#woo let's fuckin go

[chloelouygo]

self care is cancelled we're drinking rum and reading looking for alaska

[sugarwarachan]

roll the dice - ft. sero hanta

pairing: sero hanta x roommate!reader

summary: It's Valentine's Day and Sero does his best to keep his horny thoughts to himself. He doesn't succeed.

cws: smut mdni, face sitting, sero hanta is a pussy-eating KING, dirty talk

based on this prompt list

"Wow," Sero whistles, while you teeter on one heel and hop into the other. That dress hugs every inch of you. "Someone’s lookin’ good. Hot date?"

You laugh, and fuck, he’s such an idiot, because the sound travels straight to his dick. He adjusts himself as subtly as he can and goes back to cooking dinner.

"Something like that.” You swipe on lip gloss in the hallway mirror. "He’s a coworker. I might have mentioned him?"

You’ve mentioned him 17 times. Not like Sero’s counting.

"Make sure he treats you right," is all he says instead, doing his best to ignore the cute little blush tearing across your face as you duck out the door.

Alone on Valentine’s Day, he thinks ruefully, settling his long frame on the couch. Alone on Valentine’s Day with a raging hot case of let-me-fuck-you-right-now for his roommate.

He should have turned down being your roommate the minute he saw you on Denki’s phone. If he had, he wouldn’t be this jealous of some random shithead taking you out for Valentine’s Day.

He considers texting Denki just to have someone to commiserate with, but the guy is probably doing his best to woo Jiro and doesn’t need the distraction.

He sparks up a joint and turns on 13 Going on 30 (so he’s a rom-com guy, sue him), trying not to think about how much better this night would be if you were here.

The door clicks a half hour later, followed by the rap of your heels on the ground. You trudge into the room and slump on the couch right next to him.

“He didn’t even show up,” you whisper into the side of his neck, wrapping your arms around him. He feels a few tears hit his collarbone.

Sero Hanta considers himself a pretty even-keeled type of guy, but wanting to punch this dick’s lights' outs shoots to the top of his to-do list.

“Oh honey, what a fuckin’ dickhole.” His hands tighten on your waist. “Doesn’t deserve someone like you, anyway.”

He probably shouldn’t say that, not when he’s rubbing circles on your hip through the material of your dress, the scorching heat of your body against his impossible to ignore. But he's been thinking it for months now, all of his own attempts at dating tossed to the wayside when he realized he just preferred coming home to you.

“No?” You pull away and delicately wipe away unshed tears. He doesn't know why he finds it so cute, this innate desire to preserve what's left of your mascara. “Who does deserve me, Hanta?”

You grab the joint and drag and his mind goes fuzzy. You’ve never outright called him on it like this before.

“Maybe I do angel, ya ever think of that?”

“Yeah?” There’s that megawatt smile of yours, kicking him in the teeth. “You think of me like that, too?”

It’s new territory for the both of you, admitting to the attraction that Sero realizes has been simmering for weeks.

“Yeah. I think of you all the time.” He cups your face and cocks his head. "We doin' this? You gonna let me show you how I'd treat ya on Valentine's Day?"

You roll your eyes at him affectionately. "Cheesy bastard."

He cuts off your laugh with the press of his mouth.

Sero's not normally one to wax poetic, but something about the way your body instantly sinks into his makes his heart lurch. You kiss him like you've been spending your whole life studying how to do it, and it drives him absolutely insane.

"Knew we'd be good together," he says, grinding the curve of his cock into the cleft between your thighs. "Feel how hard I already am, baby? Just from one little kiss."

You groan into his mouth and start pawing at his clothes.

"I know, I know, want you naked too. Don't fuckin' pout, I think you'll like the idea." He repositions the two of you with him lying down on the couch, you straddling his hips. "Remember when you said you've never sat on a guy's face?"

Your eyes darken with excitement. "I remember."

"What if we change that?" He strokes his thumb under the band of your dress, shimmying it over your hips. The pretty red lace covering your pussy makes his breath catch. "Because you know what's gonna happen if we don't?"

He traces the folds of your pussy through your underwear with the pads of his fingers.

"I'm gonna get inside this perfect fuckin' pussy and embarrass myself. Probably come after two pumps like an idiot because she's just so fucking sweet." He pulls your panties down and drags you up to his face. He catches the little whine of insecurity in your throat at the position.

Your pussy is swollen and begging for attention, arousal clinging to your lips like dew.

"Take a fuckin’ seat, baby, ya think I’ve never done this before?"

He molds his hands around the meat of your hips and thighs, and then Sero feasts, sucking and grinding his chin and nose and tongue up into your cunt. You wail and fall forward, holding yourself steady on the arm of the couch. He doesn't care if he has to hold you up himself; he's in heaven between your thighs, the taste and scent of you all he can fucking think about.

You cum quickly, gasping and shuddering above him as he drinks down your orgasm like fucking water.

"Felt good, didn't it?" he prods, biting your inner thigh and soothing it with a kiss. Your shaky nod makes him grin.

Sero sits backs up with you in his lap, wiping the back of his mouth with a forearm and licking at his lips like a dog. He hopes he smells like you for hours.

Black streaks of mascara run under your lashes. He swipes them away with the back of his thumb. "Sorry honey. You worked hard on this makeup, huh? And I'm just making you cry it off."

It's your turn to cut him off with a kiss.

ahhhhh i've written for him ONCE i hope i did him justice

[wild-jackalope]

summary :: virgin sex with your sinister boyfriend, Mark!

warning :: rough, virgin sex, p in v woo, fem reader, relationship is def fucked up, 'I can fix him', sex hurting, missionary, not my usual smut so lmk if its any good, smut w/ no plot, fucking u will make me stronger!! - sinister Mark, dub-con (?)

note :: inspired by stuff written by @slutla love that b, go read her stuff

He hadn't knocked—he never really did. You just looked up and saw him. Floating in the centre of your room like it was his.

"Mark?" His name slipped out soft and gasped, a flicker of fear in your throat. The feeling settled in your stomach when the black and yellow registered.

That look on his face—you knew it. The specific knot in his brow, the strained frown. It wasn't tender sincerity, it never was.

I'm about to feel you up like you're my personal doll. The look said.

It had become your role, unspoken but absolute: be there.

Take him in. Soothe the ache in his skull with your soft body. Let him bury everything he didn’t know how to say beneath your bruising skin.

He moved without a word, kneeled at the edge of your bed, and pushed your legs apart. His mouth met yours with intent and a surprising reverence.

You tried to soak it up as much as possible, tasting the crumbs of love through his lips. Kisses like that made it all worth it—to you at least.

It was a needed reminder that Mark loved you.

His tongue swiped across the cavern between your lips, a claim.

Affection had crept in over time. Mark had never known kind love, Nolan was a cruel father who only offered praise when shown incredible power and his Mum had passed at such a young age he likely didn't hold any memories of her cuddles. You knew that well, it being a piercing reminder that kept you tethered to him.

Mark didn't care for casual touches, curt kisses or cuddles at night.

The feeling of you opening your lips to let him in and letting loose a moan which you couldn't hold back was what he preferred.

"Fuckin' missed you," he murmured, his guttural words vibrating onto your lips.

Mark shed the tight fabric of his mask, tossing it across your floor.

He stared down at you with dark eyes shaded by frantic hair, jaw tight and face littered with a light flush alongside red cuts.

"Mark..." you frowned, taking his face in your hands.

He took your wrists, holding them with a pressure that made it hard to move your fingers. "I'm fine."

He hated words. He preferred to hear you sob.

He returned to the feverish exploration of your mouth, releasing you only after guiding your hands to his hair. Clear in what he wanted: your touch.

Your fingers dipped through his messy hair, nails running along his scalp in long, gentle rakes. They trailed down his neck and across his shoulders. A tremble passed.

"God," he grunted, closing the minuscule space between you to have you compressed to the place where he longed for you the most.

Hungry fingers devoured you, sliding under your shirt and chasing the desire to feel your flushed flesh.

Then one had dipped lower, between your legs.

His palm cupped your heat, holding you there and feeding off your startled reaction. This was new territory. You were familiar with the feeling of his hand palming the fat of your breasts, or the squeeze of his hand against your thighs until he left bruises in his wake.

But his middle finger pressing into the indent of your clothed sex was entirely new, and it made you shrink beneath him.

"This your first time?" He asked, no hints of affection lacing his question only something territorial and dog-like.

"Yeah," you nodded once and swallowed thickly.

Your eyes peered down without thinking, catching on the obvious bump over the base of his suit, demanding to be freed of the trapping fabric.

A grin grew across his face, both satisfied and threatening. "Cool."

He let the pressure of his palm sink in further into your heat, his other hand pressed into your ribs and keeping you still against the plush bed.

"You gonna let me?" He asked, too casually.

"Do—do you want to?" the way you considered him was so sickeningly sweet. He puffed an amused exhale.

"I wanna hear you say it."

He didn't care for consent, he wanted devotion.

You nodded, slow and dizzy. "Yes, I want to have sex with you."

His lips fell to yours with a crashing passion again, his tongue already fighting to explore yours.

"Marhk—" his name muffled in your mouth, enunciation taken by his hasty exploration of your spit-soaked cavern. You weren't sure if he was too taken up in the lust of it all, or if he did hear and just didn't care.

You attempted to recline your head back, but Mark only followed you until you were wedged between him and the bed. Then, you took his burly shoulders in your hands and pushed against him.

He stilled, annoyed.

"What."

"I love you." You said, offering a weak but certain smile.

He kissed you harder, like a punishment for your empty words. "I know," he muttered, "that's why you'll take it."

His fingers slid under your pants and underwear, finally dragging along your bare slit. The first direct touch made you jerk, a helpless cry punched out of your throat.

"That's right," he exhaled, a breathy chuckle in his chest, "I wanna feel how much you love me."

He teased you for a moment longer—circling, dripping, spreading—until he decided it wasn't torturous enough. His fingers hooked around your bottoms, yanking them down your thighs in one strong pull.

You barely had time to breathe before he was stripping himself too, dragging his tight suit down to his waist, the shade of his cape no longer shielding your body. You closed your legs, unwilling to bear the naked humiliation.

But it didn't matter, because Mark pried your legs open with casual strength, like your legs were made up of nothing but thin bone.

Between the open space of your legs, you caught a glimpse of him—already hard, already glossy with pre.

He coated his tip in your slick and your body jolted in reaction. Which only had Mark forcing you further into the bed in an attempt to keep you still.

Then—without a breath of warning—he pushed inside.

He'd only glided against your insides halfway before you constricted at the sudden, alien pressure.

"Mark!"

But he continued, slowly, surely, concealing his thickness inside you. “Shit, that’s too much for you?” He asked, pressing his thumb to your clit.

It was. He could feel it in the violent tremble of your insides, and the way blood soared through your veins with how quickly your heart pumped. Your body was fighting him, but you weren't going to stop him.

You forced down the ball building up your throat with a swallow. "No, I'm okay," you assured.

His thumb began moving against your clit, drawing slow, deliberate circles. The only sign of softness.

"Don't lie to me," he muttered, "does it hurt?"

"Y-Yes."

The admission, the way you look up at him with something fragile in your eyes jolted his dick, and it throbbed against your constrictive insides.

It caressed something broken in him, something that made him press deeper into you. He leaned over you like a shadow and kissed you again, muffling your gasp as he started to move.

The first thrust felt like agony, his length forcing itself inside you and slowly sliding out before stuffing you again. Each rut of his hips jolted your body, but his hand kept you firm against the mattress.

You cried out, every blow to your insides shooting a stinging pain across your abdomen that followed with a quick aftertaste of pleasure.

His lips crushed yours, devouring every gasp and whimper. He kissed with teeth, with tongue, with the kind of force that sent your head spinning. His tongue grazed against your lower lip, before he sucked on the tender skin, leaving a bite sharp enough to leak hot blood, which he smoothed over with a slow, filthy lick.

You couldn't even try to keep up with him.

No one else could take him, not Cecil, not the guardians, not even his father, but you could—like this. Flushed and abused below him.

You could take the bruises, the nasty words, because you loved him. You loved him. It satisfied something deep and cruel inside him.

"Fuuuck." His head dipped to your shoulder, his lips still sweet with your metallic blood. "Let me go faster," he groaned, the words quavering against your shoulder.

"Okay," you nodded, squeezing your eyes shut in preparation.

"Yeah? Can I?" He asked—but it wasn't really a question, just a sweetly dressed demand to hear you say you wanted him to wreck you.

Each thrust that drilled into you after was a broken reminder that you were his, a reassurance that your body would remember him long after he'd pulled out and disappeared into the sky.

The previous pace had teetered near too much and now, with the quick smacks of skin and the way Mark's tip surged against your nerves had reached an overstimulating point, the pain and pleasure forced you too quickly over the waves of your climax.

Mark felt it—the full body shake and the throbbing tightness of your insides. The way you clenched around him in rhythmic waves.

Your nails clawed his shoulders, leaving desperate, white lines. Your eyes welled with shining tears and they escaped you in burning streams.

Mark skipped a thrust, only for a heartbeat to let you overwhelm his senses. Though he'd never say it aloud, Mark thought you looked beautiful.

When he threw his hips into you again, your next orgasm followed quick and hot behind your first.

This time, the sucking of your inside threw him over the edge, too.

You felt a new warmth pool inside you, sucked in by the twitching of Mark's dick. He groaned through clenched teeth, milked of his climax far too soon.

He pushed into you as deep as he could go, one final time, forcing his cum to dribble out of your stuffed sex. It had been tinted a light pink, mixed with specks of your blood.

You could hardly feel the tension that first strained your insides, just a numbing buzz left in the wake of Mark's quick thrusts.

He didn't speak, but his hand, rough and warm lifted you from its bruising entrapment of your body. You gasped, a space in your lungs that you hadn't known was stolen by the pressure filled again.

"Breathe," he muttered.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your breathing.

He only stared at you, eyes dark and feral. As if daring you to say you loved him.

You took his cheek with a shaky breath and pressed a weak kiss to his lips, raw and filled with sincerity. It was confession enough.

[kurooh]

FIRST DATE JITTERS ☆ MIYA ATSUMU

atsumu swears he isn’t crazy.

yes, he’s talking to himself while standing in the middle of his very empty apartment, right at the epicenter of the mess he’s made with his own hands. a lamp gifted to him by his mom is on its side on the floor, the lampshade permanently dented now—the flung shoes that had knocked it over are beside it, the toes pointing right at him to further prove that it was entirely his doing.

rumpled blankets are hanging off the foot of the bed, touching the floor while they’re weighed down by all of the clothes he’s dragged out of his closet. somehow, his high school jersey made it into the mix. god, like he’d ever wear that to a date.

atsumu slams down on the dial button again and waits impatiently, starting to fidget as the low tone of the phone drones into his ear. if he gets sent to voicemail one more fucking time—

“what do ya want, tsumu?” osamu’s grumble crackles through the phone, accompanied by the sounds of talking and clinking dishes. “ya only called me nineteen fuckin’ times. should’a known it was only a matter a’time before ya called the fuc—ahem, the restaurant.”

“answer yer phone an’ i wouldn’t have’ta call ya so many goddamn times! listen, i need yer help with something, i’ve gotta pick up a date in a half hour and i—”

“tsumu has a wittle date, huh?” on the other side, osamu ignores the weird looks from customers and his own staff members as he pitches his voice. “and ya just had ta make it my problem. i’m not comin’ over there, ya need to deal with it yerself.”

atsumu sighs indignantly, practically blowing steam out through his nostrils like a wild bison. his brother is really, really getting on his last nerve, but he doesn’t want to show up at your place with a vein bulging out of his forehead, so he tries to calm himself. “if ya’d just listen ta me, ya’d understand that i need some help choosing what ta wear. my apartment’s a fuckin’ mess right now, which coulda been prevented if ya picked up earlier, goddamn it!”

he shouts the last of it and hopes that osamu doesn’t hang up and instead senses his plight with the hard-wired brotherly instincts they both share.

“sorry, what was that? the restaurant’s real busy, i think i might have to get back to it.”

“i need yer advice! i don’t know what i should wear ta pick her up, so stop messin’ around and help me. yer the one who’s been on more dates anyway, ya scrub.”

osamu sighs, probably fidgeting with the phone cord as he contemplates giving in and helping out. this is the first time his brother has called with this much desperation over a date, of all things—he honestly thought that atsumu would get better at this whole song and dance once he made it onto msby. he supposes it’s a good thing that he’s the one atsumu is calling, and it’s a nice little ego boost too.

anyway, between the two of them, he’s always had an easier time talking to and wooing women. you’ve come up in their conversations a few times before, but atsumu tends to drone on about how much he likes you, so osamu pointedly avoids the topic. as much as osamu loves him, he knows that his brother can be a bit much—awkwardly making jokes when he first meets someone, describing volleyball to them against their will, and worse, texting back too quickly to start up more torturous conversations.

but from what atsumu’s divulged to him over the phone, osamu understands that you are a perfect match for his brother. you balance out all of his excitement and listen to his volleyball stories—even laughing genuinely at a few of them—in a way that nobody has before. osamu wants his brother to be happy, and he also wants to be the one credited with bringing the two of you together (he can see this working out in the long run).

“m’kay, tsumu, open yer ears and listen closely. got it?”

atsumu’s trying not to start sweating and ruin the results of what ended up being an hour long shower; you unknowingly send him a friendly text letting him know you’re ready to go and awaiting him. “yeah, i got it . . samu, fuck, she’s sayin’ she’s ready and—”

osamu snaps into the serious, focused persona he usually reserves for when he’s crammed in the kitchen during a holiday rush hour. “ignore her text an’ tell me what yer options are. i assume yer takin’ her ta dinner, right?”

“fancy place over on eleventh street. both of ‘em are dress shirts, but it’s between dark blue, white, and—”

“dark blue, tsumu. make sure it has a goddamn collar, you ain’t going ta a team dinner.”

atsumu frowns as he holds up the shirt, scanning over the fabric for a single wrinkle. he got everything he could find dry cleaned just for this moment and steamed—three dress shirts, two pairs of pants, a vest, and two ties. you’re probably sitting on the couch at home, waiting for a text back in your pretty dress, completely unaware of the fact that he’s spiraling. seeing the dry cleaning bill plus the rush charge on top of it made him take a lap around the parking lot, but he returned brandishing his card, reminding himself that this much effort would totally be worth it. “‘m gonna go with the black pants. should i wear a vest too or will she laugh at me?”

osamu winces, sucking in a sharp breath at the thought. this is a risky maneuver, but it should be fine if he balances it out with a nice tie. one of his waitresses is mouthing a plea for help toward him, and he’s trying to let her know he needs two more minutes max.

“samu, come on,” his voice gets whiny and he stamps his foot on the carpet in frustration. “‘m getting sweaty already.”

“deodorant before ya put anything on, don’t wanna take her breath away with yer stench. match the vest ta the pants, make sure ya got clean socks on.”

“oh, fuck off! i always wear clean socks, it was only that one time.” atsumu is currently rifling through his drawers for a pair of clean socks without patterns in case you end up seeing them later on, and he finally comes up with a tight ball of fabric. he holds it up like it’s a gold nugget, the eureka of the decade, and then remembers that nobody is in the apartment with him.

“look, tsumu, i gotta go. remember ta be a gentleman ‘n hold doors, pull chairs, all that.”

atsumu’s face drops while he’s in the middle of pulling his socks on. he starts to protest uselessly, growing more panicked with every word that tumbles out of his mouth. “samu, oh my god. she’s gonna look really fuckin’ good, how do i compliment her? what if i start chokin’ when we’re eatin’ and i embarrass myself? i need ya ta talk ta me, i really like her and—”

“tsumu, breathe. no need ta get so damn worked up, it’s jus’ a date. be yerself an’ use yer judgment. ya got it in the bag, don’t sweat it.”

osamu considers that this may be the wrong choice of words, because atsumu groans and pops off the cap of what is probably a stick of deodorant. dejected, his brother mumbles a goodbye and a thanks, not wanting to hang up himself.

“wear a blue tie. send me some pictures, ‘kay? try yer best not ta look like a scrub, dude. good luck with her, yer gonna be fine.”

atsumu is quick to follow his brother’s instructions after applying one too many layers of deodorant. when he’s fully dressed, he takes a mirror photo and sends it to osamu’s cell, then texts you that he’s heading over to pick you up for dinner. he sprays a small amount of cologne and adjusts his too-tight tie before heading out the door, his tummy flipping nervously.

it is only soothed when you open the door with a smile on your face, right after a single knock. atsumu looks as handsome as ever, outfitted in a tantalizing combination of blue and black. his cheeks are a dusty pink, and they only darken when he respectfully tries to take in the beauty of your dress.

he clears his throat, snapping out of his daze, and offers you his arm, a cute though awkward grin splitting across his face. “yer just . . god, yer breathtakin’. so beautiful.”

you laugh as you take his arm, cheeks warming. “you clean up pretty well yourself, atsumu.”

—

“wait, what?” you cackle in disbelief, laughing breathlessly as osamu nods seriously. “no way, he really called you and begged you for your help?”

“yeah, he tore the fuckin’ place up all because he couldn’t make a decision. hey, tsumu, tell her how much ya spent on dry cleanin’.”

atsumu flares indignantly, cheeks burning with a visible glow as he sets down the wine glasses a little harder than he should. “samu, i know we’re gettin’ married, but that was two goddamn years ago. ya didn’t even help me that much, my tie was tangled and—”

you gasp in surprise, recounting the events of your first date. “baby, is that why i had to loosen it for you? it was so tight, i’m surprised you didn’t suffocate and keel over on the way up to my apartment.”

atsumu dramatically turns his head to the side, tipping his nose up in disdain. he did nearly choke himself out with the tie that had been a birthday gift from an msby teammate, but in his defense, he was rushing out the door and had only ever worn ties tied by either his mom or osamu. “maybe if i did, i wouldn’t have’ta sit here while you throw dirt all over my name, samu. and you, babe, yer laughin’ at me.”

osamu pours himself a glass of wine and watches as you console his brother, hugging him tightly. “mm mm, tsumu. i’m only laughing because i think all of the effort you put into that date was sweet. i didn’t look it, but i was almost as nervous as you were.”

eyes gleaming with hopefulness, atsumu softens and looks at you with a small smile. “really? yer not just tryin’ ta apologize for disparagin’ me in front of samu?”

“i promise,” and then you tilt his face toward your own, brushing your lips against his in what is clearly the beginning of a lovey-dovey kiss.

osamu sits back with the wine glass in his hand, then starts to gag and retch loudly when atsumu purposefully kisses you more passionately. “urk! i know yer gettin’ married next month, but everybody else an’ i don’t wanna see all that.”

instead of saying anything, atsumu lets his middle finger speak for the two of you.

inspired by this! haikyuu fluff will always be special to me <3

[hoshifighting]

i’m not even going anon for this because i have NO SHAME for what i am about to ask

i can’t stop thinking about gamer woo… and better yet i can’t stop thinking about what sucking him off under his desk would be like while he’s playing.. 🫠

so lyla i am asking you to PLSSSS write something smutty about gamer!woo if you would be so kind 🥲☝🏻 just sumn about getting him hot and bothered and distracted while he’s gaming (& trying not to stutter and moan into his mic) has me going absolutely bonkers

i know i can trust u with this

giving gamer!wonwoo blowjob as he plays WARNINGS: smut, semi-public sex, blowjob, cum eating, mentions of body fluids (spit/cum)

you’re crouched under wonwoo’s desk, back pressed awkwardly against the leg of his chair, knees scraping the hard floor as you breathe out a quiet laugh. the low hum of his voice drifts from above, a steady stream of half-bored conversation with his teammates. there’s something about the way he talks when he’s gaming—always little impatient. his fingers click furiously over the keys, and his jaw clenches when something doesn’t go his way. it makes him feel untouchable.

and you’ve made it your personal mission to fuck with that.

“fuckin’ idiots, just push left,” he mutters, eyes fixed on the screen, completely oblivious to the fact that your hands are already sneaking up his thighs, fingers teasing at the waistband of his joggers. you feel him tense, the sudden shift of his body as your nails drag lightly against his skin, just under the fabric. his focus doesn’t break, though, not yet.

you grin.

“yah—keep up with the heals, come on,” he snaps, trying to maintain some kind of composure, but you hear the slight hitch in his breath when your fingers dip lower.

“what the fuck are you doing?” he mutters breathless, but the mic isn’t muted, and the noise from his teammates drowns it out.

you don’t answer. instead, you tug his joggers down just enough to free him, your fingers wrapping around his half-hard cock, feeling him twitch in your hand. it’s satisfying, the way his body reacts before his mind even catches up. you hear his breath stutter, like he’s trying to keep the sounds inside, trying to keep some shred of control.

“mmph—yeah, yeah, just push, we can still win this,” he’s saying to the team, voice tight, and you almost feel bad for him. almost.

but then you lean in, let your tongue drag along his length, slow and wet, and you feel him jolt in his chair, his hand gripping the edge of the desk like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“fuck,” he whispers, quieter this time, more for you than the game.

you smile against his skin, lips brushing over the sensitive head, and then you take him into your mouth, slowly, savoring the way his thighs tremble under your hands, the way his breath catches in his throat.

“w-wait—shit,” he stammers, and you hear the faint confusion from his teammates on the other end of the mic. you’d laugh if your mouth wasn’t full, if you weren’t so focused on making him lose his mind.

his hands are gripping the desk so hard now, knuckles white, his hips twitching involuntarily as you work your tongue along his length, hollowing your cheeks, sucking just hard enough to make him curse under his breath.

“wonwoo, you... good? you’re like…really quiet, man.”

he doesn’t respond right away, too busy biting his lip, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to keep it together. it’s almost pathetic how hard he’s trying not to break.

“yeah,” he finally grits out, voice strained, “i’m fine. just—focus on the game.”

you chuckle around his cock, the vibrations making him hiss through his teeth, his hips bucking up slightly into your mouth. you let him, taking him deeper, tongue swirling around the head every time you pull back, slow, teasing, like you’ve got all the time in the world to make him come inside your mouth.

“i swear to god, if you don’t stop—” he starts, but the threat dies in his throat when you hum again, pressing him deeper into your mouth, watching his hand fly to his headset, muting his mic with a shaky breath.

he sets the headset aside with a hasty clatter, both of his hands moving down to grab fistfuls of your hair. you feel the shift immediately—the control he’s trying to take back, the dominance that flares up when you push him too far. his fingers are rough as they tangle at the roots, pulling you just enough to make your scalp tingle, but not enough to hurt. you groan at the pressure, letting him guide your head, and that seems to light something inside him. his hips roll up into your mouth, savoring the feeling of your lips wrapped around him.

the chair squeaks under his shifting weight, the soft creak of it barely audible over the wet sounds of your mouth working him over. you’re drooling now, the spit gathering at the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin, resting on his crotch, but you don’t care—you know how much it gets to him when you make it

you glance up at him, eyes rolling back, letting your expression go slack and fucked out—just like he loves it, and that’s when you hear it—his sharp intake of breath, the way he swears under it. it’s like he’s trying so hard to be a strong soldier, but you know him, know that look in his eyes.

“fuck—” he groans, his hips bucking up harder into your mouth, his fingers twisting tighter in your hair, practically holding you in place as he starts moving faster, forcing you to take him deeper.

your hands grip his thighs for balance, feeling the tense muscles under your fingers, the way his body is so close to snapping. every move unraveling as his thrusts get more desperate, more reckless. the squeak of the chair is constant now, a chaotic rhythm that matches the way he’s fucking your mouth, the sound punctuated by his shaky breaths and low curses.

“shit—you’re too fucking good at this,” he pants, eyes wwild as he stares down at you, his voice almost whiny, “look at you, drooling all over me…fuckin’ filthy.”

you moan around him, the sound muffled but still loud enough to vibrate through him, and he jerks, hips stuttering as he struggles to hold back. his grip on your hair tightens, and for a moment, you think he’s going to let go, let himself come in your mouth—but he doesn’t.

instead, he pulls you off him suddenly, your lips slick with spit and precum, and your breath comes in short gasps. before you can even question it, his hand wraps around his own cock, slick with everything you’ve left behind, and he starts stroking himself fast, the way he likes it.

his other hand grips the back of your head, holding you close, forcing you to watch as he jerks himself off right in front of you, his breath coming out in rough pants, the muscles in his arm flexing with every stroke. you can’t help but let your tongue dart out, licking at the head every time his hand moves down, teasing him.

“gonna cum, fuck—gonna cum all over your pretty fucking face,” he growls, his voice desperate. you open your mouth wide, tongue out, eyes locked on his, and the sight of you like that, so eager for him, makes him roll your eyes.

he groans loudly, his whole body shaking as he spills across your face, thick ropes of cum splattering over your lips, your tongue, your chin. you swallow what you can, but the rest drips down, mixing with the mess already on your skin. his hand keeps stroking, milking out every last drop, until he’s twitching from oversensitivity, his breathing ragged.

he watches you for a moment, panting, chest heaving, and then—without a word—he leans down, his thumb swiping across your chin, gathering the cum that dripped there, and pushes it back into your mouth.

“swallow it all, baby,” he says, and you do, your tongue curling around his thumb as you swallow everything he’s given u.

he smirks, pulling you up by the hair and pressing a lazy, messy kiss to your lips, his cum still lingering on both your tongues. when he finally pulls back, he looks at you like you’ve just become his favorite fucking person in the world.

“next time,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear, “i’m fucking you on the chair.”

you grin, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb.

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

I saw a post today that made me sit up and go 👀 so for the kiss prompts if ur into it: SalBuckTommy with maybe 18, 36, or whichever sparks the most joy/inspiration <3

~ @wee-fuckin-woo :]

(...as encouragement, ...to give up control)

This is going to be borderline porn, sorry, I can't not with that idea and those men. I fused the two a little.

Sal is an asshole, but he's not a homewrecker. He's especially not going to wreck the home of Tommy, someone who's meant more to him over the years than he's ever been comfortable putting words to.

So when Buck starts giving him those shy little smiles and ducking his head and flushing all pretty and licking his lips when Sal's around, he backs off. He doesn't want to tell Tommy, but he doesn't want Buck to turn around and break the guy's heart by stepping out on him with someone else.

Tommy, bless his heart, seems to be oblivious to the whole thing. He doesn't treat Sal any different, doesn't back off on the hugs or the shoulder and neck squeezes, doesn't stop grinning at him over every little thing. It's the same it's been between them for years, the same easy affection that's sometimes spilled over into something more on lonely nights.

He's having dinner with them one night, and there's more wine than there should be. Sal brought a bottle (he was raised right, despite what some people might say) and Tommy had cracked one open before he arrived, so they're a couple bottles deep and scraping the remnants of dessert into their mouths when Sal feels a foot brush his calf.

They've all got long legs, Buck especially, and the table isn't especially huge. So he writes it off as someone stretching at first, and then it happens again. Sal looks across the table and sees Buck watching him, and he feels heat and anger flare in his chest.

"You're kidding me, right?" he says, nodding toward Tommy. "Does he mean nothing to you, kid?"

"That's not his foot, Salvatore," Tommy says dryly, and Sal's anger freezes in his throat. "But thanks for defending my honor."

Sal looks between them, sees the look they exchange, and understanding dawns on him.

"Oh," he says, brows raising. "So, what are we thinking here?"

"We're thinking," Buck says, getting out of his chair and coming around to Sal's seat, settling easily on his thighs and pressing his hands to Sal's suddenly heaving chest, "that you haven't been picking up any hints."

"For weeks," Tommy adds, swallowing his last mouthful of wine. "Months, actually."

He gets up and kneels next to the two of them, and Sal's struck as always by how pretty Tommy looks on his knees.

"Go ahead," Tommy encourages. "He's been wanting it for months."

Sal looks up at the kid perched on his lap, brings his hands up to cradle his neck and jaw, and draws him into a kiss. Yeah, sue him, he's thought about kissing Buck a whole lot. He's beautiful, he's sweet, he's sharp, he's brave, he's enough of an idiot that he'll put up with Tommy's bullshit. So maybe he'll put up with some of Sal's.

When he feels Tommy's hand curl around the back of his neck, he turns his head and kisses him, too. Fuck it, if he's going to give in to them, he might as well give up any ounce of self-control he's been clinging to while he's been been flirted with for months by these two.

"C'mon," Buck says, sliding off his lap. "There's a really big, brand new bed in our room."

"I know," Sal snarks. "I moved the fuckin' thing in."

"Yeah, and then you ran off before we could ask you to fuck one of us on it, so let's go," Buck says, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging.

They kiss in every combination they can on their way to the bedroom and even try for one of those three-way kisses, breaking down into buzzed giggles.

"Think we might be too Italian for that," Tommy says, rubbing his nose after he'd smashed it against Sal's.

"You sayin' I got a big nose, Kinard?" Sal teases.

"I'm sayin'," Tommy says, bullying him up against the wall and grinning at him, sly and pretty, "shut the fuck up, Deluca, and show me what you got."

"You know what I got," Sal reminds him, looking over at Buck. "But he doesn't."

"Happy to find out," Buck says, coming at him from the side and kissing his jaw.

It's like being swept up in a riptide and yanked out to sea, having these two all over him, and Sal closes his eyes and gives in.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 1 ] || [ Chapter 3 ]

Pairing: Soap x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ cw: a bit of dirty talking/innuendos Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 2: Johnny

“Oh, hello…” You remarked to yourself as your eyes locked into a stunning pair of blue eyes on your screen, stopping your mindless right-swipping. “...Johnny.”

“You’re 29… A soldier… Scottish… Are you friends with Kyle?” You mused playfully. “Let me guess, you’re a gym bro, aren’t you?” You asked sarcastically as you tapped your finger on the right side, skipping through his pictures. The first one immediately after was him lifting while wearing a weightlifting belt. “Yup… Mandatory gym pic.”

Chuckling to yourself, you snap a screenshot of his profile to the girls as well, sending it quick.

leah: @/mia Whatever good energy you sent its working. second hot guy in the last 5 minutes! mia: i lit a CANDLE for this!!!!! leah: there weren’t any handsome guys like this when i was on tinder?! 😫 UNFAIR. 🙄 you: blow it out then cause this is the 3rd actually. leah: 3rd??? Where’s number 2??? you: didn’t think to snap a screenshot. hasn’t matched me back yet. mia: has he posted a shirtless pic? you: kyle did and this one idk but probably. need to check. leah: Don’t forget to send it over.🥴

Shaking your head and laughing in amusement, you went back to Tinder, checking on ‘Johnny’. The mandatory gym pic was there… a couple of them in fact! And then the mandatory shirtless selfie. Or rather… The mandatory shirtless SELFIES. Plural.

Three of them… The first one was him just straight up wearing just a towel… And the next was him in a kilt… And the next was him with a button-up very much so unbuttoned. 

“Oh, my, Johnny-John-John… You sure know how to woo a bird…” You joked to yourself.

You dragged your finger down to check his bio and immediately frowned. “Of course…” You trailed off with a disappointed frown as you snuck another spring roll into your mouth.

He might be stupidly attractive, but his personality… Gosh, he doesn’t know how to sell himself. Boring, boring, boring. “I work out and like video games!” You quipped mockingly and scoffed a bit.

“Artist.” You remarked when you reached the last of his profile’s tags, spotting that word in the hobby section. “An artist? You?” You asked your phone screen as if Johnny would come alive in it and answer you. 

You’d admit, him calling himself an artist was intriguing enough, but normally that wouldn’t be enough to make you Swipe Right on him… But you’re not under normal circumstances. You promised your friends you’d Swipe Right on everyone so…

Your phone almost dropped out of your hand as soon as the ‘It’s a Match’ screen showed. “Of course… He’s probably swiping right on everyone as well…” Rolling your eyes, you go to click off the screen but accidentally enter DMs.

Johnny: ye have any scottish in you? you: not that i know of. Johnny: would ye like to? 🫦 Johnny: wait. wdym not that ye know of??? Johnny: i was trying to be filthy and now got me curious bonnie

“Fuckin’ hell…” You said as you set down your phone and covered your face before breaking into a fit of giggles.

The fact you had accidentally ruined his pick-up line and succeeded in stumping him got you very, very amused. Okay, maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as boring as you thought.

you: story for another time. you: i walked right into that one tho. good job. Johnny: no ye cant do that Johnny: gotta tell me all about it now you: i mean werent scottish people everywhere in the uk at one point? you: i might be 1/370232103484320th scottish. Johnny: would ye like some MORE scottish in ye then? 🫦 you: solid attempt again. you: if you keep trying you might just get there. Johnny: i intend to dont worry you: soooo… Johnny: so? you: were you wearing underwear under the kilt? Johnny: no Johnny: why want a peek? 😏 you: i’m good you: so ur an artist? Johnny: i am Johnny: ur fast at typing fuck you: what kind? you: keep up then! Johnny: drawing Johnny: im trying 🥴 you: can i see some? Johnny: hanging with my mates difficult to text fast 😤 Johnny: idk if ull be in the mood to see anything after im done with ye you: why? 🤨 Johnny: might be too tired and need to be cuddled to sleep 😏 you: oh fuck off. Johnny: u just cursed me out Johnny: i think m in love 😫 Johnny: gonna tell my mates i just met my spouse 🥴🥴 you: don’t give them any ideas. you: haven’t even agreed to meet up with you. you: haven’t been invited in the first place. Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏

Your eyes widened at his enthusiasm and persistence. Okay, he was definitely not boring… It was actually kind of endearing and funny!

you: jc r u copypasting that? Johnny: yes Johnny: are ye going to or not you: can i get back to you on that? Johnny: ill wait for ye you: sure you do that johnny Johnny: ow the sarcasm burns

Concealing a chuckle, you clicked off the DMs page for the second time tonight… but, this time, you closed the app and focused on eating dinner.

Sure, this whole dating app thing was stupid, but at least you were enjoying yourself. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

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taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthoney , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe

[peacheeeliz]

038. please (wc: 885)

“Y/N!” Wooyoung calls out, wincing from the cold evening air. His head turns with his eyes, whipping around to find you on the nearly empty street until he finally sees your figure, crossing your arms across your chest as you shiver in the wind. He takes long strides towards you, slipping his jacket off quickly. “Jesus Christ, hun, what are you doing out here?” He questions, instantly wrapping his jacket around your shoulders when he reaches you.

You just look at him, absolutely breathless as he shines under the street lights. His eyes sparkle in a way you've never seen before, and your feet freeze to the pavement beneath you as he reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. Before you know it, your heart is fluttering again. And again. And again.

“What's wrong?” He asks again, worry spilling from his eyes as he examines you. “You're not hurt, right?” He lifts your arms, checking every inch of your skin that he can. “Y/Nie, I can't know what's wrong unless you tell me.”

The words are stuck in your throat, and all that can escape are jagged breaths. But still, he stands in front of you, rubbing your arms gently to try to calm you down. He would wait until the end of time if it meant you were feeling better, and standing there with him made you very aware of this.

“Did you not like the song?” He questions quietly, watching your face carefully. When you continue to be silent, he doesn't say anything, but you can see the disappointment in the way he furrows his eyebrows just slightly.

“Woo,” you pause. “Why did you write that song?”

He takes in a deep breath, “Because I didn't know how else to explain what the fuck is going on with me right now.” His answer is just as quiet as his question, barely a whisper floating in the city air. “I'm not good with words, and you know that, but I'm good at music. Now, lyrics may be words, yes, but it's different, I swear.”

He lets out a small chuckle, but pulls back when his comment doesn't even make you crack a smile. “Y/N, please say something. You're worrying me.”

“I just want to know what the fuck is going on with you, too, is all,” you let out, unaware if you even want to know the answer to your inquiry. “I mean, first that fight all those months ago, and now this,” you continue, looking up at him with wide, now glossy, eyes. “I feel like I just don't know what's going on in that head half the time.”

“Y/N,” he chokes on his next words, afraid for your reaction. Afraid for where your friendship could lead if he speaks them. “I wrote the song for you,” he pauses again. “About my feelings for you.”

Despite the pounding of your heart ringing through your ears, you step away from him. “Woo, please,” you start. “This isn't like you, you don't have feelings for people.”

“I didn't, you're right,” he answers, grabbing onto your hands gently to stop you from walking away. “But I'm… I'm not the same person I was six months ago. It's all different now, and it's all because of you,” he says, breathing heavily as he waits for your reaction. “That sounds very blame-y, but I promise, it's a good thing.”

You pull your hands away again slowly, but his grip is strong, leaving you unable to escape him. It makes your ears ring, and the constant pounding of your heart doesn't make it any better. “Please just let go,” you say quietly, trying to tug your arms away.

“Y/N, please, I want to talk about this,” he pleads, tears welling up in his eyes. “I can't keep running away from my feelings, I just can't. Please.”

You tug one last time, escaping his grasp and tumbling back just a few feet. It grows silent between the two of you as he just stares at you in shock, hurt in a way even he can't explain. “This is too much, Woo. I just,” you pause, stumbling back a bit. “I can't do this right now.”

You turn away, hoping to find your way home. But when you hear his voice again, cracking under pressure: “I'm in love with you, Y/N!” He calls out, tears now flowing down his cheeks. “Jesus fucking Christ, I'm in love with you. I have been for months, but,” his breath catches. “I didn't realize it soon enough. I fucked up, okay? I know that, so please,” he pauses, heart breaking at the sight of your back to him. “Please don't go.”

Your own tears find their way down your face, but you still don't turn to look at him. “I'm sorry,” you croak out, wiping under your eyes. “I can't right now, I'm sorry.”

Your feet continue down the sidewalk, leaving Wooyoung alone in front of the bar. He wants to chase after. He really does, but his feet are stuck to the concrete. And by now, the crowd of people that was once inside are now making their way through the front door, loud voices engulfing Wooyoung into a pocket of his own sorrows.

synopsis ⤏ when wooyoung, mr. "scared of commitment," finds himself catching feelings for you, his supposed friend with benefits, he struggles between keeping things casual or possibly ruining your friendship.

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist is closed!

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[juliettejwnewinesa]

haihii can you write nsfw hc for kang woo-young pls i beg 🙏🙏🙏

🔥 NSFW Headcanons — Kang Woo-young 🔥

(18+ — dark, intense, possessive, emotionally charged)

🔪 Vibe in bed

Cold hands, colder eyes, but burning touch.

Woo-young doesn’t do random hookups. If he’s fucking you, you belong to him—whether or not he says it out loud.

He’s methodical, almost clinical at first: strips you slow, watches your reactions like he's testing pressure points.

But if you moan his name like you need him? His control shatters. Expect a snapped belt, ruined sheets, and you on your knees fast.

🍷 Kinks

Control: He has to lead—how deep, how fast, how much. He doesn’t let go unless he trusts you.

Overstimulation: He doesn’t stop after one orgasm. Not even two. He wants to see you cry from pleasure.

Choking & hair pulling: He keeps one hand around your throat, the other twisted in your hair to anchor you.

Silent dominance: He rarely speaks during sex unless it’s to whisper something degrading or possessive: “That’s it. Cry on my cock, just like that.”

Breeding kink: He won’t say it outright, but the way he holds you down and groans at the sight of his cum leaking out says enough.

Mirror sex: He wants you to see how ruined you look—how his you are.

💬 Dirty Talk

Not loud, but devastating. He’ll lean in close and whisper: “You think anyone else could fuck you like this?” “You were made to take me, weren’t you?” “I don’t care if it’s too much. You’re taking it.”

His voice is low, gritted between teeth, especially when he's close to snapping.

💥 When He Snaps

If he gets jealous or emotionally overwhelmed? That’s when it gets rough.

Doesn’t even get you fully undressed—just turns you around and takes you hard from behind, fingers digging in until you’re bruised.

His thrusts get mean. Full-body slams, your knees slipping from under you, and he’ll growl things like: “Mine. Say it.” “Who do you fuckin’ belong to?”

He finishes inside, always. He’ll watch it drip out, push it back in with his fingers, and mutter, “Not wasting a drop.”

🍓 Oral (giving)

Rare, but lethal. When he eats you out, it’s not to be romantic—it’s to break you.

Holds your thighs open, tongue flat and deliberate, locking eyes while you squirm.

Doesn’t stop when you cum. Not even when you’re whimpering.

Pulls back only to smirk and say, “One isn’t enough. Again.”

🩸 Oral (receiving)

Stands tall while you’re on your knees. One hand in your hair, other on your jaw.

Looks down at you like a king on a throne.

Soft groans, low curses, but he always tells you how good you’re doing: “Good girl… keep going.” “Fuck, just like that.”

He’ll finish on your tongue, and tilt your chin up so you swallow while he watches.

🛏 Positions

Backshots with your face pressed into the bed—he wants to see your ass bounce.

Flat missionary with your knees to your chest—lets him go deeper and stare into your teary eyes.

Over the sink or any surface. Sometimes he doesn’t wait for a bed.

Lap sex while you straddle him in a chair—deep, slow thrusts while he makes you say his name.

🧠 Aftercare

Surprisingly attentive… in his own way. He won’t say much, but he’ll carry you to bed, wipe you down with warm towels, bring water, and stay close.

If you reach for him? He lets you cling. And if you whisper thank you or I love you, he’ll stiffen—then wrap an arm around you tight.

🩶 Bonus

If he really loves you? He fucks like he’s scared to lose you. No games. No choking. Just slow, raw thrusts with his forehead pressed to yours.

Might even whisper a shaky, “Don’t leave,” while he’s still buried inside you.

[jamieroyjamieroy]

Another snippet for those that are being so kind about my story. Following this

Wrapping Evan in his arms Tommy says the only thing he can “move in with me. I’ve got that spare room I don’t use. Stay as long as it takes you to find a place.” What Tommy really wanted to say, what his heart and mind were screaming was ‘move in with me, be with me, stay with me forever’ but he isn’t going to take advantage of the situation. He isn’t going to use Evan’s distress to benefit himself, it’s more likely going to be a torture if anything. Living with Evan, sharing meals, a bathroom, but not being with Evan. Not being able to touch him when he wants, kiss him when he says something adorable. It’s going to be hell. But one Tommy would endure over and over again to give Evan just a small sense of stability.

“Are, are you sure Tommy? I don’t want to be a burden. I didn’t come here to guilt you into giving me that room.” Evan says into Tommy’s chest. Tommy strokes a hand through Evan’s hair, he is just comforting a friend - he justifies to himself - tightening his grip on Evan.

“You have never been a burden Evan. Never. That room is yours for as long as you need it, rent free. And we are going to get your furniture from Eddie’s. It’s not your fault all his stuff is in Texas. We are friends” Tommy inwardly grimaces at that word, he wants more but it’s not what Evan needs right now. “and friends help each other through things like this. They don’t abuse or ignore or leave someone homeless. So mi casa es su casa.”

“Thank you Tommy. For everything. I, I lo- thank you. I’ll do the laundry and the cooking and cleaning as payment. And you won’t even notice I’m here if, if you have company over. I promise you won’t. And I know it’s just as friends. I know it’s not like when I asked you to move in with me.” Evan rambles his arms still around Tommy, his head still on Tommy’s chest.

“We can work all that out later.” Tommy says placing a soft kiss to Evan’s hair ignoring the comment about company. The only person Tommy wants is already in his arms. He ignores the just friends part because he knows it’s all Evan is capable of offering right now with all he has been through. Tommy knows he freaked out and ruined things the first time living together was mentioned. But now it’s all he wants. The ring in his drawer proves he wants Evan in his house and in his life.

“Let’s clear out the boxes from that room a little so you can sleep. I’ll move everything else tomorrow.” Tommy is reluctant to let Evan go but he can’t hide his exhaustion any longer. He knows Evan has to be feeling it too, the type of crying he did would have knocked out a lesser man by now.

“I’ll sleep on the boxes if I have to.” Evan says slowly untangling his arms from Tommy, almost as if he doesn’t want the embrace to end. “Thanks again Tommy, I’m really sorry about all this.” Evan murmurs through a yawn as Tommy stands up, closer to Evan than he anticipated. Evan’s sad eyes fix on him, slowly closing as his head moves towards Tommy. Tommy looks at Evan’s mouth, remembering how soft they are. How he could spend hours kissing them slowly moves in. And stops. Not wanting Evan to think he owes him this, not wanting to ruin their burgeoning friendship Tommy draws Evan into a hug.

@leashybebes @loulou-land @wee-fuckin-woo @ceeceekayblog @hubcaphalo @racerchix21 @dashing-disaster @hcrm @monstream @cliophilyra @harmonic-intervention @eosfog-btsideblog @adian-ua @chococara25 @sherlockismarvelous9-1-1 @fenrirscarsback @betterthanfakemouthstatic @mrhappyjavaman @tommylovingho @bigsoftiejunkie @lissa612 @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @bidisasterevankinard @fuk-it-i-tried @tevantarlos @itsnourm @manifestingchaoticvibes @o0anapher0o @dashing-disaster @percyjackson-winchester @911coded @mubsterstuff @daedalusthearchitect @theotherbuckley @iloverosetyler @thuperrah @crimsonwildcat-blog @thecarrott @moonydanny @setmeatopthepyre @mothofmyth @nationofcrumb

[jeon-ify]

warnings: threesome, twodicksonehole, size kink, degradation, titslapping, hairpulling, orgasm denial, choking, overstimulation, dom!san, dom!wooyoung, etc. If i missed anything, yk what to do!

“oh my god, fuck. sannie— its so big! i don’t know if i can take him woo—“ you whimper, shutting your legs closed to relieve the pain stinging between your legs as san pushes his thick cock into your tight cunt.

“you can, and you will. you wanted us to fuck you, we’re doing it, are we not?” san mocks your pain, feeling the way you tighten up around his length between your puffy folds.

no matter how many times he fucks you, you can never get used to his size— let alone wooyoung fucking the same hole san is.

they both fuck into you at the same pace, while sans fingers tug and slap at your titties. wooyoungs hand grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back onto his shoulder so he has easier access to sink his teeth into your shoulder.

“f-fuck, bite me harder, woo. make me bleed.” you and san both feel the way his cock twitches against the both of you, eliciting sharp moans out of you, and san grunting and tossing his head back onto the headboard behind him.

“such a slut. you should be a pornstar, let us fuck you on camera and everyone can watch what a cockdrunk whore you are for us. wooyoungie, do you think she should cum?”

san teases, but wooyoung teases harder.

“no, don’t let her cum. we’ll empty our cum in you, and you’ll walk around with it all fuckin’ week. you hear me? if you wanna cum, beg. beg for it.”

wooyoungs hand moves to wrap itself around your throat, as san puts his hand on top of wooyoungs, squeezing to break out a whimper from you, both choking you out to the point where you start seeing stars.

“maybe think with your brain and not your pussy for once, butterfly. beg us to let you cum and maybe we’ll let you cum.” san’s trying to help you, but he’s just not understanding that you are too overwhelmed and too fucked out to speak.

wooyoung pounds into you again, chasing his second orgasm. san speeds up his thrusts, pounding harder everytime you don’t respond the right way.

“please just let me cum, please. i’m taking the both of you at once, this is all i can fuckin’ take. feels so fucking good!! please let me cum, feel like im gonna explode—“ your body jolts and shakes at every thrust, san pulling you towards his face to give you a rough and hungry kiss. wooyoungs hand forms a ponytail with your hair, pulling you back and making you watch the way his lips envelope san’s in a deep throated kiss. their tongues swirling as strings of spit connect the two men.

“she’s cumming, sannie, fuckk—“

“atta girl, doing so fuckin’ good, ready to take our loads?”

you feel them empty themselves in you as you empty yourself onto their cocks, the feeling finally washing over you.

“my go- my godd, thank you, thank you thank you~”

“you’re welcome, baby. don’t fuck around at yeosangs house and maybe we wouldn’t have to stretch you out so harshly.”

san kisses your temple as your legs loosen up around his waist, and wooyoung stands up from behind you.

[kinkandkreep]

Celebratory Blue Lock Boi Yandere Interpretations: Ryusei Shidou, Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira, Reo Mikage, Rin Itoshi

A/N:...Hey hey y'all...🙂 Ok, so I fuckin' lied I am so sorry. 😭 These was sposed to be for my birthday yestaday but the day got so busy and I was tied den a mug, so posting these did not happen. 🙃 But! Alas, I am here now, and I have for you all my introductory yandere interpretations for 5 of the Blue Lock boyos!

Keep in mind, I am still getting caught up on the anime so if anything reads off, I apologize. I'll very likely either come back and adjust these as I become more familiar with their personalities or just post a whole new set for each boy.

Anyway, enjoy!

Ryusei Shidou: 

Let me just say right off the bat that I get the strong notion that Ryusei is gonna swiftly become my favorite character the more exposed I am to him (like I already love his design and that weird sexual edge his character possesses 😏)

That aside, as a Yandere, I envision that he maintains that same intense energy he has about football, it just manifests a little differently

You make his heart “explode,” in a similar fashion to his precious football- either that, or you possess an “explosive” quality within yourself that draws him in

I saw someone say that outside of a few specific circumstances, Ryu is a pretty chill dude, which I think is 100% true

And I believe this can even apply to you, in the Yandere sense as well

Ryusei can be intense, and a little monopolizing 

He's also somewhat possessive 

But for the most part, as long as he knows you're his and you continue to make him “explode,” Ryusei isn't the worst Yan to have

Now, in my research, I have seen some interpretations of him where he’s much more sadistic than I personally envision him to be, which of course is fine, but just know that my Ryusei can’t really be bothered to act sadistically unless you try to fight him

Exactly why you’d try to do that is beyond me, but if you did happen to want to start a physical altercation with Ryu, he may be inclined to be a little rough with you, just to show a bit of what he’s capable of and also keep you in check

Yoichi Isagi:

I just look at Yoichi and a single phrase comes to mind- “he’s a sweetheart unless provoked”

You, provoke him

You make this nagging little voice in the back of his head make the Spongebob “wee-woo” sound at like max volume every time you’re in each other’s vicinity

Yandere Yoichi adores you

He’s like a little pup around you, always wanting attention and affirmation and reassurance that he’s the best, and the he’s going to be the best, and that throughout it all you’ll never leave him

But! He can also be kind of intense and maybe a bit of an asshole

Like just look at him and tell me you don’t get that vibe

I’m new to the game as it relates to Blue Lock but from what I’ve gleaned, Yoichi has a sort of metaphorical switch that turns on and off depending on the circumstance

Things get heavy when he’s on the field, and that’s when his “Ego” comes out

It makes him more cocky and confident, from what I understand, and I’d say the same thing applies where it concerns you

For the most part, Yandere Yoichi is just your average puppy with a thigh fetish

But let the “Ego” come out, and now he’s more domineering, controlling and patronizing

Try not to trigger that part of him though, and Yoichi is actually a pretty ok Yandere to have

Meguru Bachira:

Meg’s a weirdo but one of the lovable variety

He’s a very eccentric character, as I’m sure anyone who’s familiar with Blue Lock will know

He talks about the “monster” that inhabits his psyche and manifests itself when he plays soccer

I don’t particularly subscribe to the idea that this “monster” influences his actions on a normal, day to day basis (though that could be the case and I just missed it in my research) but I can definitely see how one would think it does

I will say that years of simple…cohabitation (?) with the monster has definitely left an indelible mark on Meguru’s mind

Yandere Meguru especially 

To Yandere Meguru Bachira, you are perhaps the most important thing in his life

Being bullied for so long and so relentlessly probably wasn’t the best for his mental and emotional wellbeing, as you can imagine, so Meguru has been in desperate need of someone to come along and show him genuine love and support

He’s found that in you, and that’s part of the reason his Yandere personality/tendencies make an appearance when he’s with you

He’s definitely clingy and wants all your attention all the time, and he’s also not very knowledgeable on what it means to give someone their personal space

He doesn’t give you much autonomy either, really preferring to do things for you when given the chance

He can get a little intense, but he’d never hurt you 

Physically, at least

And if by some off chance he were to hurt you otherwise, it would never be on purpose

All that said, I do kind of think that Bachira would be one of the slightly more uncomfortable Yans to have, simply on account of his neediness 

Reo Mikage: 

FIrst off, let me just say, eat the rich 😤

Chile when I was doin’ my research and saw dis dude’s frankly ridiculous net worth I was appalled 

But if he smart enough to know what to do with the money and assets then I guess it’s whateva 🤷🏾‍♀️

Anyway, that aside, let’s focus back up 😂

I could potentially see Reo being one of the more strict Yan’s to have 

He just has so much to protect, and that includes you

He’s also probably very used to getting the things he wants and having things go his way that he can’t imagine you not reciprocating his feelings, or at the very least seeing the benefit in choosing him over everyone else

And as we’ve seen (me only partially really, I’m still makin’ my way through the show 🙃) he already has some form of an attachment issue as it relates to Nagi, or alternatively, the things he’s invested time and energy in and on

Which, as you can imagine, would include you, should he decide to pursue you

As a Yandere, Reo is admittedly controlling and a bit smothering

But he’s just like that ‘cus he wants to ensure that nothing will separate you two!

It’s innocent really, honest!

And given Reo’s reputation, it would be rather difficult to convince others that he’s, well, kinda crazy if you were so inclined

But other than that, as long as you remain loyal, Reo’s a pretty fair Yandere

Rin Itoshi:

Whoo boy, this one’s a tough nut to crack

I honestly think Rin is more tsun than yan but I could definitely see where the Yandere aspect of him could potentially rear its head

I’m not 100% up on my knowledge of what the hell his deal is with his brother, but from what I’ve gathered, there’s this mostly one-sided rivalry (on Rin’s part) towards Sae (his brother, for the uninformed) because he (Sae) refuses to acknowledge Rin in soccer and he abandoned their shared soccer dream from when they were little

That all being the case, I really like the concept that Rin is a Yandere for you because A.) something about you warms something cold and dead inside him and B.) you recognize him as talented and capable outside of his brother’s influence, and he (Rin) desperately clings to that affirmation 

Rin is undoubtedly possessive, wanting nothing more than to hide you away where only he can access you or, alternatively, make it known to everyone, in whatever way, that you belong to him

Rin is also somewhat domineering and controlling, as he still doesn’t want anything to tarnish his reputation

I think as a Yandere he’s a little more open to PDA (not by much at all, but just a little) 

I also think that, as a Yandere, Rin can be fairly intense without realizing it

Like during games and whatnot, he ups the ante ‘cus he knows you’re watching and he wants to impress you, keep your attention, and have earned your praise when he’s done

That could also apply to him normally sorta, but I think the behavior is more prominent in Yandere mode

All-in-all, Yandere Rin isn’t the most terrible, he’s mostly just…needy, in his own special way

[fawninthetrees]

Pearl

Chapter 4: Dear God

Synopsis: You return to Wabang after eight years. The life you tried so hard to run from threatens to swallow you.

A/N: Woo something from Rhett’s perspective. This man is a certified yearner. I need me a liberal cowboy.

Warning: a yearning cowboy, perhaps the beginnings of a panic attack, mentions of self harm

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

When Rhett entered the barn, he didn’t notice his brother, who sat on a hay bale in the corner. “So how’d it go?”

Rhett nearly jumped out of his skin. “Jesus Christ, Perry.” he muttered, glancing at his brother before kneeling down to replace the belt on the tractor.

“Not well,” Perry guessed.

He snorted. Understatement, he thought. He knew you wouldn’t forgive him as quickly as he hoped. You were as stubborn as the bulls he rode. But he had hoped that maybe, just maybe, your parents told you. That their guilt and shame had broken them down. But your anger was proof that they didn’t.

“No,” he confirmed. “Didn’t go well.”

“What happened?”

He explained to his brother as he changed the belt. “I thought she was gonna throw that wrench at me.” he thought back to the look of sheer loathing that flashed in your eyes when you leaned against the hood of the car you were fixing.

But at least you looked at him.

Perry barked a laugh. “I bet she wanted to. Remember that one time Bobby Walker said girls couldn’t throw? She lobbed the dodge ball right into his balls and he had to be carried to the nurses office.”

Rhett winced, very greatful you now had the self control to not do that to him. He could imagine trying to crawl away, and he knew you wouldn’t help, just turn right back to the car and let him writhe in pain.

“So I take it you didn’t tell her?”

“Course not.” He straightened with a grunt.

“Didn’t do it at the funeral and didn’t do it today.” Perry began.

Rhett quickly cut his brother off. “Her mothers funeral was hardly an appropriate time to explain why I ignored her for eight fuckin’ years.”

“And what was your excuse for today, hmm?”

“It wasn’t the right time.” He shrugged.

“For fucks sake.” Perry sighed. “There’s never gonna be a “right time” Rhett. She’s mad at you, she’ll always be mad you until you tell her. I mean, what did you expect? That she’d be open to a conversation with you after eight fuckin’ years of silence? She thinks you abandoned her.”

Rhett put a hand over his heart and rubbed. He had that tight feeling again, like he wanted to cry but couldn’t.

God, he thought. If only I hadn’t listened. If I hadn’t been such a fuckin’ coward…

“You have to tell her,” Perry repeated. “If not for your own sake, for hers. Even if she doesn’t forgive you, even if she doesn’t love you anymore, she deserves to know.”

The thought of you never forgiving him made him sick. The thought of you not loving him anymore was twisting the knife he stuck in his own heart. Rhett couldn’t think of life without you, even when you were gone. There were days where it was so bad he’d have to convince himself that whatever he was doing that day, it would result in seeing you. It was the only way he’d get out of bed. That Royal sending him to the feed store would mean seeing you picking up food for your horses. That going to Pattie’s meant he’d see you in a booth siping a milkshake.

But at the end of the day, when he returned home, when his delusions were forcefully shattered, he would curl in on himself. He would remember all the times he had you and then be consumed by the pain of all the times he didn’t.

And it was all his fault. He hated himself for it. For not being strong enough, for being dumb enough to believe everyone, for hurting you. It ate him alive, knowing how much pain he caused you. How he’d broken your heart, and in turn, his own.

Sometimes, when he was bucked off a bull, he’d purposefully be slow to roll out of the way. Sometimes, he’d let the bull step on him. Because the pain of a broken arm or wrist was nothing compared to when he dreamt of you.

He’d wake up with the imprint of your smile on his lids, the echo of your laughter in his ears. When he woke up on days like that, he’d keep his eyes closed for a few seconds more, chasing visions of you. Mornings like that, he’d wished he’d never woken up. Then he could fall into his dream, making it his new reality. A reality where you were still his, where he was still yours.

“You think… she stopped loving me?” Rhett asked, his voice soft, scared.

He heard Perry sigh again. “M’sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. You know she still does.”

He shook his head, almost violently. “I don’t know that, you said it yourself, there’s a possibility.”

He felt himself begin to panic. He’d rather remain ignorant than live knowing you didn’t love him anymore.

But he couldn’t do that to you. He wouldn’t. He steeled himself. His brother was right. You needed to know. No matter what, he had to tell you. Because it wasn’t fair to you. To be kept in the dark, to be lied to by everyone who loved you. The last thing he wanted was to prolong the suffering he caused you.

Perry landed a hard hand on his shoulder. “She still loves you.” he insisted.

And before he could ask, Perry said. “I know because I still love Rebecca.”

Rhett was tempted to drop to his knees then. To pray to God, any of them, all of them, for your forgiveness. For your love. He’d do anything, give anything. Hell, he’d sacrifice Perry for it.

Rhett needed you like he needed air. If he was starved any longer, he’d surely die.

[jerseyshoresy]

Closing In On Summer Love

Fluff

Shoresy x gn!reader

Warnings: cussing, some suggestive dialogue

A/N: just watched the newest season of Shoresy (which inspired this fic... I'm jealous of Laura Mohr lol) and it was too good!!😁 I hope you guys enjoy and I'll be working on the asks in my inbox here soon!!

Shoresy would've never expected his crush on you, a longtime friend, would rear its head as quickly as it did; he had fallen for you as fast as that Sudbury summer day was hot, and considering you two were beating the heat with a long day of tubing, that was pretty damn fast.

As the sun went down and you walked home, Shoresy followed as always, making sure you got to your destination safely. This time, though, the air between you felt charged with emotion as the hockey player confessed his feelings.

"Are you seriously telling me that you're sweet on me, Shoresy?" you asked when he was finished speaking, a playful lilt to your voice.

His smile shone brighter than the moon hanging high in the sky. "Oh, I'm so fuckin' sweet on ya I could open a candy shop right here. I could make Mackintosh Toffee go out of business, I'm so sweet on ya. Hershey's is quaking in their boots right about now."

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head slightly. "I'm inclined to believe you, but I've also known you for long enough to know that you blow through partners like people drive through yellow stop lights."

Shoresy tried to defend himself but you cut him off. "However... if you're able to prove to me that you're serious about this, I'll consider dating you."

"Woo!" he yelled out, raising his fist in triumph. "Just you wait and see! You'll be so impressed by me I'll be begging you to keep your clothes on until we reach the bedroom."

"Yeah?" you asked with a chuckle, watching him from your doorstep.

"Yeah," he replied, stepping back with a confident swagger.

You knew now to never doubt Shore's commitment to anything.

Over the next week, you were treated to 5 star service from the man set on winning your heart. One day you had come home to your yard being completely cleaned out--mowed, trimmed, swept. You would've been utterly confused if you hadn't spied the smallest glimpse of Shoresy turning the corner on his bike, racing to escape the scene. Another time, while you were out grocery shopping, you arrived back home to find your broken pantry shelves fixed.

"Do you always break and enter into your crush's home?" you questioned when Shoresy knocked on your door that night to speak with you.

"It's not my fault your spare key's been in the same place all these years," he retorted with a smirk. "Besides, you needed those shelves to be replaced and who better to do it than your favorite handy man?"

"Who said you're my favorite?"

That made Shoresy chuckle. "I will be. Soon enough you'll be treating your house like a fuckin' rage room for the chance to see me in a short sleeve, holding a screwdriver."

"Oh really?" you grinned.

"Really," he replied, folding his arms in a way that highlighted his muscles, leading you to ruminate on the fact that watching him fix things around the house in a short sleeve shirt sounds like a lovely way to spend your time.

The next day had brought you your favorite panini and dessert waiting for you at your work desk, courtesy of a special someone who your coworker deemed "loud but hot." As you unwrapped the sandwich, a note fluttered out onto your desk.

I would clean your toilet with my toothbrush just to bring you lunch like this every day. Y/n, I like you so much that you have me writing love notes like a teenage girl.

Though you didn't find that imagery to be particularly appetizing, you still appreciated the sentiment. Eating your food, you recalled everything Shoresy had done for you in the past few days. It seemed like he was being genuine in his efforts to win you over, leading you to make up your mind on the relationship you wanted to have with him.

That evening, you were delighted to hear the expected knock at your door. Opening it up, you were greeted to the sight you were always looking forward to. There he stood, hands in his pockets and grin never wavering.

"The lunch was delicious. Your prose could use some work though," you quipped.

"If I knew what prose was, I'd be offended, but I don't so I'm not," Shoresy declared.

You leaned against your doorframe, a wave of seriousness washing over you. "Are you tired of me giving you the run-around yet?"

"Me? Never," said Shoresy. "I told ya, I'd do anything to show you how serious I am about ya. I'd, fucking, walk 500 miles and 500 more if it meant I could take out your trash."

Without warning you stepped forward, closing the gap between you and Shoresy, gently kissing him. You could tell he was momentarily taken aback before he reciprocated, his hands finding their way to your waist. His touch made your skin break out in goosebumps, your heart pounding in your chest from exhilaration. When you eventually pulled away from each other, both of you were beaming.

"This is the summer I'm closing on you, Shoresy."

[biblical-chronicles]

Show-off

____________________________________________

where Noel tries to woo you with his guitar skills after invitin' you for tea round his house.

____________________________________________

Noel was slowly losing it.

He’d been pacing the length of the living room for what felt like an hour, tugging at his collar, running a hand through his hair only to realise he’d already combed it—twice—and now it was all sticking up again. He swore under his breath, flattening it back down, glancing at the clock, then the mirror, then the door, then—

“Jesus Christ, will you sit the fuck down?”

Liam was sprawled out on the couch, watching him like it was the best entertainment he’d had all week. He had his arms folded behind his head, a shit-eating grin stretching across his face. “You’re makin’ me dizzy, all this prancin’ about.”

Noel ignored him, checking the time again.

Liam let out a low whistle. “What’s this, then? Date night? You takin’ her for a candlelit dinner? Gonna get down on one knee, propose?”

Noel exhaled sharply through his nose. “Shut up, Liam.”

Liam sat up. “Nah, but seriously—cologne? You smell like one of them dodgy fellas that hang about near bus stops.”

Noel’s patience was hanging by a thread. “It’s aftershave, but you wouldn't know that, you gobshite.”

Liam just smirked. “Ohhh, aftershave, right,” he drawled. “Me mistake. Must’ve mixed it up with the stench of desperation.”

Noel clenched his jaw.

Liam leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “And the shirt—fuck me. What’s that, your Sunday best?”

Noel huffed. “It’s just a fuckin’ shirt, Liam.”

Liam grinned. “Riiiight. And she’s just a mate.”

“She is,” Noel said through gritted teeth.

Liam hummed, unconvinced. “Mmm. That why you’ve been standin’ in front of the mirror for ten minutes, fixin’ your hair like you’re off to meet the Queen?”

Noel swore under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

Liam leaned back with a smirk. “Go on, then—what’s the game plan? Play her a song? Serenade her?”

Noel shot him a glare. “I swear to god, if you don’t shut your mouth—”

Luckily, Peggy walked in then, shaking her head at the both of them. “Noel, love,” she said, resting a hand on his back, “just relax, yeah? It’ll be fine.”

Noel went bright red. “Nowt has to 'be fine'. She’s just a friend!”

Peggy just gave him a knowing smile before leaving the room, and Noel just wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

Then the doorbell rang.

His stomach dropped.

Liam sat up, still grinning. “Go on, then, lover boy.”

Noel practically sprinted to the door, flung it open, and there you were, standing on the step, smiling at him.

“Alright, Noel?” you said, tilting your head.

Noel swallowed hard. “Uh—yeah. Yeah, sound.”

He hoped you didn’t notice how rigid he’d gone the second you stepped through the door.

He was trying to keep it together, really. He wanted to be all effortless and casual, like this was just another day, like he wasn’t on the verge of an aneurysm over the fact that you were actually here, in his house, in his space, looking at him like that. He cleared his throat, nodded towards the hallway, and mumbled, “Come on, then.”

You smiled at him, stepping inside, and he turned quickly to lead the way upstairs—quickly, because he knew Liam would open his gob at any second, and sure enough—

“Oi!” Liam’s voice rang out from the living room. “No funny business in there, yeah? Keep the fuckin’ door open—Mam’s orders.”

Noel quickly turned back to him. “Fuck off, Liam!”

You bit back a laugh, watching as he turned back to you, clearly mortified. “Just ignore him,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Twat’s got nothin’ better to do.”

“It’s alright,” you reassured, still grinning. “It’s funny.”

Noel huffed. “Yeah, dead funny. I’m laughin’.” But he did relax a little when he saw you weren’t put off by it.

He guided you to their shared room, letting you step inside first before closing the door, but not all the way, because if he so much as thought about doing that, Liam would materialise out of thin air to take the piss.

You looked around, taking in the room, your gaze landing on the collage of posters covering the walls. “Oh, you’ve got a Smiths one,” you noted, stepping closer to inspect it. “Good taste.”

Noel watched you, something smug bubbling up inside him, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, way too deliberately, “I can play some Smiths, y’know.”

You turned to him, raising a brow, and he immediately realised how fucking stupidly obvious he sounded.

You smirked. “Alright, you little show-off.”

That was not the reaction he needed. You clocked him. You knew.

But then, to his absolute relief, you didn’t call him on it. You just plopped down on the edge of his bed, casually swinging your legs. “Go on, then,” you said, nodding towards the guitar propped up against the wall. “Let’s hear it.”

Noel hesitated, suddenly hyperaware of everything. His hands, his breathing, the fact that his heart was racing.

But you were looking at him, waiting, and he’d dug this hole, so there was no backing out now.

He grabbed his guitar, settled onto the bed next to you, and began playing. He messed up a few times, fingers slipping on the strings, but you didn’t laugh, didn’t take the piss—you just listened, nodding along to the melody, a small smile on your lips.

When he finished, you clapped lightly, grinning. “Not bad. Don’t have any change for ya, though.”

And Noel, still riding the high of not completely embarrassing himself, smirked and went, “Oh, you could always pay for the performance in another way—”

The second the words left his mouth, he realised exactly what he’d just implied.

His entire body seized. “Oh, fuck—no, I didn’t mean—” He cut himself off with a groan, face burning. “That’s not—fuckin’—I wasn’t sayin’—”

You giggled, amused by his panicked rambling, and before he could go any further, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

His brain short-circuited.

When you pulled back, you just smiled at him. “It’s alright.”

Noel blinked, barely managing to keep his voice steady as he muttered, “Right. Yeah. Cool.”

You just tilted your head to the side. “So, uh… maybe now I can get a proper kiss, then?"

Noel froze for a second, staring at you as if he couldn’t quite process what you’d said, his lips parted, trying to find something coherent to say. He managed a weak, “Right, yeah, if that’s what you want.”

______________________________________________

so sorry for the late hour but it's still summat !!

hope you lovely lot liked it xx

[caramelcleopatraa]

COGNAC QUEEN

word count: 1.9k

x: @heauxvibez asked someone to write something based off of Cognac Queen by Megan Thee Stallion (amazing song rec, I recommend you go stream the song) not proofread

content: 18+ mdni, Roman x Semeni (OC), dirty talk, oral (m and f receiving), cuddle fuck, a lil bitta fluff at the end

I'm lookin' paid and pretty (yeah)

Hair hanging down to my back, huh

I put it on him last night (woo!)

He calling me back to back, hey (hey)

Semeni sat with her legs crossed in the spacious, dazzling condominium. The big window panels showcasing the beautiful city lights. While these two were in their own little world. Far from the public eye. 

Her neon hot pink dress adorned with long ruffles perfectly outlined her figure. His eyes stayed on her plump lips as she sipped the amber drink from her glass. Relishing in the savory taste and enjoying the atmosphere he set.

Drop me a pin where you at (at)

I'm gonna come 'round like a 'Lac (like a 'Lac)

I get in my 'Gac on that 'Gac ('Gac on that 'Gac)

He call me Megan the Mack (Megan the Mack)

“You okay? You’re a little quiet.” Roman sits next to her, filling the empty space like a puzzle piece and putting the bottle on the gray coffee table. “I’m fine, I'm just watching you.” Semeni was never shy when it came to how she felt about him. They weren't in a serious relationship, but they spent their free time with each other. They never assigned a label to their relationship. They were just friends, who took each other out to expensive restaurants, spoiled each other, and fuck occasionally. Nothing special. 

He raises his eyebrow in amusement and motions to himself in an up and down motion. “You been looking at all of this, huh?” She takes one final sip from her glass, emptying it and placing it on the small coffee table. Roman observes her movements slyly, watching her beautiful eyes blink as she sits the glass on the table, watching her body rise as she takes a deep breath. She was mesmerizing.

“Yeah I have, and I want all of it,” Semeni says, placing her hands on his chest, feeling him up through his black polo shirt. He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes flutter shut from the feeling of her hands on his body. “I love feeling your hands on my chest,” he says softly. “I know you do, but I know you want my hands somewhere else.�� 

He looks at her brown, gentle eyes and says, “So put ‘em there.”

—-------------------------

“Damn baby, that feels so good.” His black dress trousers were rolled down to his thighs, leaning back on the expansive gray couch with his arms laying on either side of him. Meanwhile, Semeni is kneeling in front of him, between his thick legs, stroking his dick at a medium pace. 

“You feel good baby?” His small whimpers and heavy breaths contrasted his tough exterior.

“F-fuckk baby, stay right there on the tip.”

A thick wad of spit drips from her lips, landing on his sensitive mushroom tip. Her hands cup the tip, fastly bobbing her hand on his tip. God did he go wild. His head tilted back, letting the pleasure take over him.

“Y’wanna cum?” He pants and nods furiously, clutching onto the big couch cushions to stop himself from bucking his hips into her hand. “You know I wanna fuckin’ cum.” His head stays tilted back. He knew not to look in her eyes. If he did, then it was over for him. “Look at me, Roman,” she says, using her unoccupied hand to rub up and down his thigh. He laughs to himself at her request, knowing that she is trying to set him up. “I know what you’re trying to do, sweetheart.” She pouts to herself, surprised that he didn’t fall for her usual tactics. ‘Okay, let’s try again’ 

“Please look at me, daddy. I wanna see your eyes when you cum.” He lets out a deep throaty moan, still clutching onto the couch cushions. Her voice, her words, her hands, how good she was making him feel. Doing all of the right things to make him crazy. Which is why he can never get enough of her. And probably why he was looking into her captivating eyes now. Frozen and still, but somehow on fire. “There we go daddy, look me in my eyes when you cum,” She purrs, shifting from side to side, ignoring the overflowing pool of wetness forming in her shorts. 

She stuck out her tongue and held him at the base, tapping him against her tongue, but going back to his tip once again. There were no more passive grunts and groans, only melodic moans that filled their ears. Her eyes locked on his, as she put her hands behind her back, using her tongue to lick the underside of his dick before taking him in his mouth. “Oh shit~ I'm coming. Ohh fuckk-” His fingers weaved through Semeni’s brown hair, jerking his hips into her mouth. She moaned around his cock every time he met the back of her throat, swallowing every drop he gave her without complaint. “Damn, girl,” he pants out, taking his hand out of her hair. She tightens her lips around him, sucking him up one more time before she’s done. She wears a lopsided smirk on her face, watching him catch his breath. Pride surged through her. “My mouth felt that good, huh?” Roman lays down against the couch, shifting and positioning himself so that he is comfortable. “Need to take a nap big bo- “Get your ass up here and sit on my face.”

He know I only wanna

Come over put it on him

I got that woah-na-na-na

He drink that shit like water

She anchored herself by tightly grasping the dark gray couch. Singing out delicious moans. Letting him hungrily lick her up into oblivion. Staring into empty space as her eyes crossed numerous times, but focussing hard enough to see his wavy black hair spread out beneath her. Feeling his hands dig into her thighs, working his mouth in ways that make her cry out in pleasure. 

Now it was her time to become undone.

“Oooh- shit~ i’m close,” She pants, prompting to lick long bold stripes along her pussy, and sucking on her clit for a quick second. And he repeats. Creating a ferocious, unescapable cycle.

Her keens of pleasure and needy whining didn’t fall on deaf ears, only encouraging him to keep going. Humming into her pussy like he took the first bite of a delicious meal. She could feel her legs shaking against his face, despite the burly hands and arms wrapped around her legs to keep her in place. “Fuck- i’m finna cum on your face, daddy,” she says slurred, with flushed cheeks and half open eyes. Just as she finished her sentence, like clockwork, she came all over his face. Softly bucking her hips against his tongue, riding out the enormous wave with his tongue as her surfboard. Now she herself was covered in a thin sheet of sweat, breathing heavy on top of him. But she couldn’t get up, his arms were still wrapped around her thighs. “At least let me clean you up before fucking you into the mattress.”

Fall in love would be dangerous (yeah)

Fuck you like I've been dranking (uh)

Cognac on my blankets (yeah)

Real bitches don't fake it, ay, ay

They had ventured into almost every room in the condo. The living room, the game room, the balcony, and now the bedroom. Finding new positions in each room. Thank god there weren't many people that lived in the same building, he hated hearing her restrained and muffled moans under his hand. They laid in the bed, cuddling in the sheets, but nowhere near done. 

Her leg rested atom his hips, her arms wrapped around his neck, while he hid in the crook of hers. Placing those delicate kisses along her neck while pounding into her. She could barely see the other buildings out of the large windows on the balcony doors due to her blurry vision. But those distant buildings were her last thought. Her mind was clouded with the person who was holding her tight between the silk sheets.

Not a word had been said since they laid down in the bed, which was unusual for the two. But considering how needy they were, words didn't need to be said. They had been around each other long enough, tangled in one another long enough to know how each other feels. His low eyes as he tilted his head back and his faster paced thrusts. and her mouth agape, eyes rolled to the back of her head. Feeling the overwhelming waves of pleasure together as they nestled closer. Their chests rising and falling against each other, their heart beats loud as bass drums at highschool pep rallies. Yeah, nothing special.

You look good, you look good to me

Give me hug, it feel good to me

Hold me up, you too good to me

Cut 'em off, I know you would for me

Semeni opened one of the gray drawers, pulling out overnight clothes she had left the last time she stayed over. You know.. Just in case for situations like this. The bathroom had been hot and humid due to a long shower they took. But of course it wasn't just a shower, because he could never keep his hands to himself.

“You damn well live here by now,” He said, shirtless with loose gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips and leaning on the door frame. “You say that like you’re so bothered with that.” She approaches him, her neck cranked to look up at him. “Nah, not bothered. I'm just surprised that you took over one of my drawers.”

“Is that a problem, Roman?” She knew that they were both playing, but there was a tinge of seriousness in her tone. “No, you know you’re welcome to treat this place as your own.” She turns her back to him and smiles, looking back at the drawer filled with her clothes. 

“You tell that to all of your other hoes?”

“You think I would have other women over here when you have a whole drawer to yourself?” She shrugs her shoulders and sits on the bed, pulling the comforter over her smooth legs. “Maybe I should be askin’ you that question.” She scoffs. “​​There’s no man you gotta worry about, cause I'm focused on the man in front of me.” She said the last part to herself. Not realizing that she may have said that a little louder than she intended to. Roman was intrigued to say the least. She was always upfront with whatever she wanted to say. So it was so interesting to see her flustered, mumbling secret words to herself about him. Her attention turned to him when he turned the light off in the bathroom, making his way to her. He laid on the bed next to her,letting the new cold silk sheets graze his skin. His hand reached out to grab her chin, stroking her face softly with his thumb. “And I'm worried about the goddess in front of me. You ain’t got nothing to worry about, mama. And if you ever doubt that, I'll prove to you that you’re the only one I'm focused on.”

Okay…. Maybe this is something special.

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