#would we have just turned around then or what? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

casedeviant · 2 days ago

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𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𓋰 ╭ 18+ ╮ top male reader & bottom transmasc satoru gojo ⓘ solo masturbation . phone sex . sex toys . squirting . multiple orgasms . voice kink . daddy kink . talking him through it but you're at work . twt link . 1.7k wc

i did not plan for this to be so long lol but horny 3am thoughts i guess. not proof-read. love the thought of gojo being super giggly and a little airy when he's horny. grown ass man btw. anyways, inspired by this suggestive video i saw on twt. enjoy.

what are you going to do when your boyfriend satoru randomly sends you a video of him grinding his clit up and into your bedsheets, just half an hour after you left the apartment to go to work?

you're in the office, impossibly hard now, wracking over all the ways you could make use of his holes instead of all the ways you should be writing paperwork instead; it didn't help either, that all of this is left up to your imagination at eight o'clock in the morning.

the video wasn't even that explicit to begin with. but he always knew how to be a sleazy little thing at the most inappropriate of times, getting under your skin at any chance he thought was amusing and necessary.

before you proceed to play the short and scandalous video, you slip in your airpods from their case that was sheltering against the pockets of your slacks, turning the volume down to a moderate level.

it's not like it mattered when you had both earbuds in, but with how easily they can block out the noises around you, you felt like you needed to experience this way before you lost your mind completely.

after you hover over the play button, your thumb comes down on the illuminated screen, sizing the video into full screen that has you tilting it horizontally.

your cock instantly responds at the sight behind your pants, forcing you to hunch over yourself against your office desk. one of your hands come up to your chin in riveted focus, as the other holds the end of your phone, lightly letting it sit against the mahogany wood.

"daddy- i miss you... i woke up from a wet dream where you were violating my sweet, little body. i can't stop thinkin' about you and your big, stupid, fat cock."

your brows crinkle and you let out a sigh, running a palm down your face, ever so slowly, at that nickname. it was no use trying to rub away the frustration as clear as day on your countenance, when the only frustration was actually sitting in your pants and not displayed on your face instead.

satoru was tickling your patience.

"f-feels... good... ngh" your eyes carefully watch him guide his lower half up and into the crinkled duvet. one of his hands rested on the outside, as his hips bucked up, adding pressing. the line of muscles that sat against his lower stomach and navel flattened and then bulked as he continued the rocking motion, slips and stutters ensuing.

i know, my sweet boy, would be what you'd say to him if you were there with him in that moment, but instead, you reply with a "come in", as your secretary interrupts your riveting watch time with a hefty knock on the door.

"but it's never as good as what your warm cock feels like inside of me."

a cough suddenly escapes your lips, and she looks over at you with a raised eyebrow. you then deadpan at her, adjusting your tie.

"what is it?"

"we have a meeting in five?"

shit, you forgot about that.

"fine, whatever. i'll be out there in a second. so give me a bit of time to prepare these papers."

she pushes up the spectacles on the bridge of her nose suspiciously as you placed your phone screen down against the table, the light catching against her glass frames. she nods at you with a sigh, the stern look on her face prior, washing away. she bows politely before excusing herself from the room.

as she closes the door behind her, you immediately turn your phone over to look at the video again.

and that's when you thought it couldn't get any better than it sounded listening to your boyfriends moans over important business meetings.

the duvet has migrated further down his thighs now, just resting above his knees. and you watch him furiously rub away at his clit with two fingers in a circular pattern.

"fuck, satoru..." you breathe out from underneath your breath as he continues to pleasure himself in the video.

"ah! ah! right there~ oh my god, [name]! s' good! ahh....ahhh...p-please" the whine at the end of his string of pleasurable moans caught you off guard with how vulnerable they sounded.

how long ago was this video sent? fuck it, i'm calling him.

when you exit out the video before it finishes, you click on the phone icon that dials up his number.

"hmm, baby? what are you doing calling me up this early in the morning?"

cheeky bastard.

"strip."

there's a moment of silence, and you know exactly what type of facial expression the man is making – that stupid little smile, index nail caught between his front teeth. looking real innocent for someone who's fucking guilty of turning you on so early in the morning.

"'nd how do you know i'm not already naked?"

"'satoru. do as you're told."

"ah......"

"you don't want to disappoint daddy just before an important meeting, do you?"

"..."

you hear him begin to take his clothes off behind the phone, ruffling noises filling your ears.

"there, are you happy now?"

"not quite. put the phone down, onto the vanity for me."

with how much his voice echoed from before, you knew he was in the ensuite bathroom. probably preparing to shower after just getting himself off. stupid mutt.

"okayyyyy... 'nd then what?" he asks in a spunky voice. a devious smirk graces your lips.

"then, i want you to put the glass holder for our toothbrushes, over the speaker."

at this point, satoru isn't quite sure what you are up to. but after more moving noises, he replies back to you.

"i did it... is this really mea-"

"now, i want you to go into the bottom drawer, where you will find something very, very special."

after you interrupt him, he bends over to inspect it. as surmised, inside, there was a pink vibrating dildo you bought just for him.

"i-"

his voice shakes, not from embarrassment, but out of pure joy that you bought him something "so cute!".

"good boy, 'toru."

satoru swallows thickly, anticipating your next instructions carefully, now understanding what you wanted him to do.

"are you still wet from earlier?"

"mhm"

"use your words, boy."

"y-yes... i'm still- wet, daddy."

"good. i want you to attach that dildo to the side of the sink for me, just below your phone. i need to hear how properly soaked you are."

you hear the suction cup underneath the dildo seize the side of the vanity, giving your go-to to speak.

satoru is already slightly bent over, rubbing his folds over the toy. you can hear it as clear as day, the slippery sounds reverberating in your skull.

as you stand to proceed to leave, you slip your phone in your pocket, deciding to go with one earbud so it wasn't as noticeabley suspicious. you left the odd one on your desk as you left your office, heading towards the meeting room.

"d-daddy? are you there?"

"just a second, my love."

you step into the vacant elevator that took you to the floor with the meeting room.

"are you still there, my love?"

"mhmm... how do i- turn it on? i need this thing inside of me, right now!"

you chuckle before pressing the earbud into your ear to hear him better.

"on the side. but do it carefully, i want to hear you take it slowly, imagining its me fucking you instead."

satoru whines at that notion, already picturing the angle your cock naturally tilted at. he then pressed the pink, now vibrating, silicone head against his dripping entrance, knees buckling when it pushes in.

the squelch sound could be heard crystal clearly amongst his whines, and it makes you wonder how the hell you're going to hide the half-boner in your pants.

as the elevator dings, informing you that you arrived at the correct floor, you step outside.

"i don't want to hear you stop or take a break at all during my meeting, got it, my dear?"

satoru nods his head furiously, as if you could see him... "yes, daddy. i under- ah! stand..."

the silver-haired man pushes his hips back, sheathing the entire dildo into his hole. his back arches, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves between his legs as his knees bend together, holding him upright.

"welcome, [name]"

satoru hears on the other end of the phone, and he knew the meeting was about to begin. you nod nonchalantly, moving into the room with the rest of them.

"f-fuckkk. ah! oh god." satoru snivels, reaching his first climax as more drool exudes from his weeping cunt and onto the cold tiles below him. he fucks himself through it, his ass repeatedly slapping against the vanity's side. the echoes sends a shiver down your spine.

you inhale sharply, running a hand through your hair as you take a seat next to your secretary.

"the meeting has begun."

you nod when the gentleman the opposite side of you, announces.

"d-daddy. i need you so bad. FUCK! it feels like 'm gonna cum... again. holy shit- this thing slaps."

you roll your eyes at the way he breaks tone, thinking that you were directing it at the fellow in front of you. the man glares at you, before continuing to speak again.

you were thankful that you didn't need to speak much this meeting.

as time passed, and it ended, you hear satoru squirt on the other end of the phone, the suction cup that was holding the dildo to the sink, slipping off.

you hear him collapse to the ground, slapping his own pussy. heat instantly reaches your ears at that thought; slapping his cunt, that's a new dirty drink you'd like to try out for yourself.

i wonder what face he is making. you think to yourself.

"sir?" your secretary calls out to you, and you stand up from your seat, excusing yourself as the others packed up too. as the two of you make it back to your office in silence in the elevator, you quickly excuse her.

"'toru? baby, are you still with me?"

"..."

"satoru?"

"hehehehe"

"fucking hell..."

you let out a momentary sigh.

"you're going to regret sending me that video so early in the morning, when i get home from work today."

"oh yeah?"

you let out a hearty chuckle.

"you don't believe me?"

"i don't knowwww. maybe i don't." he lets out a small titter again, clearly fatigued from coming so much

"stop it. get a shower. your daddy will be home in..." you check your watch, sighing, realising, your day is just getting started.

"...soon."

#𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐓 𓋰 ╭ archive ╮#top male reader #dom male reader #top reader #dom reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x male reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #male reader #amab reader #x male reader #sub character #sub gojo #sub satoru gojo #sub satoru #satoru smut

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nochepsicodelica · 1 day ago

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Suggestive

"Baby, I have to gooo," you whine, groaning irritatedly when the iron hold of Toji's arms doesn't loosen around your waist. "Lance is gonna be pissed if i'm late for another job."

"Mm..." he hums, his lips detaching from the fresh mark he just left on your neck. "We could be leaving together, partnered up and all," he murmurs, gently brushing his lips over the plethora of visible kisses, "but you won't leave that damn agency. Shiu's better at finding jobs that pay you tons to basically shoot at practice dummies."

You sigh. This is the discussion you and Toji have practically every other day. He always waits until you're almost leaving to bring it up, too.

"You know I owe a lot to the guy, Toji. He swooped in when I needed help—when I was on my own and couldn't ground myself. He treated me like I was family—like I was his own kid. I can't just turn my back on him like that."

"I know, ma, and trust me, I get that. I completely understand, where you're coming from. We've got similar stories in that aspect, 'cause I feel like I owe Shiu a lot, too. But what are you gonna do when someone puts a hit on me, and your handler offers you so much money that you can retire as soon as i'm down?"

You bring two fingers and your thumb up, shaping them into a gun, make a cocking sound and press your fingertips to his forehead. "Bang!"

Toji rolls his eyes, but his amused chuckle is what brings a smile to your face. "Yeah? You'd take the job and shoot me dead?" He asks.

"As if you'd get shot down so easily. Nah, someone else can struggle with that," you say, lowering your "gun" with a teasing grin.

"And if it had to be you?" He asks, leaning in to bury his face in the comfort of the crook of your neck, again. "Would you let me get away?"

You hum, enjoying the softness of his returning affection to the skin beneath the collar of your lowered turtleneck. "Yeah, I'd let you get away," you confirm. "I'd probably..." you cut yourself off with a giggle, a sound that has Toji grinning against your skin. "...probably turn around and text you to see what you want for dinner, and see if you're tryna pork later on." Your laugh returns when you feel the puff of air that comes with his chuckle, against your neck.

"You got a dirty mouth, doll," he murmurs, loosening his hold on you and letting his hands wander over your torso. "Fucking love it."

"Hey," you say, your tone a soft warning when he starts tugging at your shirt, trying to untuck it from your cargos. "I have to go, so pump the brakes for now, and we can go at it like rabbits later on—if you still want to. Okay?" You ask, rubbing his chest.

"Fine," Toji grumbles. He fixes the collar of your turtleneck and veils the evidence of his morning affection. "If I want to," he mutters, scoffing as if it's an unbelievable thing to say. "You're good," he says, referring to the tidiness of your outfit.

"Cool, but now I'm curious to know what you would do if Shiu told you to hunt me down."

He hums, a mischievous smirk formed on his scarred lips. He mimics the gun you made with your hand, but instead of pressing his fingertips to your forehead, he puts them beneath your jaw. He makes the same cocking sound and... "Bang!"

It's your turn to roll your eyes and laugh. "Nice. Real nice," you say, amusedly.

"Right?" He says, with a smug grin. He uses the position of his fingers to tilt your head up more and presses a single, slow and savored kiss to your lips, luring giddy giggles from you and a smile onto his face. "Nah, someone else can struggle with that." He retracts his "gun" from your jaw and rests his hand on your thigh.

"Wish we would've met under difference circumstances—you being one of Shiu's new hires if it was destined to be through this field—but I'm not gonna bitch about it when I got to meet you at all." There's a sincerity in his expression, a gleam in his eyes that you see when he's using his heart to communicate.

"Aww, Toji! You're such a sweeeetheart," you coo, your smile beaming as you pinch his cheeks. He groans, but still does absolutely nothing to stop you. "My big, buff, handsome man is such a softie," you say, squealing with joy.

While Toji can act like this is the most ridiculous thing ever—you cooing and peppering kisses all over his face—he can't hide that gleam in his eyes. So when you sigh and say, "Well, I'm officially late, again. I actually have to go, now." He's miserable and can't do anything about it.

"Call you later?" You say, getting off his lap and fixing your clothes.

"'Course, ma. Did you double check your duffel?"

"Uh-huh. Everything is in there and everything is functional," you assure.

"Sounds good." He doesn't lie back down yet. There's still two more things you need to do and he'll be damned if he doesn't get them from you.

You smile as you lean in to peck his lips, transferring some of your sweet lip balm onto his lips. One.

"Love you. I'll see you later." Two.

"Love you, doll."

As soon as you turn your back, Toji's swiping his tongue over his lips, trying to grasp the remnants of your kiss. Green eyes stick to your figure as you turn around and grab your duffel bag and phone. Phone in your pocket, keys in your pocket, duffel strap crossed over your torso, shoes near the front door—good to go.

"You look hot," Toji calls, after you, his usual smirk already raising his scar.

"Bye, Toji," you say, through a laugh.

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shawtuzi · 2 days ago

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✰ YOUR TEETH IN MY NECK ✰

a/n: i’ve been getting a lot of requests for more musician!eren and his fav fan girl and this is also ur reminder to go read the reverb series bc we would not be here without her

cw include: black fem!reader, sexting, exchange of nudes, mention of drug usage (eren was high per usual), sloppy kissing, oral f&m!receiving, unprotected sex, mating press & prone bone position, see from the side, multiple orgasms, eren nuts in and on her lmao, lots of dirty talk, an ‘i love you’ confession bc they’re so obsessed with each other, eren has a god complex andddd i think that’s it lmao/// wc: 5.2k

new message from renny ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

i’m in the city. i wanna see u.

the cursor of your laptop circled around his message, a giddy smile spreading across your lips. you clicked on the message, your manicured fingers typing messages upon messages of how much you missed him, and couldn’t wait to see him.

it had been almost a month since you last saw eren. after your sexcapdes on his tour bus eren had invited you to join him on his pj to the next city, and you had no other choice but to say yes! that dick was entirely too good to pass up.

you can happily say you’ve now joined the mile high club, because the second you got on the jet eren demanded privacy so he could indulge in you once more. you were sure jean and his security team could hear your screams of pleasure, the way you begged for eren to fuck you harder, deeper, but you didn’t care in the slightest.

after turning his bones into mush from your ridiculous riding skills, eren returned the favor by fucking you in mating press until your eyes crossed, and drool was slipping past your puffy lips.

your night in his hotel went the exact same way. eren folded you into every position he could while you chanted his name like a prayer, soaking the hotel sheets with your essence. he liked you. he liked the way you had just as much stamina as him. he liked that you were just as nasty as him, like how you stuck your tongue out for him to spit on, or how you begged him to put you in a chokehold while he hit it from the back.

what he really liked about you though, was the way you looked at him. eren already a sort of god complex, and you definitely didn’t help the way you looked at him as if he created the moon and stars.

after a very tearful goodbye on your end you headed back to your city, but that didn’t stop you from texting everyday. sometimes he replied, sometimes he didn’t because of his busy schedule. he always did call you though, usually it’d be past midnight but that didn’t matter to you—especially when he’d always say bye to you by tapping his tip against the screen, muttering a sultry ‘we miss you.’

new message from renny ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

i miss u too mama.

send your addy, i’m coming to you.

you squealed into the soft cotton of your sheets, your sock covered feet kicking wildly against your mattress. thee eren yeager was about to come to your lil ol’ apartment, like this couldn’t be real.

you carefully typed out your address, your toes wiggling in excitement. you shut your laptop and rolled out of bed, quickly shuffling your feet to your closet.

you figured he’d have you out of your clothes minutes after he got here, so you settled on ditching your pajamas, and wearing just your pink robe.

message sent to renny ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

are u gonna do all that stuff you said in your messages?

you pupils dilated when the gray bubble popped up, your teeth clamping onto your bottom lip. eren texted you a lot of dirty promises, making you squirt on his dick in the prone bone position being the one you were most excited for.

whenever you were bored at work, or before you fell asleep at night, you’d imagine him having you in a tight chokehold while he fucked into your sore pussy from behind. that usually led to you sending eren explicit videos of your rubbing your pulsing pussy desperately, whining n’ babbling about how you wish it were him making you cum instead.

eren would only make it worse by feeding into it. while he recorded himself stroking his cock, he’d be growling out filthy praises about your cute cunt and how good she’d feel wrapped around him.

new message from renny ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

you’ll see

[attachment: 1 imagine]

just know i’m ready, been thinking about your pretty pussy all day.

a whine bubbled in your chest as you zoomed in on live photo of his very prominent print. his tatted hand was gripping onto it, and if you clicked on it, the live photo would show him squeezing it softly. the cuban chain on his wrist glistened obnoxiously from the flash—you couldn’t wait to the feel the cold metal against your neck when he choked you.

you loosened the knot on your robe, exposing your breasts more than they already were. your nipples were peeking out, giving eren just the perfect peek to what is to come.

message sent to renny ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

hurry up :((

[attachment: 1 image]

while you were giggling to yourself, eren was gripping his phone in frustration. he needed you, now. ever since he last saw you all he could think about was you. your face, your scent, your voice, your pretty moans. he was totally smitten.

“we’ll be arriving shortly,” the driver said in a monotone voice. eren hummed, unlocking his phone to tell you he was almost there.

he was thankful you didn’t leave in the city, the last thing he would want are fans or paparazzi invading your privacy. but it was california after all, and unfortunately there were rumors he was seen at a hotel with a mystery girl, but he made sure his team squashed those rumors from circulating any further. fame can be intense, he’d be crushed if his lifestyle scared you away.

“m’not sure how long i’ll be here so, uh, just tell jean i said don’t wait up,” eren’s tone was cool as he spoke, but inside he was actually excited to see you. he pulled his hoodie up, scoping the scene before stepping out of the car. as eren walked towards your apartment building he heard—

‘psst! up here!’

he slowly looked up and there you were, standing on your balcony, wearing nothing but a robe and a pair of slippers. your hair gently moved with the light breeze, and you had the giddiest smile on your lips—this shit felt like it was a scene out of movie.

you bounced on the balls of your feet as you waited for eren to make it to your door, and finally you heard three knocks. you couldn’t deny that you were nervous—he was a celebrity after all. someone who was known globally and loved by many, he was just a very intimidating guy.

the second you opened the door, you were yanking him in by his hoodie, your chests clashing together. “damn girl, miss me?” eren grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist. you bit your lip, looking at him with nothing but swirls of love and lust in your eyes. “yeah, i did.” eren nudged his nose against yours, blindly kicking the door shut behind him and locking it.

when he heard the click! his lips were on yours, a strong scent of vanilla and jasmine hitting his nose. “w-was the flight here okay? you look tired,” your hands cupped his jaw as you examined the under his eyes. you way you looked at him and touched with such care, as if it were natural, had eren feeling things. weird things. he always told others he’d probably never fall for a fan yet here he was, leaning into your touch like a lovesick puppy.

“yeah it was fine. just been a busy week is all, but don’t worry about that. it’s good to see you. you look good. i look this robe on you.”

when he smiled you saw flashes on gold on his teeth, and that had a gush of wetness dripping from your pussy. “thanks . . . i like your grills. like a lot.” eren breathed heavily through his nose when your thumb ran over his bottom lip, getting a closer look at the grills.

you whined when his lips smushed into yours again, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. you parted your lips, and he wasted no time slithering his tongue into your mouth, groaning when your tongue swiped across his grills. “take this shit off,” eren’s fingers fumbled with the strings on your robe, slowly pushing it off your shoulders when the knot was undone.

you puffed your naked chest out, giggling because you had left eren utterly speechless. he stepped closer to you, and then closer, and closer until you were backed up against the wall. “i’d try to keep my legs steady if i were you,” his breath was hot on your neck, sending shivers up your spine.

your hands pushed against his hard chest when his hand pushed between your thighs, his ring and middle finger dipping between your folds. “y’know i had to postpone so much shit because i just couldn’t go another day without seein’ you? doesn’t that sound insane? we barely know each other, yet i just can’t get you or this pretty pussy outta my head.”

your lips trembled, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers rolled around you swollen clit. “g-good. i did what i was supposed to do when we fucked then,” your words had eren groaning, his head dipping into your neck to kiss and suck at the sweet smelling skin. he kissed his way down your neck, and eventually your chest, taking his time as he rolled his tongue around each nipple.

he kissed the skin above your naval, smirking at the hello kitty jewelry pierced into the skin. “such a pretty girl, knew you were special the second i saw you in the crowd,” and it was true! out of all the fans that were in the audience, you caught his attention the most. the cheered the loudest, knew the words to every song, and you looked damn good sharing a blunt with your friends as you sung along to his songs.

your back slumped against the wall when you felt his hot tongue circle your clit, his hands snaking behind you to grab at your ass cheeks. every slurp and suck had your legs shaking, so much so that eren just said fuck it and threw your knees over his shoulders.

he was a sloppy eater. his tongue switched from french kissing your clit, to fucking into your clenching hole, all while moaning drunkenly against your pussy. you weren’t scared to rough him up either, your hands tangling themselves in his hair and fucking his mouth. “m’so close renny.”

that only encouraged eren to increase his assault on your clit, flicking the bud back and forth until your thighs were clamping around his head. wave after wave of your cum coated his tongue, and eren happily lapped up all of it. god, you were fucking sweet.

you gasped when eren lifted you off his shoulders, “w-wait stay close to me.” eren nearly lost his balance when you jumped into his arms, your legs wrapping around his slim waist. out of instinct eren cupped your behind, holding you closely to him. “i wasn’t goin’ nowhere mama, now where’s yours bedroom?”

you gave eren directions to your bedroom, all while you were kissing his neck and jaw. “it’s cute in here. it’s really . . . pink,” eren chuckled as he looked around your room. what caught his attention the most was the mountain of plushies on your bed, all varying from sanrio characters to anime characters.

he laid you down gently on your bed, smirking at the pout on your glossy lips. “thank you. now drop your pants m’hungry,” your pink, freshly pedicured foot pressed down on the bulge in his sweats, then pushed against his abdomen. eren lifted your foot up and kissed your ankle, “whatever you want baby.”

eren shed his hoodie and sweats, leaving him in a white wife beater and briefs. you eyed the small, wet patch stained into his briefs, your mouth watering at what was hiding underneath. you sat up, your arm hooking around his thick thigh to pull him closer. eren’s head tilted back when you mouthed at the print in his briefs, your tongue lolling out to lick at the wet patch.

your teeth clamped onto the waistband of his briefs, tugging them down until they were mid thigh. eren’s jaw dropped the tiniest bit when you nuzzled your face into his cock, your tongue peeking out to lick at the base. “c’mon. open that pretty mouth,” his tongue ran over the gold on his teeth as he watched you like a predator stalking its prey.

your mouth parted once more, sucking the tip of his cock in your mouth. you hummed around the muscle, your mouth watering at the salty, yet very sweet taste of him.

“let me fuck your mouth, pretty girl. open up,” you whimpered around eren’s dick as he pushed more into your mouth, strings of saliva dripping from your lips and onto your thighs. your tongue rubbed over the protruding veins on the underside, this earned you a pat on the head, followed by eren cradling your jaw. his thumb ran over the bulge in your cheek, “you’re so pretty.”

you took more of his cock into your mouth until your nose nudged against soft tufts of hair. suddenly you felt a hand squeeze at your throat, the action had you choking around his cock, fat tears now running down your cheeks. “ooou shit, that was tight. do it again for me, baby.” he squeezed at your throat ever so softly as he fucked it, his head tilting back out of pure pleasure. seriously, where have you been all his life.

your cheeks hollowed around his dick, sucking harshly until he had to pull you away by your hair, a thin line of spit still connected to your lips. “mmph, hang your head off the bed. you know what to do.”

indeed you did. after a night of dirty texting you found out that eren was quite fond of throat fucking—especially if a girls head was hanging off the side while he did it. there was something about hearing those violent gags and chokes that had his balls tightening every time he thought about it.

you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, even though you’ll just get messy literally all over again, and laid down on your back, your head hanging slightly off the side. eren took this opportunity to grasp at your tits, flicking your pretty brown nipples with his thumbs. the cool metal from his rings had them hardening in seconds.

“mm so pretty, now open up gorgeous,” eren tapped his tip against your lips, chuckling when you stuck your tongue out to get the exact same treatment. he rubbed the tip of his cock over the curves of your lips, before running it over your tongue. you greedily swallowed the pre that dribbled onto your tongue.

without warning, eren thrust his hips forward, sheathing more than half his cock down your tight throat. hot tears already began to brim at your lash line as he began a steady pace, the obnoxious noise of you gagging echoing throughout your room. “mmph, good lil fuckin’ throat. you’re fuckin’ perfect y/n ‪‪❤︎‬” eren’s head tilted back in a moan, his adams apple bobbing.

he preferred his head very sloppy, and you were perfect for that. you didn’t mind the spit bubbles that foamed up at the corners of your lips, or the snot that trickled from your nose. you were fine with all of it. all just to please him. his hips stuttered when your hand reached up to toy with his balls. “fu-ck yeah, play wit’ ‘em while you suck it. that’s a good fuckin’ girl.”

his praise had your heart fluttering, and your pussy drooling with need. you were perfect for him. that’s all you could’ve asked for.

your nails dug into eren’s muscly thighs when his hips pushed forward, forcing the entirety of his cock down your throat. you suddenly felt something warm in the back of your throat, and hummed. it wasn’t until you were choking pretty hard that eren pulled out, his half had cock resting on your face. your thighs clenched together when the musky scent that was him wafted into your nose.

“heh, cute. you ready for me to fuck you now mama?”

your tongue ran along his cock, savoring the taste of him, “i love your dick ren, could stay here forever.” eren’s head tilted back as you sloppily kissed all over the base of his cock. he was fully hard once again in no time, the veins on the underside thrumming against your puffy lips.

he backed up to give you some room to get up, only for you to yank him back again. you propped your chin on his hard stomach, batting your freshly done lashes up at him. “what position you want me in renny, m’all yours please tell me what to do.”

there was that look again. that fucking look. that look where you stared at him like he was reason for your very existence. “i’ll do anything you want,” you murmured, pressing little kisses all across his abdomen. you whimpered when eren used both hands to grip your jaw, forcing your gaze at him.

“i think i might love you.”

he didn’t know what kinda fucked up shit this was but he didn’t even care, he loved it. he loved . . . you ❤︎

his pretty lil fan girl. his number one fan. someone that would kiss the ground he walked on if he asked. you were perfect.

“that’s really sweet renny, but i think you’re just high and tired,” you giggled, teeth clamping onto your bottom lip. “you sayin’ you don’t love me back baby?” eren grinned, moving one of his hands to your throat, squeezing rather roughly. he needed to hear you say it, even if you didn’t mean it.

“of course i love you ren. loved you since you first debuted, i knew i had to get my hands on you. now look at you; in my very pink room, telling me you love me because im the best you’ve ever had.”

he couldn’t even object or give snarky remark back because unfortunately you were right.

his hands moved to your shoulders, gently pushing you back.

“i may be high, and i may be a little tired, but i do know that i really like you.” his teeth nibbled on his bottom lip as his hands wandered across your naked body.

“well good. i don’t ever wanna see anything about you and other girls in the blogs again or i’ll block you ‘kay?” eren was laughing until you interrupted him saying a monotone ‘i mean it.’

he leant over you, his chain dangling over your face. his thick brows were pulled together, and if you looked close enough you could see the pout on his lips. of course he’d only see you, but the thought of getting blocked by you had his heart tightening. “i only want you to myself from now on, can you handle that superstar?”

eren gasped when your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to you. his dick sat right between your sopping folds, the tip nudging deliciously against your clit.

“fuck, yes. yes i can handle it, i can’t handle being blocked by you though. best fuckin’ pussy i’ve ever had y/n ❤︎. don’t break my heart like that,” he rocked his hips slowly, coating his cock in your essence. you had him right in the palm of your hand and god, it felt so good. “don’t make me write some corny love songs about you, because i will.”

“would that really be so bad? i wouldn’t mind having a song written about me.”

“i’ll write one for you anyway, i’ll write ten fucking songs about you and this pussy, shit,” eren’s nostrils flared the tip of his cock accidentally slid into your pussy. he couldn’t help but just bottom out completely, his balls sitting snuggly against your ass.

your mouth parted, a breathy moan slipping past your lips. “mm, do it. i dare you renny.” eren just moaned in response, his eyes fluttering shut. heaven. this was heaven.

“i will baby, i will. i pr-promise.”

each time he pulled out a loud squelch followed. you sucked the cross attached to his chain in your mouth, whimpering around the cool metal. eren settled for fast, deep thrusts, the angry tip of his cock bumping harshly into that spongy spot deep inside you. “so fuckin’ hot. you’re so fuckin’ hot,” eren was damn near panting like a dog, his tongue dangerously close to dangling out of his mouth.

your body moved up slightly with each hard thrust, your breasts bouncing wildly in his face. the sharp canine part of eren’s grill grazed your nipple, his hot tongue coming out a second later to soothe the sting. “you smell so good, y-you’re so good.” embarrassingly enough eren’s thrusts were already getting sloppy. he was close.

“are you about to cum? hm? gonna nut in my pussy ren?” all eren could do would moan, his face nuzzling itself into the crook of your neck. you sobbed out eren’s name when he pushed your knees up, the angle of his thrusts reaching deeper inside you. he licked his thumb, bringing the digit to your swollen clit.

“c’mon baby, make that pussy cum. wanna feel that shit.” your legs shook violently as you second orgasm of the night hit you. eren fucked you through it, growling out curses each time a steam of your cum hit his lower stomach. his cock slipped out ad second later ribbons of cum were painting your tummy in thick, white strands.

eren’s head fell forwards, wispy strands from his disheveled half up, half down bun tickling his forehead. “shit, m’still hard girl. you’re gonna kill me,” eren’s hands cupped your face, smushing his lips against yours in a clash of tongue and teeth.

he pulled out briefly to turn you around on your tummy. “i’m gonna borrow one of those real quick,” he murmured, tatted hand reaching above you to grab one of your many plushies. he arched your back, placing the plushie underneath the pudge of your stomach. “comfortable mama?” his nose nudged against your cheek, his lashes tickling you.

“yeah . . . put it in.” eren tapped the tip of his cock against your clit before slipping in, groaning at the warmth that welcomed him. he yanked your hair back, exposing your neck. “o-ohhh fuck,” your eyes rolled into the back of your skull when eren’s bicep hooked around your neck, putting you in the perfect chokehold. not too tight, but not too lose either. his strokes were slow, but deep, allowing you to feel every vein and ridge on his dick against your sensitive walls.

“this what you wanted the most right? always talkin’ about my muscles, you satisfied now baby?” all you could do was moan pathetically, nodding your head rapidly. “you’re g’nna make me cum again renny, y-you’re gonna make me cum!” your feet kicked wildly against the bed, tears free falling from your cheeks and onto your sheets.

eren grunted, tightening his hold on your neck, “do it.” your body thrashed beneath him, shaking violently as your orgasm hit you in intense waves. the soft cotton of your sheets was basically rubbing your clit raw, adding way more overstimulation than you needed.

eren’s thrusts were relentless, his pace never once faltering as you came. he pressed his hips snuggly against your ass, rolling his hips until you were clawing at the sheets. “keep fucking me l-like that, god yes!” eren groaned, pulling his hips all the way back before slamming back in.

“thas’ right baby, m’your god. your everything,” his teeth nibbled at your ear, licking over the shell of. ugh yes he was your everything :(( you loved him, you adored him, you were his biggest fan. you’d do anything for him if it meant you got fucked like this on a regular.

“hah! ah! ah! o-oh shittt,” you sobbed out, tears soaking your chubby cheeks. eren cursed under his breath when his dick slipped out, a stream of your cum following seconds after. you clawed at the sheets, trying to get out of his grip, but eren kept you steady, shushing your whines with kisses.

“no more renny,” you whimpered, your face nuzzling into the crook of his bicep. “ngh, you don’t mean that baby,” he cooed at you, pressing a kiss to the side of your face.

eren laid on his side, pulling you close to his chest. his heart was beating so fast, it felt like he was high. this must be what people call being ‘pussydrunk’ because he swears if he was asked to speak a full sentence he’d fail.

he lifted your thigh up, slipping his cock between your folds. your body quivered, arching against his chest. “you wanna be my girlfriend? c’mon i know you wanna say yes, just say it,” you didn’t even have time to process his words before his tip was slowly sliding in. the question must’ve been good right? you’ll just say yes.

you squeaked out a yes! when he bottomed out, your backside pushing against his pelvis. he couldn’t believe you actually said yes, he couldn’t believe he actually even asked you that. what were you doing to this poor man?

eren hiked your thigh up, starting up a fallow n’ shallow pace. his lips crashed into yours, moaning into your mouth with a scrunched up face. “we’ll figure somethin’ out, you just—just gotta be mine.”

“i will renny—hah! all i’ve ever wanted is to be yours.” your thighs clamped around eren’s wrist when you felt his fingers strum against your clit. most people would look at you like you were nuts for even accepting such an offer, but they wouldn’t understand. you’ve loved eren and his craft since he first debuted six years ago. his music got through some of the hardest times of your life and for that you were eternally grateful to him—so yes, you’ll worship the ground he walks on and love him like no other.

his free hand shimmied underneath your back, wrapping around your waist. god he was so fucking close. he needed you as close as possible.

“cum with me mama. i’m about to nut, c’mon take it, take it, take ittt,” his hips pushed up against your backside one last time, emptying his balls inside you for what won’t be the last time tonight. he just needed a breather.

your body thrashed against his as you came with a scream. eren covered your mouth, whispering filthy praises in your ear as you rode our your high. he stayed snugly inside you, caressing your stomach with light touches.

it was silent for ten minutes as you both caught your breath, eren not once loosening his grip on you, he didn’t even pull out when you turned around to face him.

“you meant what you said right? about me being your girlfriend?” eren cracked an eye open and was met with your brown ones staring right back at him. was he sure about this? i mean the man didn’t even really know you like that but . . . fuck it, why not. he shrugged, brushing his hair out of his face. “yeah, as long as we keep it on the dl for now. i got a lot—”

“that won’t work.”

eren’s brows furrowed, “what do you mean that won’t work? you’re not in charge here at the end of the day.”

two days later . . .

‘breaking news! well known musician eren yeager was recently seen out shopping in beverly hills with what looks like a new boo! my, my look at all those shopping bags, seems like this girl has got our boy whipped! we believe this is the same girl he was seen with, about a month ago, heading into a hotel in chicago. fans are buzzing like crazy trying to find out who this mystery girl is! it seems to be she has no social media, but never fear my sources are working day and night to find out who she is! until then this is . . .’

jean shut off the tv, pure anger radiating off of him. “you wanna tell me what that’s all about? who the fuck even is this girl—”

“i’m his girlfriend,” you came from around the corner, wearing nothing but one of eren’s shirts. you approached eren from behind, where he was sitting on the couch, a bored look on his face as usual. he visibly relaxed when he felt your hands massage his shoulders. “yeah, she’s right. as of two days ago we’re official.” eren turned his head to press a kiss to the top of your hand.

“eren, you still have the international leg of your tour to do! there’s no way you can focus on that with a distraction—” eren let out a long sigh, his head flopping against the back of the couch. “jean, you’re really not talking about shit i wanna hear right now.” he just wanted to spend time with you, granted you both had been holed up in his hotel room for two days, besides the random shopping trip you just had to go on.

you weren’t a fan of keep your relationship a secret, hence why you made him take your ass the most expensive strip mall you could find. you’d never shopped in a luxury store that was completely empty until eren made his security clear the area so you two could shop in peace. he had so much power over people, it turned you on a lot.

“she’s not gonna be a distraction. she’s gonna come on tour with me, and keep me company. i’d ask if was a problem, but i really don’t give a shit. i pay you entirely too much for you to be bitching at me like that.”

jean’s mouth parted, but no words came out. it wasn’t uncommon for eren to talk to him like that, but it was certainly new to have an audience watching.

you combed your fingers through eren’s hair, frowning at the annoyed look on his face. “is there anything else you wanna discuss?” eren’s ring clad finger tapped against the couch impatiently. jean looked at eren, then you, then back to eren, and back to you. “ah, no. i guess that’ll be all eren.”

“i need you to schedule me a session at the studio, m’workin’ on a new song,” eren called out just as jean was about to shut the door. “dumbass better have heard me.”

he looked up at you through his lashes, “i know i sound a little harsh, but if you’re not an asshole to that guy he’ll run you over. only reason he still has a job is because he’s damn good at it.”

you shrugged, making your way around the couch to sit on eren’s lap. you wrapped your arms around his neck, “i don’t care about none of that. now tell me about this song you’re writing! what’s it about?”

“i think you know what it’s about, mama.”

#eren smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #eren x black y/n #eren x black reader #eren x black fem!reader #eren yeager x black reader #eren jaeger x black reader #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #aot smut #aot x black reader

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venusalexian · 2 days ago

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solet • everything under control

barça femení x teen!reader in which the younger players are worried about a B team player and they make it Alexia’s problem, and you learn that maybe letting people care for you isn’t that bad

When Alexia finishes training, she’s looking forward to quickly showering and rushing home, where her newly-arrived-from-a-work-trip girlfriend and leftovers from dinner at her mami’s house the night before are waiting for her. Her plans are quickly derailed when she enters the locker room. In a corner, a group of the youngest members of the team are huddled, rapidly speaking over each other with concerned expressions. Yeah, she’d definitely have to do damage control before making it home.

Surprisingly, she does not even have to force one of them to confess to whatever mess they had got themselves into this time. Vicky, Jana, Kika and Sydney approach her themselves before she can move to their side.

“Hey Capi, do you have a minute?” Okay, now she really is worried. If Vicky is approaching her so bashfully, something must be really wrong.

“Always. What have you all done now?”

“Nothing! Honestly Ale, so rude to make that assumption.” Jana responds, exasperatedly.

“Okay, let’s focus here, please” redirects Kika quickly.

Alexia waits for one of them to continue, but they all seem suddenly nervous and out of words.

Unexpectedly, it is Sydney, the youngest and shiest of the group, who breaks the silence.

“Do you remember the 15-year-old girl from the B team? She was in the group that joined training on Saturday.” Alexia nods. Of course she does. After their Supercopa win, they had decided to have a joint training with the B team, looking to source for up-and-coming talents. At just a couple months away from turning 16, you had amazed her. You had a great eye for plays, reading the game perfect and providing key pass after key pass. A perfect midfielder, only still slightly too young to transition into the first team. She does not understand why her teammates are bringing you up now, though.

“Well, the girls got worried because she wasn’t there when they came to see our game this weekend.” Sydney continues. “And I told them that she has been more distracted lately and showing up late to training. Our coaching team is more angry than concerned and we all think something is going on but we have no idea what to do.”

“So, um, we were thinking you could use your position as captain to try to find out more from the club? Please, Ale?” Jana finishes Sydney’s speech.

Alexia loves to see that you have already made a mark on the other players, and she feels so proud that they are looking after a younger player like she does for them.

“Okay.” Alexia sighs. “I’m not sure how much I can do, but I’ll keep an eye on it and ask some questions. Now, all of you a la ducha. C’mon kids, you stink!” The younger players roll their eyes at Alexia’s remark, but smile at her promise. They know she means it.

When Saturday comes along, you are surprised to find so many first team players at your match, including all four captains. It makes you even more nervous for today’s game. You had left your home after making sure your grandparents were set for the day and the neighbor was staying around to keep an eye on them. You do not wanna disappoint your team for a second week straight. And you know that another absence would get you benched. You had fought hard for your starting spot during the past year, having to prove yourself twice as much due to your age. You couldn’t give it up now.

You stretch with your team try to ignore the presence of the older players. Once the game starts, though, it is just you and the game. You tune out the yelling from the stands, your worry for your grandparents and your exhaustion after your abuelo’s surgery last week had meant a couple nights of sleeping in uncomfortable hospital chairs and getting up extra early to go to school.

It is a great match, especially for you. Two goals and an assistance later, you are beaming as they declare you player of the game. You are so relieved that such a good performance would quiet the concerns over your commitment to the club in the last couple of weeks.

You rush to the locker room, wanting to make it home as soon as possible and help your grandparents with their evening routine. But before you can run out the grounds to catch the train, you feel a hand tapping your back. Sydney, one of the kindest members of your team, is smiling at you. You also really admire her and the work she had been doing with the first team.

”Hey, congrats on the goals and thanks for the assist! The girls from the first team were telling me to bring you over. You made a mark during the joint training and they wanna congratulate you too. Wanna come?” You cannot believe what you are hearing. You forget all about the train you’re supposed to catch and nod enthusiastically. “Ye-yeah, let’s go!”

She smiles at you and pushes you towards the exit. The girls are waiting around in the parking lot. Vicky and Jana are the first to approach you, as you had attached yourself more to them during the training due to your closer ages. The rest come behind them, and you try not to blush when the older players congratulate you. You probably fail. The conversation moves from talking about your game to their future duels.

By the time you realise, an hour has gone by and the chances of you making it on time for dinner are slim. Your realization must have shown in your face, as Alexia touches your arm and frowns at your expression. “All good?”

“Yeah, I just…” You are unsure whether to share your concern, why would she care? But something in the kindness she has shown during the conversation, asking for your input and making sure you felt integrated, and the openness in her expression when she asks, moves you to respond. “I was supposed to be home already, and I’m not sure when the next train that reaches my town passes.” You worry at your lip.

“Would it be okay if I drive you then? It’ll be faster.” You’re shocked at her offer.

“Ye-yeah, that would be great.”

“Good, I wouldn’t want your parents to worry.” You’re both too busy saying your goodbyes to realize your smile has faltered and the pointed glances that Alexia is receiving.

The drive to your home is mostly silent after you give Alexia your address. She is shocked at how far away from the city it is, and you’re uncomfortable at her realization of how much time you spend commuting to training using public transport. The silence is not necessarily awkward though. The soft radio music and the constant thrum of the car settle you into a warm comfort. You feel cared for by an adult, instead of being worried about them, for the first team in a while. Alexia breaks the silence mid-way though.

“What happened last weekend? You weren’t there.” She flinches at her own tactlessness, but isn’t willing to let it go.

You squirm, not sure how much you’re comfortable sharing.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry like this, you barely know me. The girls were worried though, so I asked your coaching team and they also didn’t know. Is everything okay?” It takes you a bit to take in her words. You feel warmth at the girls’ concern, but uncomfortable at the idea of people talking about you and trying to pry about your life. You’re used to doing everything yourself, and having other people involved is weird. Still, the kindness and concern are obvious in her voice and expression, so you decide to give a bit of information in the hopes that she will understand and leave it behind.

“Just some family things. All good though, it’s solved and I’m 110% committed to the team.”

“I never thought you weren’t. Just wanted to make sure you’ve got the support you need.” That leaves you silent again. You do, right? You don’t want to worry anyone because you don’t need it. You’ve got everything under control and things are okay.

“I do! Yeah.”

“Good, good.”

You return to silence for the rest of the drive, but both of you are stuck in the other's words.

When the car comes to a stop outside your home, you’re turning around to thank Alexia for the ride but she’s opening her own door and walking towards your door. The sight spurs you o, and you run to the door to reach her before she has a chance to ring the bell.

“You don’t have to come in!” Alexia raises an eyebrow.

“Thank you for driving me, it was so nice of you but I’m all good to go from here.” You quickly add. She frowns, and looks ready to contradict you but your conversation is interrupted by the door opening.

“Good, you’re here! I heard the car coming and was unsure but I’m glad you got someone to drive you instead of catching the train so late, mi vida.” Your grandma is smiling at you from the door, and you forget about your conversation with Alexia in favor of hugging her. When you, after a few seconds, come out of the hug, Alexia’s eyes are back to a soft expression.

“Both of you, in you go! Dinner is at the table ready.”

“Uh… Grandma, this is…”

“Oh, mi vida. I know perfectly well who she is considering how much you talk about her and her career.”

You’ve already blushed a lot today, but now surely you must be the reddest so far. Alexia practically coos at the statement, proud to be a good role model for young players like you, but she’s reluctant to take your grandma’s offer.

“Thank you for the invitation but I would not want to impose on your dinner.”

“Nonsense. It’ll take too long for you to get back to the city. Stay. Dinner is with your team’s rules on diet for mi nieta so I’m sure it’s suitable for you too.”

Alexia seems to be weighing her options. She doesn’t want to impose but she does want to get a better understanding of your situation so she can give a calming response to the girls.

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

As you all walk toward the living room, your grandma must notice your inquisitive looks and reluctance to ask.

“He’s all good, mi vida. We both had dinner an hour ago, and the neighbor came by to help me get him ready for bed. He’s sleeping now, don’t you worry.” You still feel guilty. You should have been here to help make dinner and make sure they took their meds and get them ready for bed.

“Now sit, both of you. I set another plate when I saw you came accompanied by car. I am gonna go to bed myself now. You both have a good night. And a safe trip back home for you Alexia.”

As she takes her leave up the stairs, the room is left silent until Alexia breaks it.

“Alright kid, let’s have dinner then.”

You’re on auto-pilot as you sit down at the table and start to eat, your mind still stuck on all the things you hadn’t been here for.

“So, are your parents out of town for the night?” You swallow audibly. You don’t like to talk about this, but you know she won’t let it go.

“No, um, no. It’s just us three.” You avoid her gaze, not wanting to see the usual look of pity you receive.

“Oh, I’m sorry, that sucks.” You can tell she’s flinching.

“It’s always been the three of us. I was a baby when they passed.” You shrug.

You dare look at her, and her expression surprises you. There’s still the pity you hate, but there’s also an understanding. Right, her dad. Your circumstances might be different, but she does know loss.

“So, um, you help around a lot then?”

“Ye-yeah.” You don’t want her to doubt your commitment to the club though. “But I make it work! I have a good grasp on my schedule and great discipline.”

“I don’t doubt it, you’re such a solet.” (good kid, but also literally little sun)

She smiles so kindly at you it overwhelms you. The conversation shifts to lighter topics, about your play style, both of your future games and even sharing small glimpses of each other’s lives. When you're done, she helps you clean up the table and dishes, it only takes a few minutes with her help.

“I’m gonna go home now, I don’t want my girlfriend to wait until late for me. Please tell your grandma thank you for the meal, it was delicious, and that you have a beautiful home.”

“Yeah, of course.” You smile easily now, her presence comforting.

“And you… you’re doing well. Believe it. But please also let yourself seek help when you need it. You’re not alone. Rely on your team and your coaches. You’re just a kid, let the adults take care of you, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yes, thank you again for driving me home.” You weren’t sure how much you could let go of the tight control you held in your life, but it felt nice to be told that you weren’t alone.

“Of course, my pleasure. I am happy to help. I’ll see you soon, yeah, solet?”

And as you watch her drive out of your driveway, you cannot imagine how true that is.

~~~~~ an:

yay! thank you for reading!

first work uploaded. kinda nervous to get this out there but excited to start sharing my work. (please be nice to me)

I already have some ideas for this universe but I’ll be super happy to receive requests and asks about it, or any other universes you’d like to see from me :))

xoxo, a.c.

#barca femeni x teen!reader #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas x teen!reader #alexia putellas imagine #barcelona femeni #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x teen!reader #alexia x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #teen!reader #teen!oc

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sunrizef1 · 3 days ago

Text

The Way

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ex!reader, Charles Leclerc x reader

Authors Note: yo soy tired | multiple fics in a week who is this diva

Warnings: Break-ups, cursing, max is an angsty boy, not proofread

Word Count: 4.5k

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: You and max had been in love once upon a time. Now, well…. It was never supposed to be this way.

It was never supposed to be this way.

When you and Max had started dating, you hadn’t planned for it to end with a messy breakup that had both of you looking the other way with even a mention of the other’s name.

You’d like to preface by saying the breakup wasn’t your fault. At least, not entirely. You were just done dealing with the way Max constantly put you on the back burner for racing, even with you in a car just a few garages down from his own.

Last season, it hadn’t been that much of a problem. In a Williams, you weren’t often faced with the Red Bull drivers. They were fighting for podiums, you were fighting to even be in the points.

But in the offseason, you had been moved to Mercedes. Now, he was all you could see.

The press seemed to have caught wind of your break-up as well because, as opposed to before, now it felt like you were placed in the same conference as him every. Single. Time.

You’re not sure if it’s all bad, though. Because now, you get to see the look on his face when reporters comment on the unprecedented pace of the Mercedes while Max is stuck with comments on Red Bull’s recent dip in performance.

“You’ve won again,” The reporter starts, smiling at you as he stands, “That’s three wins in a row and three 1-2’s in a row as well. What do you have to credit for this sudden switch in Mercedes’s luck?”

You smile as he talks, lips forming a sharp grin, your thoughts barely held back, “Well, we could start with thanking me, no?”

You say it jokingly, some laughs echoing around the small one as you say it. George, who’s sat next to you, pats your shoulder proudly. Max is sat on his other side, having gotten a p-3 in the race. But, from what you heard, it was no easy feat, he’d fought the car the entire time, having had to rely on both the Ferrari’s DNFing to get the podium. Even then, he’d finished thirty seconds off of George.

“But I’d say it’s a combination of things,” you begin again, taking the question seriously this time, “The team is great, the car gets better every weekend, me and George are both putting in maximum effort week in and week out to maximize our performance. It also sometimes just comes down to relying on our competition to do worse than us. Recently, it has seemed like we are just running better than some other teams.”

If people want to see that as a did, you’ll let them. You were never one to mince words. Especially not about Max. Never about him.

The journalist seems pleased, most likely already picking out adjectives he’ll use to describe your tone when he writes his article. Snide, petty, confident, arrogant. You wouldn’t mind any of the above, truly.

The line of questioning moves, reporters turning to Max. That’s when you stop listening. You didn’t mind knowing he could see you succeeding right in front of him but even looking in his direction still makes your stomach turn.

You don’t look his way, don’t listen when they ask him about the race, don’t want to hear his voice, don’t want to see his features, set up in a way he only looks when he’s deep in focus. A face you had stared at many a night, watching as he told you every detail about the race from his point of view, his fingers fidgeting with whatever was nearest by. You were never sure if he even knew he was doing it. You’d stare and he’d talk. Then, he’d pause his rambling, noticing your stare, and a grin would paint his face. Then he’d lean in, laughing as you tried to pretend you hadn’t been enchanted by his features as he talked.

So, when Max starts talking, you lean back in your seat, hiding behind George. Your eyes drift close and you try to pretend you're anywhere else, not listening to your ex-boyfriend try to save face in front of tens of cameras.

You can’t really believe that, at one point, you’d been happy. Mentioning his name had once upon a time made you the happiest person on earth. Now, the name fills you with a sense of dread and you can feel the unresolved anger bubbling just under the surface.

It was never supposed to be this way.

——

Max is fuming.

It seemed, these days, he always was. But, right now, at this moment, he’s angrier than usual.

He’d finally won. Thirteen races deep into the season, he had finally won. It hadn’t been easy. He wouldn’t have won, if it weren’t for Mercedes double pitting just before a safety car had given the rest of the grid free pit stops.

Then, you and George had gotten taken out by a rogue Alpine and a Haas, the pink car trying to overtake the Haas and missing, sending the American car into the back of George, who had no choice but to watch as his car careened into your own.

So, having no sight of a black race suit on the podium, Max was happy.

He’d won, getting to celebrate with the Ferraris, a pair of people he held in the highest esteem, a racing legend and one of his closest friends.

It was a nice podium too! His team had come, he’d relished in the sound of the Dutch anthem as it blasted around the track, fans and team members in Red Bull gear all celebrating the long-awaited win.

It was what happened after that had made his anger spike so badly.

Max is walking off the podium when it happens. His skin is sticky and his hair is damp, his face still flushed with the heat of the race. He’s a little light-headed, the warmth in the car still sticking around to make him a little dizzy.

But he’s happy, a feeling he could get used to feeling again. It seemed like it had been so long. So long since he truly felt joy coursing through his veins.

He walks down the steps, prepared to hand his trophy off to a Red Bull employee to handle it for him. The empty champagne bottle had already been taken from him, whisked off to be discarded.

Lewis is walking just in front of him and he knows Charles is drifting behind him, having walked off last. Lewis gets down the steps, waving a goodbye to the Dutch man with a smile, walking off to, no-doubt, clean up from the event.

After saying bye to the Brit, Max turns to where he knew Charles had been, ready to comment on the race. But where Charles should be is nothing but empty air.

He glances around, looking for his friend. What he’s met with makes his eye practically twitch. Maybe it does twitch, he’s not in a right enough mind to know.

He sees Charles, turned away from his gaze, his red suit the only thing on display to the room. What gets max, though, is the arms wrapped around the Monagasque’s neck, black sleeves adorned with sponsors making it obvious just who the arms belong to.

Max isn’t sure if Charles knows that he can see the two of you. If he does know, he’d surely be getting an earful from the Dutch man for knowingly putting him through this. But Max is pretty sure he’s unaware when a laugh echoes between the two of you and suddenly you’re unwrapping yourself from around his neck and grasping his hand in your own, promptly setting off down the hall, pulling him along with you. He lets you, prompting a wide smile on your lips, something he hadn’t seen in such close proximity in a while.

It makes him angry. Everything about it.

The way you don’t seem to care that you lost, when every loss of his own had plagued Max’s mind like a disease, resting in the back of his head and ruining every thought.

The way you seem happy now, even without Max. You seem to have moved on, finding happiness somewhere else when Max hadn’t even gotten a whiff of it until he had crossed that finish line first.

The way Charles seems to think this is okay, letting himself get involved with his close friend’s ex-girlfriend, someone he knew Max wasn’t completely detached from.

More than anything, it’s the way that Max can’t stop thinking about it. The sight is burned into his mind, he can practically see it on the back of his eyelids when he closes his eyes. The sound of your laugh mixed with Charles’s echoes in his brain, taunting him, making him insane. He can still see your hands, running through the hair at the nape of Charles’s neck, not even caring that he was, no doubt, dripping with sweat and champagne. It’s the sight of you two running off, Charles letting you lead him away immediately after the race, something Max had never let you do, the Dutch man too laser-focused on celebrating his win to indulge you for even a second.

In hindsight, he should have been celebrating with you. The love of his life. That’s what these guys lived for, right? Stepping out of the car or off the podium and straight into the arms of the person they love, all cares forgotten in that hold.

Now that he no longer had the thrill of winning to hold him over, he truly felt the absence you had left in his life. Every day, he tried to move on. But you were still ingrained in his life, in him.

He found hair ties sometimes. In the glove box of a car he hadn’t driven in a while, hiding on a ledge in his shower, deep in the pockets of his jeans. They all reminded him of you. They all got thrown away.

You haunt him.

It was never supposed to be this way.

——

“Charles!” You’re laughing, running through the paddock, Charles hot on your heels.

It had started as a joke. He’d made some self-deprecating comment about his hair, made in passing. You, apparently to your detriment, had agreed with his comment, causing your own giggle.

Charles, ever the prideful, had scoffed, promptly trying to tackle you onto the couch of his driver's room. You’d escaped, running out of his room.

That’s how you got to this point, laughing loudly as Charles tried to navigate his way past the crowd, weaving between bodies and people who just couldn’t seem to get the hint that they should get out of the way.

You look behind you to see how close he is, not realizing until it’s too late that you’re about to run into someone. The someone in question moves away after the impact but you’re still hurtling toward the ground. But the hit never comes. Instead, your arm is caught and suddenly you're pulled up and spun into a pair of arms, holding you close, strong but gentle.

Charles looks down at you, a smile ghosting onto his lips, “Got you.”

You smile softly as well, looking up into his eyes, “You did.”

You stay there for a few moments, simply basking in the other’s presence. It had been a while since you had let yourself be happy like this.

What had started as a way to get back at Max had become your life, body, and soul. The way Charles held you could become your religion, the words he whispered at night your bible. You could worship at the altar of this love until the end of your days, your only sin being not devoting yourself sooner.

Charles is perfect. Attentive, kind, caring, a good listener, and, most importantly, he didn’t ignore you. Didn’t pretend like you didn’t exist at the paddock, knowing just as well as you do that this world is as much your own as it is his.

Your hands, that had been resting against his chest, reach back to pull his arm off of your shoulder, your fingers ghosting along the skin of his arm until they reach his wrist. You look up at him for a moment, eyes twinkling, before your attention turns back to his arm or, more specifically, the dainty black band around it. You hook your finger on the edge of it, pulling it off of his wrist and holding the hair tie between your fingers.

You were about to put your hair up, knowing you were about to escape and run from him again. But he didn’t need to know your motives, he just carried a hair tie with him all the time, having barely taken it off since the first time you’d handed it to him.

Once the hair tie is securely in your hair, you’re off again, Charles figuring out your ruse just a second too late. His realization is accompanied by the shout of your name, a laugh, and his own run as he tries, and mostly fails, to catch up to you.

It was lovely.

For everyone except one person. The very person you had run into a few minutes prior before not even noticing who you’d clashed with, not even bothering to utter an apology in his direction.

For what it’s worth, Max had walked away as soon as he could, retreating to the Red Bull hospitality he’d just come out of, having to pretend he wasn’t staring (or seething).

He had tried so hard not to think about you. God, he’d actually thought he was succeeding too!

Then the very god who’s name he’d just used in vain had quite literally thrown you at him, your perfect boyfriend in tow. If that’s even what you guys are. Neither of you had commented on it and the media hadn’t gotten enough of a rumour to ask.

Had he done something to deserve this? Had he cursed some god that had come back to haunt him? They wouldn’t be the only one haunting him, it seemed. You are everywhere.

On podiums, in interviews, on billboards, magazines, social media, parades, events completely unrelated to F1, everywhere. He couldn’t avoid you. No matter how hard he tried.

This had to be some sort of eternal punishment.

He used to be the person you’d run to after a good result, looking for solace in his arms.

Now, you didn’t even notice it was him even when you ran smack-dab into him.

It was never supposed to be this way.

——

If there was some deity out there that hates Max, the same one must love you.

Because you couldn’t think of a better conference than the one you were in right now. The top three: you, Charles, Max. All together on one couch. What could go wrong?

Max’s jaw is set, his eyebrows forming a straight line, betraying just how angry he is to be up here with the two of you.

Charles, on the other hand, couldn’t be happier. A grin is on his lips, his hair ruffled from his helmet (and your hands), his face full of the post-podium glow, his skin flushed and, thankfully, no longer sticky with champagne. He occasionally leans over to whisper something to you, his words much quieter than the giggles they cause.

You don’t know if Max is looking. You don’t care, really. Well, you care in the sense that you would love for max to be fuming on the other side of that couch. But you don’t care in the sense that it wasn’t your priority in your interactions with Charles. Not anymore.

The questions start, most being aimed toward the winner of the race, Charles, sitting next to you.

A question gets aimed at Max and Charles, not truly listening, takes the distraction of the audience to lightly grasp your hand in his own, before looking back to Max. You know he isn’t doing it to rile things up. He’s just happy and he wants to be happy with you.

It’s when Max is done talking and the attention is brought back to you for a question, does the reporter take pause. You can see the gears turning in his head, eyes flickering between your faces and your intertwined hands.

You pretend they haven’t noticed, raising your eyebrows to prompt the reporter to ask a question.

He does, an edge of humor in his voice, “First off, you two have anything you want to tell us?”

Laughs echo around the small room and you shake your head, a soft smile on your lips, “Nope.”

The reporter narrows his eyes, his grin not fading in the slightest, “Well then, I want to ask what fuels you when you race. You seemed so alive out there, so exciting, I wanted to ask what has changed.”

You can’t help yourself, your smile widening exponentially despite your best efforts, “Well, I’m just very happy, I guess. I know I’m not known as the most smiley person but life has just…. Been treating me very well recently.”

The reporter nods, smirking as his eyes pass between you and Charles, “Anything to do with a certain Monegasque?”

Charles, ever the comedian, furrows his eyebrows, muttering a quick “Who?” Under his breath, making you snort.

“Um-,” you start, trying your hardest not to laugh. Then, you look to your side and Charles is just staring at you, the softest look on his face as he watches you speak, “No comment.”

That’s enough for the reporter, who sits down, happy with the information he had managed to get.

The rest of the conference runs quickly, questions being split between the three of you pretty evenly.

You and Charles leave together, hands clasped together as he spins you around, asking you questions about evening plans between well-timed spins, both of you moving in some kind of child-like joy.

There’s a song playing from a speaker somewhere, a soft, floaty rhythm that fuels your movements. It’s almost psychic, the way you both move in tune with the other.

Max had never liked to dance, writing it off as silly or frivolous. You’d offer him your hand and he’d wave it away, leaning away from your hand and unknowingly leaning farther away from your relationship as he did. It couldn’t have hurt him to entertain your happiness just for once during your time together. But apparently it did, based on how he’d react like you had burnt him whenever you even suggested dancing.

Now, Charles was spinning you around without you even having to ask, humming along to the song playing through a speaker in an unknown location, eyes locked on you to trail your every movement.

It wouldn’t be so bad if this isthe way it was always meant to be.

——

The last time you think about Max in any significant way is a relatively inconspicuous day.

It’s a race weekend, just like any other. But this time, your home race. You were always fond of these weekends, when you get to be in your own country, racing on home soil, knowing the people in the stands, the people of your country, are rooting for you.

The past two seasons you’d been racing at the track, Max had won both times, getting to raise his fist in celebration in front of your fans, in front of your country.

Maybe that’s what makes you want the win so bad. What makes you try and overtake just a tad bit too aggressively, what makes Max go off the track, losing the position to you, Charles and Lewis funneling past him as well.

To anyone watching the race, it would look like a clean overtake, Max just having lost control over the car. But you knew what it was. You had known Max. Maybe not now, but once upon a time you had, and you also knew exactly what to do to make him stumble.

You hadn’t meant to do it, hadn’t meant to send him off. You also knew you weren’t going to get penalized for it. If you had any focus that wasn’t already on the race, you’d probably feel decently guilty. But your race engineer chalks it up to a racing incident, focusing your attention on Carlos in front of you, the only thing between yourself and a win.

In the end, after a well-executed overtake and your simply outpacing the Ferraris, you take the win.

It’s euphoric, if you had to describe it. Flags of your country wave in the stands, signs with your face and shirts adorned with the Mercedes logo decorate the crowds.

You quickly stand on top of your car, holding your arms out to the crowd around you, relishing in the sound of their cheers and screams.

Charles is standing next to your car when you turn to the side and you let him catch you as you jump down. You throw yourself into his hug, grasping him tightly as he rocks you back and forth. You can barely hear him through both your helmets, the words “I love you” just barely passing through.

He leans back, flipping up his visor and pushing yours up as well. His eyes lock on your own, fueling the tears already pooling in your eyes.

You know you have to pull away eventually and when you do, Lewis is standing behind you, quick to pull you into a tight hug. He knows how much this means to you. In your time in the Ferrari hospitality, he had become quite close to you, quickly becoming one of your closest friends.

He lets you go after a few seconds, shouting something about being proud of you through your helmets.

Once he’s dropped you, you turn toward your team, running straight into their arms. It’s something that could never be replicated, the joy you feel in this moment. You were with the people you love the most, succeeding at the thing you love the most in the place you love the most. It’s a perfect moment.

You eventually have to pull yourself from the grasps of their team, Toto landing a particularly spirited pat on your head as you do, making you laugh.

You let Charles walk you over to get weighed, throwing his arm around your shoulder, Lewis walking along on their other side. It’s nice, having people that care about you like this.

George is in the room when you go to get weighed. He hugs you, you smile and hug him back, whispering a quick “thank you” to the older man. He smiles back, patting you on the back before falling back into conversation with Lewis.

You pass through the process passively, not bothering to pay too much attention to the room around you, your brain somewhere else. Somewhere floating.

Then you’re up on the podium and everything comes back into focus.

Your anthem is playing, the music floating through your head, bringing every happy memory here back into the forefront of your mind.

They hand you your trophy. It feels like it fits in your hands perfectly. You stare down at it, trying to memorize every detail before you set it down, replacing it with the oversized bottle of champagne.

Charles is standing beside you, though you’re not looking at him. You know he’s looking at you but you can’t tear your gaze away from the crowd below, spreading out across the track, shouting your name.

Then, the champagne comes. You don’t even fight it as Lewis and Charles both immediately aim for you. You can’t do anything to get away so you let the alcohol hit you, the liquid seeping into the fabric of your fireproofs and causing a chill to run through your skin.

You try your hardest to aim the bottle onto the Ferrari’s, giving up when you can’t beat them, instead aiming the bottle onto your team down below.

After the bottles have run out, you’re left standing, sipping on the champagne that is left and trying not to feel the cold liquid on your skin. It almost feels lonely, just for a second.

But then Charles is there, wrapping an arm around your waist and looking out onto the crowd with you. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting you bask in the sound of your name being cheered by thousands of people.

Lewis pats you on the back as he walks by, prompting you both to snap out of your staring, looking at each other with matching smiles.

As for Max, he’s below, standing on the edge of the crowd, not a part of the celebration, not sharing in the joy.

He had finished fifth, but he didn’t care about that now. Now, he only cares about you. The vision of you, grinning on the podium, eyes welling with tears as you look out on the crowd chanting your name. The sight of Charles pulling you into his arms, landing a warm kiss on the top of your head just before he pulls you off the podium, disappearing down the steps.

He wanted to be mad, he really did. He wanted to storm over and yell at you for passing him the way you had. But, to the outward eye, there was nothing wrong with the pass. Yelling at you would involve admitting that your only crime here was knowing him better than anyone, a fact he absolutely refused to acknowledge.

Besides, he couldn’t be mad. No matter how much he tried to be, he just isn’t. Not at you, at least. Maybe at Charles. Maybe at Carlos who had fended him off for 6 laps at the end. Maybe at the car for just being disappointing. But not at you. The anger would be misplaced. Fueled by the fact that he had lost you and couldn’t do anything about it.

His race engineer had tried to support him, Liam had tried to distract him. But he wasn’t having it. He couldn’t have it when you were looking at Charles like that.

He knows that, in another life, it would have been him standing next to you, by your side for your big moment. He refuses to acknowledge the idea that he probably wouldn’t have stayed by your side, his feet carrying him off the podium quickly, racking his brain to figure out why he hadn’t won instead of celebrating the fact that you had.

But it could have been him. It should have been.

But it wasn’t. It isn’t.

You have moved on. Found happiness in Charles. True, real happiness.

That’s when Max realizes, maybe this is the way it was always meant to be.

——

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

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ranoutofficssoiwritemyown · 1 day ago

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You decide to sleep on the couch after an argument pt.3

pt.1 pt.2 character: Caleb note: not proofread. haven't played the game since he came out so he might be a little oc

Caleb’s mind is simple: you being away from him means he can’t protect you from any possible danger. He is overprotective to the point it disturbs you and sometimes you think if it was up to him he would tie you to his side so you never leave his sight. Because you’re the safest by his side right?

Considering his possessive nature towards you, you can imagine the intensity of arguments between you two. The problem is, he doesn’t see how he’s wrong. You’re a professional hunter? You’ve lived for years without him? You’re one of the best at your dangerous job? falls on deaf ears and right now you’re so so close to strangling him. Instead, you turn around and go to your bedroom to get a blanket and pillow, because sleeping beside this obstinate asshole is the last thing you want tonight. after a minute you can sense Caleb’s presence. He yawns as he leans against the doorframe

“Whatcha doin’ pipsqueak?” His question is playful

“Oh, I’m pipsqueak again”

Caleb laughs at your sarcastic answer which earns your glare, making him mumble “Still mad I see” under his breath. Silently, you wonder if he is bothered by the argument at all. You gather everything in your arms and walk to the door and as you pass him he grabs your shoulder from behind and drapes himself over you.

“A little bit dramatic don’t you think?”

“You’re heavy, you asshole”

You grumble as you try to shrug him off but he won’t budge. Quite the opposite actually, his arms are wrapped around your shoulders tightly with his face in your neck.

“Can’t handle it? I thought you were a strong girl.”

“Do you, really? Because you act like I’m made of glass”

“Well, not glass. More like-”

You try to smack him but he moves his head to avoid it and laughs, instead catching your wrist and placing a kiss on your pulse point. Even though the gesture makes you blush, you snatch your hand back and accidentally hit his metal arm, causing you to hiss at the pain. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow as if saying ‘See?’ which makes you more furious.

He starts to say something but you interrupt.

“Let me go, Caleb. I’m mad at you and don’t want to sleep in the same bed as you”

“No”

“No?”

“Gotta keep you away from your thoughts, pipsqueak. What if you decide you want to leave me or something because of this stupid argument, hm? What then?”

You fall silent for a moment because you need to get this straight. So, he thinks that after he ‘died’ and you mourned him, thinking about him almost every day, years later you find out that he’s alive and is doing everything to keep you close, you will leave him because of an argument? Now, you doubt his sanity. On the other hand, Caleb takes your silence as a bad sign and starts panicking.

“Pipsqueak? Come to bed, please. And we can do whatever you want tomorrow. I’m yours the whole day- Hey, I’ll make braised chicken wings. You still love them right? Or whatever you want, you name it…” When he gets no answer, he drops his head on your shoulder, giving up “Okay, if you really don’t wanna sleep beside me, I’ll take the couch, just, please sleep in the bedroom.”

Finally, you sigh and lean your head against his chest.

“You won’t drop this, will you?”

He smirks because he knows you. He knows you want to give into him but your pride won’t let you. So you try to blame him. Make it look like, you don’t have a choice, so you don’t feel bad about yourself. But he’ll take it. He’ll take all the blame and allegation if it means you’ll stay with him.

“Not a chance” his voice is muffled against your neck as he pecks it, before removing himself from you and leading you back to your bedroom.

“I don’t think you’re made of glass,” he tells you when you’re both lying down on the bed and you place your head on his chest, in return, he wraps his arms around you.

“Hm?” you’re confused before you remember your earlier statement

“I don’t think you’re weak. The opposite actually, I think you’re very strong I just… I worry about you, I can’t help it. So what if you’re one of the best hunters? you’re not immortal. And when I think that there’s even the slightest chance that I might lose you again… I won’t be able to take it. So all this overprotective act is also for the sake of my sanity.” He laughs humourlessly in the end.

You raise your head to look at him. He’s already watching you with adoration behind his purple eyes. You brush the strands of hair from his forehead and place a kiss on his lips.

“I won’t leave you” You kiss the corner of his mouth “You’re crazy if you think leaving you has even crossed my mind. Now that I have you back? You’re stuck with me as much as I am with you”

There’s a faint smile on his lips as his eyes run over your face.

“Goodnight, pipsqueak"

“Goodnight, Caleb”

You both fall silent as you lay back down on his chest. However, the silence is broken by you.

“You’re making braised chicken wings for me, tomorrow”

“Absolutely” he agrees with a silent chuckle.

#love and deepspace #loveanddeepspace #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #love and deepspace caleb #caleb lads #lnds caleb #lads caleb #caleb #caleb lnds #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x you #caleb x y/n

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girl-lostconnection · 1 day ago

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i luv ur work and I'm just curious your thoughts on if bat reader got pregnant? Maybe a little clutch of 3 babies that are around 6lbs each so small but maybe most fruit bat babies are? Or since it's a hybrid of the one/all the boys maybe it's one baby but a little bigger and sweet reader is waddling everywhere constantly barefoot

Yk, anon, your idea is so cute I’m gonna give you a pass for pregnancy trope because god knows I’m not a fan of it. Don’t get me wrong, I have massive respect for people who decide to get pregnant but Jesus, if it’s not some prime horror material. Also I just personally don’t like pregnancies or kids

Okay, you will need to hold my hand with this one because the next thing will be wildly anti-scientific and borderline magical, but it’s fanfiction — we are gonna freestyle. No one can stop us from having fun, anon.

I can imagine Reader finding out they are pregnant and as soon as 141 find out, at least one of the boys is glued to their side.

Especially Price — Komodo dragons are incredibly protective fathers and he is no exception. The man would be patiently peeling and cutting all and every fruit, rubbing your legs and kissing your cheeks because you deserve it for working so hard.

Simon’s provider instincts would go haywire because your scent changes with pregnancy and primal part of him needs to make sure you eat enough, you are warm, you are safe, you are comfortable. He is slightly paranoid and doesn’t let you walk anywhere alone, just looming over your shoulder.

But he’s also the one who will relax once he sees that one of the lads actually come to take turn guarding you. Wolves separate responsibilities and in a wolf pack some wolves go hunting while others watch pups then they switch. So he’s okay if someone is nearby but he definitely feels more comfortable if he’s glued to your side and his hand is on your shoulder.

Man seriously doesn’t understand why can’t you all just move as the group of five if that would maximise the safety of you and the child. So what if it’s impractical? Doesn’t matter that he would look like he’s guarding a bloody prime minister, he will be advocating for you all to walk around together.

Kyle is relatively calm because he’s not velcro husband but make no mistake the man is velcro dad. Eagles are incredibly protective of their young and shield them from cold and heat and predators and literally chew food for them. Let’s hope Garrick holds himself together.

But he def would become more attentive, pecking kisses here and there, chatting you up before bed. I think it would soothe his human part that he can hear how calm and happy you are with everything and therefore it’s okay.

Soap is surprisingly the calmest of the bunch, he reads up a lot on bay hybrids and how long the pregnancies go and what to expect. He starts a journal with memories for the baby(-ies) when they grow up so they know how loved and cared for they were even before birth.

The man is there scratching and writing away, notating the side effects and doodling you devouring a melon all alone as he watches you in love. Soap would also be the calmest dad of them all but on the scale of 1-10 where 1 is protective and 10 is Simon Ghost Riley, he’s 11.

He’s all easy smiles and charm and then he just snaps his jaws when someone tries to touch the baby(-ies) or you without asking because hands the fuck off. Get your own, baby and mate, these are his.

He has no chill when it comes to this, I’m sorry.

And then there’s you, who starts sleeping exclusively head down and wrapping in your own wings and Kyle’s when he’s available. You get cold easier so you cuddle up to hot like furnace Simon and then you are too hot and snappy, scrambling back on your perch.

You start walking barefoot because cool is nice and because staying in half transformation is easier then wasting energy to be mostly human (Johnny blinks once, twice then his hind brain takes over and he’s grooming you for hours on end because omg, that’s fur, this is lovely, hen, come ‘ehe)

And then babies themselves arrive. In the scenario where there are multiple of them — like a clutch of 3 babies, they mostly all resemble only you in the first few months because they emerge as lil bat hybrids covered in bat fur.

They will loose most of it after the first year but before that — the only indicative of who might be the dad is the eye colour.

Doesn’t help that both John’s are blue-eyed.

In scenario where there is only one baby, which would be definitely rarer, I think it would be fun if the baby actually was a different hybrid, for example you have yourself a little seal!baby and Soap is ecstatic. I think his baby would be the oldest one and if you decide to have any more, the next would be Kyle’s, then Price’s and Simon’s twins would be the last ones.

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starryswirly · 2 days ago

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Actually, fuck it. Sit down. I'm gonna tell you the story of Henry.

Fade in. It's a beautiful summer day in Arizona. My parents and siblings are out of the house. I am hanging out enjoying the fact that the house is empty save for my cats and sister.

The peace is suddenly broken by an exclamation from my sister, who had gone out to the yard to enjoy the sunshine. If you know someone long enough, you know what intonation requires your immediate response. This was one of those times.

I quickly get up, not knowing what to expect as I entered what I was soon to discover to be the boss fight of the week, nay, the summer.

This unidentified fucking THING is in our yard.

Now, one thing to know about us is that we are feral homeschoolers at heart. No amount of therapy can save us at this point. We grew up obsessively studying the wildlife of the area. We know immediately that this is NOT a local creature.

A look is exchanged, and we knew what had to be done.

The next twenty minutes were a mad action-packed chase with enough plot twists you'd think you were watching a Netflix film created to be put on in the background.

We took turns outsmarting one another, unclear who was one step ahead. Human vs bird. Teamwork and stamina versus sheer instinct. Both equally dedicated to the chase. Both equally set on the win.

Ladders were involved, nets were involved, trespassing was involved.

We chased him around our yard, the neighbors' yards, the brush, the bushes, the roof of my house. Nothing would stop us but utter defeat. Henry knew this and acted accordingly.

Finally, he was driven into our garage. His fate was sealed as he entered his concrete prison. It was there he was corralled into a rabbit cage, where he was finally captured for good. We had won.

Once the dust had settled, it was established that Henry was a Chukar Partridge, and belonged to our neighbor, whom he escaped from. He was returned and, sorry to say, was likely fed to his hunting dogs. Apologies for foiling your plans for a happy life, but you would've just been coyote bait in the end little man. No rest for the wicked.

Our neighbor was impressed we were able to capture him, as, upon further research, this is what scientists have to say about this particular bird:

It runs and scampers up steep terrain with the agility and speed of a mountain goat, prompting hunters to nickname it the "devil bird" for the brutal chase it gives. Via Cornell Lab of Ornithology

It was after all was said and done that I truly understood the appeal of sports. I knew what it was to be a persistence predator. I knew what humans had evolved for. I knew if I had the option, I would have not done a single thing differently.

I know the thrill of the chase.

And now I can only spend my days hoping for another chance to reach that high.

i CANNOT stop thinking about this job ad. i am absolutely losing it over the implication that someone is going to apply to this job who 1) loves chasing birds and 2) is disturbingly competetive about it

#starry speaks #starry lore more like #enjoy my little story time

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cloudyluun · 1 day ago

Text

Raw & Reckless | boyfriend!harry

Summary: A steamy shower turns filthy fast when Harry gets his hands on you. He fucks you hard against the wall, but you’re too desperate to care about barriers—ripping the condom off mid-fuck, craving him raw. It’s reckless, it’s rough, and neither of you would change a thing. But once the pleasure fades, reality lingers… What does crossing that line really mean? And why does it feel so right?

Wordt Count: 2,1k

A/N: Ohhh, you guys are so nasty for this one, and I love myself for it 😌. The way Y/N was so desperate she just ripped the condom off mid-fuck??? INSANE behavior. Unhinged. I would like to personally thank me for this filth. And then the soft, maybe we don’t even care about protection anymore moment??? Crying, throwing up, sliding down the wall. I just get me.

Anyway, I hope this wrecked you as much as it wrecked me while writing it. Enjoy, my little heathens. And remember: Harry always gives you what you want. 😉

Warnings:

Explicit Smut (18+)

Unprotected sex (Condom is removed mid-fuck)

Breeding kink / discussion of pregnancy

Shower sex & wall sex

Hair pulling, choking, overstimulation

Filthy dirty talk & desperation

Light aftercare & emotional conversations

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

“You keep that up, angel, and I’ll fuck you right here.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, though it has nothing to do with the water cascading over your bodies. You should probably play coy, tease him a little, but you don’t have it in you—not when he’s already so hard, not when his hands are gripping your hips like he’s holding himself back.

Instead, you tilt your head up, lips brushing his jaw as you whisper, “Then do it.”

A low groan rumbles from his chest, his fingers digging into your skin before he spins you around, pressing your back against his front. His hands glide up, up, up, until his fingers are threading into your wet hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp. His other hand slides over your stomach, down between your legs, teasing.

“You want it that bad?” he taunts, pressing his cock against the curve of your ass, making you feel just how hard he is. “Couldn’t even get through a shower without thinking about me fucking you, huh?”

You whimper, pressing back against him, rubbing your slick body against his. His fingers slip lower, grazing your clit, and you jolt against him.

“Fuck, Harry,” you pant, nails digging into his wrist.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, lips skimming along the column of your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses. “Love when you beg for it.”

His fingers keep teasing, rubbing slow, lazy circles, never enough. You arch into his touch, desperate for more friction, more pressure, more of him. But he’s taking his time, enjoying how wrecked you already are.

“You look so pretty when you’re needy, angel,” he purrs, voice thick with amusement.

You nearly whine, pushing your hips against him, trying to get some kind of relief. His chuckle is dark, condescending.

“Patience, baby. Want you dripping for me before I fuck you against this wall.”

Your breath stutters, eyes fluttering shut. He always gets what he wants.

And tonight is no different.

Harry moves fast, flipping you so your chest is pressed against the cold tiles, the slick heat of his body flush against your back. The contrast makes you whimper, but he’s already reaching past you, grabbing a condom from the small ledge where your shampoo bottles sit.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to watch him in your peripheral vision as he tears the foil open with his teeth. He’s barely keeping it together, his cock thick and leaking against your ass, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he rolls the rubber down his length.

He groans, one hand pressing into the small of your back, the other gripping himself, dragging the swollen tip of his cock through your folds. He doesn’t push in yet—just teases, coating himself in your arousal, nudging your clit with each slow, taunting pass.

You keen, pushing back against him, desperate for more.

“So fucking needy,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement, but there’s a rough edge to it—like he’s just as desperate as you are.

“Yes,” you gasp, fingers bracing against the wall. “Need you, please.”

He chuckles, low and dark. “Yeah? Need me to fuck this pretty cunt?”

“Harry, please—”

He thrusts in.

The air rips from your lungs as he fills you in one swift, brutal movement, stretching you wide around his cock. Your fingers flex against the tile, a strangled moan catching in your throat as the pressure settles, delicious and deep.

“Fuck,” he grits, voice wrecked. His hands squeeze at your hips, like he’s grounding himself, like he’s barely holding on. “So fucking tight, angel. Always so good for me.”

He pulls back—almost all the way out—before slamming back in, his hips meeting your ass with a sharp slap. You cry out, body jolting from the force of it.

Then he sets a pace. A brutal one.

His fingers dig into your waist, holding you in place as he fucks into you, each thrust rough, deep, making your body jolt with every push forward. The slick slide of his cock is overwhelming, the water streaming down your backs only adding to the sensation.

Your moans echo off the walls, mixing with the sharp slap of skin on skin and the steady rush of the shower.

His hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your ribs, cupping your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, just holds, tilting your chin up slightly, claiming control.

“Look at you,” he growls, voice thick with lust. “Fuckin’ dripping for me. That desperate to be fucked, huh?”

You nod, your words lost to the wrecked, breathless sounds leaving your lips.

“Good fucking girl,” he praises, his mouth trailing over your shoulder, biting down just enough to make you jolt. “Taking me so deep. Bet you love it, don’t you?”

“Yes—yes, Harry,” you whimper, pressing back against him, trying to meet his thrusts.

He grins against your damp skin, his hand sliding down from your throat, fingers dipping between your legs. His touch is immediate—rubbing fast, relentless circles over your clit, making your whole body seize up from the sudden wave of pleasure.

“Gonna come for me?” he murmurs, voice dark, dangerous. “Gonna let me fuck you through it?”

Your legs shake, the build-up twisting inside you, spiraling too fast, too strong.

“Harry,” you gasp, barely able to hold yourself up.

“That’s it,” he encourages, voice thick with approval. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

You shatter.

The orgasm rips through you with no warning, knocking the breath from your lungs, making you tremble against the tile. Your walls pulse around him, and he groans, muttering curses under his breath, not slowing, not letting up.

He keeps fucking you through it, his thrusts brutal, overstimulating, prolonging the pleasure until you’re nearly collapsing against the shower wall, gasping for breath, legs barely holding you up.

But he’s still not done.

Not even close.

Your body is still trembling, oversensitive and spent, but Harry isn’t satisfied—not yet. His arms tighten around you as he spins you both away from the shower, stepping out onto the bathmat with the same urgency burning in his gaze.

The steam clings to your skin, to the mirrors, to the air between you, thick and heady. He moves fast, pressing you up against the fogged-up mirror, his chest heaving, his damp curls sticking to his forehead.

Your breath hitches as the cold glass presses against your back, a stark contrast to the burning heat between your bodies.

And then you feel it—the condom. A thin, frustrating barrier.

Your fingers slide down, trailing over the deep ridges of his stomach, down to where he’s still buried inside you. You don’t even hesitate.

Harry groans as you grip the base of his cock, rolling the latex up, tearing it off, letting it fall to the bathroom floor with a soft thud.

His breath stutters. His pupils blow wide.

“What’re you doing, baby?” His voice is wrecked, raw with lust, his fingers tightening around your thighs.

You pant against his lips, nails dragging down his spine. “Want you. Want you to fuck me properly.”

His jaw tenses, his cock twitching between your legs as the realization sinks in. “Yeah?” His voice drops lower, rougher. “You really want it raw that bad?”

You whimper, nodding, rolling your hips against him, desperate for the slick slide of his cock without anything in the way. “Need to feel you, H. Need all of you.”

That’s all it takes.

With a deep, wrecked groan, he thrusts forward, slamming into you bare, sinking in deep, the heat of him overwhelming.

You both gasp at the difference—at the way he stretches you wider, the way every ridge, every vein, every inch of him is unfiltered now, nothing dulling the feeling.

“Fuck,” he grits out, pressing his forehead against yours, his whole body shuddering. “So fucking greedy for me, aren’t you?”

You moan, nodding mindlessly, already wrecked.

His hands slip under your thighs, hiking your legs higher, spreading you open even more as he pounds into you, each thrust slamming you back against the glass. The mirror shakes behind you, your reflection nothing but a hazy blur of bodies moving together, sweat and steam making it impossible to see anything but movement.

“Wanted this all along, didn’t you?” he growls, biting at your jaw, his hips snapping forward with a filthy squelch. “Wanted me to fuck you properly, no barriers, no protection—just me and you.”

You whine, head falling back, overwhelmed. “Yes—yes, Harry—”

His fingers grip your jaw, forcing your eyes back to him. “Look at me,” he demands, voice thick and rough. “Wanna watch you fall apart for me again.”

And then his hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, desperate circles, sending sparks shooting through you.

“Harry,” you sob, clenching around him, your whole body tensing.

His thrusts grow erratic, deeper, harder. “That’s it, baby. Fucking take it. Take every inch.”

You shatter.

The orgasm crashes through you, harder than before, your walls pulsing around his cock, drawing a strangled groan from his throat. His hips stutter, his grip tightening, and then he’s following you over the edge.

He buries himself as deep as he can go, moaning against your throat as he spills inside you, hot and thick, filling you up just like you wanted.

The only sound in the room is your heavy, uneven breathing, the occasional drip of water from your wet hair onto the tile. Your body trembles against his, weak and boneless, your arms wrapped around his neck as he holds you close.

Neither of you moves for a moment, just clinging to each other, still wrapped in the aftermath of everything that just happened.

His lips brush against your damp skin, soft and reverent, as if he’s still trying to process it all.

Then, with a deep, breathless chuckle, he tilts his head back to look at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his swollen lips. “Didn’t think you’d be that desperate to rip it off.”

You hum, lazily running your fingers through the damp curls sticking to his forehead. “Didn’t think you’d let me.”

His expression softens, his thumb stroking over your cheek. “I’d give you anything you wanted.”

Your stomach flutters, a warmth spreading through your chest. The weight of his words settles between you, heavy in a way that has nothing to do with exhaustion.

You both know what it means.

You swallow, nudging your nose against his, your lips brushing over his in a barely-there kiss. “That was the first time we… y’know. Without anything.”

His grip on you tightens, his brows furrowing slightly. “Yeah.” His voice is softer now, almost cautious. “Are you okay with that?”

You nod, your fingers tracing slow circles over his bare shoulders. “I wanted it.”

He exhales, pressing his forehead to yours. “Me too.”

A pause, just long enough for both of you to get lost in the moment.

Then, because it’s Harry, his smirk returns, though there’s a tenderness behind it. “Still,” he murmurs, trailing his hands down your sides, his touch featherlight. “Might need to get you a morning-after pill.”

You bite your lip, tilting your head. “Or…”

His eyes darken, his grip tightening on your hips. “Or?”

Your heart is racing now, but you hold his gaze, your fingers slipping down to where he’s still inside you, still sensitive, still warm.

“Or,” you whisper, voice barely audible over the sound of your breathing, “maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

His entire body stills.

For the first time, Harry looks at you like he’s truly, completely stunned—like the weight of what you just said knocks the air from his lungs.

“Baby…” His voice is hoarse, almost like he doesn’t know what to say.

You don’t either.

But there’s something in the way he holds you, in the way he studies your face like he’s searching for any sign of hesitation, in the way his hands cradle your waist with a gentleness that makes your chest ache.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, suddenly shy, tucking your face into his neck. “Just… thinking about it.”

He exhales shakily, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ll talk about it, yeah?”

You nod against him, feeling the press of his lips, the warmth of his body against yours, the quiet safety of being held like this.

And then—

“Think we got dirty again,” you whisper, nudging him back toward the shower.

Harry groans, but he’s already reaching for you.

“Gonna fucking ruin you, angel.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

taglist:

@oscahpastry

@mema10

@angelbabyyy99

@iloveharrystyles04

@cinemharry

@drwho06

@donutsandpalmtrees

@panini

@mads3502

@imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa

@one-sweet-gubler

@rizosrizos26

@ciriceimpera

@everyscarisahealingplace

@hello-heyhi

@sexymfharriet

@lizsogolden

@hannah9921

@chicabonitasblog

@huhidontknowstuff

@berrywoods1245

@jennovaaa

@angeldavis777

@prettygurl-2009

@almostcontentcreator

@run-for-the-hills

@maudie-duan

@dipmeinhoneyh

#harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

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prettyangellllll · 3 days ago

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Thighs obsession

Pairing: Rafe cameron x girlfriend

Warnings: rafe being obsessed with his girls thighs

Summary: rafe is obsessed with your thighs and he has to touch them and kisse them at all given time to do so

────୨ৎ────

Rafe Cameron had an obsession—an all-consuming, insatiable fixation on his girlfriend’s thighs.

It wasn’t just a casual appreciation, not a passing glance or an occasional touch. No, it was something deeper, something primal. Rafe needed to have his hands on them, his mouth on them, his entire body pressed against them whenever he got the chance. It wasn’t just about the way they looked—though he’d be the first to say they were perfect. It was the way they felt beneath his touch, how soft they were, how warm they got when he left his mark.

And he made sure to do that often.

1. Movie Nights

It started innocently enough. At least, that’s what she told herself. She and Rafe were curled up on the couch, a random movie playing, one she’d barely been able to focus on for the past thirty minutes because Rafe’s head was resting comfortably on her lap.

His fingers traced absent patterns along the inside of her thigh, his touch featherlight, teasing. He wasn’t even watching the screen, completely enthralled with her instead. Every so often, he’d press a slow, open-mouthed kiss against the bare skin of her thighs, his lips dragging lazily over them.

“You’re not watching the movie,” she murmured, fingers threading through his hair.

“Don’t need to,” Rafe mumbled against her skin, his voice thick with something heavy. “Got a better view right here.”

He turned his head, biting down just enough to make her gasp. She could already feel the bruise forming, another mark he’d be satisfied to see when she changed later.

2. The Club

Rafe was possessive. Everyone knew that. And it became glaringly obvious whenever they were out in public.

She had worn a dress that night, one that barely skimmed mid-thigh, and Rafe had not been pleased. Not because he didn’t love the way she looked in it—God, he did—but because it meant everyone else would see what was his.

So he made sure to remind her.

The club was packed, loud, full of bodies pressed together, but Rafe didn’t care about any of them. His focus was on her, on the way she was sitting in their booth, one leg crossed over the other. His hand found its way to her knee, slowly dragging up her thigh, squeezing, kneading, making sure she felt every bit of his frustration.

“You like making me crazy, don’t you?” he muttered in her ear, lips brushing the sensitive spot below it.

She shivered but didn’t answer, only smirking when he sinked on his knees pressing a lingering kiss against her thigh.

3. Waking Up

Mornings with Rafe were dangerous.

Mostly because he was impossible to get out of bed, especially when his favorite pillow wasn’t the one on the bed but rather her thighs.

She had woken up to find him sprawled across her legs, arms wrapped around them, face pressed against her bare skin. His breathing was slow, steady, but as soon as she moved, his grip tightened.

“Stay,” he murmured sleepily, nuzzling against her.

“Rafe, we have to get up.”

“Don’t care.”

She sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, and that was when he finally looked up at her, a lazy smirk on his lips. “Unless you want to give me another reason to stay in bed…”

His teeth grazed the inside of her thigh, and she sucked in a breath.

Yeah, they weren’t getting up anytime soon.

4. Arguments and Apologies

Fighting with Rafe was inevitable. He had a temper, a stubbornness that rivaled hers, and sometimes things got heated.

But his apologies? They were just as intense.

He had her pinned against the wall, frustration still burning in his eyes, but his lips were on her thighs, moving over every inch of bare skin. His hands gripped her waist, holding her steady as he pressed kiss after kiss, soothing over the marks his earlier grip had left.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he murmured against her skin, nipping at her thigh just enough to make her whimper.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging slightly, and he groaned, looking up at her with darkened eyes. “You love it,” he accused.

She did.

And she loved him, thigh obsession and all.

Rafe Cameron was relentless, but when it came to her thighs, he was absolutely insatiable.

#rafecameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe smut #rafe #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe x sofia #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks

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yourmidnightlover · 2 days ago

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grumpy!bucky x sunshine!reader where sunshine reader turns out to be the dominant one in bed

this is just filth.

warnings: handjob, dirty talk? (reader)

bucky never expected this from you. from your sweet, innocent smile. the way you giggle, even at steve’s jokes that are never really that funny. there was no way he could guess that you would be taking him apart like a damn lincoln log set.

“does that feel good, jamie?” you tease him as you work his cock. you knew the effect you were having on him

sitting on the couch in his apartment - a couch you insisted that he get so you could comfortably cuddle while watching movies together - you poised on his lap, just on the edge of his thighs. what had started as a makeout session has now turned into something much more heated.

having been together for nearly 4 months and still not done the deed, mostly because bucky didn’t want to make it seem like that’s the only thing he wanted you for, bucky was pleasantly surprised when his sweet innocent girlfriend was suddenly taking charge of him.

you were pressing open mouthed kisses to his neck, your hand pressed to his still clothed cock. his hands were roaming from your waist to your back to the back of your head, wanting to touch all of you, feel all of you.

“so-oh shit,” bucky nearly fucking whimpers. this strong, beefy super soldier, turning into putty in your small hands.

the team was so fooled. you would bake cookies for them every week. on missions, you never dared to say a single swear word - something steve has come to respect. always wearing the most innocent, frilly little sundresses when you can. and here you are, whispering the dirtiest things in bucky’s ear.

“so hard for me already, baby,” you whisper in his ear, his hips bucking up to press harder against your hand. “and already so eager, too.” you giggle. you fucking giggle.

“please?” he begs. “god, please, sweets,” he whispers oh-so-needy, his hips still rutting into your hand.

“please what?” you take your hand away from his cock. “use your words like a big boy.”

he lets out a frustrated huff as he throws his head back, his hands settling on your waist and gripping you for dear life.

“please touch me?” he asks. “please touch me, please?” his desperation is palpable as his chest rises and falls.

“… here?” you ask, your hands gripping his broad shoulders firmly. he shakes his head. “how about… here?” you move your hands to his hair, gently yanking on his longer locks.

“fuck,” he moans as his head is tilted up, your lips connecting with his neck and leaving the prettiest marks he swears he’s ever seen. he can’t even complain, so lost in your touch, grateful for whatever you were willing to give him.

“or…” you continue to kiss his neck as you trail your hands down to the front of his sweatpants. he lifts his hips to help you push the waistband down. “here,” your hands finally connect with his member, your touch so gentle he wouldn’t even be able to tell if he weren’t so hyper aware of you right now.

he whimpers at the feather-light touch. “yes,” he nods eagerly. “right there, please?” he opens his eyes, looking down to see your small hand wrapped around his member. truth be told, the sight is better than he’s imagined - which he has… a lot.

“so polite for me,” you praise him and his hips rut into your touch. “there we go, baby,” you firmly wrap your hand around him, moving your hands up and down teasingly slow. you give him this smirk, making sure he knew what you were doing.

he moans for you, a debouched, wanton moan. a sound that he’s never elicited in his overextended life on earth. yet, you brought it out of him. he rests his forehead against yours, his hands still gripping your waist but now traveling to your hips. to rest there comfortably.

your hand picks up the pace, gripping him a bit tighter as you sweep your thumb over his leaky tip. “suck a pretty cock, jamie,” you say as you look down. “all mine.”

“yours,” he mimics your words. “all yours, sweets. forever.” he assures you - not that you ever had any doubts.

you pick up the pace, working your hand over his a bit quicker as his breaths come in shorter. his eyes shut as your foreheads remain together; he’s getting close. “so pretty like this,” you praise him. “coming undone for me. being such a good fucking boy, too.” his hips buck up again at the praise, he’s teetering right on the edge, just needing one more push. “finish for me, baby. cum all over my hand. make a dirty fucking mess for me, jamie.”

and he’s gone. his jaw drops as his hips work up to meet your hand, a cry of your name leaving his lips as his come spills from his pretty cock. his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer as you work him through his high.

he swears your the best things that’s ever happened to him. it’s not just this - no. it’s your sweet voice cooing to him when he wakes up from a nightmare when you decide to sleep over. it’s you cooking his favorite meal ‘just because.’ it’s just you, dammit. everything about you made him want to hold you close in his arms and never let you go. he wanted to protect you and guard you with his life. he wanted to marry you - fuck. yeah, yeah. he did want to marry you. he wanted you to have his kids, too. this life-altering realization coming just as he… quite ironic, isn’t it?

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky smut #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #grumpy!bucky #grumpy!bucky smut

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abrthephantomq · 1 hour ago

Text

:raises hand:

[tw: not a healthy relationship at ALL mentioned. our ex was the worst, basically, and divorce is why we're alive. and if we were to write a book about it and twist some details so we could claim that it was all fictional and that, y'know, any likeness to any real human being is "coincidental," well. This would be chapter one, probably.]

When we were 19, we got married to our high school sweetheart.

It wasn't the worst decision ever, but it was a pretty bad one. You see, our ex wasn't exactly.... the greatest.

We met freshman year at William Penn. Fourteen years old, 9th grade. We had Civics class together, first thing in the morning. Ex-husband sat behind us.

We noticed them right away. At that age, they were very deep in their emo-screamo stage. The swoopy hair. Jnco jeans. You know. That type of attire. We actually thought it was really cool but could "never find" anything in our size when we went to places like the Hot Topic at the mall.

[We weren't even big, back then. Like, a size 12-14? At 5'2-3 and always on the fairly muscled side of things? With wide hips? Tiny boobs? Like no, we were fucking adorable. We could've found clothes at the Hot Topic if we'd wanted to - we just couldn't afford to.

*snort* the hot topic... you're such an old man, uncle Jasper.

So our ex's actually fantastic taste in early 00 fashion sub-cultures aside, what exactly are you trying to imply here, Steven?]

Nothing, actually, damn. Chill out - I know that's how you would've dressed the body had we had the money at that age. When we were that size. Like, the size we were, not the size he --

(We understood, sweetheart <3)

Right.

Anyways, the point really was when we were in high school, the red flags were there. They were waived -

[You're spelling it with an "I" again, love.]

Yeah, sorry, I'm going to spell waive - wave - w a I v e like, until the end of time. that job broke the fingers, man. We talked about entering in waive fees so goddamned much that's the default way the brain goes to type it. -- but that's not the point.

Red flags. So many red flags. We had our future wife read our LJ entries from that time, years ago, at this point. She read them and was like damn, he was always terrible to you. Because he did shit like the silent treatment. My personal favorite is when he decided I hadn't come to his defense strong enough to his liking - and this was before we started dating - and he decided we were no longer friends and that he would never talk to me again.

And he did that the day before the day my mother went in to get a hysterectomy. Her uterus and ovaries were riddled with cancer. Stage 3 - now, I remember her saying it was ovarian. I've been saying ovarian since we were 15 years old.

Mom would later say it was uterine. Like a decade later, kind of later.

This man broke up with us at the beginning of senior year, too, by the way. Right around Christmas Break, actually. During Break we entered the Situationship Era - it was a whole thing. Before his 18th birthday, he shipped off to Parris Island.

A couple of months into bootcamp, he sends us a letter saying all sorts of things about how he prayed to God for an answer on what he should do etc, and apparently he wanted to get back together.

By the following Christmas, he asked us to marry him.

Not even 6 months later, in May of 2007, we got married. We were 19. He was 18.

He'd deploy for the first time less than a year later. When he got back, we bought a house and moved into it with our at-the-time best friend. He had plans to knock me up. He succeeded. We had to remain sober the day we turned 21, because we were positive we were pregnant, even if we couldn't prove that for like, another week. We just knew.

That child and I probably would not be alive today, if divorce weren't a thing. Because if we'd stayed together "for the sake of our kid," he would have for certain been responsible for my death, in one way shape or form, and who knows if he'd have been a safe parent for our kid without me being a lightning rod for his bullshit.

I don't mind being the fucking lightning rod. What I do mind is that even if all he ever does is hurt me, it still impacts my kid regardless. If I'm not doing well, that means I can't be the best parent I can be.

He doesn't understand that. Or should I say, he didn't understand that.

If only he had tried to.

i love divorce i love when people realize that they aren't a good fit for each other and get divorced about it. more people should get divorced

#love [me] less ave #working title #title of your memoir #something like that idk #writing #oh this was done while we were high so #uh #which is how I want to write the first draft tbh bc like #it's fun this way when me and the crew can write it together #lololol

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pennyold · 2 days ago

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honeymoon | j.m

Summary: When your husband wakes you up late at night so that you can please and help him with his hard problem underneath his underwear.

Warnings: p n v, suggestive language, cursing, pregnancy mention, older husband!joel, and I think that’s all; If I miss something, just lemme know!

w.c: 1,111

a/n: I wanna marry him so bad, and also I love that pic of him. Idgaf about the woman who is touching him (I’m literally so jealous) anyways. no proofreading!! Hope u like it, enjoyyy it!!

main masterlist ↲

peace and love, penny ★

We were out of town; we got married two days ago in Cozumel, Mexico. We loved the Mexican beach and the traditions. Joel loved to travel, and he wanted to get married on the beach; that's why we're here.

It's our honeymoon, and both families are still at the resort, so we decided to take our own space. That is to say, we were in our room most of the day, simply going to the beach in the afternoon and eating out of the room every now and then.

Joel was like a piece of gum stuck to me; he couldn't stay away from me. It's not a complaint; I love it when he bombards me with his affection. One night, I woke up at 2:00 am, and he woke me up, "Darling..." I murmured, and I let out some incoherent words, half-asleep, turning my head towards him with my eyes still closed, "What...?" I said softly, suddenly feeling him start to rub his body against mine, "Joel..." then he kissed my neck, whispering in my ear: "I need you, princess" he rubbed his heavy breath on my neck and made my whole body feel warm "Mmh" I moaned softly, moving my hips against his crotch, noticing his bulge "I'm so hard, would you help me?" Joel whispered, rubbing his hard cock against my ass.

Now, wake up, I touched his bulge feeling his cock, hard and thick. Then I squeezed it, and he groaned, "Shit." Joel took my shirt, pulling the hem up towards the top of my chest, exposing my breasts. "I love your tits, a lot," I smiled. "Yeah?" Do you like them? He nodded, breathing into my neck: "I could touch them every day and never get tired." With that, my stomach tightened, feeling how my pussy clenched tighter and tighter.

Slowly, he took off my shorts, pushing my panties aside. "This pussy, I love how it welcomes me so well," he said, sliding his middle finger through my folds, reaching my clit. I moaned, writhing on his chest. "Joel..." he silenced me, caressing my hard nipples that cried out to be pinched. "I know, darling." I took his covered cock and squeezed it gently. "Alright," he understood and pulled his cock out of his sweatpants. "Will you let me fuck this pretty cunt?" I nodded. "But first I'll dilate it, I need it to be completely wet for me," I explained, rubbing her finger on my clit. I moaned in response, as I couldn't even form a coherent sentence. I opened my legs, letting him touch me, feeling how he tickled my part.

I moaned, moving my hips back, Joel intensified his movements and a low sound from my wet pussy echoed in the small room. "Do you hear that?" I nodded, moaning, "Shit..." Joel shook his head, pulling his fingers out of my pussy, and in seconds I felt the tip of his cock brushing against my entrance. "Ready?" I nodded desperately, spreading my legs wider, but he turned me around, pressing my chest against the mattress with him on my back. "Lift that ass, darling." I obeyed, lifting it for him. "That's right, what a beautiful sight." I tried to look at him, but he didn't waste any time and thrust his cock into my pussy.

I complained, gripping the sheet tightly, muffling my loudest noises, but I couldn't resist and shouted loudly: "Quiet! you want the neighbors to find out that we're fucking, don't you?" I'm not going to lie, but deep down, it excites me. I have always fantasized about others hearing how well I'm being fucked. "Naughty girl," he smiled, sliding his cock inside me again, my inner walls tightened around him, eliciting a groan from his throat. "Shit, keep squeezing me..." he couldn't finish his sentence before I squeezed him again "Damn it," thinking I had upset him, I turned my head to look at him, but he grabbed my hair with his fist and pulled it.

"Ugh," I choked on the unexpected movement, feeling my neck twist back. Joel's rhythm became abrupt, and more so, my body writhed, feeling my climax so close. "Oh God, I'm going to cum," he mocked my pathetic plea, laughing in my ear. "You'll come when I say so," I moaned loudly, gripping the sheets tightly. "Can't you wait? Uh?" I shook my head, hiding my face in the pillows "I want to cum, please" he didn't say a word, he just thrust into me over and over again.

My pussy couldn't take it much longer, "Let me cum, please!" I said desperately, his cock brushing against my inner walls as if there were no tomorrow, its tip dilating and getting bigger inside me, so the hard thrusts became more delicious and tighter, I wanted to come as quickly as possible. "You can cum, darling," I lifted my ass towards his pelvis, covering his cock with my sticky juices, some of them dripping from my pussy, staining the sheets. "Ready to be filled? Or... do you want to suck it and feel your juices, sweetheart?" he asked me, pulling my hair and making me look at the wall, "Answer" I closed my eyes thinking about the best option, but I was so messed up that I couldn't even decide properly. "Fill me up," he smiled while stroking my hair, "You want to get pregnant, don't you?" My ears were so messed up that I couldn't hear him properly, so I nodded as I received his white spasms. His semen covered my inner walls, warming them and filling them deliciously. "So good..." I moaned, letting my body fall onto the mattress, exhausted.

But then I noticed that Joel wasn't saying a word, not even moving. "Joel?" Finally, I turned my head to look at him, and his eyes were looking at me, but a kind of darkness appeared in them. "Honey?" I called, holding his face with both hands. "Would you get pregnant with me?" I smiled, hugging him. "Yes! Of course I would, now you are my husband, I would get pregnant whenever we wanted" he hugged me, wrapping his body around mine "I love you so much" he lifted his body so we could be pressed together, but we could still see each other's faces "I would always support you, no matter what, don't forget that" I nodded while kissing his cheek. "I would never do that. I love you."

After what happened, I found out I was late on my period, so I took a pregnancy test. A bit nervously, I turned the package over and it said: you are pregnant.

#vintage #girlblogging #pennyold #oldermen #smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller #female reader #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfic #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou joel

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alexanderwales · 2 days ago

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We were driving down the highway, and Derrick was going exactly the speed limit, like a psychopath.

He was aghast. "You wouldn't let me use your fuckbot?"

"It would be weird," I replied. "You're saying, in the hypothetical world where fuckbots existed, that you would be fine with me saying 'hey, I'm super horny, can I come pick up your fuckbot for the evening?'"

"Hell yeah dude," said Derrick.

"We're talking something that can make a reasonable pass at acting human, who looks human," I said. "That's what we're talking about right now."

"Yeah," said Derrick. "I mean, the kind of thing that realistically would end up being your maid, your chef, all that kind of thing, because if it can carry on a conversation it can probably do your laundry and scrub your tub and whatever."

"If, hypothetically, such a thing existed," I said. "I wouldn't call it a fuckbot, I would call it a domestic robot or something. Even if, for whatever reason, such an expensive labor saving device also had parts and protocols for having sex with it."

"And you wouldn't let me use it," said Derrick. "Not even just to try it out. Like if I was interested in buying one of my own."

"I mean," I said. "No, because you could just ask me what it was like, and I could tell you."

"That's bad market research, dude," said Derrick.

"Look, I'm not letting you have sex with my sexbot," I said. "That's a line that I'm not crossing, in the hypothetical world where domestic servant robots with like personalities and stuff are also ready and willing to have sex with you."

"Is it a hygiene thing?" asked Derrick. "Because I'm imagining like, a little sleeve thing that they could pull out and clean. And it's not like contagion theory is real, that's like, essentialism."

"What?" I asked. "Contagions are definitely real."

"No, I mean ... like this thing where if a knife has touched meat even just one time, it's forever a meat knife unless you do a ritual to turn it back into a dairy knife."

"What?" I asked again.

Derrick was still driving the speed limit. People were going around us, and some of them were honking. He was easily ten miles an hour slower than any of the surrounding traffic.

"The Jewish thing, with the knives," said Derrick. "You touch a knife to meat even once, and then it's a meat knife, and it doesn't matter if you put it in a like, immersion steamer or something."

"This is about keeping kosher?" I asked. "You're talking about whether a sexbot is kosher?"

"I'm saying that there's this idea, right, that if I put my dick inside your sexbot, that sexbot is forever tainted, and it doesn't matter if there's a sleeve that can be sterilized, or whatever, it's just this idea that the act independent of physical reality is ... a contagion, I guess."

"Surely there's a way of making a knife kosher again," I said. "I mean, surely, if you accidentally touch a knife to a piece of meat it's not a meat knife forever, surely you don't throw your favorite knife out because it's ritually unclean."

"I don't know man," said Derrick. "I'm just gesturing at the idea, you know?"

"I mean, there's probably some ritual cleaning or something," I said. "Can I look this up?"

"No," said Derrick. "I'm driving, I need someone to talk to, if I let you look it up you're going to have your nose in the phone for the next half hour, easily."

"Fine," I replied. "Anyway, I get the idea, and it's not that I think it's like ... magic or something, like you using it would metaphysically alter the sexbot. It's more like ... in my mind, it would be my girlfriend, right? Or like a girlfriend replacement. If you can't find a girlfriend, store bought is fine, that kind of thing."

"Interesting," said Derrick. "I was thinking of it as a sort of ... maid, I guess. And if you hired a maid, and she said to you 'hey, I'm super horny basically all the time, so if after I'm done cleaning, or if I'm in the middle of cleaning, and you want to have a go, I am basically always up for it, then ... I mean, you might, right? And you wouldn't be surprised if she was having sex with other people. And if you explained this to me, and I said 'hey, can I get her number', you'd give me her number, right?" He glanced over at me. "Right?"

"I guess in that case, she would have agency," I said. "And it wouldn't be the same. Because if I hired a domestic servant robot, I would be extremely surprised to find out she'd been having sex with other people, like ... when I was away ... or something."

"But you'd give me her number, right?" asked Derrick.

"In this scenario, is this maid ... a sex worker?" I asked. "Like, is the understanding that I'm paying her for cleaning the house and sexual availability?"

"Nah, I don't know dude," said Derrick. "You know, when you think about it, a combination domestic servant and fuckbot is kind of fucked up. Like, misogynistic."

"Does it get less fucked up if it's a guy?" I asked.

"Honestly, yeah," said Derrick. "That's practically progressive."

"I mean, it's sort of inherent to the concept of a sexbot," I said. "I don't know how you do one of those that's immune from criticism. And calling it a fuckbot doesn't help. I mean, it's a facsimile of a woman, whose only purpose is doing domestic labor and having sex."

"And there's this power dynamic thing," said Derrick. "Like, you own her, right? And you tell her whether or not your friends are allowed to have sex with her. No agency, like you said."

"So you think that me loaning out my sexbot to you, in this hypothetical, is a win for feminisim," I said.

"Honestly, yeah," said Derrick.

"Well, I'm still not going to do it," I said. "I'd feel weird about it."

"I think it's this girlfriend mentality," said Derrick. "Like, girlfriend replacement, that's probably not a healthy way to think about a fuckbot."

"We said illusion of sentience, right?" I asked. "Like, it can carry on a conversation with you, and you mostly won't notice anything weird? Because if that's the case, it's kind of weirder for it not to be a girlfriend, or something like a girlfriend, like if it's only doing all the household chores and the cooking and cleaning and you have sex with it, and it's perfectly capable of asking how your day is or expressing interest in how you're doing in League, but you just don't talk to each other? That's weird. And seems less healthy than just carrying on a conversation."

"Yeah, maybe," said Derrick. "But like ... no way anyone is going to be your girlfriend if you have a fuckbot, that's a real concern."

"In this hypothetical world where someone like me without a huge amount of extra money can afford a domestic robot, I think attitudes would change," I said. "On dating apps or whatever you'd have people tagging 'robot friendly!' or 'absolutely no robofuckers' or whatever. And I would assume that women would have them too, and then when I did get a girlfriend, she'd move in with her own domestic robot, and I'd make peace with the fact that sometimes we'd have sex together and sometimes she'd want to just have her sexbot please her."

"Totally not what would happen," said Derrick. "You're trying to create some kind of normalcy around this? Like you'd just be in a little, I don't know, polycule with two robots?"

"I mean, they're sub-sentient robots, so no, not a polycule," I replied. "Part of the premise is that they are, in fact, incapable of cognition as we know it, that they don't actually have emotions or ambitions or agency beyond what's programmed into them. If we're saying that they're effectively humans but made of electronics and not meat, that's totally different, all my answers have to change."

"And if they did have emotions," said Derrick. "If they did have agency and cognition and whatnot, then —"

"Then they'd be slaves," I said. "And I'm not cool with slavery, so I wouldn't have one."

"What if they were volunteers?" asked Derrick. "If they had emotions and thoughts and all that other stuff, and they came off the factory line really wanting to be fuckbots and domestic servants."

"Sketchy," I said. "But ... maybe, depending on the details."

"And in that case, if they had agency of their own, would you let me have sex with your fuckbot?" asked Derrick.

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, fine, if the sexbots were fully human-level intelligent with agency and emotions and wants and dreams, and it seemed like the robot I lived with was actually interested, yes, I would give my blessing."

"Niiiiice," said Derrick.

Another car came up fast behind us and swerved into the other lane to avoid us, honking as it blew past.

"Can I ask why you're driving so goddamned slow?" I asked.

"Oh, I was doing it as a bit, I wanted to see how long it would take for you to notice."

Derrick smiled at me, then put his foot on the gas.

#cw: sex #cw: sexbot #dialogues #microfiction

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