks wonderful Xavier, well present it to me what did you make”, you say, folding your hands together and looking at him with admiration.

“Well.. I made spaghetti with marinara sauce. I topped it with parmesan cheese and a few diced tomatoes. But the thing that took me the longest to make was the bread. I made it from scratch and made the garlic spread from scratch too.”, he says proud of himself.

You look around the table at the assortment of things and you have to say you are impressed but still skeptical if Xavier actually made this.

“Xavier, it looks really good”, you say to him and he smiles.

“Well, go ahead, try it”, he says, gesturing for you to take a bite. You reluctantly pick up your fork and spiral the noodles around your fork making sure to get some cheese and a tomato in the first bite. You look at Xavier and he is waiting with anticipation.

You take the first bite and start chewing. To your surprise the pasta was well cooked and the sauce was very flavorful. Nothing was overcooked or uncooked at all, it was perfect. The cheese and tomatoes went well with the spaghetti and the flavor tasted as if it came from a nice restaurant.

“Xavier, where did you get this from?”, you ask him and he looks at you with confusion.

“What do you mean?”, he says, his face forming into a pout.

“This is spectacular, you had to get this at a restaurant or something right? Are you pranking me?”, you laugh and he stares at you blankly.

“No seriously, I made it, try the bread too”, he says, picking up the garlic bread and placing it to your lips. You lean in and take a bite of the bread and you roll your eyes back.

The bread is super fresh and still very warm like it just came out of the oven. The spread on top was savory and had a nice garlic flavor that wasn’t overbearing. You moan at the flavor making Xavier blush slightly.

“Okay fess up, where did you get Xavier?”, you say after swallowing the bread.

“I made it I promise you, look I even made a video of me making it because I knew you wouldn’t believe me”, he says getting out of his seat and getting his phone out of his back pocket. He pulls his chair next to me and sits down, holding the phone between us. He pulls up the video and presses play, he is in frame with the kitchen surrounding him.

“Hey everyone, this is I don’t know how many attempts I have made to make dinner for my girlfriend, we have 6 hours before she comes home tonight so let’s get started”, he says through the screen. You giggle and look over at him. He must have started this right after getting off work early.

“Who are you talking to?”, you look over at him, he looks at you meeting your gaze.

“No one, just watch”, he giggles and points to the screen. You turn your attention back to the screen.

“We are going to start with our bread dough and make the dough for our spaghetti noodles. I am following a recipe online so hopefully it will be easier. I could just buy premade noodles at the store but then it wouldn’t be made with love so”, he says looking at the recipe. You can’t help but smile at how cute he is and how he looks trying his best to cook something for you.

The video goes on and he puts the video on 2x speed to show you he went by the recipe, down to the last word. You can see him baking the bread and it comes out perfectly and how he creates the spaghetti noodles and cooks it perfectly as well.

He ends the video with showing his creation to the screen and taste testing it. He nods in approval and cuts off the video. As the video ends you look over at him and he looks at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Still think it's from a restaurant?”, he gocks at you and you put your hands up in defense.

“Okay I was wrong, I’m sorry. You did so well, I can’t believe you worked so hard for me”, you laugh as you put your hands back down.

“Of course, I know I’m still learning but I wanted to prove to you I could do it, I want to be a reliable boyfriend.”, he smiles averting his gaze.

“You already are but I appreciate you so much, thank you Xavier”, you lean over and kiss his cheek. His eyes widen in surprise and he looks at you. You giggle at his reaction and he smiles, his cheeks turned the same red as the tomatoes.

“Okay well eat up because I made dessert too?”, he laughs and moves his chair back to where he originally was sitting across from you.

“Oh? Did you make a vlog for that one too?”, you giggle as you tease him.

“Shutup”, he laughs alongside you and shakes his head taking a bite of his own creation.

You both enjoy dinner together as you discuss each other's day. He talks about how he had to run to the store multiple times because he kept forgetting ingredients for the dessert he made. You laugh with him but his dessert came out beautifully. He made a layer cake that he had placed in the fridge. It was white cake with raspberry filling and whipped cream between layers. The cake was even more delicious than dinner and Xavier agreed. You still couldn’t believe he put so much time and effort into making you both a nice meal and sweet treat.

After dinner you went to change into your pajamas as he finished cleaning the dishes you both used. You decide to brush your teeth and get ready for the night. You remove today's makeup and apply your skin care before bed. You make your way to your bed and try to catch up on some reading while Xavier is busy in the kitchen.

After about 30 minutes you hear footsteps making their way to the bedroom. You quickly put your bookmark back in your book to save your page and place it under your pillow. You grab your phone to open tiktok and pretend you have been scrolling for a while.

Xavier walks into the room rubbing his eyes and yawning. He is now in his pajama pants and a t-shirt. He must have taken a trip to his apartment to change. He walks over to “his” side of the bed and pulls the covers over him. He plops his head on the pillow and turns to face you, giving you a soft smile.

“Are you sleepy?”, you ask him. He nods slowly and yawns again.

“Why don’t you get some sleep, silly? You worked so hard today”, you say snuggling up to him, he envelops you into his arms and you bury your face into his chest.

“I promised I would watch the next episode of your favorite show with you, plus I am trying to stay awake longer since I sleep way too much. I don’t want to keep wasting the day sleeping when I could be spending more time with you”, he looks down at you, poking your nose and then your cheek.

You poke his chest and reply, “Well only if you want to, but if you get too sleepy I won’t get upset if you decide to go to sleep”. You smile up at him and he chuckles.

“Alright we will see, go ahead and find the episode, I am going to get a bit more comfortable”, he says sitting up. You grab the remote and look up the show you want to watch but your mind gets distracted when you see Xavier take off his shirt and throw it in the nearby hamper. You can’t help but scan his toned chest, arms, abdomen and even his hands. Every inch of him was perfect, every detail of him was something you could only fantasize about. But, he was all yours.

“Have you found it yet?”, he says, shaking his hair back to its neat look and you quickly avert your gaze back to the tv. You swallow the saliva that has formed in your mouth as you click the episode. You lay back down on your side but Xavier quickly pulls you into his arms to cuddle with you. He has one hand propped up to hold his head up to watch the tv while the other arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you extremely close to his front.

You can feel his bare chest on your back through your silk pjs and you try to stop your thoughts from running wild. You both enjoy the newest episode and Xavier comments on how Elena needs to quit torturing the Salvatore brothers and just pick a love interest already. You laugh at his comments and you both talk about how you think the next episode will go. As you talk Xavier starts to stroke your hair behind your ear and you close your eyes from the feeling. You are still talking but he grabs your pillow to place your head on it just in case you fall asleep. Put as he reaches for your pillow his hand touches something else.

“Oh, what is this?”, he says, grabbing the book you hid under your pillow earlier. Any sleepiness you may have had is not out the window. You immediately sit up while he is holding it in front of his face.

“That’s nothing”, you say quickly and you go to snatch it, but before you can Xavier moves it too quickly.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing, it’s a book you’ve been reading? What’s it about?”, he asks, holding up your latest book that Tara recommended you. It's a book about romance but it's filled with smut. You aren’t ashamed but you don’t know how Xavier will react to you reading explicit things.

“Uh- it’s just a boring romance book”, you reply. He opens it up instead of giving it back, he starts flipping through the pages and smirks.

“You must not think it’s boring, you have certain parts highlighted, like what's this say?”, he laughs and glances at you before turning his attention back to the book. You try to snatch it again but to no avail, he moves it to where you can’t reach it.

“He tied the knot on my wrists tightly to the bed frame. He made me watch and he pulled his big veiny mem-“, Xavier stops reading aloud and falls silent as he reads the rest of the paragraph. Your heart starts to race and your anxiety starts to rise. He closes the book with one hand and slowly looks at you.

“Sweet innocent little Tara recommended this book to you?”, he says with an eyebrow raised but his expression is hard to read.

“Yeah she did. You know she’s not that innocent I can prove it to you”, you grab your phone because if you are going down, Tara is going down with you. He sets the book on the nightstand and watches as you scramble to find the texts of her recommending it.

“See look, she recommended it, see?”, you say anxiously handing him your phone. He giggles at your reaction and reluctantly takes the phone from your hands.

“I guess Tara isn’t as innocent as I thought”, his eyes widened as he read the texts between you both.

“Yeah, see? I told you, she reads stuff like this all the time.”, you say pointing at the texts. He chuckles at how nervous you are and pauses on a certain text then looks up at you, a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks and ears.

“I wish Xavier would do these things to me”, he stated, reading the text you sent Tara aloud. Your eyes widen and quickly snatch your phone from his grasp. He doesn’t move from his position or even look at you. You start to feel embarrassed and don’t know what to say.

He sits up, his back against the headboard and he looks at his hands which he is fidgeting with.

“Are you not satisfied with what we do now?”he asks, embarrassed to meet your gaze. You and Xavier have had your fair share of hours spent in the bedroom. It has always been wonderful but you feel Xavier is holding himself back, like he doesn’t want to lose control or something. He always satisfies you but Xavier isn’t too adventurous. You have played around with different positions and things but have never done anything really “out of the norm” or “playful”. You loved Xavier for how he cares for you in the bedroom but sometimes you wish he would just ruin you.

“Gosh no Xavier that's not why I said that. I just, I don’t know, sometimes I feel like you just hold back a bit”, you say playing with the end of your pajama shirt.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know you felt this way. I should’ve asked you, I just assumed you liked things the way they were and I didn’t want to hurt you”, he says finally meeting your gaze, his face looks flushed and he looks like a wounded puppy. His face is somewhat in a pout and you can help but place your hands on either side of his face.

“No Xavier, I love what we do now. I am never dissatisfied and I just never brought it up because I didn’t want to embarrass you or myself. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t like when you do things with me because I do. Sometimes I just wish you would be a bit more dominant? I don’t know if that's the right word but you know like "don't hold yourself back”, you confess to him while rubbing both sides of his face with your thumbs.

“So, you would like it if I tied you up?”, he asks you, his eyes turning and deeper blue than normal. Your breath hitches in your throat and you let go of his face but he grabs both of your wrists holding them in place before his face.

“Xavier I-“, you say but can’t respond to his question. Your mind is going blank right now.

“What? You want me to have my way with you? You’re right, I have been holding back because once I don’t, I don’t know if I can stop”, he says breathlessly. You examine his face, its yearning for you. He looks like he has been waiting for you to give him the go ahead for some time.

“What if I said, I didn’t want you to stop?”, you say without thinking. Xavier takes this moment to flip you both over, you back against the mattress and his body now hovering over yours. He takes both of your wrists into one hand, pinning them to your pillow. The other hand beside your face holding himself over you. He stares down at you with lust in his eyes, looking all over your face for any sign of regret or uneasiness but he doesn’t find one.

“Fuck y/n you are making me crazy”, he says butying his hips into yours, feeling his hard member through his pajama pants pressing into you. Your body immediately responds, a wave of heat running down your spine and a pool of wetness forming in your panties.

“Please Xavier, do whatever you want to me”, you moan moving your hips up into his making him gasp. He lowers his head and kisses you deeply a few times before pulling away, placing his forehead against yours.

“I won’t hold back then”, he says just above a whisper and he gets off the bed quickly. You go to protest but you notice he goes to grab the shirt he was wearing earlier from the hamper. Is he rejecting you? Is he putting his clothes back on?

“Put your hands around the railing and get a good grip”, he says, folding his shirt out into a thinner and longer line. OH-

You do as he says holding on the headboard railing getting a firm grip on the rails. He takes his shirt and climbs back over top of you, tying both of your wrists together but not to the railing.

He looks back down at you before he removes his pajama pants, leaving him in his black boxers. You can see the outline of his dick through his boxers and you can’t help but blush. He takes the waistband of your pj bottoms and panties and pulls them off in a quick and rough movement. Your lower body bounces off the bed from the sudden movement. He reaches to unbutton your silk top but to your surprise he just tears it open with his hands, buttons flying everywhere.

“Xavier”, you gasp in surprise but his gaze doesn't falter. He smirks and pulls his boxers down, leaving you both completely bare. He grabs a pillow and places it under your hips. Before you can say anything else he speaks.

“Are you comfortable, it's not too tight right?”, he asks, referring to his shirt wrapped around your wrists. You shake your head no and smile, even in this state he is still concerned about your comfort.

He grabs his dick, precum already dripping from his angry red tip. He starts to stroke himself and he closes his eyes from the feeling. You can only stare at him and you can feel yourself getting increasingly wetter by the second.

He leans down and kisses you while still stroking himself, he moves from your lips to your jaw to your neck. He kisses right at your pulse point causing you to moan. He grazes the spot with his teeth then sucks harshly, leaving his mark. You buck your hips up but he uses his other hands to pin your hips down.

“Naughty girl, I get to have my way with you, remember? So you are gonna behave and be a good girl right? Can you be a good girl for me?”he asks, whispering into your ear and then biting your earlobe. You refrain from bucking your hips again but all you can do is nod.

“I need you to say it baby”, he pulls away from you, his lustful gaze meeting yours.

“Yes Xavi, I’ll be a good girl”, you say while taking in this new side of Xavier. You have never seen him like this but you aren’t complaining, you are excited.

“Good, in that case. Let me worship you for a bit”, he says, making his way down your collarbone to your chest, leaving small kisses as he moves. You love when he does this but normally you place your finger in his hair, but since you are restrained it feels a little weird, making you feel desperate for his touch.

“Fuck your body is so beautiful, the way i’ve wanted to do so many things to you. I just didn't want you to know where my mind was going”, he confesses against your skin causing you to whimper. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking a few times and then flicking the hardened bud with his tongue. He has your hips still pinned down and you can’t touch him, you are left with only the pleasure he is giving you, it feels so good but its also torture.

He places his lower body on top of you, his dick pressed against your pelvis but not exactly where you want it. This helps keep you pinned down while he uses his other hand to knead your other breast. You back arches a bit but not much do to the restraints.

“The way I’ve wanted to cum on every inch of your body. I wanted to make a mess of you, oh how dirty and ruined you would look for me”, he says, his words sending waves of pleasure to your core. He lets go of your nipple with a pop and leans back up onto his knees.

He stops pumping himself and aligns himself along you. Still holding his dick he starts thrusting between your folds, not putting himself at your entrance just yet. His tip hits your clit just right and lubricates himself so he doesn’t hurt you.

“Fuck y/n, you were this wet for me? You wanted me to tie you up this badly?”, he smirks and looks down at your contorted face. You can’t say anything, lost in the feeling of him rubbing against you.

“I’m not wearing a condom tonight, that okay?”, he still asks for your consent. You were on the pill anyway but Xavier always wore one so you wouldn’t feel messy or too sticky after you both were done.

“Yes Xavier, please do what you want”, you beg pathetically, wanting him to ruin you the way he wants to. He moans in response and aligns himself with your entrance. He normally starts off soft and lets you adjust but he slides in without hesitation.

You both moan out at the feeling and he grabs your hips firmly. He starts to pound into you at a fast and hard pace. You grip onto the headboard a bit harder and the bed starts to shake. Skin slapping can be heard around the room as he doesn’t let up for a second.

“Is this what you wanted? Wanted me to treat you like my own personal fuck doll?”, he asks and you can only nod and throw your head back.

“When I ask you a question, you answer it”, he says, grabbing your chin and pulling your face down to meet his gaze on you.

“Yes Xavi, fuck me as hard as you want, ruin me please” , you moan out and he almost growls at your reponse. You are so aroused that the juices between your thighs start to make noise from how good he is fucking you.

“Dirty girl letting me take her raw, ugh, please keep squeezing me like that-yes”, he moans, grabbing your thighs and placing both of your legs over his shoulders.

The new position makes him go even deeper within you and it doesn't take long before he finds the spot he has been searching for.

“Fuck Xavier, please please, right there, oh fuck”,he says gripping to the railing, your knuckles turning white from how hard you are holding it.

“You feel so good baby, I’m not going to last much longer”, he says hitting your g-spot everytime he thrust back in. He can feel you are close too so he holds both your legs up with one arm and sneaks his hand between your thighs down to your erect clit. He spits on his hand before he starts to rapidly rub your clit from side to side, increasing the pace of his thrusts as he does it.

“Oh fuck, Xavier I’m gonna cum, please I-“, you cant finish your sentence before you are already falling apart. You back arches off the bed as you feel wave after wave of pleasure run through your entire body. Xavier doesn’t stop his torment on you, if anything he goes faster.

“Fuck just like that baby, Squeezing me so tight, suck a good girl. Now be a good girl and watch”, he says while taking himself out of your heat and strokes himself quickly.

He lets out loud grunts as he cums all over your pelvis, thighs and lower abdomen. Your legs falling to either side of his body. You lay there and watch as he falls apart and spurts his cum all over you. You have never seen something so erotic in your life but you hope it's not the last. He looks ethereal after he comes down from his high. He takes a second before he opens his eyes and looks at you.

You meet his gaze and he gives you a small smile. The hint of pink from earlier returning to his ears. He goes to untie your wrists and your arms fall to the bed, feeling like jello. He grabs his shirt and wipes his cum off both of you before tossing it back in the hamper. He grabs his pajama pants and puts them back on. He helps you take the remainder of what's left of your top off and finds you a comfortable pair of shorts and a tshirt to sleep in.

He dresses your body for you and gives your cheek a kiss as he lays back on top of you. He wraps your weak arms around his neck and he places more kisses over your face making you giggle.

“I wasn’t too rough was I?”, he asks you, concerned about your experience. You smile and kiss him before answering.

“Xavier you were perfect. If it was very different but I liked it, alot”, you blush and try to hide your face but he nuzzles your face back to meet him.

“I could feel how much you liked it”, he raises both eyebrows, wiggling them and you swat at his chest.

You face burning red at this point.

“You can’t say you didn’t enjoy it too”, you say to him a bit embarrassed.

“Oh I know I did, probably too much, I could do this to you all the time”, he says going to kiss your neck again.

“Okay okay, that tickles”, you laugh pulling him away from you. He giggles at your reaction and pulls you both onto your sides and you close to his chest. His chin nuzzled onto the top of your head while your face is in his neck.

“I wouldn’t want to be tied up again though, I wanted to touch you so bad”, you confess and he laughs, you can feel the vibration of his chuckle against your face.

“Yeah we tell Tara to get you a different book then, maybe we can try some other things too”, he says with a smirk.

“Xavier!”, you explain and pinch his tummy.

“Ouch”, he says, going to tickle you. You both had a tickle battle before you called it a truce. He wraps you in his arms again and you both fall asleep fairly quickly. That night you had a naughty dream where Xavier combined his cooking and bedroom skills. You’ll have to inform him of your dream next time he wants to cook for you.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

a/n: Finally my pookie pie, I have been WAITING to write about him hehehe. I hope everyone but especially my fellow Xavier girlies liked this one. I think so far this one and my Caleb smut have been my favorites. Idk I’m a sucker for both of them tehe. Anyways, I might be writing some fluff and some headcannons before starting smut again. I kinda need a break from all the smut but I am thinking next smut series I do I will somehow involve their evols? Lemme know what you guys think! Thank you for all the love on my first 5 fics of the guys, I appreciate you so much! 🤍

[suni-writings]

Take the pain away.

jude bellingham x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

+18!! mdni

(content warning: unrequited feelings, cheating [unrelated to jude x reader], toxic relationship [also not jude x reader], smut, fingering, unprotected sex [have safe sex pls])

it's been a while since i wrote a jude smut, but you ask and i shall deliver. we have been waiting for this one. heavily inspired by "fuck the pain away (lost tapes 2022)" by tory lanez.

He was exhausted. Not because of football, not because of fame, but because of his best friend. Being physically exhausted was something he was used to — Jude could get rid of it in a few weeks if it resulted in some type of pain. Emotionally, however? He was clueless as to how to heal it, especially since time did nothing but deepen his feelings towards her. It messed up his head, his thoughts got foggy, and he seemed to act out of impulse whenever he was around her. Nothing could really stop him when she was next to him, and that was his doom.

Well, that and her boyfriend. Her hideous, stupid attempt of a man of a boyfriend, whom did nothing but make her feel bad and cheat on her. She wasn’t the girl Jude used to know anymore — the fierce one, who everyone would be scared to even look at her the wrong way. Somehow, that manipulator managed to get her undivided forgiveness every time. It was a never-ending cycle, one that was tearing his mind apart. He was always the one to rescue her, until that dumbass showed up again, promising to be different and acting like a prince for a week.

That night wasn’t any different. The moment his phone vibrated in his pocket and Jude saw who sent the message, he already knew what it was about. And, despite being tired, he still walked up to her house, because she had him at his mercy. He wanted nothing more than to see her okay again, to be her sunshine of her rainy days.

Even if for a single moment only.

She had left the door unlocked for him. Jude carefully got inside, taking a deep breath. He could hear her sobs coming from her room, which he carefully walked up to.

“Princess?” Jude called out softly.

Even in the darkness, he could see her hands coming to dry the tears in her eyes. She sat up, still sniffing, and he sat next to her. He caressed gently her face and wiped another tear.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly.

“What’s the point? You already know what happened. It’s what always happens.” She let out a humorless chuckle and sighed. “I’m sorry. I probably look like shit right now.’

Bellingham took a moment to look — more like admire — her face. Red glimmering eyes, puffy nose, the bite marks on her lip to avoid crying. She still looked breathtaking.

“You look like a mess, honey,” Jude smirked. “But still pretty as ever.”

She gave a small smile, that quickly turned into a grimace, and she looked at him.

“I feel so weak, Jude. I don’t know why I keep letting this happen, I don’t know why I’m so—” she stopped midsentence and laid in bed again, holding back her tears. He was next to her, supporting the weight of his body on his elbow. “Please, take this pain away. I can’t handle this anymore.”

He took a deep breath yet again. There’s not much he could do, and all his options sounded selfish; even if it was for her own good, it also benefited him. Like leaving that project of a man for once and all. He slowly took strands of her hair out of her face, gently outlining her cheek. He avoided looking at her lips, because he couldn’t do anything about it. Especially with her this vulnerable.

“I’m here, princess. What can I do for you?” Jude asked quietly, toying her hair between his fingers.

“Take the pain away.” She begged again and looked into his eyes.

She had no idea how much Jude wanted to do that.

“I can’t do that. I’m not him, I can’t fix his mistakes, but I can—” he bit his tongue when he realized he was about to say too much; to act selfishly, to prove her she could do better, to give her a taste of what she could have.

A few moments of silence fell between them and her eyes searched for his. She leaned closer, as if she got the hint. As if she wanted it too.

Jude could be her temporary relief, he didn’t care. If he could help, he would.

Who was he trying to fool? If he could have her in any way, he would.

“Fuck the pain away. I could fuck the pain away, baby.” He whispered as he looked at her in her beautiful, almost translucent nightgown. “An eye for an eye. Give him a taste of his own poison. You say the word, I’ll do it.”

She leaned even closer to him, her hand gently resting on his face as she caressed his cheek. She bit her lip, thinking. She was desperate, and Jude was right there for her.

If her boyfriend could do it, then so could she.

Without a second warning, to Jude’s surprise, her lips crashed into his, hastily seeking relief. When their tongues touched, she was in a frenzy, and everything started to get blurry.

All she could think was the way Jude kissed and bit her neck, the way his warm tongue descended to her collarbone and threatened to go even lower. The way she tugged, on Jude’s hair, not wanting the moment the moment to end, needing more of his kisses. Of his burning touch.

“Need to take this off, princess.” He muttered against her collarbone, holding the hem of her nightgown. She nodded and stood her arms up so he could easily remove it. “Making this all so easy for me.” He said once he saw her breasts and tossed the nightgown away, biting her nipple before gently sucking it while caressing the other with expertise.

She was already panting. In a single attempt, he brought his covered knee close to her core, and the damp in her panties was undeniable.

That only fueled his anger. That bastard had her and didn’t touch her properly.

His mouth left her breast and moved back to her neck, sucking and biting it while his hand descended to her core and she her back almost arched in anticipation; if he knew she was that touch deprived, he would’ve suggested that a long time ago.

With his hands underneath her underwear, he pressed two fingers against her clit and moved them slowly, pressuring further to see the way her chest rose, the way her cheeks flush and how her mouth opened, too scared to make a sound.

So, without warning, Jude inserted the two fingers inside her and moved them fast, curling them until he found the spot that made her back arch, and the room became filled with moans. He kissed her throat, his mouth vibrating with each moan that came out of her mouth. His movements were precise, fast, and with an urge to prove something that, before he could realize or properly enjoy what he was doing, her walls were closing against his fingers.

“Jude, I’m—” she tried to say, but he smirked against her skin and moved his fingers even harder.

“You’re what? Tell me, baby.” Jude teased her and her back arched. He felt his fingers hurt, but it didn’t matter. Not when she was coming undone in his hands.

“Jude—” she tried to warn again, and he kept moving his fingers, looking at her in the eyes. She struggled to keep them open, trying to keep eye contact.

“Is that everything you know how to say now? My name?” He hit the spot once again and smirked. “I could get used to that.”

Her walls fully clenched around his fingers, and she finally came, seeing stars behind her eyes and leaving a loud moan. It was something she had never experienced so strongly, and she didn’t know if it was because her boyfriend didn’t care about her pleasure or if it was because it was Jude. Maybe the answer was both.

“Fuck.” she muttered, panting. He just smirked, looking into her eyes and leaning away, putting his own fingers in his mouth to taste her.

“Now that’s a very—” his fingers left his mouth with a pop once he made sure to savor the taste. “—very good girl. And a delicious one, if I might add. Could taste you for fucking hours.”

Jude didn’t care if he still had his clothes on. He had a taste of hers, and nothing would stop him now.  If he already couldn’t stop himself before touching, the gods may as well punish him, and it wouldn’t be enough for him to stop.

He kissed her again, making her taste herself before lowering the kisses — from her mouth to the spot under her ear. From her neck to her collarbone. From the valley of her breasts to her stomach. The kisses only lowered. Before he could reach her panties once again, starving, she tugged on her hair.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m too worked up for you to eat me out. Need more.”

He bit his lip and smirked. As much as he wanted to taste her, he wanted to be inside her. He took off his shirt in a swift move and she sat up, crawling closer to him to kiss him and bite his neck. He felt like his skin was on fire and the bulge on his sweatpants only got harder. He took a deep breath.

“You’re not helping, princess.” He sighed.

“Am I not?” Now it was her time to tease. She straddled him and sat right against his crotch, making him almost roll his eyes. “You should take those sweatpants off.” She said as her hands caressed his abdomen.

He quickly turned the position, now on top of her, and took his sweatpants off.

“Good enough for you, princess?” He whispered, leaning closer.

“Better if you took your underwear off.” She smirked.

“Brat.”

Instead of taking his underwear off, he took her panties off in one single move. A risky one, since he could’ve ripped it from how quickly he took it off. He lowered and admired for a moment.

“Such a pretty pussy. A shame you won’t let me eat you out.” He whispered as he looked at her core, gently touching her puffy clit once again. She was stretched, but not enough. He didn’t pay attention to that when he had his fingers inside her — he just wanted to see her pretty face coming.

“Jude.” She called him out with some urgency, and he sighed.

Maybe the gods couldn’t stop Jude, but she could.

He took his underwear off, only now realizing how painfully hard he was. She watched as his cock sprung out, rigid, leaking with too much precum. He bit his lip and put his hand around his cock, spreading the precum slowly. He knew how sensitive he was right now, and he had to hold it back for her. He lined his member with her entrance and slowly dipped inside her.

She moaned loudly and Jude could feel his breath stopping from how tight she was. He gave her some time to adjust to his size.

“This is too much.” She whined.

“Darling, I’m not even moving.” He replied. “Your boyfriend lacks even in that area? He’s truly useless.”

She would’ve chuckled if she wasn’t having a hard time with the way his cock filled her, the burning sensation from the stretch seeming unending.

“It hurts.”

Jude leaned close to her, their lips almost touching.

“It doesn’t, baby.” He thrusted one time, to make her more used to the movements. “I’m taking the pain away. Just feel me here. That’s all you have to do.” He pressed his hand against her belly and thrusted once again, earning a moan and feeling himself from how big he was.

She could do much better than her boyfriend. He wanted to be the much better.

He started properly moving, hard, fast, desperate for his own release as well. To prove her how much better she could be fucked if he was the one doing it. And each time he hit the spot, he could feel her walls clenching. His hand never left her belly, knowing how deep he was going into her. He couldn’t stop.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and held his hair as his movements became more frenetic, moans dripping from her mouth to his ear with anything he did. He moaned whenever she clenched too hard against him.

“You’re so fucking tight.” he muttered, panting, trying to keep the pace. It was taking all of his willpower to not just come already. She didn’t reply, of course. She was too busy scratching his back and moaning desperately.

His movements became more erratic, slower, and, when her walls clenched around him one last time, he spilled everything inside her and fell to her chest, trying to catch his breath.

“Jude?” She called him out once they could properly speak.

“Yeah?”

“Stay. For the night.” She pleaded softly, caressing his back that were marked by the painting her nails had done.

“I wasn’t planning to go anywhere else, princess.” He smiled at her.

Jude held her against his chest, as she peacefully slept. He leaned his chin on the top of her head and, once he was certain she was sleeping, he sighed.

“I can’t take the pain away because I’m not your man.” Jude whispered. “But I wish I was.”

[ssahotchnerr]

Have you thought of doing a fic where Aaron and Reader are play fighting and Aaron ends up on top of reader? (Doesn’t have to be smut, but if you wanted…)

-🗣️

pinned down

i have not but now i'm OBSESSED cw; fem!reader, established relationship, small hurt to comfort, playful banter, fluff and some suggestion 💓

"Hi honey."

"Hi," you responded, keeping your face hidden in your drawer as Aaron entered the bedroom. He had stayed at the office late, kept by heaps of paperwork and reports. "Did you manage to get everything done?"

One thing about being in a relationship with a profiler, rarely anything got past him, noticing the smallest of shifts in your behavior. A slight change in the way you blinked, brief hesitation in your voice, even the way you held yourself could be enough for him to sense something was off.

Aaron didn't answer, but rather he came to your side, his hand finding your waist. It rest comfortably, his thumb grazing the exposed skin above your waistline. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you answered flatly, rearranging your socks as a way to keep yourself occupied.

"You sure?" His tone wavered in question, unconvinced.

"Mhm." With a shrug, you shut the drawer.

It just hadn't been your day, to simply put it. It had started off bumpy, waking up on the wrong side of the bed. You got Jack to school a little late, spent much more time at a store doing a return than you would have liked, and then got drenched by an unexpected downpour on your way to your car. To top it off, you came back to find a parking ticket waiting for you, all thanks to the meter running out.

Now, you turned and made your way back to the bed, where the laundry basket was waiting. You grabbed Aaron's clean pajamas, setting those out for his convenience.

However, just as your fingers brushed the fabric of the next shirt, Aaron swiftly intervened. He placed the basket on the floor, far out of reach.

You weren't mad at him; it was more that you were looking for any excuse to let your frustration spill onto something else. You met his eyes, a really? plastered across your face. "Aaron."

His choice of rebuttal - grabbing ahold of your waist and throwing you onto the bed, landing with you in a soft thud.

"Aaron!" His name left you in a whine, soon blending into your laughter.

You attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, but his position on top allowed him the leverage to pin you down tightly. That, and the simple fact that he was much stronger than you.

A mischievous glint filled in his eyes, his lips curved in an amused, sly smile. "Yes?"

"Lemme go!" You squeaked, fighting against his hold which he solidly maintained. All your worries seemed to vanish in an instant; the lingering, heavy weight in the middle of your chest lessening as each laugh left you.

"I don't know about that."

"I can't breathe." Tears rolled out from the corner of your eyes due to laughing so profusely. While partially true, you hoped he'd take the bait.

He let go, and you switched tactics. With all your weight, you shifted yourself, slipping out from under him and overpowering him next. You nudged into his side, causing him to fall.

That left you smirking above, straddling him as you held tightly onto his forearms.

"That's cute, sweetheart." He gazed up at you affectionately.

"Is it?" You taunted as your chest rose up and down, a breathless giggle leaving you.

"Y'know," his head tilted, feigning a light, offended pout. "You never gave me a kiss when I got home."

It was too easy to fall for his trap, the temptation to kiss him overtaking the desire to hold onto any remaining grudges you still held against this morning and your local Virginia-state parking attendant. All of which would've been easier to bear if he had been with you. You suddenly found yourself missing him, despite the fact he was right here.

The second you leaned in to grant his request, he bumped his hips up, causing you to lose your balance and topple off him - over to the side and onto the comforter.

Only a few seconds later, you were caged in again; Aaron was top of you, pinning your hands above your head. You relaxed, your posture succumbing to the mattress below; an open invitation for him to have his way with you.

"Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" His face was a few centimeters away from yours, your skin warming from the heat of his breath. He adjusted his grasp, using one hand to hold both your wrists.

"No," you answered, gazing up at him with a spark of playful defiance.

You also took a moment to enjoy the view above you. Aaron's dark eyes, the cowlicks hanging over his forehead, his broad chest (in which the buttons of his shirt were clinging to for dear life), his cologne filling your nose. You were surrounded by him entirely.

"Can you be persuaded?" His eyebrows rose teasingly, leaning in to press a few kisses along your jaw. He let his lips linger, before trailing to your neck and doing the same thing there. He craned back to meet your gaze, inquisitively.

"Maybe. Depends on how convincing you can be." You quipped back, with an almost impish smile that hinted at your mood. It was clear that whatever you'd been upset about, long gone now. You'd still share the reasoning, but in due time.

A delightful laugh escaped him, filled with warmth and fondness. "Is that a challenge, sweetheart?"

[shy-writer-999]

How many dreams to say "I love you?" (ii)

Summary: Zoro can’t stop dreaming about you, his best friend and crewmate. When his dreams start to wander from themes of romance and tenderness, he finds himself splitting at the seams. How long can he keep up this balance of night and day before he starts to go crazy?

Part 2 of 3 (or 4). ~5k words. CW: Mostly smut / PWP! Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Poor, pervy Zoro. Non-consensual voyeurism, masturbation, toys, kissing. NSFW content - minors stay away!

Part 2: A double life is unsustainable.

As much as Zoro told himself that he learned his lesson—don’t eavesdrop on conversations that are clearly not meant for your ears—the dreams about you didn’t stop.

Days went by and he could find no reprieve from the phantom version of you at night. Torture wasn’t the word for it. Agony, more like. He was in agony. Every night.

While the swordsman affirmed to himself that the dreams were a non-issue, and that they’d inevitably stop soon, you were rapidly starting to infect every single facet of his life.

This duality was maddening—at night, he’d answer to a fantasy world with you, where you treated him like some precious thing, called him ‘baby’ or ‘honey,’ and kissed him. But during the day you were his crewmate, friend, and nothing else. He’d smile at you like usual, sit by you at dinner, and tell himself that nothing changed.

This was a half-truth. The only thing that had changed was Zoro. You were behaving typically, maybe a bit quieter than usual, but he told himself that he was overthinking it.

The issue was that you wouldn’t leave him alone at night, and each of your sickeningly heart-melting smiles during the day was making his heart do that twisting thing. He couldn’t stand it.

Zoro didn’t know why his brain wouldn’t abandon this fixation with you—it had almost been a week; how much longer would this keep up? How many more tender moments would he share with you at night before he went insane during the day? If he got to a breaking point, what would fix it?

The dreams were festering inside of him. Confounding this effect was that the quality of sleep he was getting was atrocious. It’s like he wasn’t able to rest properly at night because the dreams were so concerningly lucid—he felt like he almost wasn’t dreaming at all, just living in an alternate reality, a reality turned upside down, where you loved him and smothered him in affection. A reality where he liked that.

Zoro had no one to confide in about his troubles—you were the person who he was the most emotionally close to. If he could have told you, he would have. But he was worried that it would change something. What would blurting out his dreams and baring these hidden thoughts accomplish, other than make you uncomfortable?

If he did that, you may get the wrong idea. He wasn’t trying to come onto you, he wasn’t in love with you, didn’t have feelings for you, etc. Zoro didn’t think he was capable of romantic love, it just wasn’t in the picture for him and never would be. But that wasn’t the issue here, he told himself. In Zoro’s mind, the problem was that he was being tormented by you at night and couldn’t help it. He was at a loss for what to do.

You were one of the highlights of his days, even before the dreams started. Now he could feel himself, more than ever, looking forward to those moments and latching onto them during the day. He harbored the suspicion that his brain would memorize your face more each time. The dream version of you kept getting more lifelike, more brilliant, more real. It was uncanny.

After the first three nights, Zoro started to brace himself. He knew what was coming when he fell asleep. He knew you’d be there waiting for him in some new scenario.

DREAMS 5, 6, & 7: “You’ve been a bit spacey recently.”

The fifth dream Zoro had about you was one where you held his hand (literally, just you holding his hand, nothing else). Your hand was warm and soft—it felt like it was made for him, like you were made for him. You ran your thumb across his skin and squeezed his hand through your intertwined fingers.

It was a short dream. When he woke up, he could still feel your hand on his. If he kept his eyes closed, if he stayed still, he could feel your fingers, your weight, maybe even your breath against his neck…

When he woke up, he was befuddled. Seeing you on deck the following morning, he glanced down at your hands. Would they feel the same as they did in his dream?

The next night, in the sixth dream, you studied his face quizzically.

“What’s wrong babe? You’ve been a bit spacey recently.” Your eyes explored his face imploringly.

He said something in response. He couldn’t remember what it was, and it was of no consequence. After you studied his face more, you remarked, “Zoro, you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” He flushed even in his sleep and woke up moments later to a quicker heartbeat than was normal. This was seriously starting to concern him. As mundane as these sequences were, they were abnormal and confusing.

Were these dreams some subconscious manifestation of a nascent health problem? Or was he not training hard enough? Perhaps this was some form of self-performed punishment for being so distracted by your presence? Maybe he needed to double down on the stoicism and the ascetism.

The seventh dream was also mundane. You were wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of his sweatpants; you kissed him and told him he smelled good. He had seen you wear his hoodies before, in real life. You always had an excuse (“mine are all in the washing machine, can I wear some of yours?) and he always looked at you more than normal.

There was something about you in his clothes that stirred him inside. He didn’t know what was up with that. Something squeezed inside of him at the sight of your face peeking out of his hoodies, your limbs filling up his shirts and sweats; he couldn’t put his finger on it.

The morning after the hoodie and sweatpants dream, Zoro woke up perplexed. His dreams, in the wake of the conversation he overheard, stayed relatively romantic. They weren’t straying from themes of tenderness and endearment (well, except that first dream, the shower sex one).

The romance is what baffled him the most—he had never looked at anyone with romantic intentions before, so why was his brain throwing it at him? Why you, in particular? It was mystifying, suffocating, and excruciating.

There were floodgates inside of him, pooled up dams of emotion, burgeoning romance, desires and fears, and your conversation with Nami sent a shockwave through those walls. They began to crumble, and new cracks showed every night.

Zoro tried not to worry, but he had an understanding that this odd trend of (what was it at this point?) six nights consumed by you was only sustainable so far as the dreams stayed this way—tender and, above everything, mundane.

He was a regimented man. He stuck to a clear and concise schedule, as far as waking up, feeding himself, working out, etc. But the dreams threw a wrench in his daily routine. The negligent quality of sleep he was getting, even after only six days, was starting to have quite the effect on him.

He was barely keeping it together by the six-day mark, dark circles deepening into sunken rings under his eyes. He concluded that he couldn’t handle anything farther than these dreams of kisses and cuddles. If the dreams changed—if they got explicit, he told himself—then he’d start to really lose it.

Emotional turmoil be damned, he could retain a sense of normalcy as long as his waking hours went on as usual and nothing else changed. He may be exhausted, but he could cope. He hoped the dreams would fade into absurdity, cease, and leave him the hell alone.

This was a self-deluding hope.

DREAM 8: Breaking point

The next night, Zoro dreamed that he was walking around the ship aimlessly. He did a lap around the deck, meandered lazily through the galley, and checked the crow’s nest. It seemed like the whole thing was empty. Where was everyone?

He sauntered to check out the sleeping quarters. All the doors were open, the lights were off, and the cabins were empty, except yours. Your door was ajar and the light was on—he felt an overwhelming sense of curiosity. As Zoro walked towards your door, time seemed to alter. He moved in slow motion, laser-focused on your cabin, approaching slowly with bated breath.

As he got closer, he started to hear something.

It was a mix of sounds. There was a wet sort of clacking sound, first, and when he got closer to your door, he also heard faint gasps and gentle moans. His heart beat faster. He reached the door—it was only a couple inches open. He knew way lay ahead.

The sounds were getting louder. He leaned in, staring through the miniscule gap between the door and doorframe, to see what was happening. His hand was poised on the doorknob, ready to push it open.

When Zoro saw what was happening inside, he froze.

You were lying on your bed naked, thighs spread, propped up on your pillows. Your face was contorted into an expression of bliss, mouth agape just slightly, brows pinched together, eyes closed. His gaze travelled down to fix on your breasts, a perfect pair in his opinion. But your arms looked like they were moving, so his gaze trailed down farther. He saw clearly now that you were touching yourself.

You were moving one finger very slowly in and out of yourself; your sensitive spots were red and inflamed, juices seeping out and covering your thighs and hand. He listened to your labored breathing and heard the messy sounds echo through the room.

When you stuffed another finger in yourself, he heard you murmur something, but he couldn’t quite make out what you said. He leaned closer, his proximity to the door threatened to push it open.

You let the sound out again. He heard it this time.

“Zoro.”

Your moan was quiet and needy. He was mesmerized—you moaned his name again and moved your fingers faster. Your pitch increased, your body tensed up, you were so wet that arousal was pooling beneath you, saturating and staining the sheets.

He thought you were about to orgasm when you stopped suddenly, drawing your fingers out of yourself with a gasp.

Reaching to the side, you picked something up. Zoro’s brain registered it with a considerable lag—that was a vibrator. That was your vibrator. He saw it once on accident, when he offered to grab some of your laundry and put it in with his load.

That must have been months ago. When he walked into your room and looked for your hamper, the vibrator caught his eye, sitting on your bed as plain as day. You had forgotten that it was there. He found himself blushing and pretended like he hadn’t seen it. But now it made an appearance in his dream—how sick and twisted.

You pressed the toy into your entrance, pressing it inside yourself with it for a few moments before you pulled it out again. Every thrust of your wrist was coupled with a keen of his name.

The vibrator was dripping wet. A string of your arousal connected the tip of the vibrator to your core and his eyes followed as you brought the toy to your clit. Pressing a button, the vibrator sprung to life, filling the room with a low whirring and pulsing sound. You whined his name again and pushed the vibrator back and forth on your sensitive nub, toes curling in pleasure. Your other hand crept down and snuck a finger back into yourself.

Zoro was hypnotized by the sight of you getting off with both your vibrator and fingers, evidently touching yourself to the thought of him. Your moans got louder again, along with the obscene sounds emanating from down there. He could feel his erection. He was painfully hard.

You started to writhe and squirm.

“Zoro, fuck,” you mewled, tone pathetic and desperate. “Fuuuucccck me, Zoro, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your thighs started to shake.

It seemed like you were about to cum. He wanted you to cum, wanted to see you cum from fucking yourself with your fingers and toy to the thought of him—but right when you started moaning the loudest, right when you were one good pulse away from screaming his name, Zoro woke up. Of course.

Upon opening his eyes, he was immeasurably frustrated. Any time that these dreams, sexual or not, seemed like they were coming to a climax, he’d always wake up. It was like his brain was telling him to go fuck himself. And he was about to.

He couldn’t take it anymore, it was like his mind was playing games, like it was edging him or trying to piss him off. He was rock hard, about to cry from frustration, wishing more than anything that he could just have you, but knowing that would and should never happen.

Zoro had been telling himself that the dreams were just an aberration, a mistake, that he could forget about them during the day because they only were a nuisance at night, and nothing really happened in them that would impact his day in any meaningful way. But the narrative of the dreams not impacting his day didn’t hold up when he started to fist his cock while thinking about you.

He was forced to face the facts—the dreams were getting worse to the point where they started to bleed into his waking hours.

The morning after Zoro dreamed about you masturbating, he had to step away. Seeing you walk around the deck, interacting with you and watching you walk away… it was too much.

He went to the bathroom, locked the door, and palmed his growing erection until he couldn’t hold back anymore. Unzipping his pants and sneaking a hand into his underwear, he started to touch himself.

Maybe it had just been too long since he orgasmed (or even touched a woman). Sure, that’s what all of this was. His brain was grasping for straws because he was too repressed, right? You were there in front of him every day, so his brain had to make do—this was just a matter of proximity, nothing more. This is what Zoro coddled himself with, soothing his worries for a few moments. It had just been too long.

While he squeezed and stroked his aching length, he could barely keep in the feral grunts and groans threatening to leave his mouth. He bit his lip. Every time his fist grazed his angry, leaking tip, his cock twitched. It felt so good, but it would feel even better, if only…

At first, he tried to not think about you while doing it. He felt guilty enough as it was, having explicit dreams about his closest friend. But when his hand was wrapped around his shaft and precum trickled down his fingers in clear rivulets, the image of you touching yourself seared in his brain, unrelenting and arousing.

“Zoro.”

His name had sounded otherworldly when it parted your lips, coated in tones of lust and desperation. Just like the dreamscape he entered every night, composed of only thoughts, his thoughts in this moment could stay internalized too, couldn’t they? Kept private? This could be a one-time thing, hell, maybe it would make the dreams and nagging thoughts go away altogether. It had been too long, after all. Against his better judgment, the swordsman indulged. Just this once.

Scattered scenes flashed through Zoro’s mind the instant he decided to let his thoughts wander. All of it thundered at once like a maelstrom.

First, the look of your eyes, glossy, rolling back in your head in ecstasy. Then, the image of him shoving his cock in your wet mouth and watching you choke on it. The feeling of scissoring his fingers inside of you, of pulling your hair, of listening to your whimpers while he wrenched orgasms from you, pushing his fingers into your mouth while you sucked on them and made eye contact with him, watching your body writhe and writhe and writhe… every morsel and droplet of your envisioned pleasure fueled the force that was Zoro’s fist on his cock.

It would be hot and sloppy. Filthy.

You’d tell him to “keep going,” you’d dig your fingernails into his biceps, drool from how good it felt, swallow up his inches like nothing—he revered you, craved you, and worshipped you. He needed all of you. Wanted to smell you, taste you, hear you, and have you. He was getting carried away.

What if you walked into the bathroom right now? The door was locked, obviously, but the mental image of you stumbling across him like this gave him some sort of nasty thrill. If only you approached him, sunk to your knees and opened your mouth, petted him and praised him—

When the swordsman came all over his hands, he felt vile. He felt like a hypocrite.

He always called Sanji a pervert and derided him for his lack of control around women, and now here Zoro was, getting off on a dream he had about his own friend and crewmate. And what’s worse is that he didn’t look away in the dream when he saw you touching yourself. He didn’t even try. (To be fair, it’s not like he had control over what he dreamed about, nor could he control what he did in them, but that was a nonfactor to him.)

Zoro felt like shit.

The next time you talked to him, he turned crimson. He seemed distracted. He had been working out more than usual, so you told yourself it was the post-workout glow. You’d never seen him blush a day in your life, but sure enough, it was creeping up his neck and slowly starting to take over his cheeks.

He tried to forget his trip to the bathroom, but your pretty face made his heart thump and his stomach turn. He tried to forget the mental images his brain conjured up in his rabid state of desire. It was futile. He felt like he was going to be sick.

In your brief conversation after dinner the same day, you asked Zoro if he’d grab a drink with you. “It’s been a while,” you smiled at him, same as ever. “Let’s catch up in the next couple days over some sake. Deal?”

He hesitantly agreed. He missed you—the real you, not the dream version of you. When he said yes, you beamed at him, and his mouth went dry. He needed to get a grip and figure out what the fuck his problem was.

Zoro gave up on talking to you about the conversation he eavesdropped on over a week ago. He felt like he missed his opportunity (which is arguable) and, more than that, he felt like he wouldn’t know how to approach that conversation. What would he say at this point? “Hey, I’ve been having vivid dreams about you and I’m going fucking crazy?”

No. So, he kept it inside. He figured that he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. Would he ever admit that he heard the conversation? He wondered about this. Maybe he’d never fess up to it. Maybe he’d keep it to himself, internalize once again. But he was quickly learning that when he tried to stuff these huge emotions back inside of him, they got bigger, louder, more unruly. It was like psychological warfare, except the assailant was his brain.

At this point, the dreams felt all-consuming. He’d get so wrapped up in them at night that he felt like he was in a daze during the day. Perhaps he was being dramatic, or perhaps his brain was desperately struggling to regulate a whopping load of emotions he had never encountered before, or rather, that he had never let himself acknowledge before.

He worried that you could tell something was off with him. You could.

Later, you asked, “Hey Zoro, you doing ok?”

He stuttered out a response, flustered by your presence, falling apart in seconds. It was very unlike him. “Wha—? H-hey, uh, yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”

“Nothing, just checking on you. You’ve been a bit spacey recently.” Your expression was one of concern. He seemed off, not to mention those dark circles of his. Was he getting sick? Was the insomnia coming back?

Upon hearing your words, it was like a lightning bolt hit Zoro. “You’ve been a bit spacey recently.”

What an insane coincidence. You said those very words to him in a dream a few nights ago, after which you complimented his eyes. He froze for a second, then tried to play off his shock with a yawn.

“I feel fine.” He shrugged. It wasn’t convincing in the slightest. “Just haven’t been sleeping the best.”

The paranoia was coming—did you know that he was dreaming about you? Had he been acting weird? Could you tell that he was thinking about you every moment of the day? God forbid, were you starting to form the misconception that he liked you in some romantic or erotic way? Fuck. This was getting ridiculous. Get a grip, man, he told himself.

You tried to ignore how odd he was acting. If he said he was fine, then he was fine.

He tried to convince himself that he was fine. He tried to wait it out and see that his attempt at convincing himself was effective.

It was not.

DREAM 9: A shocking revelation

Zoro’s dream the following night was delightful and concerning.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, fiddling with something. Maybe he was sharpening a sword, refitting a sheath, polishing his boots… something like that. That part was foggy. Behind him, Zoro felt a weight on the bed. He knew it was you.

You scooted close to him from where you were sitting and reached your hands under the hem of his shirt. Your fingers ran over his bare skin, relishing the feeling of his abs and happy trail, every inch of his taut, tanned skin. You reached around his front and wrapped your arms around him. Your palms were warm, and you moved closer, body flush on his from behind. It was not lost on him that he could feel your breasts pressing on his back.

“Zoroooo,” you cooed right in his ear. Goosebumps. “You’re no fun. Pay attention to me. I’m bored.” You were whining.

You tickled him, poked him, kissed his back through the fabric of his shirt. You were all over him and it felt like your hands were everywhere. You were begging him to put down what he was doing and give you his undivided attention.

“Fine,” he responded in mock annoyance, rolling his eyes and putting his things away. He turned, maneuvering his body so he was facing you. “What do you want me to do?”

You pouted. “I don’t know. I’m bored. Let’s lay down and cuddle. Please?”

The scene shifted. You two were lying in bed, facing each other. You were eye to eye, arms thrown over each other. Zoro tucked your hair behind your ear, breathless. He was enamored, entranced by your beauty and admiration. Your hand was placed under his shirt, resting on his side. The skin contact felt electric. You leaned in and started to pepper his face with kisses—a recurring theme in these dreams. He must have really wanted that.

He closed his eyes.

You first brushed your lips lightly over his, and then you moved to kiss all over one of his cheeks, all over his forehead, his other cheek, his chin, his nose, his eyes, his jawline, ending at his lips again. You nuzzled his nose, ran your fingers through his hair—it was like you couldn’t get enough of him. Your lips were soft, meeting his delicately. When you pulled away from him. You held eye contact, an affectionate smile playing across your lips. He smelled you, felt you, and felt enveloped by you.

Zoro leaned in and kissed your forehead. You giggled and pulled him closer.

He could feel himself starting to say something in the dream, working up the nerve to say something that made his heart feel like it would stop. The words were getting caught in his mouth, they felt like they were taking forever to form…

They were words he almost said to you once before in a dream. He forced them out through his cotton mouth and hesitation.

“I love you.”

When the words left his lips, that twisting feeling happened inside of him so intensely that it must have detonated something. Each piece of shrapnel sent bolts of lightning through his body; he felt like he was vibrating, euphoric, every nerve on fire. He couldn’t breathe.

The dream version of you looked into his eyes and nodded. “I know you do, Zoro. I see you.”

Buzzing, Zoro felt like he wanted to rip his heart out of his chest and give it to you. He wanted you to see him, to see every part of him, to bare his soul to you and say ‘look, here is everything in me, here is every part of me.’

You were about to pull him into another kiss before he awoke up with a start, sweating and practically shaking.

Zoro’s heart was beating out of his chest. He sat up. Immediately, his first instinct was to check whether or not you were really in his bed. You weren’t—to both his relief and disappointment. He checked the time—3:36AM. Far too early. But he couldn’t fall back asleep now, not when his heart was pounding like this.

Why did he tell you he loved you?

It would be an understatement to say that Zoro’s mind was racing. He recalled that in one of his first dreams he wondered if you would still feel lonely if he embraced you. But if he did more than embrace you, if he gave all of himself to you, what then? What would you feel if he did that?

Would you stop feeling lonely and sad if he gave everything to you, even his heart? Would you give him yours, in return?

He ruminated on the concept of giving all of himself to you. What did that mean, and why did the thought pass through his mind when he was dreaming?

To give you all of him, for you to see every part of him… was that love? Is this what it meant to love? If giving you every part of himself meant spending every moment with you that he could, kissing and caressing you, making you feel better, listening to every word you stored up inside, sharing every word he stored up inside… The realization hit him like a train.

He wanted that. He ardently wanted to fill in the hole that loneliness had carved out of your life. And he realized that there was one in his life, as well. A lacuna of would-be companionship that he had forever thought was out of reach.

Could he give you what you needed? Is that what love is? To share yourself with someone else, to want them, to cherish them, care for them, see them for who they are?

He wanted to give you all of him. He didn’t want you to feel lonely, sad, or distressed ever again. He wanted to always be there, he wanted you to know you could tell him anything, wanted to know you like the back of his hand, and he wanted you to know him like that, too.

Zoro understood now what that twisting, thumping feeling inside of him was. No, it wasn’t arrythmia, or indigestion, or anything of the sort—it had been lying low for months, boiling under the surface. It all clicked into place.

That stirring and twisting feeling? It was the feeling of that lock inside of him breaking into a million pieces. The lock around his heart that prevented him from wanting to love and from knowing how to… it was gone now, obliterated.

That impenetrable lock, the lead chains, the crushing weight of it…  He used to think that the key to that lock didn’t exist. But now that you were here, Zoro realized that you were the missing key. You were the one capable of ripping open that relentless opacity, that stoicism, that brick of pain that he tried to ignore and train away. You had ripped it to shreds, like it was nothing. You did it over the course of many months, many days, and even in his sleep.

Zoro realized that he was in love with you.

He wanted to recognize you completely and absolutely, and for you to do the same to him.

Zoro wanted to take showers with you and take turns shampooing each other’s hair. He wanted to hold your hand in public, feeling and seeing nothing else but you. He wanted to come home after a long day and hold you tight, kiss you and call you sweet names. He wanted to nuzzle your nose every day and drink up every smile like he was starving for it.

To think that you were so sad and lonely you cried? That shattered him. Hearing you be so vocal about it, seeing a different side of you that he never knew before—maybe he never felt this emotion until he met you for a reason. Now that the pieces were falling into place, he saw that it was you. It was always you. It was only you. It would only be you forever.

He did not have another dream about you for three nights.

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taglist: @riftmage27 @eggrollforyou @imhwajaez @wiyenspanel @xxmysticxxx @moonmaiden1996

a/n: thanks so much for reading! part 3 is going to be a minute - lmk if you want to be on the taglist! i have yet to write (most of) it.