#you'll get the result soon.

[iamdevouring-god]

// IT WAS YOU /ref /pos

How I feel turning askblogs into marketable plushies

@ask-lizzie-afton @ask-ashley-campbell-6 @ask-sally-face @ask-larry-johnson @ihatemysontravis @iamdevouring-god @phelps-boy-travis (and anyone else I forgot)

[chalkrub]

challenging myself by engaging in the ancient art known as "dynamic poses", but making it harder on myself by ignoring the noble practice of "using references"

featuring belvedere and florawell

[weaselle]

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

genuinely the green knight (2021) is morgan le fay sending her gay son on a heuristic experience of Let's Get (Beheadings) This Quest

[pynkfairyheart]

pairings: peircer eren x black reader

warnings: smut 18+, kinda pervy eren

Good girl

“Hello?” Your soft voice rang over the chimes as you entered the tattoo parlor.

The shop was quiet, seemingly empty besides the softening chimes of the door and surprised cursing down the long hall.

“Shit- yeah. Just give me a minute. My apologies” The culprit of the cursing called.

In the meantime, you took a look around the lobby. The reviews didn't do the place justice. The largest wall contained a bright colorful mural, contrasting beautifully with the dark floors and connected black walls.

While admiring the piece of artwork, heavy thudding from the long hallway turned your attention to the most gorgeous man you had ever seen.

You never believed in love at first sight, up until now. You hadn't even known the man's name yet, but you craved him. The reviews warned you the entire staff was attractive but they clearly left out that this man was a god.

His long hair was pulled into a low bun, strands falling in his face, the color contrasting against his pale skin. He was tall, with a full sleeve on one of his muscular arms, and his green eyes had you drowning immediately. He couldn't be Onyankopon, they said he was a brother. Maybe Connie or, Levi-

“Hi, I'm Eren” He introduced himself after swallowing the large knot in his throat.

While in your own trance, you failed to notice how he froze the moment he saw you. The bright light you stood under showcased the sparkles of your pretty brown skin.

Your legs were on display as a result of the simmering heat outside, thick thighs causing them to roll up slightly. The fitted t-shirt you wore allowed the hardened buds of your nipples to peek through, despite the hot weather.

Eren never considered himself a pervert but the way his mind instantly thought about sucking on them till you begged him to fuck you had him thinking otherwise.

“Hi, I'm [☆]. Is this a bad time?” Oh, he could have come on the spot, your voice sounded even better without the numerous walls separating you and god your perfume had him wanting to devour you on the reception desk.

“No, no I just don't know how much I can do for you, the AC is out in all the rooms but mine and I don't even know how long that's gonna last so if you're looking for an hour long tat session you'll have to come back” He crossed his arms, muscles contracting against the white tee.

“Oh no, I'm just hoping to get a few piercings but I can definitely come back another time”

“No, I can do a couple of piercings. What were you thinking?” He grabbed the paperwork from under the counter, praying one of them would be your chest.

“Uh well, I want the other side of my nose, belly button, venus dimples, and my nipples but I understand if you can't do all of that or the last one I'll just come back”

“No, no I can do it,” He said too quickly, clearing his throat awkwardly before handing you the paperwork.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

“Good girl. You're doing such a good job for me, pretty. Just hold on for one second, lovey”

He was currently doing your last dimple piercing. The pain was unimaginable at first but as soon as the praises left his mouth all was forgotten besides the growing stickiness that rested between your thighs.

He praised you after every piercing a variation of “Good girl” “You're doing such a good job for me” “That's it, baby. You did so good” flowed from his pink lips. You could never decide which throbbing to focus on, the one from your new piercing or the throbbing of your clit.

With three new holes in your body and damp panties, it was now time for the piercing both of you were dreading yet excited for.

“Do I just take my shirt off here?”

“Wherever you're comfortable, baby. You can go in the bathroom or stay in here and I'll give you some privacy” He felt like a teenage boy again. His dick twitching at the thought of seeing you exposed.

“No, it's okay you can stay in here I don't mind”

“Oh. Okay,” He perked up. Giving you some privacy he turned his back, pretending to be busy when in reality he was trying to think of anything but you getting undressed behind him. Despite his concentration, all he could focus on was the sound of your necklaces and bracelets clanking at the movements you made.

He knew your nipples were still hard, especially since he took advantage of the working AC and he wondered what your moans would sound like if he flicked his tounge repeatedly over the bud, or if he pinched them in front of the mirror while you begged him to fuck you as you pressed your ass against his hard-

“I'm ready” Your soft voice broke him from his thoughts.

If his self control was any less he'd have gotten on his knees to worship you. There you were. Looking everywhere but him, tits exposed. If it weren’t for the fact other men besides him would see, he'd tattoo this image of you on his bare forearm.

“Are you ready?” He suppressed a groan.

“Mhm”

“Okay stand up for me” He led you to the mirror where he prepped each bud. During the process, you felt as if you could crawl into yourself. The most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes on had his hands on your breast. Despite the occasion being nonsexual, you were convinced your arousal would start running down your thigh at any second.

“Is this okay?” He stood behind you.

You gave a simple hum of approval, thoughts gone as he explained how the process would go. You convinced yourself you could handle it, that it would all be over soon.

That was until he rolled the bud in between his fingers, the whimper you'd been holding escaping you.

‘fuck’ ‘fuck’

“Shit, I'm so sorry I- I didn't mean to do that, please understand I had no malicious intentions I just” He stumbled over his words.

He was just explaining the step by step process of the piercing. He wasn't thinking, just craving. He wouldn't have realized his actions if it weren't for the sound you let out. The sound he knew he'd replay in his head the moment you left the shop, stroking his cock as he imagined it were you down on your knees in front of him.

“It's okay” You reassured him. Your big eyes staring up into his through the mirror.

“I didn't…I don't mind”

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Before you knew it you were bouncing on his cock. His moans muffled as his mouth engulfed your breast. Tongue slightly grazing your nipple with the flickers of his tongue before sucking harshly.

He was stretching you out so good, leaky red tip repeatedly hitting your cervix as his frenum piercing brushed against your walls. The added pleasure contributing to the pace of your bounces as you chased your high.

“E-eren please” You whined, attempting to push his head away from the assault on your breast. His hair was everywhere, the ponytail holder long gone the moment your hands entangled in his hair. Your buds were so sensitive, every suck and swipe of his tongue had you squeezing around him, every clench releasing your cream that pooled at the base of his cock.

“Fuck” He groaned, reluctantly giving your boobs a break. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, groping the brown skin before placing a hard slap on your cheek.

“Talk to me, pretty. You like this? Like bouncing on daddy's cock hmm?” His arms wrapped around you tightly as he fucked up into you.

“Oh my- fuck” You gave him control. Your head resting on his shoulder as you let out pornographic moans into his ear.

“Answer me, mama” Another slap landed on your ass.

Before you had time to register the mix of pain and pleasure on your flesh, the gentle pressure of his finger rubbing circles on your puckering hole had you seeing stars.

“Fuck y-yes. I love it so much, daddy. Please don't stop” You whined. Tears of pleasure wetting the crook of his neck.

By no means was Eren a fast finisher but boy was he trying his best to hold on, you're pussy was just squeezing him so tight, the added tension on his scalp as you tugged on it every time he hit the spongy spot along your walls had his nails digging crescents into your skin.

“I'm so close, daddy, please”

“Let go mama” He pressed hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.

In that moment you came, your pussy tightening around the large girth of his cock. Clear liquid squirting from you in streams as he continued his thrust. Your arousal splashing and dripping onto the chair.

With sweat dripping down his forehead, and stray hairs sticking to him, his thrust became sloppy and his breathing became heavier.

“S-shit” He whimpered, head thrown back as he came harder than ever. Repeatedly pushing his load back into your pussy.

“Lemme take you on a date. Please” He panted once you both came down, his hands roaming your body as he looked down at you, green irises peeking out behind his blown pupils.

“Okay, yea- oh” A broken moan escaped you as he moved your hips up and down his length once again.

“Eren” You whined

“Don't tell me you're wiped out after one round, pretty girl. I know you have more in you, mama. Be a good girl for daddy”

for my eren girlies. this is probably the fastest I've ever wrote bc i just needed peircer eren. oh also how do yall feel about pegging bc i feel peircer eren can be a bit subby sometimes ttm. mwah <3

pt.2 wit the pegging ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶꒱ྀི১

[plumipal]

The Tattoo (part two)

After scarabias overblot, and seeing what ace and Deuce were willikg to do for you, you were so touched that you decided ro get them tattooed on your body as a small heart and a spade. After that chaos ensues-

I'd you wanna read the while prolouge, then it's here

Floyd feels a lot. He feels betrayed and enraged over the tattoo, feeling the urge to fight those two damn guppies you call friends. How dare you betray your mate like this, you were meant to be! Atleast he will show you that he will fight for his mate, if that's good or bad that's for you to decide...

He hates the tattoo, yet as much as he hates it he can't really put the anger onto you. It's that damn mackerel and crabs fault! They must have forced you into it! Don't worry, like the good mate he is he will mark over their dumb marks, showing who's boss. He hates hurting you but he needs to do what has to be done to show that you're his...

Jade is... off. As soon as he hears about the tattoo his composure just, shatters. He cant understand why you would play him like this, you're quite cruel aren't you? Playing him like this, making him lose his composure... you want him to kill to show how much he cares? Because he will- in fact, he will use any dirty tricks in the book to make sure he wins, magic or not..

If magic won't work, he will result to desperately trying to insert himself into your life more than he already has. You'll have a personal butler at this point, one begging for your attention and affection,, to think all this started because of a harmless tattoo...

Azul is about to throw up. The world is spinning, he feels like he is about to throw up. This can't be happening, right?? You, you really hate him don't you? Why else would you get those two troublemakers a tattoo but not him...

The desperation gets worse, the longer he thinks about it. He cant stop crying, having to lock himself in the vip lounge so nobody sees how this issue has reduced him to a sobbing little crybaby. The desperation turns somewhat into determination, the urge to write up the best contract ever to make you happy, maybe throw in a little condition where you need to get a matching tattoo with him..

Jamil is about to have another overblot. He, he is the reason? His overblot? He can't, he cant take it. Being the main reason for the tattoo makes him lose his mind. He avoids you for a week, nor being able to look at you without losing his composure and crying on the spot.

Desperation grows, turing ugly. He cant control himself, searching you out after a week of not seeing you. He begs for forgiveness, for you to not hate him, please, he begs you... He needs you, he needs you in his life, he needs you to love and cherish him, to be your number one.

Kalim feels off. This is one of the few times where he doesn't get what he wants. It's an unknown feeling, a hated feeling. He could be fine with anything else, bur a tattoo of your friends? Isn't he your friend too?? Is it because of the overblot that happened at his dorm? He will get you anything if it means that you'll forgive him! Please, he is begging you..

The jealousy grows, turning into an ugly mess. He cant help but hate on the Adeuce duo, hating them for taking you from him. He tries to endlessly gift you anything you look at for more than a second, trying to get you to spend countless hours at scarabia with several parties a week that always end in a romantic carpet ride. He tries really hard, okay? Just let him show you he is the best choise...

Epel is enraged, how dare you? The emotions get too intense, and he storms off. He cant believe you, picking favourites in your group? They may have been there before you but he loves you way more than they could ever love you!

He is in constant state of dissaray the first day, his anger rising the more he thinks about it. The anger stops being directed towards you and instead those two dumbasses, Ace and Deuce. He cant stand their asses! Going straight to battle living shit out of them.

Only, that isn't how it goes for him. He gets his ass kicked with everyone he tries to fight, getting so beat up he can barely stand up straight. Oh well, he can atleast leech off of you to nurse him back to health. You have to, please, he is begging for some alone time with you...

Also please someone help him with getting a new blazer, his old one is currently torn to shreds. The fights he got into wasn't really that good for him, since he is trying to fight people twice his size. Only for you, he would only go so far for you...

Rook feels... nothing. He can't bring himself to feel emotions currently, too stuck up on the tattoo. Sure, it's such a beautiful thing you care enough for someone that you would permanently etch that into your body. But why? Why couldn't it have been him? He is your friend too (he wish he was more to you, but that can wait, he will wait eons for you, only you)...

You feel bad for the man, wondering why he was so down all of the sudden. You still care about him (you care for everyone, they're you're friends after all), deciding to let him stay the night at ramshackle. He is forever grateful for your endless kindness, swearing to get into your good graces just so he can one day also get a tattoo..

Vil is desperate, he is emotional. The pain of not only comming second, but THIRD in your heart, it feels like you are stabbing him over and over again in the heart. He cant breathe, he cant stop the tears wellinh up in his eyes, he cant stop the emotions overflowimg his poor body. Why would you do something so heinous to this poor actor, he only wanted your love...

He has been acting since he was a little kid, yet this time he cant control his emotions, the stakes are too high. Your love is on the line! He can't stand to look himself in the mirror, feeling way too ugly for his emotions, his outbursts, his feelings. He wants to be enough for you, and he will do anything to achieve that..

THERES PART TWO DONE!!! The literal biggest thank you to @artdolliewishes for helping so much and expanding on the au with me!! It means so much to me that someone cares about a project I've done as much as I do :,)

Also I'm very sorry for being so delayed on posting, I went to the ER and all, I swear the students of nrc was trying to kill me lmao

[pumpkin-bats]

One Piece Boys As Lovers - Headcanons

The poll has spoken! I kinda figured this was gonna be the result but I was curious anyway. So without further ado-

Law:

Works with you asleep in his lap.

Doesn't get jealous often, but it's obvious when he is.

Not big on PDA but loves subtly showing people that you two are together, and looks real smug about it the entire time.

Massages your hands when he's distracted or thinking about something and accidentally made it into a habit, so now he does it to bring him comfort.

Lots of late night cuddles. He's a big koala. The stickiest parasite, does not let go even when bribed.

Huffs at a lot of your most energy draining ideas, but always goes along with what you want or say regardless. Often has a fond smile as soon as you aren't looking.

Zoro:

A lot of nap time sessions where he's your pillow and blanket. But he'll wake up the second you ask him to.

Spars with you and tries to teach you to swordfight because he likes sharing his interests with you.

Does not make it obvious, but he worries about you a lot.

Doesn't like it when you're out of his sight for extremely long periods of time, it makes him antsy.

Holding hands almost all the time in public. Not as much in private, because the private time between the two of you is a different kind of safe intimacy.

Has a sixth sense for when you're upset and acts on it instantly.

Sanji:

Favorite foods, all the time, at all times. No food request is off the table, he'll make anything you crave when you crave it without any fuss. Sometimes he'll make it just because.

Really likes to dance with you, whether it's wildly spinning around the room or slow dancing under the moonlight.

The physical embodiment of 'just to be the man who walks a thousand miles to fall down at your door.'

He's very weak to cheek kisses. Melts. Like butter.

Rubs your shoulders when you're tired.

Matching couples outfits. His idea of matching with you is wearing a shirt or tie that matches the general color of your outfit.

Ace:

He occasionally takes you stargazing where you spend the entire time making up constellations and the stories behind them. Eight times out of ten you end up huddled together and asleep outside.

Cuddling gets rough in the summer because his temperature runs high, but it's non-negotiable during the colder months. Personal heater go brrrrr.

Holding hands while walking down the street, swinging your arms and laughing like love struck fools.

A lot of adventure themed dates. Amusement parks, hiking, canoeing, or even little walks through the park.

Needing to label your food in the fridge so he doesn't eat it all. He eats it anyway, but always apologizes and makes up for it.

Brags about you a lot to his friends.

Mihawk:

Candlelit dinner dates that become regular dinner nights because they happen so often.

Makes you breakfast every morning and knows how you take your coffee/tea like the back of his hand.

Pet names. It's always 'my dear' or 'darling' and never just your name.

Not the most physically affectionate but always takes care of you.

Occasionally he'll do something for you and you'll be like 'oh I love this' and then he'll proceed to respond with 'I know, you- [brings up extremely obscure habit/interest/trait/tic of yours]'.

Sleeps significantly better with you in his arms and the morning after a night without you he'll offhandedly mention how he slept well but not that well.

Buggy:

You do each other's nails and makeup. Sometimes when he's too tired, he'll ask you to do his makeup for him.

He adores it when you play with his hair. Whether that be styling it, washing it, or simply just running your fingers through it, he loves it all. Goes literally weak in the knees and has to sit down.

Bad jokes when drunk that are so bad the both of you spend an hour straight just laughing.

He gets very easily embarrassed whenever you do nice things for him or compliment him. His face gets redder than his nose- which you may or may not tell him.

A lot of singing together. All kinds of songs and tunes, at any time of the day. Also very loudly. Sometimes off key.

He'll try to be straight faced around you, but the second you say something or make physical contact he giggles like an idiot. He's very shy about physical affection, and acts nervous about it every time.

Crocodile:

The physical embodiment of 'they asked for no pickles.'

He really likes to keep an arm around you whenever he's next to you, and will occasionally tug you a bit closer.

Long, mellow conversations that turn into late night talks.

It's hard to tell when he's jealous because he tends to glare at anyone and everyone that gets a bit too close to you.

Buys things for you. Not to be nice, it's actually a genuine problem. He buys way too many things for you because he tends to get something if it reminds him of you, which happens often.

Does face masks with you on the weekends and you can occasionally convince him into doing a spa night with you

[bunny-1111]

How Theo would react to reader falling pregnant while still in school

It wasn’t planned; well, you and Theo who had spoken about spending your lives together forever, your own little family, the Notts.

but not expecting it to happen while you were in school

"Holy shit my parents are gonna kill me" you whine looking at the test, mouth agape

"Yeah, if they get through me, let me see that" Theo says, snatching the test out of your hand

"That's a pretty clear 'pregnant'," you say, eyes wide

while Theo's shaking the test, holding it at different angles, thinking the result might change if he held it a certain way?

you go silent, sinking into yourself

when Theo looks back and sees your form, he doesn't hesitate to pull you close

you break instantly, letting out an overdue cry

"shhhhh" he would soothe as he stokes your hair, calming you down

you move off him, shoving your hands onto his chest "this is your fault you idiot! you should’ve pulled out, you stupid fuck!" you yell

"You told me not to!" he exclaims back

"We can't do this, we can handle a whole human Theo!" you practically scream, tears starting again

"You're right, it's my fault, We'll do just fine. If you want this, you'll be the best mother in the world" he would softy repeat

as you wipe your overflowing tears you mutter you'll have to drop out of school

we'll figure this out a day at a time, we'll be graduated by the time the baby comes anyway he'd say

a few months in, you both smile, thinking about names

Theo would talk to your belly

sleep with his hand on your stomach

he'd never let you carry your books, or anything really

he became quick to panic about everything, worried you and the baby might somehow get hurt

moving into your own place as soon as you finish school

theo building up the crib

nervous to hold the baby, got the hang of the whole dad thing, no he throws and plays the baby without thought

a few years pass and he misses you pregnant, he does something about that

baby number 2 not long after

[say-al0e]

Cling

Rating: M | This is smut! Minors, DNI! No one under 18!

Summary: For as long as you could remember, you and Steve have been close. What others see as clingy, Steve sees as comforting, right? Or, you fell in love with your best friend and suddenly, everything is too much. Warnings: Unprotected PinV, oral (f!receiving), blink and you'll miss it angst. Pairing: Steve x fem!Reader Words: 5.5k

Though the sun had long disappeared, dipped below the horizon in a blaze of oranges and reds hours ago, the scent of artificial coconut and chlorine lingered as you lounged beside the Harrington pool.

The kids disappeared with Eddie the moment the sky tinted pink, off to finish a campaign they spent much of the day discussing, and Robin followed soon after with a weak excuse designed to hide her true destination of Vicky’s house - despite the fact that you all knew.

That left you and Steve, always the last two standing.

Steve stretched out on a lounge chair to your left - sunglasses resting atop his head, t-shirt forgotten somewhere in the backyard, garishly patterned swim trunks resting low on his hips. His eyes were closed, chest rising and falling evenly, though you knew he was far from sleep.

Regardless, you took the chance to study him in the rare moment of silence.

The apples of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose were tinted pink, not burned enough to cause concern but clearly effected by his time in the sun. His hair was wild and beginning to curl, free of gel and still a little damp from his last dip in the pool. The weeks of swimming, back in the pool where he spent so much time growing up, had toned his arms - his shoulders, his stomach, his thighs - and you could see the result of his resumed habits so clearly.

A swath of hair covered his chest, tapered into a faint line that disappeared into the band of his trunks, and you were struck by just how many times you’d been here - sitting to his right, smelling of chlorine and coconut. Over a decade of friendship, more than half your life, and you’d witnessed Steve go from a lanky boy to a confident twenty-something. 

Moments like this reminded you of why your best friend was one of the most sought-after bachelors in Hawkins and why, somewhere along the line, you joined the long list of those desperate for him to give you the time of day.

Only, you were lucky enough to be one of the few that had Steve’s full attention. There was little question that he knew everything - nearly everything, not this, never this - there was to know about you. Even less of a question that you would be sharing his bed later on, though not in the way you’d secretly started to want.

“Quit starin’ at me, creep.” Steve’s voice came then, before you could begin to spiral and question whether you could handle another night of sleeping beside him - wrapped in his embrace, his sheets, his scent - and you hummed.

“Just seeing if I need to get the aloe,” you teased, hoping it sounded as light as you meant it. “Should’ve listened to me, when I told you to put on sunscreen.”

Steve laughed. “You mean I should’ve sat still while you attacked me with it. I would’ve, if you’d given me some warning. Not nice to just start mauling a guy.”

“I know you dream about me mauling you.” The deflection was easy, reflexive, and accompanied by a laugh that rang a touch hollow in your own ears but Steve huffed, good-natured, anyway.

“Hm. Think that’s the other way around.” He cracked open an eye, then, and turned his head to glance at you while you reached for his half-empty beer in an effort to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Please,” you scoffed, though it was weaker than you intended. “I can’t get you to stop touching me.”

Despite his upbringing - or, really, because of it - Steve sought physical affection in those closest to him. It was true that he hadn’t stopped touching you over the course of your friendship, hugs and holding hands and cuddling on the couch. There was never any hesitation, never any awkward shuffling or adjusting. It was as natural as breathing, comfortable, and lately, you savored every brush of his skin against yours.

Still, Steve waved a dismissive hand and reached for the pack of cigarettes he discarded on the table after the kids left. “Sure.” He lit one, fixed you with a teasing grin as he took a drag. “Easy for you to say when you’re the clingiest person I know.”

The observation was not unkind. If anything, it was soft - fond. It was a joke he’d made before, once or twice, but the label ‘clingy’ struck a nerve that he likely had no idea even existed. One that hadn’t existed until recently.

There was a conversation that you weren’t supposed to hear. It was Eddie, asking the kids if he had a chance - whether you and Steve were, you know, a thing - and their varying responses. He only asked because of how close you were, he explained, how often Steve had an arm around you or you clasped his hand in yours.

Someone, you didn’t catch who because the words rang harsh in your ears, dismissed his concerns with the dreaded refusal, “Just friends.” Though another followed it with, “I’d be annoyed if I were Steve. She’s always all over him and they’re not even dating. So clingy.”

Eddie laughed, as did the others, and you waited just beyond the door for a few moments to pretend that you hadn’t heard.

After, you tried to distance yourself, if only a little, without arousing Steve’s suspicions. Despite being called clueless, unobservant or even stupid, despite his difficulty connecting the dots, there was little about you that escaped his notice. It was difficult to create space when none had existed since you were children and, clearly, you hadn’t done a very good job, anyway.

“Yeah, well, I’ll unstick myself from your side.” You intended the quip to be teasing, a joke that earned you a laugh or a soft swat as you passed him by, but it came out wrong. The words were acidic, tasted bitter in the back of your throat as they rolled off your tongue, and you could see him wince from the sting of them as you stood from your chair. “I’m gonna go shower,” you deflected, unable to look at him. “Chlorine’s burning my eyes.”

Steve sat upright as you gathered your towel and discarded clothes, your empty soda can and the tube of tropical sunscreen. He stubbed out his cigarette and reached out, hand searching for yours and coming up empty for the first time in a long time.

“Wait,” he urged, rising to his feet as you busied yourself with removing any trace of your presence from the immediate vicinity. “Did I… what did I say? Whatever it was, I didn’t -“ His brows furrowed as he lifted the hand you avoided and carded it through his hair, sighing when you winced at the sound of his sunglasses clattering to the ground.

“You didn’t - it’s nothing.” Steve tipped his head, an attempt to catch your eye as you blinked back the stinging sensation - chlorine, really, and overwhelmed, traitorous tears. “Just tired.”

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of his face. He wore a concerned frown, warm eyes raking over your form as he recounted the last few moments, before he winced. “Oh. Shit. Hey, you know I’m joking,” he insisted, taking a half-step closer. And when you took a full step back, he frozen, uncertain - unused to the distance. “I didn’t mean it like that. You know I love it when you’re close to me. It’s nice. I’m not - that was a shitty thing to say.”

“It’s okay.” You waved him off, a dismissive hand held aloft for a moment before dropping to hold your towel close to your chest, and hoped he believed the crack in your voice was from the yelling you’d done earlier in the day. “It’s true, ’s’what everyone thinks, anyway.”

“What?” He looked confused, frown deepening as he tried again. He took a cautious step to close some of the distance and lifted a hand to reach out for you before thinking better of it. His hand fell to his side and you clutched the material in your arms tight to your chest to keep from reaching out yourself. “No one thinks that.”

“They do,” you confessed, finally lifting your head to meet his gaze as you forced a laugh. “They think it’s weird and sad and annoying that I’m, like, all over you. They think I’m, like, obsessed or something.” The admission was uttered casually, as easily as you could manage when your heart felt as if it might beat out of your chest, and Steve took another tentative step forward.

“Who said that?”

Though it was phrased as a question, it came out a demand. His expression shifted, flickered from soft concern to annoyance - not at you, very rarely at you - as he waited.

“I overheard the kids joking about it,” you told him with a sigh. “And back when you were dating Nancy, Tommy and Carol said something. So did Billy. It didn’t bother me then ‘cause Tommy and Carol and Billy were morons, but now, well… Maybe they were right. I - I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so… attached.”

Steve stepped closer then, insistent despite your feeble attempt to keep the distance, and reached out for you. One warm, large hand fell to your waist, fingers finding bare skin still warm from the sun while the other cupped your cheek. He was patient, soft, as he encouraged you to meet his eyes once more.

“They were total morons. I’m honestly surprised they paid enough attention to someone else to notice,” he huffed, rolling his eyes at the memory of your former friends. “And the kids, they’re just kids. They don’t - don’t listen to them, alright. I don’t think you’re clingy or annoying or sad or anything else. I think you’re my best friend and I like being close to you.”

Though it brought you comfort to hear how adamantly he denied thinking you were clingy - how adamantly he denied finding your constant presence annoying - the reminder that he only saw you as a friend did little to ease the roiling in the pit of your stomach. 

A fresh wave of traitorous tears stung at the backs of your eyes and you did your best to blink them away as you nodded. “Yeah,” you nodded, acknowledging him with a watery half-smile. “Okay.”

“Hey, I’m serious,” he asserted, dipping his head to search your face for the answer to a question he had yet to ask. “I want you close to me, like, all the time. Robin laughs at me but I don’t really know what to do when you’re not there. I like it when you hold my hand or sit on my lap. It… it makes me feel like you want me with you as much as I want to be with you.”

Though the lump in your throat persisted, though the tears still threatened to fall, you immediately reassured him. “Of course I want you to be with me. I love spending time with you.” You sighed, allowing yourself to melt into Steve’s touch. “It’s always been us.”

“Always has been, always will be,” he confirmed, smile soft but still a touch concerned. He hesitated for a moment, seeming to weigh his words for the first time in a long time, before he settled on asking, “What’s up, babe? Why’d it bother you so much?”

“It’s stupid.”

Immediately, Steve shook his head. He refused to allow you to wave it off, to dismiss the tease that clearly hurt your feelings, as his thumb stroked your cheek. “It’s not, not if it’s bothering you.”

“I just…” You inhaled sharply, eyes closing as you attempted to gather your thoughts. Though Steve’s closeness would’ve brought you comfort under ordinary circumstances, it made it difficult for you to concentrate as your heart began to beat a touch too fast. “Just been thinking,” you finally began, choosing your words carefully. “It was fine when we were kids but, I mean, we’re adults now. What happens when one of your dates pays off and you find someone to fall in love with? Don’t think she’ll be too happy with, you know, this. It’s not like we can cuddle on the couch or have sleepovers for the rest of our lives.”

Steve remained quiet for a long moment - a silence that stretched on forever, thick and suffocating - and you swallowed the emotion clumping in the back of your throat before opening your eyes. You were met with his warm gaze, soft brown eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn’t quite read as he took a half-step closer.

“What if… I mean, we could.” Two words, and you felt frozen in uncertainty. Everything around you, everything outside of Steve, ceased to exist. You could feel your heart thudding heavily in your chest, your breath caught in your throat as you waited for him to elaborate. “The dates,” he began, now looking as nervous as you felt, “none of them have felt right. They don’t feel like this, like us. They don’t make me feel like you do.”

For months, you’d dreamt that Steve felt the same way. You imagined that somewhere, beneath the fond smiles and teasing jabs lingered the same nerves, the same butterflies, the same all-encompassing love. You imagined that his head was full of the same ‘what-if’s’ as you shared his bed, the same hope that you’d share the same bed for the rest of your life. You dreamt that he would one day confess his love and end your hopeless attempt at getting over him.

But now that it seemed within your grasp, so close you could practically feel his heart beating just as erratically as your own, it felt too good to be true.

“What does that mean?”

The question came as a whisper, afraid that if you spoke too loud you might break whatever spell had been cast over the backyard, but Steve heard it clearly. He met it with a half-smile as the hand on your hip began to trace nonsensical patterns across your skin - a nervous habit that made you feel as if your skin was on fire.

“Means that I want to keep holding your hand and having sleepovers,” he elaborated, voice soft in the still of the night. “Means that I… I don’t want to keep going on dates with anyone but you. Every time I think about the future, it changes - what I’m doing, where I live. But you’re always there and that’s all I want. I’ve been trying to pretend like I’m not in love with you but I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Steve’s confession rang in your ears, crashed over you like a tidal wave, and left you unable to speak - unable to breathe. He waited, patient, understanding, as your racing thoughts scrambled in search of something coherent. But when you failed to gather anything resembling a complete sentence, you decided to allow your actions to speak for you.

In the way that you’d started to imagine as you drifted off to sleep, you dropped the items in your arms and lifted your hands to tangle in his hair to pull him in close. He smelled of summer - cigarettes, cheap beer, artificial coconut and chlorine - and something so unerringly Steve that you suddenly couldn’t imagine being this close to anyone else.

The hand on your cheek was encouraging, soft and warm as he tipped your chin, and you gave in to the urge you’d been fighting. With one step, you pressed yourself close - your chest meeting his, the warmth of his bare skin setting your nerve endings alight - and pressed your mouth to his.

Despite your expectations, there were no fireworks, no sparks or heavenly choirs, but there was an instant sense of comfort. Kissing Steve felt like coming home, warm and easy, as if you’d done it a thousand times before. 

There was no awkward shuffling, no tentative brushes of uncertain lips. Instead, you moved together seamlessly. His body slotted against yours perfectly, fit exactly as if you belonged there - together, intertwined. His lips were soft, as plush as you’d imagined, and his skin was so warm that you wondered if you would be branded with his touch before the night was over.

Though your fantasies varied - desperate kisses, eager to make up for lost time; filthy ones, a mess of lips and tongues and teeth, as you swapped spit and stumbled down a dark hallway toward his bedroom; soft kisses, designed to convey years of unspoken feelings - this kiss destroyed them all.

It was soft, slow and eager as you sought to become acquainted with the taste of one another, and laced with the underlying promise of a beautiful future.

Steve’s touch was eager, unrestrained and achingly familiar, as he held you close and swallowed the soft noises you made. Every breathless gasp and quiet sigh of pleasure, was met with a hum of his own as he slipped the hand on your cheek to the back of your neck.

Neither of you wanted the kiss to end, content to breathe in one another until your lungs collapsed, but the lack of oxygen and the reality of the situation had you feeling dizzy enough to break away. But as close as you’d always been, Steve kept you pressed tight to his body and rested his forehead against yours.

“Taking that to mean you’re in love with me, too,” he teased, breathless as he searched your face for any sign of regret, of hesitance. When he found none, he smiled - bright, happy, easy. “Totally not cool of me to admit, but I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

“You’ve never been cool, Stevie,” you returned, giggling as he pinched your side.

“Was gonna be nice,” he huffed, pretending to be put out though his grin never faltered as he shifted his head, brushed his nose against yours. “Tell you how pretty I think you are, how I want to spend the rest of my life with you; all that mushy stuff. But since you wanna be mean…”

Before you could blink, giggle out a teasing apology for your perceived slight, Steve’s arms fell to your waist. He held you close, lifted easily, and carried you the few steps to the edge of the pool. The moment you realized his intentions, the moment you opened your mouth to squeal out a plea for him to stop, Steve stepped over the edge and plunged you both into the water.

Even as you fell, sinking into the deep end, Steve kept you close. He hauled you both back up above the water, laughing as you huffed - thankfully used to this, almost expecting it as he attempted it every year.

“Steve!”

“What?” He grinned, dark hair dripping into his eyes as he guided you both into a more manageable depth and encouraged you to wrap your legs around his waist. “All this could’ve been avoided if you’d just been nice to me,” he reasoned.

“I’m always nice to you, Stevie.” You weren’t - your friendship was an equal mixture of soft encouragement, soft words and even softer touches, and teasing jabs - but Steve hummed, just the same. “But I can be even nicer.”

“Know what would be really nice?” When you hummed, Steve returned a hand to cup your cheek - tipping your head to meet your eyes, only a hint of insecurity swirling amongst the warm, soft brown. “Telling me I’m not getting all this wrong. I… I know I don’t always get it,” he acknowledged, swallowing thickly, “but I… I get this, right?”

“Oh, Steve. The reason I got so freaked out about the clingy thing,” you began, lifting your hands to brush the damp hair from his forehead, “was because I was afraid you’d see it, how in love I am. I… I’ve been in love with you for a while. You’re it for me, Harrington.”

Steve grinned, then, relieved - elated, clearly brimming with joy at the revelation - and leaned forward to close the gap. The press of his mouth to yours was eager, firm, and relieved some of the ache in your chest, the fear that this was something you’d dreamt up, too good to be true. He crowded you against the wall, body caging you in as his tongue traced the seam of your lips, and you sighed as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

Though the pool water was cool, the press of Steve’s body against yours had you melting. He always ran warm, left you blistering in the wake of his hands exploring your skin, and you felt your heart hammering in your chest as his fingers mapped the slivers of skin he’d only held through fabric.

“Babe,” he breathed, mouth barely parted from yours as you shifted your hips, “don’t wanna do this in the pool. Not the first time. Let me take you inside.”

The urgency in his tone drew a soft moan from you, eager to feel his touch and touch him in return. “Please. Waited so long, don’t wanna wait anymore.”

Desperation, eager and hurried, that had lingered beneath the surface of the entire encounter - a desire to give in, finally, after waiting for so long - showed clearly as you both rushed out of the pool. Steve remained close to you, one hand on your hip even as you both roughly toweled off, and ushered you into the house.

The Harrington house was as familiar to you as your own. It was a space you could navigate with your eyes closed, under the worst circumstances, and you were grateful for the knowledge as you and Steve rushed up the stairs to his bedroom without pause.

As many times as you’d stepped foot in Steve’s room, as many nights as you’d spent wrapped in his sheets, there was an understandable difference in this moment. The tension was palpable and, despite how eager you both were, you both faltered for a moment as the door clicked shut behind you.

“This… we don’t have to do anything,” he began, stepping close, his palm warm against your waist. “We can just shower, maybe watch a movie or something before bed.”

Again, rather than fumbling for a coherent sentence - attempting to make sense of the thoughts that remained scrambled in your brain - you reached out for him. Steve sighed as your fingers tangled in his hair and tugged, eyes blazing with a heat that made your head spin, and you almost hated to lose the sight of his parted lips and lust blown eyes as your mouth pressed to his.

Steve’s hands began to wander, fingers mapping your skin in a desperate bid to commit it all to memory, as he walked you backwards. The plush of his bed hit the back of your knees, duvet soft, and he followed you down easily. With a knee pressed into the mattress beside your hip, a hand beside your head, Steve hovered above you, mouth never leaving yours.

While his fingers traced the skin of your stomach, your hips, your shoulders, your thighs, you brought your own to his chest. You raked your nails over his exposed skin, committing the warmth of him to memory, as he broke the kiss to lavish your neck with attention.

As he nosed at your jaw, lips pressing fleeting kisses to your skin, his hand fell to your breast, eagerly cupping the soft flesh over the damp material of your swimsuit.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he breathed, reverence lacing his tone as his hand flexed. “So warm, so soft. Smell nice.”

“It’s the sunscreen,” you gasped, words pitching higher as his lips latched onto the spot just beneath your ear. “You should try it.”

“Mm. You can put some on me tomorrow,” he offered, tongue darting out to soothe spot he’d nipped.

The promise was laced with an eager desire that had your hands wandering, nails raking over the trail of hair dipping into the band of his trunks, and you could feel the contraction of his stomach as he inhaled sharply. You knew that you tasted of chlorine and chemicals, of summer, but Steve didn’t seem to mind as he continued pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

Eagerly, he began to dip lower, his lips exploring your heated skin and leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Every touch was electric, sent a shockwave through your system and left your chest aching with a warmth that you hoped would never cool. You could feel the arousal pooling in the pit of your stomach, gathering slick between your thighs, as Steve nipped at the skin of your chest.

Skilled hands made quick work of the fabric covering your chest, easily ridding you of the damp suit without lifting his head from your skin, and you felt your breath catch in your throat as Steve began to make his way down. He nipped at the delicate skin of your chest, stubble scraping your skin in the most delicious way as he shifted to free his hands.

As Steve’s hands shifted, cupped your breasts and hummed, your own hand dipped beneath the band of his trunks. Your fingers brushed the warm skin, reveling in the stuttering breath Steve released, even as his own hands began to trail downward.

“Always pretty,” he complimented, voice rough as he began to follow the path blazed by his hands, pressing kisses down your chest and stomach.  “But this,” he hummed, grinning when you whined as he moved out of reach, “too fuckin’ pretty. Not fair.”

“You’re one to talk.” It was breathless, a gasp that escaped as his lips latched onto a patch of skin near your hip, and Steve grinned. “You’re so beautiful, Stevie. ’S’distracting.”

Steve continued to sink lower, mouth blazing a devastating path across your skin, as his hands fell to the plush of your thighs. He spread them easily, settled between them, and glanced up at you from near the foot of his bed with a devilish smirk that reminded you of the days of King Steve - handsome, flirty, charming.

“How’ve we never done this before?” His hands drifted closer to your aching cunt, so close to where you desperately wanted him yet so far away as his mouth pressed to your inner thigh. “Wanna spend the rest of my life here.”

“Haven’t even got my bathing suit off,” you teased, though it was weak - wrecked, already so entirely destroyed for him. But Steve took it as a challenge.

Almost immediately, Steve’s hands slipped beneath the band of your bottoms and tugged, easily working the damp fabric down your thighs. The moment they were gone, tossed across the room to be found later, he settled back between them and grinned.

Before you could tease, make a joke about him being eager, Steve’s hands shifted exactly where you wanted them. Warm fingers swiped at your slick folds, gathered the evidence of your arousal easily, before they lifted to his waiting mouth. Your lungs constricted and breathing felt impossible as you watched him lap at the slick, an exaggerated moan leaving his lips as he pulled them free with a wink.

“Knew you’d taste amazing,” he complimented, dipping his head to nip at your inner thigh.

Steve nosed at the juncture of your thigh as his fingers returned to your folds and you could feel his triumphant grin when you gasped as his thumb found your clit. But he didn’t allow you time to speak as he dipped his head and licked a stripe along your slit.

Large hands found your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin to keep you spread open as he lapped at you. There was no tentative tasting, no hesitant swipe of his tongue; Steve ate you like a man starved.

Those plush lips wrapped around your clit, eagerly tasting all you had to give, as his fingers returned to your puffy folds. He swiped them through your slick, gathered it on his fingers, before pressing them into you and working to open you up. 

“You’re,” a gasp interrupted you, stole your breathe as Steve glanced up at you from between your thighs - his shoulders keeping you spread open, hair caught between your fingers. “Fuck, Stevie, you’re good at that.”

Steve preened under the praise, lashes fluttering at that and the combination of your fingers yanking at his hair, as his fingers - longer, thicker than yours; easily pressing into the spaces you could never quite reach - sank deeper into you. 

As desperate as you were to feel him, to have him push you over the edge, this wasn’t the way you wanted to go. You wanted to feel him, to feel his weight pressing you into the mattress as his lips met yours, and you told him as much as you tugged at his hair.

“Wanna feel you, Stevie, please,” you begged, stomach tight and chest aching as you desperately sought to catch your breath. 

“Fuck.” Steve’s forehead pressed to your thigh, warm breath fanning over your sticky skin. “Wanted to hear you say that forever,” he admitted, eagerly clambering up to shove his trunks down his hips.

As Steve shoved his swim trunks down, you tipped your head - eager to see if the rumors were true. And just as you’d heard, Steve was larger than you ever could’ve imagined. He was bigger than anyone you’d been with, bigger than anything you’d seen, and you couldn’t help yourself as you reached out to touch him.

The tip was an angry red, dripping precum, and Steve swore as your thumb brushed at the pearly bead. “Fuck, you’re so big,” you whined, wondering how he would fit - eagerly anticipating the stretch of him.

“Can’t say shit like that,” he huffed, laughing - pink cheeks blazing, embarrassed and secretly pleased at the attention - as he settled above you. “Ego’s already too big,” he teased.

“Not the only thing,” you returned, grinning when he laughed, fingers dipping between your thighs. “Fuck me, Stevie, please.”

“Anything you want,” he promised, hand wrapping around the base of his cock and guiding it to your puffy folds. He dragged the head through the slick, both of you moaning at the contact, before he notched the head at your entrance and pressed forward.

The stretch of him was delicious, too much and not enough all at once, and you swore you could feel him in the back of your throat as he sank into you. He went slow, careful, eager not to hurt you, but with every inch he sank forward, you were desperate to feel him fully.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Steve was pressed fully into you. It was overwhelming, being so impossibly close to him - completely intertwined, bodies as one - and all you could do was pull him into a searing kiss.

The kiss was a mess, a clash of tongue and teeth, uncoordinated but so satisfying as his hand gripped your hip. You could feel him surrounding you, all-encompassing, and you never wanted the moment to end.

Even as his hips began to snap, his rhythm steady, deep, you struggled to catch your breath - to care about anything other than the warmth of his skin against yours, the scent of him, the weight of him over you. The only thing you could say was his name, repeated like a prayer as his thumb found your clit and his lips remained just inches from your own.

Steve was all that existed, all that had ever existed, and suddenly the future was bright. There was hope, an eager desire to spend the rest of your life here - in this moment, with Steve pressed close - and you couldn’t help but whimper out a desperate, “I love you,” as you felt yourself barreling toward the edge.

The words were returned in a reverent chant, equally desperate, as you felt his hips begin to stutter. You were both nearly there, just a few presses of his hips - another swipe of his thumb, another press of his mouth to your heated skin - and you were careening over the edge with Steve following shortly after.

Warmth flooded your veins, his spend filling you so completely, and his lips sought yours despite your shared inability to regain your breath. It didn’t matter, not when all that existed was this moment, and you didn’t care that Steve’s weight had fallen to press you deeper into the mattress.

For a few long moments, you both lay there - gasping, fighting to catch your breath and return to the moment at hand - before Steve pulled away just enough to settle at your side. There was no distance left between you, slick skin pressed together, and you would’ve been content to lie there forever.

Steve, it seemed, felt the same as he settled into the pillow and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

Though the afternoon began with a fear that Steve would see you as clingy, that he would never love you in the way you loved him, you were ending the night in the only place you wanted to be; clinging to your boyfriend, sated and happy and looking forward to the future for the first time in a long time.

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Author's Note: This was inspired by a sunscreen, believe it or not. Don't know how we got here but it was a fun journey.

Taglist: @x-avantgarde-x, @thisisparadisemylove, @eddiesprincess, @slvdsjjk, @munsonlover, @tasmbestspdrman, @urofficial-cyberslut, @jxngwhore, @hopelesslylosttheway, @meaganjm, @lazuli-leenabride, @deiondraaa, @piscesmesss, @glowyskiess, @kiszkathecook, @missryerye, @solarrexplosion, @ofherscarlettwitchways, @lovedandleft-haunted, @trappedinlimbo15, @sweetiekitten, @bookfrog242, @gwendolynmary, @sage-bun, @zealouslibrariesparadiselight, @castiels-lilass, @tojis-little-brat, @emmah787, @theworldsendxx, @asuperconfusedgirl, @flores-and-sunshine, @passi0np1t, @laurathefahrradsattel, @hellf1reclub, @slut4yourmom, @niko-04, @hannirose-loves-you, @mrs-eddie-munson, @screambabe, @vllowe, @ryswritingrecord, @cheriebondy, @ryswritingrecord, @thewitchofthewilds140, @bootlegmothman420, @maruushkka, @honeymoonpython, @keenesbeans, @jess-bonn, @sammysinger04, @khaoticken21, @denkis-slut, @spiderman-berries, @lotus-es, @amortiff, @stardust-galaxies, @ure-a-sunflower, @1-800-ch3rry, @ladybeewritethings, @ynbutbetter, @hunnybunimdun, @breathinfive, @s-u-t, @s4ntacarlal0stk1d, @rae-iin, @pennamesgame, @stefans-wife, @voldieshorts, @frankie-mercury, @bbymochi1, @serendiipty, @saturnsworld01, @eddiemunson1sstuff​, @valthevalkyrie-main​, @crying-caro​, @inglourious-imagines​

[hazbin-writings-and-musings]

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Smutty Headcanons

I promised on this LM x Reader post things would get spicy soon, so here we are, coming so far from my first post! Just the first of probably many more smutty Lucifer posts, because we all know this man fucks and we all want a piece.

Warnings: SMUT

- This man legitimately loves everything about eating pussy. He loves performing it, he loves bragging about how well he performs it, he loves giving tips because he believes in respecting the craft, and he loves putting down anyone too entitled to provide what he sees as this most enjoyable of services for one's partner. You don't even have to ask him to go down on you, it'll be one of the first things he offers, and he'll regularly ask if you're interested in letting off a little steam. Having the ability to extend and shapeshift his tongue into having an opposable forked tip makes him capable of techniques beyond your wildest fantasies, and whether you like to receive from above or below, he's equally down to have you seated on his face or laying back to enjoy yourself.

- He's not poorly or overly endowed for a man of his size, but he's also quite literally the one who originally proved that size doesn't matter in the slightest, and he's had thousands of years to perfect those original techniques. From position to tempo, he's mastered everything he needs to hit the G-spot with impeccable accuracy, and his hands will be quite busy seeking out where you most enjoy attention as he rides you with the power and virility of an untamed stallion. All this combined results in a mind blowing time for you, every time, and he's got the stamina to answer all of your repeated requests for another round.

- Nevermind the magic he can work with his tongue or his dick, the King of Hell is also a wizard with his fingers. He's even got a carpal tunnel roller just to keep his dexterity in top shape for when his skills are needed. Finding your clit is effortless for him, and he'll show it all the love he thinks you deserve, responding eagerly to your feedback in the moment and putting his mouth to use on your neck as he does so. Whether you want him inside, outside or both at the same time, he's happy to provide, and he'll gladly push his wrists to the limit if it leaves you properly satisfied.

- If you offer to be the one servicing him, he'll happily accept, and you'll quickly find his mannerisms shift quite considerably when he's on the receiving end. He starts out confident, offering banter to match your own, but as soon as your mouth gets to work, his demeanor changes. A grin becomes an open mouthed moan, his hands tenderly take hold of you to ground himself, and witty quips turn to soft and needy sighs. The more heated things get, the more he loses himself, but it's a great way for you to gauge how well you're performing. Growls and an appearance of his horns are a sign he's really having a good time, especially considering he's always got steam to blow off. Particularly rough days will result in him losing all control by climax; fully extended wings and horns, an unfurled tail he wraps about you, hair disheveled and clinging to a fine layer of sweat, and more than a few reality bending bursts of power surging around the both of you. It's his favorite way to end the day on a good note. He'll pull his fingers from your hair as he breathlessly apologizes for the show, but the both of you know watching him go feral is part of the fun.

- The afterglow is peak cuddle time for him, and he'll be in no hurry to get dressed if there's somewhere either of you needs to be, so more than a few of his duties will end up delayed thanks to post-coital bliss. All six wings will seek you out for a fluffy embrace, and if the two of you are at all winded, the otherworldly softness of Archangel feathers might make staying awake quite impossible. Should you have some energy to spare though, he'll want to actively enjoy the snuggle. Hearing you breathe, feeling his skin against yours, and engaging in pillow talk just make him the happiest little guy. Such moments really allow him to let his guard down, and you might hear him speak with a softness and hopefulness that rarely leaves the bedroom, but he's just as interested in listening as he is in talking. Don't be too surprised if he drifts off with his head in your boobs though.

[earlysunshines]

attachment: 1 image

myoui mina x fem!reader ; smut

synopsis: your girlfriends a model and you’re always clocked in so it’s reeeaaally hard for you to get intimate and goddddd mina’s getting impatient and sexually frustrated so she takes matters into her own hands.

warnings: smut ; filthy!! ; did someone say sub reader? ; sub!reader!!!!! ; mina is a model ; reader is in forensics ; somnophilia ; thigh riding ; fingering ; mentions of stitches ; bruises ; blood ; small easter egg if you’ve read one of my jihyo fics ; not proofread ; anything else i forgot to mention

a/n: muahhahahaa

attachment: 1 image

your phone buzzes, and usually you’d ignore it considering you have to meet this deadline– but when you look at your phone, seeing the small pixels of your girlfriend getting a kiss on the cheek from you in the contact picture and the little “minari” on the screen; you quickly grab your phone, clicking on the notification.

jesus. is all you can think of when you see the picture, you’re surprised you can think after seeing it.

mina – your girlfriend, your oh-so-lovely girlfriend, the girl of your dreams, the model you managed to get into a relationship with after spilling all of your drink on at one of sana’s parties, your everything and more – is leaned over against a balcony, eyes looking into the camera seductively. her makeup is light, a strand of her bangs fall over her forehead and then you glimpse down. you feel your chest tighten as soon you see the panties peeking out, pants slipping down so you can get a tantalizing glimpse of the skin and–

you groan.

it’s four, and you’re working overtime – again; there are too many cases to examine and report – you can’t be riled up, especially not now. biting your lip, you put your phone down, deciding to push everything to the side.

getting back to work is not easy.

minari: 1 notification 

“you fucking hate me.” is mumbled under your breath before you peek over, unlocking your phone quickly to see a text:

minari: don’t ignore me baby

minari: miss you

minari: did you like the picture? 

oh you loved the picture, loved it so much that you wonder what it would be like to rip the clothes she has on right off of her.

you: :-( 

you: please dont do this to me

you: i’m working overtime

you: when will you be back?

minari: this weekend, friday night

you groan again, sitting back in your chair in defeat. that’s three days.

you: i have to get back to work

you: the things i’d do to you

you: you’re a pain in the ass

on the other side of the line, mina giggles. she’s satisfied with her effect on you, she can just picture the little crease of your brows, the frown, and really just how cute you look when you’re all pouty and impatient. 

she bites the inside of her lip after reading the second to last text from you, thinking about just what you could do to her, until she’s interrupted by one of the photographers. it isn’t easy to model when she’s missing you, she’d much rather show off her luxury panties to you than the cameras. 

–

you’re beat. literally and figuratively.

as someone accustomed to the comfort and safety of the forensics lab and the routine of the department, being dragged into a chase on a friday night is far from what you expected. you had plans to go home and wait for your girlfriend, ready to greet her with a hug and something more – but no, of course you had been caught in a pursuit.

after being treated by the nurses, they hand you a slip of paper for a follow-up check-up, but you wave it off, insisting that you'll be fine. however, it's clear that jihyo, the detective, has endured much worse. fresh stitches on her ribs, bruises covering her upper back and arms, a bloody nose, and a cut on her jaw, she's clearly been through a rough ordeal, thankfully spiderwoman stepped into help you all out. 

in comparison, your injuries seemed minor—a smack to the ribs, a punch or two to the face, and a close call with a punch that grazed your temple, resulting in a bit of blood and a bandage to cover it. 

when you finally get to your car, exhausted and limp against the seat, you check your phone while you wait for the air conditioning to turn on. 

there’s seven new messages from mina, earning a sigh. 

you read through all of them, each one slowly getting more worrisome as you scroll, which paints a frown on your lips. 

[6:03pm]

minari: i just got home

minari: where are you?

[7:44pm]

minari: i bet you’re busy, stay safe

minari: i’ll be waiting here

minari: love you, i hope you’re okay

[10:30pm}

minari: going to bed, i’ll see you soon love

minari: thinking of you

[10:58pm]

minari: wish you were here, goodnight, i love you

the pain that’s spread throughout your body doesn’t bother you anymore; the thought of your girlfriend alone in bed – finally home after her two week-long work trip – makes you groan frustratedly as you lean your face against the wheel of your car. 

you’ve got to get home.

–

it’s almost midnight when you get to your apartment and you don’t even make it to the bedroom.

you underestimated the toll of the fatigue, the bruises, and the damage done to your body – not to mention the countless sleepless hours leading up to this chaotic night. you've been tirelessly investigating various dna samples and physical evidence, neglecting your much-needed rest in favor of focusing on your work and trying to distract yourself from missing your girlfriend too much because that is already enough to throw you in a spiral. 

as soon as you catch sight of the couch, you practically collapse onto it, sinking into the cushions with a sense of relief. leaning back lazily, you feel the heaviness of your eyelids, each blink a struggle to keep them open for just a little longer.

mina crosses your mind and you feel sorry for leaving her alone, but you physically can’t do anything about that.

the exhaustion catches up to you, and then you find yourself passing out on the couch with your work clothes still on, tie loose, and no energy left to fight off the drowsiness. 

–

mina wakes up earlier than usual – still alone.

the sun hasn’t even risen yet, and she had expected to find you lazily draped over her, maybe with the blanket slipping off the bed and the feeling of your breath gently warming her skin. but as she wakes, she realizes that the blanket is still snugly wrapped around her, and her skin feels oddly cold.

she blinks once, then twice, and still, you’re not there.

getting up and reaching over blindly for her phone, she unlocks it groggily, opening your messages to see a “read, 11:40pm” 

mina furrows her brows, rubbing her squinted eyes to read the same message on the screen. she feels a pang of worry as she wonders why you haven't responded or called, and why you're not next to her right now. hastily, she checks your location, clicking on your contact photo, and then freezes in disbelief.

you're home?

the contact picture she has of you—your smushed face with drool leaving the corner of your lip—is only half a centimeter away from her on the screen. with a sense of urgency, she jumps out of bed and rushes to find you.

she walks out of the hall and into the living room, catching a glimpse of the back of your head on the couch. mina lets out a sigh of relief, walking over and standing in front of your figure.

you look adorable, sitting up against the couch with your head leaned back on the cushion. you stay frozen in place, the only movement coming from the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, which tells mina that you’re out. your hair is disheveled, you're still in your work clothes, and there's a new band-aid beside your brow on your temple. mina finds herself captivated by the sight, unable to tear her gaze away.

“long night, i bet.” mina mumbles, sitting down next to you and putting her head on your shoulder. you don’t budge, still remaining in your place.

mina kisses your cheek before returning to your shoulder, deciding to rest her eyes with you for a while more.

–

your girlfriend wakes up a few hours later – you’re still asleep by her side, still frozen in your place.

mina rubs her eyes against your shoulder, feeling the warmth of your body as she stirs awake for the second time that morning. fishing for her phone, she checks the time: 11:31 am. glancing back at you, still sound asleep, she decides it's time for both of you to start the day. she hasn't even had a chance to greet you while you were awake yet, and she misses your attention.

she presses a kiss to your cheek – no response.

pouting, she presses a few more to your cheek – you stay frozen in place, eyes closed and breathing still relaxed. 

then she moves over to your jawline, pressing a few pecks and moving down to your neck, the spot that earns the most from you – there’s a reaction, a small groan from you, and then you shift in your place – still no sign of consciousness. 

mina's never been a morning person, which only adds to her frustration. with a whine, she moves over to straddle you, settling herself on your lap.

“c’mon, i’ve been waiting for you.” she says, and still, it doesn’t wake you up. “wearing the same lingerie from the pictures and you’re still like this…” 

not only is she frustrated from missing you, she’s been irritated from how sex-deprived she’s been.

she brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, gently fixing the mess from whatever ordeal you endured last night, before taking a good look at you. the morning sunlight highlights the contours of your jawline, making your skin glow, and the slight parting of your lips adds to your allure. 

you look good—maybe even better than usual—and mina can't help but feel a surge of desire, fueled by her deprivation of you.

she tugs gently on the tie wrapped loosely around your neck, coaxing you forward. your head naturally falls forward in response, so mina tilts it up by the chin, cradling your face between her fingers.

“you look so cute,” mina sighs, rubbing a thumb over your skin. “i could take you like this.”

the two of you have talked about this – about fucking while one is asleep – and neither one of you was against it. however, it’s never actually happened, and sure mina’s daydreamed about this, and you have too, but she never thought there’d actually be such a perfect moment in time.

you’re asleep, looking all pretty, perfect, and downright fuckable – mina can’t help but bite her lip at the sight, grinding down against your lap a bit.

she shifts over to straddle one thigh in order to gain more friction, gasping at the second movement of her hips against you.

“maybe,” a small breath leaves her lips, “this’ll wake you up.”

another rut against your slacks and she’s shutting her eyes, fully waking herself up at the feeling.

mina’s usually never this horny, or bold for that matter, but after two weeks without her girlfriend with barely any time to talk to one another – she’s a whole new person.

holding onto one shoulder – earning a small mumble from you – mina grinds against you again. she’s only wearing your t-shirt, which sits loosely on her, and the panties from the picture she had sent – they’re soaked now.

her arms rest on the top of your shoulders now, and wrap around your neck as she clings onto you desperately. she feels hazy, seeing stars the faster she stimulates herself on you, and you have no fucking clue what’s going on. it honesly turns her on even more, getting to use you like this.

and when she thinks it can’t get anymore overwhelming, the feeling of her cunt against you, the thrill of making a mess of herself against you – she feels a rough, firm grip on her hips, then moves her head away from your neck to see your eyes slowly opening. 

“baby, w-what?” you sigh out lazily, trying to process everything that’s going on, “what are you–”

mina cuts you off with a kiss, to which you respond immediately with a hand cupping her cheek, and your lips fitting with hers perfectly. 

your girlfriend shudders against you, looking down at her cunt leaving a dark mark of arousal on your gray bottoms, then latches her lips onto your jawline. she leaves sensual kisses, waking you up from your deep sleep immediately. you melt as your hands reach the base of her neck.

she presses a peck on your upper jaw before muttering into your ear, “i missed– ah– you,” she says breathily.

“me too baby,” you respond with a sly smile, using your hands to push her down on your skin roughly, eliciting a loud moan into your ear.

she leans back, placing one hand on your shoulder while the other grabs the end of your tie. with a swift tug on the black cloth, you gasp in surprise. your face is close, close enough for mina to see your dilated pupils, creased brows, and flushed cheeks. it all adds to the allure, and tightens the knot in her stomach.

“y-you– fuck– left me all alone… l-last– god, nngh– night,” she struggles to say, especially when your thigh flexes. her hips jerk once before she grabs your hair roughly, then she throws her head back slightly, still making eye contact with you.

all your attention is on her, your eyes wide and pleading, like a puppy ready to answer and do anything she says. there's a mix of longing and desperation in your gaze, making you look arousingly pathetic and utterly irresistible simultaneously.

she tugs on your tie once more, earning a small whine, then orders: “you’re going to make me— u-ugh,  cum, okay?”

you nod eagerly, already helping her please herself against you with both hands again.

quickly, you tap your thigh up and rut her against you once more, the sensation and timing earns something near a yelp from her. mina pauses in her place and you feel her lower body vibrate against you as her high washes over, she practically melts, and her body goes a little limp as she tries to catch her breath.

you hold her tightly, supporting her body as it recovers from the overwhelming feeling. 

there’s a large, darkened spot on the cloth covering your whole thigh now, her arousal leaking over.

she kisses you again, basically taking the breath away from you. she traps your bottom lip between her two teeth, tugging gently to tease you – your grip on her tightens.

“y/n,” she says, climbing off your thigh and settling beside you.

you respond immediately, “yes?”

her hands toy with your tie again before she pulls dangerously. you whimper, biting the inside of your bottom lip. her manicured nails trace along your skin all the way up to the bandaid on your temple; you sigh out pathetically.

“where were you last night?” mina questions, letting her nail trace down your skin languidly. “no text, call, or girlfriend in my bed after two weeks of not seeing her.”

“i-i–” she tugs on your tie once more, tantalizingly, before rubbing two fingers on the cloth covering your cunt.s “mmf, i-i was caught in a pursuit and, we got into some um– some disagreements.” she presses on your cunt and your head shoots back – mina pulls again, making your head jerk forward to meet her dark gaze. “mina, please–”

“keep going, i didn’t tell you to stop, did i?”

you gulp. “n-no.”

she unzips your slacks now, skillfully unbuttoning it with one hand so she can play with your waistband. you fight the urge to look down, pleading with your eyes in an attempt for her to just fucking touch you.

pulling on the cloth again, she orders, “keep going.”

then she slides her fingers in, teasing your skin by rubbing circles above where you need it most. “j-jihyo um, she was beat up really–” mina presses against your clit, brushing her fingers over it softly and pushing your buttons. “fuck, really badly, a-and i– mmf–”

“you what, love?”

“p-please, please i need you, please just–”

“are you done with the story? i still don’t know why i woke up alone, and to find you dead asleep on the couch.” her tone is viscious, which makes you gulp again. 

“s-sorry,” you apologize, looking down at her hand in your panties. “i waited until everyone was, patched up and–” you throw your head back at the feeling of her fingers sliding up and down your slit. she tugs – you whimper, “s-sorry. and i saw your text and had to go home and– god, i had to rush home and by the time i–”

you feel her enter you just barely, pressing just the tip of her finger inside you, making you squirm and moan breathily. your head shoots down, your eyes shutting in response to the overwhelming stimulus. mina's touch is grueling as her fingers trail up to your chin, caressing it with a sensual tenderness. she tilts your head back up, and when your eyes meet hers.

“c’mon, use your words.”

“s-sorry, again.” you pant. “i got home and, t-these past weeks i couldn’t sleep without y-you and–” she pushes half of her middle finger in; you bite back a groan in order to finish your explanation. “i-i guess it caught up to me, and then i passed out here.” you sigh out quickly, looking at her deperately.

“you haven’t been taking care of yourself?” mina asks, looking at you pitifully. her hand cups your cheek now, “love…”

“i just, missed you.”

mina frowns, rubbing her thumb on your cheek. “let me take care of you baby.”

“please,” you beg, “just, god, just touch me already.”

mina kisses your lips again, and as she does so, you groan into her lips as she pushes two fingers into your soaking cunt. 

they enter seamlessly, earning a desperate mix of a cry and a whimper out of those puffy lips of yours. she brings her fingers out, and with the same thrill – pushes them back in, almost double the force. your hand grips your own thigh, overwhelmed by the way she flattens her palm against your clit, tormenting your pussy. 

mina’s lips start to roam your neck, leaving marks that’ll stay for days, marks that’ll have you reprimanded but you don’t fucking care. she’s been gone for two weeks, way too long and fucking yourself to pictures of her on your phone could never compare to what you’re feeling right now.

she can feel your tightening around her fingers, you were always so easy to rile up, so sensitive and vocal about everything that made you feel good. so when she curls her fingers and feels your hand snake to her hair, practically pulling it off her scalp, she knows you’re close already.

and then you’re lazily grinding your hips against her, slacks now caught at your ankles as your panties start to soak up the arousal leaking from your entrance. your legs close, but mina opens them, getting rougher with her fingers and hitting your clit with her palm. 

“m-mina,” you whine, “i’m close, god, so close,”

“yeah?” she says softly, in a way that sends a shiver throughout your whole body. “cum for me then, c’mon baby, you deserve it after all your hard work.”

you manage to look her in the eye, brows creased to oblivion and your jaw dropped before it picks itself up so you can mutter a shaky “m–hmm.”

her thumb moves swiftly to brush your clit, which is enough to send you over the edge, leaving you to shake against the couch and rock your hips up. she watches you cry out, the rise of your chest – then the fall, and feels her hand grow damp with your climax.

she continues to massage your clit, sliding her fingers up and down your entrance simultaneously to let you ride out your high, bringing you back down to earth, letting your vision go from hazy to normal again.

“m-mina, fuck, baby,” is all you can mutter before she pulls you forward with your tie, kissing your swollen, reddened lips. your words muffle against her and your hands grip her shoulder tightly before loosening the more you kiss.

you feel dizzy, dizzy in the best way possible with her lips on yours, tongues swirling and kisses growing sloppier. 

and then mina pulls away one more time, twisting the fabric of your tie around her pointer as she gazes at you; dark red marks – almost purple, each the size of a quarter – are plastered on the skin of your neck, your eyes are closed as you breath heavily, and your hair is even more ruffled than before. you’re trembling, mina always liked how cute and overstimulated you are after you cum, so riled up and thrown off that it makes her want to kiss you till you’re struggling to bring air into your lungs.

she brings a hand to your hair, brushing the messy strands that hang over your pretty face in order to then cup your cheeks again. she smiles at you, grinning at the mess she’s made.

“awake now?”

“very.” you sigh out, bringing your hand over to her thigh to rub circles on it. “i’m really sorry for leaving you alone last night.”

mina shakes her head. “it’s fine, you had your job to do love.” 

“i would’ve enjoyed doing you instead.” you joke, pouting at her cutely. “god, do you know how annoying it is to be horny when your girlfriend isn’t home?”

your girlfriend rests her head against the cushion, then turns to face you. “oh i know. i waited all night for you, you know?”

turning to her and giving her an apologetic frown, you apologize again, “sorry.”

mina rolls her eyes at you, giggling. 

she holds your hand and uses the other to brush her fingers over the marks she’s made on your neck, making your breath hitch.

“make it up to me with a few more rounds?”

yeah, you’re tired as hell, even after eleven hours of sleep. you’ve just came and it took the life out of you – plus, you’re seriously just exhausted, but the way your cunt throbs at the suggestion urges you to lean over and kiss her again.

you pull away, lips brushing against hers before you answer against her, “ruin me.”

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰  𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 (?) 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒  ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 & 𝑫𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔: 𝑨𝒘𝒌𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑴𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝑫𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒆𝒙

──  mdni sexual content. inclusive of: vaginal sex, slight pet name usage, shower sex, getting caught, sex as a stress reliever. but overall this is a lot of fun LMAO

the truth, is that caleb would always be willing to experiment.

he's had so much pent up for you, that you'll frequently find he has something in new in mind to try out with you—or, in short, he liked to find new ways to have his way with you. so it wouldn't surprise you that eventually, you'd have your hands pressed against the glass, your head tilting back to meet his kisses. of course, it would feel good, like it always did. his cock would fill you so well, and taking it from behind made you feel everything so much more deeply. it would be oh so asy for both of you to get lost in the pleasure, droplets from the shower, running down your back, the rush of water doing nothing to drown out your moans.

... but shower sex is never just rainbows and butterflies, and sometimes, being fucked silly allows all sense of rationality to go down the drain.

it's quick, when it happens—caleb accidentally knocks down the bar of soap, and the already-running water makes things progressively worse. you gasp, wide-eyed, as you slip, and caleb seems just as surprised as you. perhaps, his reflexes did him no favors in the moment, as his attempts to catch you only have him slipping on the very same trail of soap you'd also slipped on.

the both of you remain on the shower floor with agonizing pain, and perhaps you look more like a drenched, unsatisfied cat than anything else.

"shit—fuck—m'sorry, pipsqueak..."

"...we should just stick to the bedroom next time."

sex with rafayel is always so intoxicating.

he'd have himself buried inside of you in a way that just feels so right, so perfect, that you would always find yourself lost in the moment. whether he goes slow, or fast, or even if he lets you take charge, the result is the same—you could only ever focus on him, him, him. perhaps, it was intentional on his part, but you liked it that way. he made you feel good.

except sometimes, rafayel was too much of an airhead that your distraction wouldn't always end well... such as one particular morning, where he had you pressed against his couch, fucking you as well as he always did, and the sound of footsteps barely registered in either of your ears.

"rafayel, why aren't you answering my calls? i told you, this is an important deal, and—holy fucking shit! are you insane?!!"

rafayel never quite bothered to lock the door, and though you knew this and tried often to get him to do it, there were still times that he would... forget.

such as right then.

in that moment, you would yelp, hitting at his chest, barely having the strength to push him off of you as he hastily throws a nearby blanket over the two of you instead.

and thomas would storm away, eyes shut tightly.

"god! lock the door, rafayel, seriously! just—just finish whatever you're doing and call me back!"

"yeah, yeah. bye, now!"

"...rafa?! never let that happen again!"

in the years you've spent together, you had come to the conclusion that xavier liked to relieve his tension in very specific ways.

you didn't mind it, of course; in fact, you enjoyed it. it's become an established part of your week, him pressing you against the door in as soon as you get home from a particularly tiring mission, soft kisses gradually turning more heated and passionate as he leads you into the bedroom. these moments were some of the only times he'd allow himself to be more selfish with his desires for you, and with no surprise, you'd find yourself looking forward to it—expecting it.

but on one particular night, you find him to be less... dominant, than he usually would be with you in these moments, almost passive. but his hands still roam your body, brushing against all the sensitive spots he's memorized like the back of his hand, still kissing you in a way that would make you melt—so you don't question it immediately. perhaps, you think, he wanted you to take the lead this time.

except, you reach down, and he's...

...not hard at all.

even as you rub against him, as his lips place soft kisses on your neck—

there's no reaction.

he looks up feebly and then you find the telltale traces of exhaustion on his face, the tips of his ears pink with embarrassment. his eyes are nearly drooping closed.

"sorry, angel, i'm too.... i think... i think i just really want to sleep right now, after all..."

"...oh..."

over the course of the past couple of weeks, you'd found that zayne's adorable affection for cats had gotten the better of him.

the calico cat you'd often see roaming his street would now prance happily around his house, feeling almost more at home than zayne himself—surely, at least, that it was certainly home more often than him. you found it adorable, and sweet, and you loved it, you really did!

but...

your more passionate nights with zayne would be rare enough as it is considering his busy schedule, and it was unfortunate that you now hard a rather... entitled audience.

he would by thrusting into you so nicely, so deeply, your legs hooked over his shoulder as he leaned in to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. often, your eyes would be closed as you took in every bit of pleasure he would give to you, fully focused on the feeling of his cock stretching your walls the way you so desperately needed.

...only now, when you open your eyes, you find that a certain ball of fluff had casually walked over to lay on zayne's back.

your eyes lock, and it's almost as if the moment is completely lost.

zayne would stop thrusting, noticing your change in mood, and then he'd recognize the weight on his back.

"...sorry, sweetheart... should i—"

"....it's staring."

"..."

"zayne, maybe... we should do this at my place next time..."

⁺₊ / an: light moments to start the day!!! 💖 it was super hard to choose what exactly to write because there's a lot of awkwardness that goes into sex, but i hope this was a fun little read~

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[thedensworld]

Why Women Kill | K. Mg

Genre: Mistery, Smut

Summary: your husband of 2 years was found dead while you were away. Kim Mingyu, the detective, try to help you find the truth.

The maid immediately dialed emergency services when she found her master lying lifeless in the dining room. Meanwhile, you, the wife of the house, were in your hometown when the devastating news broke. As soon as you stepped foot in the house, you were met with the sight of police officers investigating the scene. The circumstances of your husband’s death had led them to suspect foul play—potential murder.

A tall man introduced himself as Detective Kim, accompanied by Detective Hong. They both approached you as you stood at the entrance, your luggage still in hand. The devastation on your face was unmistakable, a combination of the long flight from abroad and the shocking news had clearly shaken you.

"I'm so sorry for what has happened to your husband, but we need your full cooperation during the investigation," Detective Hong said gently, before outlining the procedures that would follow in light of your husband's sudden death. His voice was professional yet compassionate, understanding the weight of the tragedy you were facing.

"Please, let us drive you to the place where you'll be staying," Detective Hong offered. "It’s the least we can do for you right now."

"I'm afraid it would be an inconvenience..." you started to protest, your voice weak, but Detective Hong insisted.

The three of you made your way toward the car. Detective Kim took your luggage, his silent demeanor revealing a quiet respect. As you walked, Detective Hong engaged you in conversation, asking about your husband.

"I'm sorry," Detective Hong suddenly said, glancing at his phone. "Mr. Choi needs to see me right away. Mingyu, is it alright to drive alone?"

"Of course," Detective Kim replied politely, opening the car door for you. "Please, Mrs. Moon."

As you settled into the passenger seat, Detective Hong, whose full name was Hong Jisoo, tapped Detective Kim on the shoulder. "Mingyu, I trust you with this. You’re a skilled profiler—I hope you pick up on anything during the drive."

"I’ll do my best, hyung," Mingyu replied with a determined nod.

Later that night, Mingyu and Jisoo reconvened at the police station to discuss the case. Moon Junhui, a renowned celebrity chef, was now the subject of a murder investigation.

"The forensic results should be in by tomorrow," Jisoo informed the team. "It’s hard not to feel for Mrs. Moon. She was on vacation in her hometown, and now she comes back to find her husband might’ve been murdered."

"During our conversation, she seemed like a devoted wife," Jisoo continued, his gaze flicking toward Mingyu. "She sacrificed a lot after settling down with Moon Junhui. Did you notice anything suspicious about her while driving her to the hotel?"

Mingyu leaned back, thoughtful. "Just like you said, hyung—she seemed lost, devastated even. But I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Still, I don’t want to jump to conclusions until we get the forensic results."

The next day, the results came in. Moon Junhui had died from arsenic poisoning, found in his system. The investigation kicked into high gear, and police began interviewing those closest to the victim, including Jung Seyeon, the maid who had found him.

"What was your relationship with the victim?" Detective Kim asked Seyeon as she sat across from him in the station.

"I work for him. I’ve been his maid for about a year now."

"And what happened on the day you found him?"

"My shift starts at 6 AM, and I usually stay until the next morning. Mrs. Moon wasn’t in town, and Mr. Moon is typically at his restaurant until 10 PM. But when I went to check the kitchen, I found him lying on the floor and immediately called emergency services."

Mingyu scribbled down notes. "You mentioned your shift starts at 6, but you called emergency at 5. Why did you arrive an hour early?"

Seyeon nodded quickly. "Mr. Moon asked me to come early that day to get groceries to stock the fridge."

"Your husband was found dead after drinking a cup of coffee he supposedly made himself. He was estimated to have died around 3 AM, but wasn't discovered until 5. Can you tell me anything about your husband’s habits that might help us?"

You took a deep breath, your voice trembling as you tried to keep your composure. "I—I’m not sure why he was home so early. He’s usually at the restaurant late into the night. I’m usually home alone."

"But he did—he does love coffee. He couldn’t go a day without it."

"Is it common for him to drink coffee around that time?" Jisoo asked, his tone gentle but probing.

You shook your head. "No, not at all. He’s normally at work. But I always made his coffee in the mornings."

"What time would that be?" Jisoo pressed.

"Jun’s an early riser. He usually had his coffee around 7 AM, before his morning workout."

You hesitated, then added, "He also preferred his coffee made with bottled water, never tap."

Both Jisoo and Mingyu’s attention sharpened at that. It was a small detail, but potentially significant. The tap water—or the bottle—could be a key to unraveling this mystery.

*

Who would have thought that a maid, secretly having an affair with her employer, could murdered him out of jealousy toward his wife? The case involving the popular couple—Moon Junhui, the celebrity chef, and Ji Y/N, a former actress—shocked the nation. The story immediately went viral, flooding the internet with comments as netizens discussed the tragic events that had unfolded.

The police had finally unraveled the tangled web of deception. They revealed to the public that a woman with the initials JSY—Jung Seyeon, the maid—had laced one of the water bottles in Jun's fridge with arsenic. The poison had originally been intended for his wife, but fate had intervened, and Jun himself drank from the bottle instead. When Jung Seyeon was apprehended, the footage of her resisting arrest and furiously denying the charges went viral, fueling the public's fascination with the case. The world watched in disbelief as the truth unfolded, and messages of sympathy poured in for you—the true victim in the entire ordeal.

Now, you sat across from Detectives Jisoo and Mingyu, the weight of revelation hanging heavy in the air between you. Jisoo had just asked about the state of your relationship with Jun in the months leading up to his death.

"I don’t think I should talk about this, especially since the investigation is officially over," you said softly, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

Jisoo shook his head gently. "I understand, and I don’t mean to press. But you did mention earlier… you said you couldn’t get pregnant? And that your relationship shifted after that?"

Your gaze fell to the floor, the pain of the past months bubbling up inside. "I don’t want this to be public knowledge. He was… someone I used to love, even though he cheated on me in the end. I can’t deny that, for a long time, he was a husband I loved." Your voice cracked with emotion.

Jisoo looked at you, sympathy in his eyes, before he nodded slowly. "I understand. We’re very thankful for your cooperation. Please, if there’s anything you need during this time, don’t hesitate to reach out."

With that, Jisoo and Mingyu quietly excused themselves, leaving the hotel room and giving you the privacy you so desperately needed.

As they walked down the hallway, Jisoo let out a long breath. "She’s an amazing woman," he murmured, the weight of everything they had learned settling on him. "I just don’t understand why Jun would cheat on her."

Mingyu nodded in agreement. "It’s a tragedy. But at least the truth is finally out."

"Yeah," Jisoo replied, "at least now she can start to heal."

*

Meeting you again felt like a miracle. The once-hopeful theater student you had been had blossomed into one of the top actresses in the country. Your face was everywhere—on billboards, magazine covers, and in TV commercials. You were known not only for your beauty but for your incredible acting talent. Mingyu couldn’t help but feel proud as he watched you move effortlessly through the crowd at the college reunion for the photography club. He had been there during your early struggles, and seeing you now made him realize how far you’d come.

After mingling with old friends, you finally made your way over to him. “Hey, how are you?” you asked, your voice soft yet familiar.

Mingyu smiled, his heart skipping a beat. “I’m great. You look amazing today.”

You smiled back, a gentle warmth in your eyes. “Thank you. How’s your work, Mr. Detective?” you teased, your playful tone bringing back memories of the past. Mingyu chuckled softly, feeling a rush of nostalgia.

“How do you know?” he asked, biting his inner cheek to stop himself from grinning too widely.

“I saw your promotion in the newspaper. Congratulations,” you replied.

Mingyu’s heart skipped again. You had still been keeping tabs on him, even after all these years. “Thank you,” he said. “I watched your last movie in the cinema. You were incredible.”

You laughed lightly. “That was two years ago. I haven’t been in anything since then.”

Mingyu nodded, recalling how you had become more elusive since your marriage to celebrity chef Moon Junhui. You had once been everywhere, but now you rarely appeared on TV or in public.

Despite the years and the changes in your lives, the conversation flowed easily, as if no time had passed. By the end of the night, you and Mingyu had exchanged contact information, rekindling a connection that had been dormant for years. This time, it was different—friendlier, warmer, but without the romantic tension that had once existed between you.

In the following days, Mingyu would occasionally send you pictures he found of you during work, little snapshots of your past. In return, you’d send him amusing messages or pictures from your quiet days at home.

One night, Mingyu saw five missed calls from you, all while he had been buried in work. Concern immediately washed over him as he dialed your number, and you picked up almost instantly.

"Hey, sorry… I was working earlier. You never call this late," he began, but his voice faltered when he heard something unusual—your sobbing.

"What's wrong? What happened?" he asked, alarmed by the silence that followed.

“Can you come? I’m so scared,” you whispered, your voice trembling with fear. Mingyu didn’t hesitate. He asked for your location, and you told him you were in a hotel, far from home—almost an hour away. Without wasting another second, he grabbed his keys and left.

When he arrived at the hotel and knocked on your door, nothing could have prepared him for the sight before him. Your hair was disheveled, your eyes were red and swollen from crying, and there was a small cut on the corner of your lip. Mingyu's heart dropped.

He gently pushed you back into the room, his eyes scanning your body. Bruises covered your arms, your neck, and one side of your cheek.

“Did he do this to you?” Mingyu asked softly, kneeling before you as you sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes filled with concern.

You nodded slowly, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks as a sob broke free. Mingyu wrapped you in his arms, holding you tenderly. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his heart breaking for you.

He had always admired your strength. You were passionate, driven, a force to be reckoned with. But now, seeing you like this—shaken, broken, after your husband’s abuse—something inside him snapped. He couldn't stand to see you treated this way.

“Does he do this to you a lot?” Mingyu asked gently, afraid of the answer.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “This is the first time… but he’s been verbally harassing me for a while.”

Mingyu's eyes trailed over the bruises, fury boiling inside him. The thought of your husband doing this made him clench his fists. How could anyone hurt you like this?

“We had a fight,” you continued, voice barely audible. “I haven’t been able to get pregnant… and I was angry too, but he—” Your voice cracked, and you broke down, the weight of it all crashing over you.

“You’re safe now,” Mingyu said softly, pulling you into his embrace again. “I’m here. It’s going to be okay.”

From that night onward, Mingyu became your rock. He was your confidante, someone you could trust during the darkest moments of your marriage. He supported you as you navigated the abuse and waited for the right moment to free yourself from your toxic husband.

And finally, that moment came—when you discovered the ultimate betrayal. He had been cheating on you with the maid you hired just months ago.

“They slept together while I was in the same house as them,” you said bitterly, your voice full of pain. “Every night.”

Hearing this, Mingyu’s protective instinct only grew stronger. You deserved better, and he vowed to stand by you until you found your way out of the nightmare your marriage had become.

However, the past never truly left either of you. Despite the years and distance, there was still a powerful connection between you and Mingyu—one that neither of you could ignore. The comfort, warmth, and undeniable attraction remained, sparking once again whenever you were together. It felt like you had been transported back to your university days, when everything between you was new and exciting.

Originally, the plan was simple: expose the truth about your husband. But the abuse had escalated, and the maid, to your disbelief, had begun dropping subtle hints about her secret affair with Jun, almost as if she wanted you to know. It was sickening, and you found yourself thinking that they deserved each other—a match made in hell.

“He could have killed you eventually,” Mingyu muttered, pressing gentle kisses to the bruises your husband had left behind. Each touch was a mixture of tenderness and suppressed rage.

“I won’t let that happen,” Mingyu whispered, though he knew the reality all too well. If you divorced Jun, the public would likely turn on you—the former actress with a scandal attached, while Jun, the beloved celebrity chef, would play the victim. The world loved him too much to see the truth.

That’s when the plan took shape. Together, you and Mingyu devised a way to make them pay. Using the maid’s background in chemical engineering, and Jun’s obsessive perfectionism and need for control, the pieces began to fall into place. The plan was as meticulous as Jun himself—just as he liked things.

“We’ll be fine. Trust me,” Mingyu reassured you, his voice low but full of conviction. He leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing yours before closing the gap, sealing your pact with a kiss that was both comforting and charged with a passion that had never really faded.

You knew what had to be done. This wasn’t just about revenge—it was about survival, about reclaiming the power that Jun had stripped from you piece by piece. And with Mingyu by your side, you felt like you could finally take it back.

*

“Did you use water from the bottle?” Jun’s voice was low but scrutinizing as he looked at the steaming cup of coffee you placed in front of him. His eyes narrowed slightly, the way they always did when he suspected something was off, as if he was already preparing to find fault.

You nodded, offering nothing more. There was no need to over-explain; you’d already learned that. A year of being with Jun had taught you to anticipate his every need, his every request. You had become attuned to the meticulous nature of his preferences, the way he expected perfection in even the smallest details.

Jun lifted the cup to his lips, his expression unreadable. You watched as he took a slow sip, his sharp palate immediately distinguishing between the coffee made with tap water and the bottled water he’d insisted on after one too many complaints. When he set the cup down, he didn’t say anything, just gave a slight nod of approval before turning his attention back to his tablet.

It had been months in the making, this habit you built, subtly weaving it into his life. First, it was the coffee. Then it was his food. Every dish prepared to his demanding taste, all of it crafted to make him dependent on that bottled water, his palate too sensitive to accept anything less. It was the perfect setup.

As you walked out of the room, your mind flickered back to Mingyu’s advice. “Start with something small,” he had said. “Make him dependent on it, and when the time comes, we’ll use it against him.”

You didn’t know it then, but that was the beginning.

“That woman should handle the groceries from now on,” Mingyu’s voice had been calm but purposeful when he suggested it. He was sitting across from you at a small café, his hand reaching out to touch yours. “Since she’s his girlfriend, she’ll be careless. She won’t put in the same effort you do.”

The idea was brilliant. You had already seen how Seyeon was beginning to infiltrate your life, little by little, her presence creeping into spaces where she didn’t belong. Letting her handle the groceries would be one more way to let her sink deeper into the affair.

The next phase of the plan was more complicated. It required emotional manipulation—a confrontation that would spark tension and lead to what Mingyu called “the perfect motive.”

One evening, after Jun returned from work, you sat him down. The air between you was cold, detached, as if the love that once filled your home had long since evaporated.

“We need to talk,” you said, your voice steady.

Jun glanced at you, sensing the seriousness in your tone. “What’s this about?” he asked, suspicion already creeping into his expression.

“I think we should divorce,” you said plainly, watching for his reaction.

Jun’s face contorted, a mix of disbelief and anger flashing in his eyes. “Divorce? What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you continued, keeping your voice level. “I know about you and Seyeon. I’ve known for a while.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Jun’s hands clenched, his jaw tightening. You could feel the rage building beneath his composed exterior.

“If you leave her, I won’t say a word about it to the media,” you added, throwing down the ultimatum that would push him over the edge. “But if you don’t—”

The threat hung in the air like a blade. And just as you had expected, the storm followed soon after. That very night, you heard Jun and Seyeon arguing in hushed but heated whispers, thinking you were asleep. You found your dresses shredded, your things broken, and Seyeon’s jealous tantrums began surfacing in ways that made it clear she knew her days were numbered.

The moment had finally come when Mingyu handed you the small vial containing the colorless, tasteless powder. “Here, put this in his water,” he said quietly, his eyes holding yours in a steady, unwavering gaze.

You stared at the vial in your hand, feeling its weight—not just the physical weight but the weight of what it symbolized. This was it. The culmination of everything you and Mingyu had planned, carefully, methodically, over the last few months. You felt a slight tremor in your hand, not from fear but from the adrenaline rushing through you.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice betraying a sliver of doubt. “What if something goes wrong? What if we get caught?”

Mingyu reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “Nothing will go wrong,” he said softly, his voice soothing. “Seyeon’s been doing the grocery shopping, right? She hasn’t been restocking the fridge properly. The water bottles will run low, and when Jun reaches for one, it’ll be this one.”

You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the anxiety bubbling up inside you. Mingyu had thought of everything, hadn’t he? He’d been so meticulous, so careful, just like Jun. And now, he was asking you to trust him with something so dangerous, so final.

“I’ll handle everything,” Mingyu reassured you, his fingers brushing over yours, calming your nerves. “If anything happens, I’ll make sure the investigation leads straight to her. She’s been careless, reckless. We’ll plant the arsenic in her things. No one will suspect you.”

This was it. The moment you had been waiting for, months in the making. Everything was going according to plan.

And just as Mingyu had promised, everything unfolded perfectly. The investigation led straight to Seyeon. The arsenic was found in her apartment, carefully planted in a way that left no doubt in the minds of the police. The media frenzy that followed was everything you had expected—and more. Seyeon’s public fall from grace was swift and brutal. The perfect crime, and no one suspected a thing.

“We’ll be fine, love,” Mingyu whispered one final time, pulling you into his arms as the chaos unfolded around you. You had trusted him, and in the end, he had been right. You were free.

*

“How was your mother?” Mingyu’s deep voice broke the comfortable silence as he watched you from the couch. You were standing in front of the mirror, slowly smoothing lotion onto your skin, your body illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Mingyu leaned back, his gaze following the gentle movements of your hands, admiring the peacefulness in the room. After everything the two of you had been through, moments like this felt sacred—quiet, intimate, and free from the chaos that had once consumed your life.

You glanced at him through the mirror, offering a soft smile. “She’s doing fine. But she’s getting older, and I’ve been thinking about asking her to move in with me. She’s so stubborn, though. She won’t leave the countryside. She’s always been attached to that place.”

Mingyu smiled, enjoying the way your voice softened when you spoke about your mother. It was something he admired about you—the way you cared so deeply for the people you loved. “It’s understandable. She’s probably got a lifetime of memories there. But, maybe one day she’ll change her mind,” he said, standing up and walking toward you.

His hand rested gently on your shoulder as he spoke. “How did she react to everything with Jun?” Mingyu asked, referring to the fallout from your former husband’s scandal, his voice cautious but curious.

“She was shocked,” you admitted, turning slightly to look at him. “But not entirely surprised. She’s always known something wasn’t right between Jun and me. I think what worried her the most was me suddenly staying with her for a month and then leaving again. She probably sensed something was going on beneath the surface.”

Mingyu chuckled softly, his eyes warm with understanding. “She’s your mom. She knows you better than anyone else.”

He reached for the lotion bottle, squeezing some into his palms. Without a word, he gently began to rub it into your shoulders, his strong hands massaging the tension from your muscles. His touch was firm but soothing, easing away the weight of everything you had carried over the past few months. His reflection in the mirror locked eyes with yours, and there was something grounding in his presence—something that made you feel safe.

“How are you feeling?” Mingyu asked, his voice low, almost a whisper, as his hands continued to glide over your skin, working their way down your back.

You tilted your head slightly, pausing to think before responding. “I feel... relieved, but also worried. It’s strange. I thought I’d feel only relief after everything, but there’s this part of me that’s still anxious, like something could go wrong.”

Mingyu’s hands paused for a moment, then he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head. “That’s normal,” he whispered against your hair. “You’ve just come out of a toxic relationship, and it’s going to take time to fully feel like yourself again. But you’re free now, and I’m here. You don’t have to carry that weight alone anymore.”

You smiled at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. His reassurance was exactly what you needed, a reminder that you were no longer trapped, no longer alone. “Thank you, Mingyu,” you said quietly, your voice filled with gratitude.

He turned you toward him, his hands moving to cup your face as he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. “Anything for you,” he whispered, sealing his promise with a tender kiss.

The kiss deepened, turning heated as Mingyu's hand trailed from the nape of your neck down to your waist, gently yet possessively pushing you against the wall. His fingers explored every contour of your body, mapping out your curves, while your hand slipped into his hair, massaging his scalp. A soft moan escaped his lips, the pleasure from your touch sending shivers through him.

His hand slid under your pajama top, his palm pressing against the bare skin of your back before moving upward, cupping your breast perfectly in his hand. He massaged it with slow, deliberate strokes, while his other hand trailed lower, squeezing your ass firmly.

“I want to make you feel so good,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear before his lips traveled down to your neck. His tongue painted your skin like a canvas, leaving wet trails as he marked you with kisses.

With a firm grip, he lifted your thigh to his waist, thrusting his hips against your core, letting you feel how hard you had made him.

“I need you…” you whispered, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt. Mingyu didn’t hesitate. He pulled you down to the floor, urgency in his movements as he unbuttoned his pants. You helped him peel his shirt off, both of you shedding layers like you couldn’t get close enough.

His lips found your breast, his mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking and teasing it as if his life depended on it. Meanwhile, his hand slipped under the waistband of your pants, slowly dragging them down just enough to let his fingers explore. He groaned softly as his fingers brushed over your warm, wet core, teasing you with playful strokes before finally slipping one finger inside.

“Mingyu…” His name left your lips in a breathless plea, the sound making his smirk grow wider.

“What is it, baby?” he asked, his voice deep with lust.

“Please… I want you,” you murmured, feeling the need building with every slow, tantalizing movement of his fingers.

“Not yet, baby…” he shushed you, his finger moving faster, his other hand steadying your body against the intensity.

“Ah… fuck…” you moaned, your body arching as he added another finger, filling you even more. His movements quickened, relentless, as he pumped his fingers inside you, the wet sounds filling the room.

“Can you hear that? That’s you, so wet… just for me,” he rasped, his voice low and husky.

Your breath hitched as he slipped a third finger inside, the stretch making your head spin as your body tightened in response. The pooling heat in your belly grew unbearable.

“Mingyu… I can’t, it’s too much—”

“Cum for me, baby… I can feel it,” he urged, his fingers moving faster, harder, as if he were chasing your release himself.

Your body obeyed, the tension snapping as you hit your climax, gasping as waves of pleasure crashed over you. “I’m cumming…” you barely managed to say, your voice breaking as your orgasm rippled through you, leaving you breathless.

Mingyu smirked in satisfaction, watching you squirt against his fingers. He lowered you to the floor, giving you no time to recover as he kneeled between your legs, his mouth instantly finding your wetness. His tongue swirled against your sensitive core, drawing out every last drop of pleasure as you let out a desperate whine, your legs trembling beneath his touch.

His tongue worked you expertly, tasting every inch of you, the sound of your moans driving him crazy. He could listen to you like this forever, and he knew he’d never tire of making you feel this crazy.

"Too much…" you managed to whisper through your hitched breath. Mingyu stood from his position, effortlessly lifting you into his arms and carrying you to the bed. As he laid you down gently, he pulled off his boxers, freeing his cock, which was swollen and slick with precum, the tip flushed red—an undeniable sign of how badly he wanted you. But tonight wasn’t about his desires; it was about making you forget all your worries, about making you feel cherished.

His lips captured yours again as he hovered over you, gently laying you down on the bed. His hands moved up to your breasts, teasing them, thumbs circling your sensitive nipples, while his kisses trailed down your neck.

"I'm going to treat you so good, baby. You're my princess… Cum for me again, yeah?" he murmured, his voice low and tender as he gazed into your eyes. Then, without hesitation, he lowered himself between your legs again, his lips finding your core once more.

"Please, Mingyu… it's too much…" you whimpered, the overwhelming pleasure making your body tremble. Mingyu only hummed in response, the vibration from his voice sending another jolt of pleasure straight to your belly, making you moan louder.

His tongue worked you with expert precision, every flick and swirl pushing you closer to the edge. It felt like you were floating, everything around you fading away as pleasure consumed you. You could see flashes of white behind your eyelids, the sensation so intense you could barely breathe.

Sensing how far gone you were, Mingyu playfully pinched your thigh, grounding you in the moment just as your second orgasm began building. Your body jerked in response, and you gasped, arching against him.

"I'm close…" you whispered, the words barely making it past your lips.

"Yes, baby, cum for me," Mingyu urged, his deep voice almost a command. "I’ve got you."

Your body convulsed as your orgasm crashed over you, more powerful than the first. You cried out, hands tangling in Mingyu's hair, pushing him closer to your core as he licked you through your release. His tongue didn’t relent, driving you further into ecstasy as your body quivered and your mind spun from the intensity.

When you finally came down from the high, breathless and trembling, Mingyu lifted his head, his lips glistening with your essence. His warm smile filled you with a sense of peace. Climbing back up your body, he kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, the intimacy of the moment leaving you breathless once more.

"I love you," Mingyu murmured against your lips, his voice soft but filled with passion. He kissed you again, slower this time, as if savoring every second. "You’re everything to me."

The warmth in your chest spread, a feeling of deep love and connection wrapping around you. Mingyu wasn’t just making love to your body; he was worshipping every part of you, showing you just how addicted he was—to you, to the way your body responding his every touch. He was all yours tonight, and he would remind you of that over and over again.

"You want me, baby? Think you can handle me?" Mingyu asked, his voice low and teasing as his gaze trailed down your body. Desperation laced your nod, your breaths coming quicker as you clenched around nothing, your body betraying just how much you needed him. Mingyu smirked at the sight, loving how your body was begging for him just as much as he wanted you.

"Are you sure you can take me?" he murmured again, his tip barely grazing your entrance, rubbing teasingly against your slick folds. Your lips parted in a soft whimper, eyes pleading as you muttered a quiet beg.

"Well, since you asked so nicely…"

Mingyu slowly, deliberately, slid his cock into you, the stretch sending a wave of pleasure through your body. Your walls welcomed him with a tight warmth, like he belonged there, and Mingyu whimpered softly near your ear as he pushed deeper, still amazed at how tight you felt around him, even after all this time.

"Oh my—just like the first time…" he groaned, his voice thick with need.

"You're so big," you breathed out, making his cock twitch inside you. Mingyu hissed through his teeth, half-warning you to stop saying things like that, his control hanging by a thread.

"You feel so amazing… you have no idea," he muttered, burying himself fully inside you, both of you moaning at the sensation. It felt perfect, as if everything about this moment—about you two—was exactly right.

"Move, baby… you can move," you urged him, your voice barely a whisper, but Mingyu heard it loud and clear. He began to thrust, slowly at first, then picking up the pace as you adjusted to the delicious fullness.

"Did he fuck you good?" Mingyu asked, his tone darkening as he picked up speed, the jealousy biting at him. He needed to know, needed to hear it from you—needed the reassurance that no one else could make you feel the way he did. Not Jun, not anyone.

You shook your head, desperation and pleasure etched into your expression as your breathing grew more ragged. Mingyu could feel your walls tightening around him as he angled his hips, hitting the spot that made you see stars.

"Only you," you gasped out, barely able to form the words as he continued to thrust, hitting that perfect spot again and again. "Only you can do this to me…"

Mingyu groaned deeply at your confession, pulling your face toward his for a sloppy, heated kiss. His lips claimed yours, your moans mingling as he lifted your leg, folding you in half to get deeper, hitting places you didn’t even know existed.

His pace quickened, every thrust sending shocks of pleasure through your body. His fingers found your clit, circling it in sync with his movements, pushing you further toward the edge. You couldn’t stop your hands from clawing at his back, your nails leaving marks, but the pain only heightened Mingyu's pleasure.

"I'm close," you gasped, the pressure in your belly building to an unbearable peak. Mingyu's arms slid beneath your head, pulling you closer, craving the skin-to-skin contact as he chased both of your releases. His moans mixed with yours as he felt your walls clamp down around him, your orgasm washing over you, pulling him deeper into his own.

Your body shook as he thrust through your high, and despite the overstimulation, he kept going, desperate to find his own release. His thrusts grew sloppier, more erratic, until finally, with a groan, he buried himself inside you, ropes of hot cum filling you as he reached his climax.

He dropped his head onto your shoulder, panting as he continued to ride out the last waves of pleasure, even as your body trembled through another small, overstimulated orgasm.

When the intensity finally subsided, Mingyu flipped you both over, letting you rest on top of his chest as your breathing slowly returned to normal. He gently stroked your back, grounding you as you recovered.

"Let's rest for five minutes… then I'll ride you," you whispered, voice still thick with exhaustion, but the promise in your words sent a spark through Mingyu.

His ears pearked at your words, and like an eager puppy, he grinned widely. The thought of you riding him filling him with anticipation. Finally, after everything, you are his— completely and utterly his. And he couldn't wait for more.

*

"Tell me something I don't know," Hong Jisoo stated, his voice slurred as he and Mingyu sat across from each other, four empty bottles of soju scattered on the table between them.

Mingyu didn’t falter, continuing to grill the meat in front of him, though he knew where this conversation was heading. Jisoo's drunken state had loosened his tongue, and now he was asking about something they both knew all too well.

"I saw you with Mrs. Moon. Or should I call her Y/N?" Jisoo’s brow raised, his words no longer filtered by sobriety.

Mingyu glanced at him, a brief silence hanging in the air before he sighed. "Since when?" Jisoo prodded, his curiosity piqued.

"We've known each other since college," Mingyu finally admitted, flipping the meat on the grill with a practiced hand.

Jisoo nodded, leaning forward. "So why did you pretend like you didn’t know her during the investigation?" he asked, a hint of accusation lacing his words.

"It was... awkward," Mingyu confessed, his hand absently scratching the back of his neck. "We used to date for a long time. She got married, and then her husband died... tragically."

Jisoo’s expression softened slightly as Mingyu continued. "You know the case. Jun treated her horribly, and honestly... my feelings for her were too strong. I couldn’t just ignore it. Once the investigation was over, I reached out to her because I wanted to support her."

Jisoo nodded again, slowly digesting the explanation. He was a man who valued logic, and Mingyu’s reasoning made sense to him in his inebriated state. "So, you two are dating again? I heard she announced her retirement."

"Yeah," Mingyu replied with a nod. "We started seeing each other again. She retired and decided to move in with her mother. It’s been good for her."

Jisoo sighed deeply, slumping forward on the table. "I was her fan, you know. She was a great actress!" he slurred, nearly knocking over the grill as he lost his balance.

Mingyu quickly reached out, steadying Jisoo before he burned himself. "Yeah," Mingyu agreed quietly, glancing down at the sizzling meat. "She really was."

As Jisoo drifted into a drunken stupor, Mingyu couldn’t help but reflect. You were a great actress. And somewhere along the way, you’d taught him to be one too, hiding secrets behind composed smiles and well-practiced lies.

[noearchives]

when you're sick...

sanji doesn't leave your side for hours. he only tears himself away from your bed to make you lunch and dinner, and he makes it as quick as possible so he won't have to leave you alone for too long. he's so dramatic- he's clutching your hand like you're on your deathbed even if chopper told him countless times that it's just the common cold. asks if you're feeling okay every five minutes, wondering if he should change the cold towel on your forehead and such. the worst thing is, he can't kiss you when you're sick. when will this torture end?

"don't worry, my love. you'll get well soon in no time."

"the only person worrying here is you, sanji."

zoro knows you're strong, so he doesn't need to worry- or at least that's what he thinks. he tries to act normal, going through his usual workout routine and bickering with the curly-browed cook, but only the attentive miss robin notices how zoro's toned his voice down even when he's arguing so he won't wake you up. when he takes a nap, he sits in the corner of your room so that he can hear you breathe, and when he returns to his usual activities on the sunny, he cracks the door open for just the slightest once in a while so he can check on you (discreetly, so he doesn't look like a creep).

"just admit that you're worried, mosshead."

"shut the hell up, curly."

ace only whines when marco announces that you're sick and that he shouldn't come too close to you. "the two of you, behave. no kisses, no hugs, nothing." marco says sternly as he takes your temperature. ace wants to drop to the ground and kick his feet around like a child throwing a tantrum- but he sucks it up anyways, a pout on his face as he holds a spoonful of soup to your lips. "say ahh," he says, and when you obey, he's back to smiling again. this is actually kinda fun, he thinks as he feeds you spoonfuls again and again.

he ends up disobeying marco's commands, kissing your cheek before you fall asleep. just this once, doc.

law is unimpressed. very unimpressed. he told you to wear an extra layer of clothing when the two of you went out that day. he went as far as offering you his own coat, but you flashed him a grin with a thumbs up, insisting that you're fine. well, look at you now, complaining about how your head feels like it's about to split in half with a raspy voice. "i told you, didn't i?" he sighs, which results in another whine from you. "can't you be nicer when poor little me is weak and feeble?" you say, followed by a cough and three consecutive sneezes. law resists the urge to roll his eyes. he kisses your forehead as he places a cold towel on it with a dissatisfied 'tsk' of his tongue. "poor little you should've worn a jacket if you didn't want to get sick like this."

[madschiavelique]

Restraint - Miguel O'Hara x fem!Reader

summary : you convinced Miguel to wear a muzzle to fuck you, and let's just say it drives him insane.

content warning : SMUT (18+) minors dni, pnv sex, unprotected safe (be safe kids), miguel becoming a tiny bit angry because he can't kiss you nor bite you, possessive miguel, no use of Y/N word count : 1,1k

note : needed to get this out of my brain, enjoy (english is not my first language and i tried to proofread it properly fdbfdgf)

Miguel grunted, his teeth clenching over the empty air. He snarled, thrusting further into you, trying to press his face into your neck to squeeze the metal and get closer to your skin.

You had managed, in a way that still impressed you right then, to convince Miguel to wear a muzzle during sex. You had smiled, telling him that "you won't be able to resist, it's impossible for you," because the words 'bite' and 'Miguel' were simply inseparable, whether in everyday life or just in bed. With an air of pride and restraint, he had replied, "I'll resist, and you'll be biting your fingers off."

And now, he was pounding into you, body all sweaty with the muzzle on. The restraint had enough space between the bars and his mouth that he only managed to partially graze the sides if he tried to spread his lips or his tongue.

At first, he had put it on almost like a medal, because he was convinced that he would overcome his cravings and control himself perfectly well. How wrong he was.

As soon as he realised that he wouldn't be able to kiss your lips again, that had been a problem. But to admit at that moment that he didn't like it would be to admit defeat a little too soon. However when he realised he couldn’t bite you ? Now that was a problem.

His hands came to grasp your body more tightly than ever. The lack of grip he had with his teeth resulted in his fingers digging into your skin, which turned red under the pressure.

His fingers were pinching, his hands grabbing everything they could get their hold of that he couldn't bite. He took one of your breasts in his hand, his thumb starting to play with it, but when he lowered himself to lick it, he was instantly stopped by the distance between his tongue and the metal. He frowned, but eventually resisted using just his fingers.

Then he realised he couldn't trace your belly with kisses and light nibbles. But the real weight of his little wager began to sink in when, on reaching your legs, he realised what a mistake he'd made. The soft skin of your inner thighs, where the traces he had left the previous time he had fucked you were beginning to fade, was beyond his reach. The very idea that he couldn't make sure it was newly marked, right here, right now, was driving him crazy.

And then, when he got to your pussy, disaster. It was already so wet, glistening with your own desire for him. He was already salivating at the thought of tasting it, of getting drunk on it until he fell off, of hearing you moaning as he made you go from orgasm to orgasm.

But he couldn't, the cool metal dampened by Miguel's breath on the muzzle sending a delicious shiver down your spine when he tried to kiss you there.

He grunted quietly, frustration really beginning to set in, and started to work his fingers instead of his tongue. You breathed a sigh of relief as he came back to you, wanting to nestle into the back of your neck, wanting to kiss it, to feel your cheek pressed against his. But once again, he was stopped by the meagre metal frame. This was where deprivation became sincerely complicated. He hadn't noticed until now how much power his mouth had over your pleasure. He still had control over his words and his voice, but everything else was forbidden to him.

He bit his own cheek as he thrust in you, the first thing he wanted to do with the moan you let out was to swallow it, to relieve himself from the taste of your voice, your whimper and all the others that were to come.

The idea occurred to him to suggest removing the muzzle, thinking that the argument of "but it ruins our common pleasures" would do the trick. But he stopped himself, setting off at a frantic pace, his frustration reflected in the depth and power of his thrusts. All those delicious noises you were making, he wanted them for himself, in his own body, he had caused them and they were rightfully his.

So he tried to press the muzzle aside, hoping that by contorting his lips he would be able to kiss your shoulder, but he couldn't.

"Cariño," he breathed at last, slowing slightly, "What do you say I remove this stupid thing, hm?"

The little flash of satisfaction lit up your eyes like lighters.

"What is it ?" you whimpered, looking up at him through your lashes. "Can't handle yourself ?"

His nose wrinkled under his frown, his lips forming an angry pout. But he had to retain some pride, so, reluctantly, he replied:

"I can handle this perfectly."

He turned you over, your head on the cushion, ass up for him, resuming its previous rhythm as your cries were muffled into the pillow. He'd thought maybe if he heard them less he'd be half as tempted to want them for himself, but the urge weighed.

And the noise that his pelvis made against your ass was pushing all the right buttons.

His fingers dug into your skin again, the desire to bite and kiss you becoming more and more unbearable. Perhaps in another position he would be less tempted?

So you moved into cowgirl, your pelvis undulating against his as his hands gripped your ass and your thighs. But seeing you like this, your teeth biting into your lips from time to time, prevented him from thinking straight. It was his own teeth that should have done that.

"You look frustrated," you noted as you leaned over him.

You had taken care not to kiss or bite him either, but you allowed yourself the small temptation to kiss his neck, and Miguel's desire was growing by the second. Then, with a mischievous smile, you came back to face him.

"I wonder why," you smiled, licking from bottom to top the surface of the muzzle in a slow, almost lazy gesture.

It was too much, he couldn't take it any more. So with a sharp jerk, he grabbed the strap of the object of all his torment and pulled on it, the strap ripping immediately.

He pounced on you, hungry, his lips attacking yours, swallowing your every moan with monstrous satisfaction. Inevitably, he lunged at the crook of your neck, biting down harder than he was used to into your flesh. He consumed everything in his path, insatiable.

"I'll burn that thing," he said between a kiss and a bite, thinking of the pleasure he would take in destroying the muzzle.

One thing was certain, he would never tire of devouring you whole.

[earthchica]

never lose me | 2

Terry richmond x black fem! reader

summary: Terry takes you out on a date and, afterward, makes passionate love to you.

warning: explicit smut (18+), fluff, oral (f), unprotected sex, sweet talking, creampie, slight daddy kink, foreplay, pet names (baby girl, baby, etc.)

note: thank you all for the incredible love you've shown for the first part. There are a lot more Terry fanfics on the way. 😝💗

part two of ( never lose me )

-

It was date night with Terry, and this date was supposedly going to be different from your previous dates, which were pretty low-key but fun.

You were checking yourself out in the mirror, admiring how the satin backless dress hugged your body in all the right places and beautifully color complemented your lovely brown skin.

A soft knock echoed through the hallway; quickly, you brushed a few stray curls away from your face before you hurried to the door and eagerly swung it open.

You were met with the sight of Terry, who stood tall and imposing. He wore a short-sleeved, black button-up shirt, black pants, and dress shoes.

Both of you let out a synchronized "Damn!" as eyes roamed from each other's heads to toes, resulting in a burst of shared laughter.

"Baby girl," Terry's deep voice was passionate as he entered your apartment.

"You look stunning in that dress," Terry expressed with a charming grin, gently placing his hand on your hip.

The warmth of his compliments never failed to bring a wide, lovesick smile to your face. Oh, the effect this man has on you.

"Thank you, Terry. You look mighty fine," you said, touching his shirt and admiring his handsome appearance.

With a confident grin, he replied, "Well, they don't call me playa, playa for nothing" while popping his collar.

You rolled your eyes and playfully hit him on the chest which made him chuckle.

"I'm just playing. Thanks, baby...Oh, shit, I almost forgot, these are for you," he revealed, presenting a bouquet of your favorite flowers from behind his back.

You took the bouquet of flowers with a genuine smile illuminating your face. Reflecting on your past relationships, you realize this was the first time anyone had given you flowers.

"Aww, Terry, thank you. They're absolutely gorgeous," You gently rose up on your tiptoes, leaning in to give him a quick, sweet peck on the lips.

After placing the flowers in a vase with water, you grabbed your purse and keys and left your apartment together.

-

"So…where are you taking me tonight, handsome?" You inquired, observing him start the car before turning to look at you.

"You'll find out soon, baby. Be patient," he replied, flashing that charming smile that always made your heart flutter.

You gasped when you arrived at your all-time favorite jazz club. It offered delicious food, a live jazz band, and a dance floor. 

You used to sing here every friday night with the live band, and Terry would always come and support you; sadly, your dreams of becoming a singer never came true.

It had been a while since you last visited. You turned to Terry in surprise; he simply smiled and held your hand as you entered.

A rush of memories flooded back; this place was like a forgotten dream from the past. 

The serene ambiance, the captivating live music, and the sight of people dancing felt like magic rekindled.

You both settled at a candlelit table, ordered some wine, and savored the moment until the waitress approached to take an order.

"I think I'll go for the grilled chicken with rice," You mentioned, browsing the menu as she jotted it down, then turned to Terry.

"I'll have the steak with mashed potatoes and broccoli," He announced, returning the menu to the waitress.

"Great, I'll get the orders in right away," She said with a slight smile, and you both expressed gratitude as she walked off.

With confidence, he said, "I know, I know. I did the damn thang, huh?" and you couldn't help but laugh as you placed your hand on his.

"You did, Terry. Thank you, baby." You expressed your joy with a warm smile.

"Good! Cause all I ever wanted is to bring happiness to your life and see your beautiful smile," he said sincerely.

You gently assured Terry, caressing his cheek as he looked at you with deep love and sweetness, "As long as I'm with you, I'm happy."

"I know, baby girl," he murmured, gently pressing his lips against your hand, eliciting an even brighter smile from you.

You never thought you would see Terry's romantic side, but you were happy you did. He was so gentle and sweet; you only knew his tough and rough side.

The waiter brought the steaming, flavorful dishes to the table. As you two savored each bite, engaged in lively conversation, discussing everything and anything.

The live band began to play a cherished, familiar tune that resonated deeply with you. Observing your delight in the soft melody, Terry realized it was the perfect moment for a dance.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked, a warm smile on his face. He gracefully stood up and extended his hand towards you, inviting you to join him on the dance floor.

With a smile, you replied, "Yeah," as you placed your hand in his. He tenderly kissed your hand before guiding you to the dance floor.

Terry's warm hands rested gently on your waist as your hands were on his broad, steady shoulders.

The two of you swayed in perfect harmony with the music, completely absorbed in each other's eyes.

In that magical moment, it felt as though a captivating energy enveloped the two of you.

Transporting you both into a world where it was just two of you, dancing in a blissful cloud of love.

You never imagined experiencing love like this; for the past weeks, Terry made you feel incredibly loved and cherished.

You fell even more deeply in love with him with this entirely new and captivating side of him.

With a graceful movement, Terry spun you around and drew you close, planting a passionate and tender kiss on your lips.

You both savored a passionate minute of kissing, lost in the moment before reluctantly drawing back to catch your breath.

You gazed at him with so much love and desire, while his gaze reciprocated the same feelings.

Terry's voice was tender as he asked, "Does my baby need me?" He gently rested his hand on your cheek, his touch as soft as a whisper.

He possessed an intimate understanding of you; not a single word needed to be spoken.

“Mmm, come on, baby girl. Tell me what you need.” He whispered so profoundly and sensually.  

“Yes, I need you…Terry,” You whispered desperately, your fingers gripping his shoulder ferociously as if your life depended on it.

"Okay, baby," he grinned, his warm hand enveloping yours as you both strolled back to your table to pay the bill.

-

The drive back to your apartment felt like an eternity, and as you sat in the car, a wave of overwhelming lust made it seem like you were on the brink of losing your mind.

Terry wasn't help with stroking your leg. His touch was delicate, yet it had the power to get your panties soaked.

He was fully aware of his impact on you and wielded that knowledge precisely.

You were first to enter your apartment, the familiar scent enveloping you. The door clicks shut behind you, and before you can react, Terry presses you firmly against the wall.

A moan escapes your lips as his tender kisses trace a path along your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

You both moved across the room to your bedroom and slowly shed each other's clothes.

“Terry…I need you.” You let out a gentle moan, slowly pulled away from the tender kiss, and then started to softly stroke his dick, but he stopped you. 

“Shh, I got you, baby—such a needy little thang," he says with a chuckle before continuing to talk.

"I’m going to eat that pussy first and then going to make love to you,” He spoke, carefully lowering you onto the soft bed.

Terry took his precious time, though. He began trailing a path of soft, tender kisses to your neck all down to your stomach, hands grasping your tits for a second.

You were so eager for more that Terry found it amusing how you couldn't hide your impatience and irritation.

Terry let out a deep chuckle as he shifted slightly to get a better view of the adorable little pout on your face.

"It's not funny, Daddy. I need you so bad; please stop teasing," You said, feeling like you were about to cry.

"How much do you need me, baby?" He asked, deeply kissing your inner thigh.

"So much, Daddy. I need you; I need you to eat my pussy, please," You begged.

"Mmmm, so wet and needy for Daddy. I'm giving you what you need, baby" he said, watching him spread your legs out a little wider before diving into you.

You gasped, placing your hand on the top of his head while the other was gripping the sheets. His tongue was magically sliding through your wet folds, swirling around your clit.

“Terry,” you whimper his name, and eyes roll in the back of your head, hitching your hips up an inch to get a little bit more.

Terry let out a little muffled growl, gripping your legs to rock your hips against his face, soaking his nose and mouth.

“So feels good,” You cried in pleasure, which was always music to his ears. 

He loved hearing how he made you feel good and the pleasure he gave you. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head again when you felt his tongue hit an excellent sweet spot. 

“Mmm, you taste so good, baby.” He declares so deeply, voice sending shanks down your spine to your dripping cunt.

Terry dives back in, tongue dipping in and out of your hole at an unforgiving pace.

“Yes, yes, just like that daddy.” You moaned, feeling him begin to finger you while continuing to suck the soul out of you. 

He lifted a finger to your mouth, and you quickly sucked your juice on his finger, moaning, loving every minute of that. 

“Fuck...that’s my good girl,” He said with a little moan, pulling his finger out of your mouth, which made you whine.

He diving his tongue in and out of your pussy. Your legs began shaking and tense.

The dirty sounds of wet slurping mixed with the squelching of his fingers were...

“I’m so close, Terry…can I cum, please?” you whimpered, voice wavering more and more.

“Cum for me, baby,” he ordered, lips detaching as his fingers pressed hard and deep against that sweet spot.

You cried out his name, shaking from the great release. You lay there panting heavily, trying to get yourself together. 

Terry began kissing up your body to your lips, and you moaned, tasting your sweetness on his tongue. 

"You good, baby?" His voice barely above a whisper, he gently caresses your face, locking eyes with yours in a tender gaze.

"Shit...yeah!" You manage to say the words with a little chuckle. He responds with a grin, leaning in to plant another tender kiss on your lips.

Terry pulls away for a second to grasp his big, erect dick to fill you up perfectly. He groans at the feeling of you wrapped around him tight.

He leaned his forehead against your forehead, pulling out a little bit before thrusting back in, which made you gasp.

You were both in love, lost in the intensity of each other 's eyes as you began this passionate lovemaking. 

His thrusts were slowly and gently, the moans between you two were soft, and the holding of each other was so tight. 

"Shit," Terry groans deeply, throwing his face into your neck for a second before moving back up to fasten the pace a little bit. 

You loved feeling every inch of his dick slowly moving in and out of you. You may be a rough kind of girl, but this slow, gentleness was doing many things for you.

“Ah…you're so beautiful, baby. My girl, you're my girl, right baby?.” Terry gently asked while tenderly placing a kiss on your neck.

 “Yes, I’m your girl, Daddy,” you whispered, looking deeply into his beautiful eyes. 

Terry's strong arms effortlessly lift you, cradling you securely as you instinctively wrap one arm around his broad shoulders.

"Fuck, I love you baby." He moans, leaning his forehead against yours, thrusting up a little faster, setting a steady rhythm. 

"Ah…Terry….I love you, I love so fucking much," You moaned, feeling your pussy clenching around his dick. 

Terry pushed a few curls out of your face before kissing you, gripping your waist tighter. 

You pulled away with a moan, feeling yourself getting ready to cum. Terry immediately could tell by the expression on your face.

"Cum baby. I'm right there with you," He whispers in your ear, which is all you need to go over the edge.

"TERRY!" You cried his name, orgasming intensely. He moaned with a firm grip, seizing the back of your neck while shooting his load inside you.

The two of you remained in that position for a brief moment until Terry gently guided you down to the soft pillows before slowly pulling out of you. 

"Damn, look at that" He smirks proudly, glancing down at his cum dripping out of your pussy. 

Your intense high begins to fade while Terry goes to get a soft washcloth to clean you up.

The two of you settle into a warm cuddle now, and you nestle your head and hand against his chest.

His strong arms wrapped around you, as his hands tenderly caressed your arms.

Both of you were filled with happiness and satisfaction, basking in the afterglow of a deeply fulfilling moment.