#not giving in to his feelings until it’s too late

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ HE LIKES IT WET 'N' MESSY ❞

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...synopsis : the more you think about it, the more you realize you love how messy atsumu is…

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...cw : m. atsumu x fem!reader, wet and messy, ovėrstimulation, dirty talk, marathon sėx, desperation, playful banter, unprotected sēx, excessive cūm (?), atsumu's undiscovered breēding kınk, begging, messy kissing, atsumu miya can't shut the fuck up

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...lunar's note : another revamping of an old work of mine where i just. make this even more debauched and filthier than it was before !!

if there’s one word to describe atsumu miya, it’s messy.

sometimes, he leaves his clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed, waiting until you playfully kick him in the butt to pick up his things and put them in the laundry.

he's also so messy when it comes to eating, always having food on his face, causing you to tease him as he tries to wipe it off, completely missing.

it doesn't bother you that much, having already grown used to his messy nature.

it does bother you, however, when he makes a big mess of the sheets. he's always ignoring your whines for him to get a towel to put down or else you'd make him do laundry for the rest of the week.

atsumu always gives the same damn response, a long whine of your name, telling you he’ll clean it up after.

after all, atsumu doesn't think he can bring himself to pull out of your slick heat, not when you feel this fucking good. he can't remember the last time he got to fuck you like this, messy and desperate without worrying about needing to get up early the next day to catch a bus or plane for a game.

he swears he almost forgot how warm you were, how sweet your voice sounds when you were this close to him, how pretty your face looks even when you were looking at him rather annoyed despite being fucked.

“’t-'tsumie, the towel—!”

“baby, nooooo, don’ make me pull out, don' it feel good? d'ya really want me to stop?”

fuck, you can't lie, it feels good, it feels so fucking good, the way he slows his hips to torture you with the slow drag of his cock, making you feel every inch pull out...and then slowly slide back in, a wet squelch signally his hips pressing fully against you.

but that doesn't stop you from being annoyed, knowing your fresh sheets were already a mess.

“d'awww, don’ look at me like that, sweetcheeks. tsumtsum's gonna make ya feel reaaal good if y'forget about the damn sheets,” atsumu huffs, his sweaty hands grabbing the back of your thighs and pushing them closer to your upper body.

its sinful the way he manages to slip in even deep into you, his teeth digging into his bottom lip to prevent the pitiful little whimper from leaving him.

“l-lemme make a mess, baby girl, please?”

you want to roll your eyes at his request, because it's a little too late for him to ask you that. his cum from the first round is already dripping out your stuffed cunt, leaking onto the freshly washed bed sheets under you.

it doesn't matter that his sticky cock head is messing up your insides by pressing against all the spots that have you gushing. you just put these sheets on the bed!

giving him the best pout you can manage, you huff, "f-fine—o-oh!"

that pretty little moan shouldn't cause him to react so excitedly, but he can't help it. hearing your approval has him giggling, he knew you'd give in eventually, and he's going to make sure you don't regret it.

besides, hearing you, his sweet lil' princess, try to sound all tough and serious with his cock deep inside your hot gummy walls that were sucking him in with each thrust is making him so dizzy.

you are too damn cute for your own good.

he can't hold back anymore, not when you're so cute. his hands squeeze your thighs before he starts to pound into you, savoring the way you keen for him, mouth open as you chant his name so needily.

you aren't the only one being loud, poor atsumu giving up on holding back all those pretty noises of his, the way your tight walls squeeze and massage his throbbing dick so sweetly making it literally impossible to stay quiet.

“f-fuck, 'tsumu, ‘s too deep, ’s coming out more,” you whimper, trying to lift your hips to stop his cum from leaking out of you.

the wetness of your overstimulated cunted paired with his leaking cum causes the room to be filled with loud, wet, squelching, causing you to look down.

you suck in a breath, a hot pang of pleasure shooting up your spine at the sight between your legs. atsumu’s stupidly big dick is an absolute creamy mess that only seems to get messier the more he moves, pulling and pushing the sticky mixture of your cum in and out.

“listen to that, dolly, s' fuckin’ dirty. mmnh, tight l-lil' cunt can’t hold all my cum?”

god, atsumu doesn't ever shut up, he's always such a talker, knowing how embarrassed it makes you.

“c’mon, say it, angel, say it f' me, pretty please?”

“a…atsumu, i can’t hold all of your cum…’s comin’ out, ‘tsumu, you're making me messy.”

he wasn’t expecting you to actually do it, god, he really wasn't, but you did and now his eyes are fluttering as they roll back into his skull.

don't cum, don't cum, don't cum, he chants to himself, feeling himself nearly lose it just from your words.

a choked groan forces its way out of his mouth, you're just too fucking hot for him. he can't think of anything but you, your pretty face, your soft body, and your insanely wet cunt.

“s’okay, s’okay, fuck, i’ll-i'll fuck ya, pumpkin, 't-'tsumi's gonna fuck ‘n’ fill ya up over ‘n’ over again, 'til y'can't keep it all inside, gotta stuff you with my cum, make you cream around my cock, need it, need it.”

atsumu is absolutely gone, now fully pressing into you as he fucks you into the mattress. each thrust makes you cry his name, fingers digging into his back as he puts you into a mating press, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, so ready to pump another hot load into you.

it's too much, the drag of his cock and the way it was so deep inside you. tears prick the corners of your eyes, each thrust making your brain slowly turn into nothing but mush. you hate the mess, you really do, but hearing atsumu so desperate does something for you.

you...you want it, you want him to mess you up.

your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as you moan and pant against his ear.

“a-atsumu, honey,” you coo to him, savoring the stuttering of his hips and the quiet hiss of ‘fuck’ you get out of him from the sound of your voice. “please, please fuck me more, fuck me, fill me up, stuff my pussy with your cum, h-honey, mark me nice a-an' deep, okay?”

everyone in the world knows that atsumu miya would give you the world if you asked. so you want to be filled up nice and full? then, he'll give you what you want, take such good care of you and make sure you feel him dripping out of you for days.

“yeah, yeah, fuck, good girl. take this cock, take it like a good girl, so good, my pretty girl, fuck! s-she takes this cock so well, wish you could see how good ya look stretched 'round me like this, baby, ohmyfuckin'goddd.”

you can't stop yourself, pulling him into a sloppy, desperate, the need to taste him overwhelming as your hands get tangled in his hair. he pulls away, panting into your mouth as his thrusts get harder and sloppier.

it's just a fucking mess now, your slick and cream and his cum are coating his abdomen and thighs, dripping everywhere. each thrust has you splashing on him from how fucking wet you are, and atsumu feels like he's gonna fucking faint if he tries to hold off his orgasm for much longer.

“'tsumu, 't-tsumu, 'tsumu—!"

“t-tell me ya want it, baby girl, p-please? c-c'mon, tell me y'want my fuckin' cum inside ya, n-need ta hear it,” he begs against your mouth, eyes watery as desperate tears threaten to spill.

you can't think, can't give a coherent response as you babble, the word ‘please’ falling from your lips over and over again. you just want him to stop talking and kiss you again as he pumps your needy hole full of his seed, until you can't take anymore, until it spurts out from around his cock.

but then, he stops.

a strangled sob leaves you the second his hips stop moving. it's borderline painful, you're so fucking close. just a few more thrusts and you'd be creaming all over his thick cock, tugging and pulling on his hair as your slick squirts all over him.

but no, atsumu fucking stopped.

you look at him with teary eyes, silently begging him to explain. this is just unfair to both of you! but atsumu only gives you a cocky grin, and you have to stop yourself from flicking his nose.

he grants you some relief, rolling his hips gently as his hand slides up to cup the back of your head as he pepper your sweaty cheek in open mouthed kisses. he's so annoying, you love him so bad.

“dunno, pumpkin, don' think ya begged enough f'me. hmm...i’ll give ya one more shot, baby…tell me how fucking much ya want my fuckin’ cum in yer pretty cunt and make ya a creamy lil' mess."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu smut #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x you #atsumu miya smut #𖤐 ── lxnarworks. #hq smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #hq x you #hq x reader

[enhaheeseung]

SLEEP 🕒 - L. Heeseung

🕒Pairing: Heeseung X fem reader!

🕒Warnings: smut, mutual masturbation, cursing.

🕒Synopsis: it’s late, and you can’t sleep, but luckily, your best friend knows just the trick to help you out.

🕒Wc: 1,5k (Drabble)

-

Sighing to yourself, you set your phone down on the lamp stand after you noticed it was literally three in the morning.

You and your best friend had been watching movies talking and hanging out since ten and you hadn’t even noticed the time till now.

“You sleepy?” He turned to you just in time to catch you rubbing your strained eyes.

“Yes, it’s like three am, hee,” you groggily reply, turning on your left side facing away from him.

“Oh shit, you’re right. I’m sorry,” he chuckled. You could tell he was just as tired by how deep his voice had gotten.

“It's alright.” He set his phone aside as well and leaned up against the headboard.

“I guess I better get going.” On cue, he lets out a yawn.

“Are you crazy? It’s so late out you might as well just spend the night” you mumble out.

He rubbed his chin in thought; he was really tired, and driving probably wasn’t the best idea right now. “I didn’t bring anything for a sleepover.”

“Just wear whatever,” you respond, on the verge of passing out.

You feel a dip in the bed and hear him shuffling around. He takes off his pants and his flannel before he slips under the covers with you.

For most, it’d probably seem weird, a guy and a girl sleeping in the same bed, but the number of times you both knocked out together while studying during your high school and college days made this one of the most normal things between you two. “Goodnight, y/n. I might be gone before you wake up.”

“Just make sure to lock the door in the morning night, hee,” you whispered, turning off your lamp while he did the same after you.

You readjusted to get comfortable and pressed your cheek against your pillow, waiting for sleep to come over you.

Ten minutes passed, and sleep never came. You were tired, but for some reason, you just couldn’t fall asleep.

“Ugh,” you groaned and quickly cupped your mouth so you wouldn’t wake heeseung up with the racket.

Little did you know he was still wide awake.

“Y/n?” He asks, followed by a beat of silence. “You’re still up too?” He says with a hint of amusement in his tone. At least he wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping.

“Yes,” you laid flat on your back, copying his resting position. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m tired, but I just can’t seem to sleep,” you respond in the pitch-black bedroom.

“Same,” he sighs, folding his arms over his chest.

You both lay there in silence for a few minutes until he says something that completely catches you off guard.

“I read that having an orgasm can help you fall asleep,” he says casually.

You giggle and push his shoulder, or at least you think it was his shoulder. It was so dark you really couldn’t see. “And where did you read that?”

“The internet, of course, says it has something to do with the release of oxytocin or some shit” he lets out an airy laugh putting his hands behind his head.

“Interesting,” you hum.

“It is, works like a charm for me,” he says through a yawn.

“TMI”

“Oh please, we’ve talked about so much shit that this is PG,” he scoffs.

“Yeah, but not you touching yourself.” You cringe as the words leave your mouth.

“I didn’t say anything like that. All I said was it works,” he shrugs even though you can’t see him.

“Whatever,” you say, too tired to argue with him.

It’s silent again, and the idea he mentioned sounds a lot more appealing than laying here all night without getting any sleep.

But you can’t necessarily try out this little theory of his with him in your room, so that idea was out the window.

“You still up?” He checks on you a minute later, and you hum in response. “I mean, I could give you one if you want,” he holds in his laugh, knowing that you’re about to chastise him.

“Lee heeseung, stop it this instant,” you tell him sternly.

“Okay, okay, just thought I’d ask. I’m your bestie, and besties look out for each other, right?” He continues to push your little buttons.

“Yeah, by giving a shoulder to cry on, not giving each other orgasms,” you huff out a breath.

A thought popped into your head: you weren’t getting any sleep anytime soon, and since he wanted to mess with you, two could play that game. “I mean, you could,” the words leave your mouth in a nonchalant manner.

He gasped, not expecting you to match his humor. Most times, you didn’t when it came to something sexual. “Knock it off. It’s weird when you joke about it,” he laughs.

“Who said I’m joking?” You taunt.

“Cause the y/n I know would never,” he says confidently, thinking he knows you like the back of his hand, and normally he does, but just not when you’re sleep-deprived.

“What about the y/n who’s in desperate need of sleep and will do anything just to catch a few hours before work in the morning?”

His ears are perked up now, the soft, sultry tone of your voice alerting him instantly. “You’re really not joking, are you?”

“Do I sound like I’m joking?” You shift closer to him, and he feels your body heat right away, making his heart beat faster in his chest.

“I-I y/n, if you’re joking, just tell me.” his voice shakes a little, the slightest hint of a whimper traveling close behind his words.

Calling it quits with talking, you find his hand in the dark and grip his wrist, guiding him right between your legs. “Hee, I’d never joke about this,” you gasped as his warm hand cups over your mound.

“Fuck” he whispers and props himself on his side, slowly gliding his hand between your legs. “You really are serious, huh?” His voice sounds even huskier than it did before as he confidently presses your clit over your sleep shorts.

“Yes, hee,” you whine, desperation dripping from your voice as you clench your thighs around his hand, keeping it firmly nestled against you.

“Shit, okay, turn over for me” You get back in your original position, your back now pressed against his chest, his crotch a few inches away from your backside. “Now close your eyes.” his hot breath tickles your ear.

You do as he says, too tired to even think twice about what you’re getting ready to engage in with your best friend.

His two middle fingers rub circles on your clit, working you up quicker than you could have ever imagined. You’re already leaking a bit of precum.

“Mmm,” you moan softly. His fingers felt so good, especially when he slipped them further down, teasing your entrance while his palm rubbed your clit.

Your hand caressed the one that was between your legs, tracing the veins along the back of his hand. “Does that feel good?” He swallowed thickly, his lower body pressing against you unintentionally.

“Yes, hee, so good” he humps your backside, his swollen cock being stimulated by the softness of your plush bottom.

“Yeah, so good,” he whispers in your ear. You feel so good you don’t even notice the way he ruts against you, the movement of his hips forcing your waist to roll against his palm more, bringing you even more satisfaction.

“I’m so close, hee, I’m gonna cum” you cry out, body shuddering as the warmth and pleasure builds in your lower region.

“Shhh, I know, I know,” he breathes out heavily, placing a soft kiss on your cheek and a few more rolls of his hips. You’re both coming undone together, panting exhaustedly.

He rubs you through it, whispering encouraging words in your ear like. “Yeah, feels so good, doesn’t it?” “Let it all out,” “Keep cumming” “That’s it.”

The pleasure goes on for so long that another orgasm follows after giving you the most intense pleasure you’ve ever experienced. “Hee,” you whimper his name, your body trembling against his as you shudder in the aftermath of cumming back to back.

He nuzzles against you, cuddling you and helping you ground yourself until you catch your breath.

He’s still struggling to calm himself with how hard he just came. He hasn’t cum that fast and that much in a while. “Was that good?” He asked timidly into your hair, releasing a deep breath.

“Mmm,” you moan in response, your eyelids finally feeling so heavy that you can barely open them.

But you couldn’t forget about heeseung, so you flipped over on your side, your forehead touching his. “What about you?” You slowly reach into his boxers, gripping the base of his length, feeling a good amount of wetness covering his shaft.

“Ahh, s-sensitive,” he moans shakily.

You retract your hand right away. “Did you-“ he cuts you off, nodding against your forehead, and you slowly pull your hand out of his underwear.

“I’m good,” he assures you. “Let’s sleep now yeah? We’ll clean up in the morning” his words sound slurred and you can barely even understand what he’s saying cause you’re so tired.

Apparently, whatever he read about orgasms was true cause you’ve never fallen asleep faster.

-

Thanks for reading likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated sorry for any typos or errors I hope you all have a good day/night♥️

#enhypen heeseung #enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #enha heeseung #engene #heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #heeseung angst #heeseung x reader #enhypen fanfic #heeseung fic #heeseung fluff #enhypen lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung angst

[lazyjellyfish300]

(pls + ty) a funny/fluffy lil drabble about miguel working up the courage to finally tell reader he’s spiderman and reader’s like “yeah dude i know” 😭

Hello love! Here ya go!! Hope you like it 😁🥰

I know.

Miguel O'Hara x gn!Reader

CW: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, ANGST, FLUFF

Word count 1.5k

@1-900-venusluvs @thatone-writer

------

Miguel's suit dissipates in the bathroom, arriving home late after the police scanner alerted him to a heist at a bank uptown, freezing when he hears a creak and a sleepy groan coming from the bedroom you two shared. 

The hour late, during which most diurnal beings would be asleep. Except for him.

He pauses, Adam's apple raised in his throat, until he hears the reassuring silence once more, letting out a deep exhale of relief as he opens the door. 

You were tucked into dreamland, or so he thought. Bed dipping slightly with his weight as he got in next to you. 

"How was the overtime?" You ask in a groggy voice, still turned away from him. 

Alarmed, Miguel looks at your back then down at the floor as if he's calculating something in his head. 

Shock, how did you....wait....oh. 

He forgot that his cover up lie this time was that they needed him to come in for overtime at the office. 

"It was okay." Miguel shifts over to you, laying his arm across your abdomen. "I'm sorry I woke you up." 

A smile tugs at your lips. "The office won't be calling tomorrow morning, right?" 

Miguel returns a lazy smile at you. He would do everything he can to be there for you to make up for it. Although, it would be a tall ask of Nueva York's unpredictable crime patterns.

"I am sure that they won't." He hums. "I'll have the cinnamon rolls and orange juice ready for your book club tomorrow like I promised." 

You feel a grateful buzz in your heart. Even though your boyfriend could be busy, he wasn't forgetful. "Thanks, babe."

He looks down at you, brain wracked with guilt at lying to you again. He knew he couldn't keep you in the dark that much longer. He can't go on lying to you while you did absolutely nothing wrong. You kept his household up and running, did your cute little hobbies and entertained your rowdy group of friends you were always hanging out with, giving him a love that he was certain was never meant to find him in this lifetime, accepting all of his flaws in the messy packaging it came with, never once making him feel bad about who he was or his emotional struggles. You just patiently held his hand and waited for him in your cozy shared bed like you always did. 

And how did he repay you? Oh, only by lying to you for the entire six months you were dating about his entire existence. His second secret occupation and double identity as Spider-Man, if his talons and his crimson eyes he hid behind contacts weren't glaringly obvious enough. 

His lip trembles as his eyes rake over you, back in dreamland where you belonged. Something about seeing you so tranquil like this made it the final straw for him. 

He was going to tell you, tomorrow. And you'd hate him for the rest of your life. Six months of bliss, a mere glimpse into the happy life you could have shared together, all shot down the drain with just two words. You deserved better and he knew it.

Selfishly, though, he kept up the act because the idea of doing life without you would've drained his world of all color and meaning quicker than his door slammed, the closet emptied of all signs of you except the sheets barely clinging to the scent you left behind, your taillights disappearing down his street for the final time while he reeled inside the home you built together from the shock of having all of you and then none of you all at once. 

A couple tears fall down his face as he pulls your sleeping frame against his chest, too distraught to sleep. Savoring what it feels like to hold you just one more night before you slip through his fingers and he'll once again know a life where he must go on without it. 

----

Since Miguel didn't sleep all night, he had no issues getting up in the morning to slide the cinnamon rolls in the oven. Filling up the fancy pitcher with orange juice he knew you liked to use for the guests for "fancy" occasions. 

As he watches you bounce anxiously around the apartment, he feels horrible knowing that he's about to drop this bomb on you right before your friends come over, but he simply can't go another minute without being suffocated by the weight of his secret. 

If his heart was going to get utterly destroyed and the one sliver of a fragment of happiness he's ever known in this existence will slip back into the staggering ocean of nothingness, then better to do it now.

Do it now when your friends were on their way, your mind was awake, and you'd be surrounded by everything else you loved in life besides him to fall back on. He figures now will be the best time. 

"...Then we need to have the welcome chalkboard on this side so that way when they come in...." You mumble, shuffling to the left and take three steps back. "Okay perfect..." 

Miguel clears his throat. "We need to talk..." 

"Not now, sweetie....got book club in 20 minutes and no plate settings laid out and goodie bags still in the closet...." Your voice tapers off as you run back into the bedroom. 

"Oh, thank you for getting the cinnamon rolls and orange juice by the way!!!" 

Miguel hears the police scanner go off. A high speed chase underway in Brooklyn. He curses quietly, then feels his face go white. "Baby?" 

"What?!" You snap, slightly irritated and frozen in place, your clothes frazzled, balancing a box of neatly packed goodie bags themed after the book you're reading with some banners and streamers about to fall out of your arms. 

Here goes nothing. 

"I am Spider-Man." 

One of the goodie bags falls to the ground with a thwack. 

"And there are 12 inches in a foot." The plastic crinkles as you set the decorations on the countertop, pulling up a chair to tape a banner from one corner of the ceiling to another. 

Miguel feels like he's got whiplash. "What...?" 

"And my dad's a jerk." You pat a piece of tape to one end of the banner. "Also, smoking tobacco is bad for you!" 

Miguel feels like he's in the Twilight Zone as he slowly walks to the couch with invisible math equations floating around his head. 

"And the ending of Game of Thrones was a disappointment! And JonBenét Ramsey's family had something to do with her murder! And the Apollo 11 moon landing was the most highly televised event in human history!" 

Miguel swallows slowly. "You...you know?" 

You walk to where he's sitting, placing your hands on his shoulders. 

"In other news, water is wet. Yes, I know, baby. You think I didn't notice your contacts that you always leave by the sink? Or the amazing coincidence that every time there's an Earth shattering event on the news, my boyfriend just happens to be absent? Or when I do turn on the news, a guy with your exact height, build, and cute pair of buns is plastered front and center on the screen? Not many people are six feet nine inches tall, Mig." 

Miguel is speechless. 

"Also, normal people don't have the police scanner running all day." 

Miguel feels like he just jumped out of a plane, and 100 feet right before he was about to splatter all over the pavement, his parachute burst open. 

"You're...not mad?" 

You sigh. "No, I'm not mad." 

You cup his cheek.  How could you be mad at a face so sweet as his? Or the fact that your boyfriend's closest thing to a red flag was that he lied about public service and risking his life to save others in his free time. 

"I was just waiting for you to be honest with me about it. Please don't ever hold something like that in again." You kiss him and he melts. 

"I know what I signed up for when we started dating. I'm in it for the long haul and there's nothing that you could tell me that I wouldn't want to figure out together, okay?" 

Miguel breathes a sigh of relief. "I love you..." 

"I love you more." You hastily run back to the counter, setting out the goody bags and making the finishing touches to your lovely spread. 

"Don't you have a 2006 Chevy Malibu that you need to go apprehend?" 

He smiles. You're absolutely right. 

---

And as he looks back at the offending vehicle slowly rotating in a circle of his red webs hanging from a tree just 30 minutes later while NYPD scratches their heads and books the driver into jail, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket with a text from you. 

We're gonna need more cheese and crackers. Mind "swinging"by the store? 🕸️🕷️😏

The gals adored the cinnamon rolls btw! 

Good work, today, Spider-Man! I love you. Make sure you come home to me. ❤️

And from then on, he always would. 

----

🖤

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader

[stylesharrys]

Y/N’s never been with a man like Harry before. (Blurb)

A/N: I haven’t posted any content on here for a while (but I’m working on it I promise), so here’s a little blurb for you darlings — I’m also opening up requests again so if you have any blurb ideas, feel free to send them in <3

//

For as long as she could remember, Y/N had always done everything when it came to relationships. The cooking, the cleaning, the date planning — all of it. It was never like that in the beginning, of course. Most men would love-bomb and tell her everything she wanted to hear. She’d never realise until it was too late.

That’s how it always happened.

And yet, she always allowed herself to forget those signs whenever she met someone new. Always told herself that it wasn’t fair to pre-judge anybody and that perhaps that’s just how they were and it wasn’t an act.

It was foolish, really — her way of thinking. Because time and time again, they always proved her wrong, always left her feeling alone and unappreciated until she finally bucked up the courage to call it quits and leave.

She tried to be more weary of it when she met Harry. She found herself mentally scrutinising every word he spoke, every promise he made. She’d lock everything away in a safe in her mind that she’d go back through if he ever slipped up or started showing signs that he wasn’t who he portrayed himself to be when they first met.

But that day didn’t come, it still hadn’t.

In Y/N’s most recent relationship, she’d never been so low. She’d stupidly agreed to move in with James and from there, it went downhill pretty fast. He never cleaned up after himself, ever. His damp towels would be left on the bathroom floor, his empty beer bottles and candy wrappers would be left on the counter instead of in the bin, and the one time he did wash the dishes after dinner, he made a right cock out of it.

Weaponised incompetence was what she remembered her mother calling it. When somebody purposely carries out a task poorly as to not be asked to do it again.

He didn’t cook, had no idea how to use the washing machine and at one point made it blatantly clear that because he worked, he shouldn’t have to come home and do chores around the house after.

That was the cherry on top for her. Because Y/N worked, too. She worked the same kind of hours and still did everything in the home and cleaned up after him day in and day out.

When her and Harry first started dating, she kept her heart close to her chest. She was far too afraid of making the same mistakes as last time, of wasting time and energy into someone who isn’t willing to give her one-hundred percent back.

But Harry did.

Harry cooked on nights that Y/N cleaned and vice versa. She never once had to ask him to pick up his damp towel or put his rubbish in the bin. Harry just did these things. He changed the sheets on his own accord, he did more laundry than Y/N and he enjoyed a weekly Sunday deep clean with her, blaring music and lighting a candle at the end of it.

Tonight was no different. She came home from work a little later than usual and dinner was already waiting for her on the table. Harry had remembered she texted earlier in the day that she was feeling under the weather, and prepared her some chicken soup with buttered rolls for as soon as she got home.

A bubble bath was run and fresh pyjamas were warming in the dryer. The floors had been hoovered and mopped, the laundry was folded and hung in the wardrobes and the trash had been taken out.

The realisation of something that happened every day hit her tonight for some reason. Perhaps because Harry picked up the chores she typically did as well, or maybe because he thought of her and did the dinner and bath to make her life a little easier.

Either way, it had tears stinging her vision and her heart thumping. It was silly, really. She was getting emotional over her partner doing the bare minimum — him pulling his weight and keeping their home clean.

“What’s a’matter?” His gentle voice cooed from across the table.

Y/N smiled tearily, taking a bite out of her roll as she shook her head. She didn’t want to make a thing out of this — she knew he’d only laugh at her and call her a numpty. (Which in this instance, she was.)

“Nothing, I just appreciate this a lot,” she swallowed her food as the tears began to dry.

Harry squinted at her, not quite buying what she was saying. “Y’sure? If the soups bad, you can be honest and tell me. Promise I won’t get too upset.”

She laughed at him, shaking her head. “I just hope you know how much I appreciate and acknowledge what you do in our home and our relationship. Thank you for not leaving everything on my shoulders.”

Harry’s face softened into one of adoration, like he couldn’t believe she was thanking him for doing what any responsible adult should. But he understood. She’d told him about her exes, about how she felt like their mother ninety percent of the time.

Harry couldn’t imagine ever being like that.

“I appreciate and acknowledge everything you do, too. Know you’ve had a rough day, didn’t want you coming home to stuff to do. You can have your soup, take a long bath and I even charged your Kindle.”

Y/N smiled at him, lovingly. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” Harry’s words were sincere, and she knew he meant what he said. “Oh, and I cancelled the plumber for tomorrow, so you can still get your nails done.”

She frowned, finishing the last of her soup. “Why? Did he come out today?”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “I sorted it.”

Y/N quirked a brow. “Sorted it as in…”

“As in I fixed the leak. You don’t need to hire maintenance people for the house, babe. If you notice something needs fixing just let me know and I’ll sort it.”

His statement shouldn’t have made her feel hot inside but it did. A man that would actively repair their house and not batter an eye or complain about it? That would do it without being asked?

Now, why the fuck did that turn her on?

//

Tag list:

@kissfromadove @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles angst

[princesimonsblog]

I need to talk about Charles’s death scene because it's the most beautiful death scene and one of the most beautiful scenes in general that I've ever seen.

It starts with quick flashbacks of what happened previously, Charles defending that kid and then getting himself attacked by his friends because of that. We've already seen all that.

But then it switches to him, alone and shivering, in the attic. We know what is going to happen. We already know he is dying. The light is cold, just like he is.

Then, enters Edwin, holding a lantern, bathing the attic in a warm colour. And Charles can see him. We and Edwin know why, Charles doesn't, yet.

Edwin wanted to bring him the lantern in case it helped, but it's already too late, Charles is dying. So he stays. They talk, Edwin answers Charles's questions, all while Under the Milky Way plays in the background (and what a beautiful song). Charles learns that Edwin is dead and is a ghost and he looks sad for Edwin, but he asks more questions, until he can't anymore.

When Charles doesn't have much energy left, he's not shivering anymore, his body can't even do that anymore. He's too tired to talk. Edwin reads him a story, changing his voice according to the characters.

Charles looks out the window as Edwin's voice fade in the background.

Then, we see him standing near that window, in a tank top, no longer wearing that blanket. At first, we don't see Charles's body, giving us the time to understand what just happened. And then he turns and sees his own body. He just died.

And despite knowing that throughout the whole show, Charles is a ghost, seeing his memory of his death still hurts. It's unfair. He was killed by his friends because he chose to do the right thing. But it's also beautiful, because Edwin was there. Edwin made what would have been a cold and lonely death a warm and friendly one, despite the fact that they were just strangers back then.

Charles then choses to stay with Edwin, and it's the start of a beautiful friendship between the two, a much more beautiful existence then they both ever had when they were alive (or even in death in Edwin's case, when he was in Hell).

This scene never fells to make me cry. It's so sad and beautiful. It makes me feel so deeply for him, a beautiful soul whose life got cut short.

And another reason why I love this scene so much is because it's when Charles and Edwin first met. It's how and why they became friends. This scene wrecks me on so many levels and I'll never shut up about it.

#dead boy detectives #charles rowland #dead boy detectives spoilers #spoilers #edwin payne

[andshesaidwhat]

Steamy - Sam Monroe Smut

Summary: Sam has been your best friend since you were kids. When he starts avoiding you and acting strange, you decide to take matters into your own hands and things get steamy…

Warnings: afab!reader, she/her pronouns, penetrative sex, shower sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (Sam receiving), handjob (Sam receiving), teasing, voyeurism, masturbation (Sam receiving), inexperienced!Sam, Sam finishes too fast, multiple orgasms (Sam receiving), thigh-fucking, nipple play?, slight dacryphilia, subby!Sam, edging, Sam whimpers a lot, maybe a smidge of degradation, Sam is down-horrendous.

A/N: This is ridiculously long, I got carried away.

Masterlist

Sam rested his forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall as he relentlessly fucked his fist. His eyes were squeezed shut, trying to block out the guilt as his mind raced with perverted thoughts.

It wasn’t his fault, really. He hadn’t intended on showering in your bathroom as an excuse to touch himself. You had just decided to wear one of his old t-shirts today and that…that had sent him over the edge.

Sam had been fighting off these feelings for a long time. If he was honest with himself, they’d always been there. When you were kids, it was easier. He didn’t understand the mechanics of all of it. He just knew he liked being around you more than anyone else, so he spent all the time he could with you. You were best friends, after all. That was normal.

Then, puberty happened. You developed tits and he developed an innate need to see them, touch them, taste them, anything.

It was harder now. You were both in college and still spending all of your time with each other. Every waking moment of Sam’s was spent thinking of you, watching you, imagining all of the ways he wanted to be with you.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be your friend — he loved being your friend. You were the only person in the world that ever actually saw him for who he was. It was just that he couldn’t escape these desires that grew stronger and stronger every time you smiled at him or batted your lashes or laughed or…

Yeah, he was fucked.

He knew that he needed to get his feelings for you in check. His biggest fear was doing some dumb shit to lose you. That’s why he’d been trying to create just a little distance lately. He only resorted to that when he felt like he wouldn’t be able to control himself around you. It just so happened that, lately, that was almost all of the time.

When he’d gotten to your place today, he had told himself that he wouldn’t let his attraction get the better of him — that he’d be normal — but, the minute he saw you in his shirt he felt like he could’ve melted into the earth. It was so cute, hugging your frame perfectly and just barely covering those tight ass shorts you had on underneath.

He’d tried to contain himself, he really had. He tried looking anywhere else but at you, tried thinking of every unsexy thing his mind could possibly dream up, but his efforts were all in vain. No matter what he did, his gaze would eventually wander back over to you. His mind would run wild with different scenarios. You in his shirt with nothing underneath. Him bending you over, lifting the material up just enough to take you from behind. Giving you more of his clothes to wear so that everyone knew you were his.

He hadn’t even realized how painfully hard he had gotten or how labored his breathing had become until you asked, “Are you alright, Sammy?”

Fuck, he almost came in his pants from the sweet sound of your voice as you said his nickname that he only allowed you to call him.

He felt his face flame as his eyes widened and he pulled the covers from your bed further over himself to make sure his erection was hidden.

“Y-yeah, fine,” he sputtered, trying to will himself to get a fucking grip.

“Are you sure?” You asked, reaching your hand out to touch his forehead. “You look flushed.”

He had to fight not to moan as your skin came in contact with his, so soft and tender. Your eyebrows were scrunched up in that adorable way they did whenever you were worried about him.

He wanted to see them scrunched up for other reasons, for all the pleasure he knew he could give you if you let him try. He wanted to hear you say his name like a plea of desperation, begging him for more, more, more.

“I think I just need to take a shower,” he muttered, quickly getting up and rushing to the bathroom before you could see any evidence of his arousal.

He paced in the bathroom, fisting at his hair as he tried to calm down. This was getting a bit pathetic. He couldn’t even be in the same fucking room as you without being embarrassingly close to coming untouched.

He stripped down, tossing his clothes to the floor as he stepped into the shower and shut the glass door behind him. He turned the water on to the coldest setting, cringing as he stood beneath it.

C’mon, this needs to work, he thought to himself as he shook from the cold. The icy water caused goosebumps to erupt on his skin, but did nothing to calm the raging hard-on that was still standing proud and aching. He groaned in frustration, hitting his head against the wall as he tried his best to fight off his arousal.

Finally, he gave in and wrapped his fist around his cock. He gave himself a few slow, guilt-ridden strokes as he squeezed his eyes shut. He hissed at the feeling, relief slowly flooding through his abdomen.

He knew that he shouldn’t be doing this. Touching himself to the thought of you was already bad enough, but touching himself to the thought of you while you were in the next room? If only you knew how fucked up he truly was. You’d never look at him again…

He fought the urge to moan at the thought of your hand replacing his, or better yet — your mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispered, biting his bottom lip as he thrusted into his hand.

He needed to get this over with. He needed to handle his problem and get back out there before you started to suspect that something was wrong.

He was desperately chasing his release but, despite how badly he wanted it, his own touch wasn’t getting him there this time.

He needed more.

You had worn his shirt on purpose.

You were tired of him avoiding the situation — avoiding you.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out why he’d been acting so strange lately. You’d noticed the way his eyes would linger on your form, the way his face would flush when you called his name, the way he’d try to discretely adjust himself in his pants when you’d get too close to him.

You’d always wondered why he’d never had a girlfriend. It wasn’t that girls didn’t desire him. He had just always been oblivious to their advances.

In actuality, you’d realized, he was just too focused on you.

You’d always harbored feelings for Sam. Ever since you were kids. He was your first childhood crush. You’d never told him, though, too scared that he’d tease you relentlessly for it. It wasn’t until lately that you realized those feelings had been reciprocated. 

Once you’d made the realization, you’d started trying to push him further and further. You’d hoped that he would snap, finally admitting to you what he’d been feeling.

He never did, though. In fact, he did the opposite. He kept avoiding you, frustrating you to no end.

You huffed out a sigh, looking over at the clock on your bedside table. He’d been in the shower for almost twenty minutes. You gnawed on your lip, contemplating your next move.

Finally, with a newfound determination, you got up from your bed and walked toward your bathroom. You were tired of waiting for him to get the hint. He’d left you no choice. You needed to take matters into your own hands.

You opened the bathroom door, shutting it behind you as you called out, “What’s taking you so long in here, Sammy? I have to shower, too, ya know?”

Sam yelped, startled at your entry. You could only barely make out his figure behind the frosted glass, but it made your heart race nonetheless.

“J-Jesus, don’t you knock?” Sam sputtered, his voice laced with nervous energy.

“It’s my house,” you retorted, crossing your arms as you leaned against the sink.

You heard Sam sigh before he said, “I’ll be out in a minute just…give me a second.”

You began undressing before you could talk yourself out of it. This was a bold move, even for you, but you knew that Sam needed something to be shoved in his face for him to realize what was right in front of him.

“You’ve already been in here for twenty minutes and I have things to do later,” you grumbled, pretending to be inconvenienced. “I’m just coming in.”

“W-what?!” Sam stuttered, his voice nearly jumping up an octave.

You opened the glass door, stepping into the shower as you tried to appear nonchalant. Sam quickly covered himself with his hands, his entire body flushing red as he looked up at the ceiling to avoid looking at your naked frame.

You took this time to unabashedly look him over. His cupped hands only left little to the imagination. You bit your bottom lip, drinking in the sight of him. Arousal immediately began pooling between your thighs as you stepped underneath the water.

You yelped at the temperature, jumping back and adjusting the valve.

“Christ, Sammy, why the hell is it so cold in here?” you asked, despite knowing exactly why he’d been taking a cold shower.

“I-I just like it cold, okay?” Sam retorted, attitude biting with his words.

You turned the knob until the water ran hot, letting the steam fill the confines of the shower. You sighed, contentedly, stepping back under the water.

“Much better,” you breathed, practically moaning as the warm water washed away the tension in your muscles.

As the steam filled the air, Sam’s head was spinning. It was suffocating. He was surrounded by your scent. It took everything in him to keep his eyes glued to the ceiling. Even the glimpses he caught of your body from the corner of his eye were nearly enough to make him fall to his knees.

He had a difficult enough time keeping it together around you when you were fully clothed, how could he be expected to keep his composure when you were naked and wet a foot away from him?

He could feel his still-hard cock pulsing beneath his hands as he tried his best to cover himself. He felt like he’d somehow entered one of his wet dreams. Confusion and arousal fogged his mind as he tried to make sense of what was happening. The two of you had never even seen each other naked, much less showered together.

He refused to let himself believe that this could mean that you wanted him the same way he wanted you. He wouldn’t give himself that kind of false hope. He could only pray that he’d be able to get through this without making a complete fool out of himself.

You reached for the shampoo, lathering it into your hair. You smirked when you heard Sam breathe in a little too deeply. Glancing back at him, he still had his head facing toward the ceiling.

“You don’t have to break your neck trying not to look at me,” you laughed, rinsing the shampoo from your hair. “It’s not like you’ve never seen tits before.”

“I’ve never seen yours…” Sam mumbled, quietly, a new blush rising to his cheeks.

“Mine are just like any others,” you shrugged, brushing your conditioner through your hair with your fingers.

Sam had to bite his tongue to keep from responding that nobody could be like you. He was fighting so hard to keep his gaze averted but now you were practically inviting him to look at you. Even on his strongest day, there was no chance he could pass up the opportunity. He’d just look once, he told himself. Just enough of a glance to embed the image into his brain for when he jacked himself off to the thought of you.

He took a deep breath before stealing a quick look over at you. He involuntarily squeezed his dick, trying not to come on the spot. None of his fantasies could’ve prepared him for the way you’d look standing naked in front of him, water dripping from your body.

He forced himself to look up at your face instead of your tits — your goddamned perfect tits — but that didn’t help his situation in the slightest. Not when you were smirking at him like you were privy to some secret that he was not. Or when you were batting your lashes, sending water drops down your cheeks. Then you bit your lip and Jesus fucking Christ he felt every cell in his body burn at the sight.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the way his eyes fought between looking at your face and looking at your chest. You could sense the stress he was putting himself through, and almost felt bad for what you were doing. You weren’t going to stop, though. Not when you finally had him right where you wanted him.

You moved to grab the bottle of soap, intentionally letting it fall from your grasp. Out of instinct, Sam reached out to catch it. You gasped quietly at the sight of his erection springing forward into view.

He was big. Bigger than you’d expected. He was hard and leaking, his tip red and aching. He followed your gaze down, his eyes widening as he realized what you were looking at. He quickly handed you the bottle of soap back, moving to cover himself again.

“You know,” you started, smirking as you poured the soap into your hand, “if you need to take care of that, you can. I don’t mind.”

“W-what?” Sam coughed, his face a deep shade of red. “No! No way.”

“It’s natural, Sammy,” you shrugged. “I do it all the time. Besides, it looks real painful. I won’t watch if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sam wanted the earth to swallow him whole in that moment. He didn’t think his skin could burn any hotter than it was right then. You were teasing him, torturing him.

He didn’t know which part was worse — the way you said his name, the mental image of you touching yourself, or the attention you had paid to his predicament. His body felt like it was going to erupt into flames at any given moment.

You had to know. You had to. There was no way that all of this was just some random coincidence. The two of you had never breached that line of friendship and now, here you were, telling him to touch himself in front of you.

He couldn’t do that. There would be no coming back from that. There would be no way that he could recover. He’d come the minute he touched his dick if your eyes were on him, and how would he explain that?

However, you had said you wouldn’t watch…and he did really really need the relief…

Sam bit his bottom lip, breathing heavily as he contemplated his options. He knew that he shouldn’t, but the offer was so tempting…

“You promise you won’t watch?”

Your smirk grew as Sam gave in to his desires, just like you knew he would. You crossed your heart with your finger and Sam squeezed his eyes shut as his gaze was unintentionally brought back down to your chest.

Giggling, you turned back around to face the other side of the shower. You didn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes travelled down to your ass as you did. You began lathering the soap into your skin as you heard the wet sounds of his fist stroking his dick over the hum of the shower.

You bit your lip, focusing on the way he let little breaths escape him. You could imagine how hard he was trying to refrain from making any other noises. You wanted to hear him, wanted to know exactly how he was feeling.

Curiosity and the need to push him further getting the better of you, you asked, “Are you always this quiet when you jack off?”

He sucked in a breath and sputtered, “Jesus, fuck, you…you can’t talk to me right now.”

You stifled a giggle, feigning innocence as you said, “Why not, Sammy?”

“Don’t say my name,” he practically pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I thought it would help,” you laughed, done beating around the bush. “Don’t you usually imagine me saying your name when you do this?”

You turned back around to face him, cocking your head to the side. His eyes widened and his hand stopped moving as his mouth opened and closed repeatedly.

Your mouth practically watered at the sight of him, chest flushed and heaving, his fist squeezed tightly around his erection.

“W-what…I don’t…I haven’t…” Sam stuttered, trying to come up with some kind of denial to your statement.

“Oh, come on,” you huffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “I’m not oblivious and you aren’t exactly subtle.”

Sam’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Relax, Sammy, it’s okay,” you said, beginning to slowly lather the soap into your skin. “Keep going.”

“What?” He gulped, eyes shooting open as they focused on the way your hands moved across your body in an agonizingly tempting motion.

“Keep going, Sammy,” you repeated, not taking your eyes off of him.

He released a shuddered breath, licking his lips as his eyes locked back on yours. Slowly, he began to move his fist again.

His jaw fell slack as his gaze followed the motion of your hands, teasing him as you trailed suds across your chest. His hand moved faster, his eyelids fluttering as a strained noise sounded from his throat.

“Is this what you think about, Sammy?” You taunted, moving your hands lower down your stomach.

Sam gasped, nodding his head as he muttered, “uh-huh.”

His chest heaved with heavy breaths, his hips thrusting into his fist. His hooded eyes were dark with desire as they traveled over your body. His movements became sloppy, his brows knitting together.

You could tell he was close, soft sounds involuntarily escaping his lips. His muscles were visibly tensing as his breaths started to come out in short spurts.

You’d had enough of being a bystander. Every nerve in your body was alight with desire and you wanted to close the distance between you two. You were done playing this game. If he was going to come, you wanted it to be by your hands.

Sam let out an involuntary whine of protest as you grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from himself. His eyes widened as you moved him until his back was pressed against the cold shower wall.

“W-what are you…what’s happening…oh, fuck.”

Sam’s questions were silenced the minute you pressed yourself against him. He gasped, clenching his fists by his side, seemingly using all of his restraint to keep from touching you.

He looked down at you, his gaze pleading and questioning as he asked, “What is this?”

“I was tired of waiting for you to make the first move,” you shrugged, grabbing his face.

His brows furrowed, confusion etched into his features. His mouth opened and closed, as if trying to form the words he wanted to say.

“Waiting for…what do you mean?”

“God, you’re so oblivious,” you mumbled, pulling his face down to yours and pressing your lips against his.

He immediately buckled, leaning into the kiss. He couldn’t help but groan into your mouth, a sound that betrayed the intensity of his arousal. The pressure building in his groin grew, his need growing at an unbearable pace. He arched his hips forward, desperate for contact. You pulled back, biting your lip as you peered up at him.

Sam held his breath, the moment teetering on the edge of ecstasy. His heart hammered so loud that it threatened to drown out the sound of the shower. His eyes were dizzy and unfocused as he looked down at you. This was both the most exhilarating and most terrifying moment of his life. The anticipation was agonizing, maddening.

You glanced down at his pouted lips, as if daring him to make a move. His tongue darted out, flicking across them as his gaze moved between your eyes and your mouth.

Finally, after working up the courage, he leaned forward. You grinned as you tilted your head back, keeping your lips just out of reach. He furrowed his eyebrows, releasing a shaky breath before trying again. You let his lips barely brush against yours before you dodged him again, smirking at the teasing game you were playing with him.

He looked at you with pleading eyes, desperation etched into his features, as a needy whine sounded in his throat. He whispered your name, fists tightening as every muscle in his body tensed with longing.

“Please,” he whispered, his jaw clenching with the effort to keep his composure.

With that one word, he completely crumbled your resolve. His eyes were dark and glassy with desire and unshed tears and you were prepared to give him anything he asked for.

You tangled your fingers in his wet hair, pulling him into a heated kiss. His lips immediately parted, devouring your own. He kissed you like he was starved, like you were his only source of oxygen after he’d been suffocating with need.

There was still a hesitancy in his actions, a part of him that was restraining himself. Whether it was out of fear or lack of knowledge, you didn’t hesitate to guide him.

Your fingertips trailed down his arms, causing him to shiver. You grabbed his hands and placed them on your hips. He moaned into your mouth, his touch instantly beginning to wander.

The urgency in his kiss increased, his hands roaming your back, your sides, your legs. Years of built up tension came bubbling to the surface as you both began to drown in each other.

Sam’s voice was low and husky, barely coherent against your lips as he whispered, “Don’t stop.”

The pressure between his legs was a stinging reminder of his desperation. The need within him was leaking with each touch, each kiss. He reveled in the control you wielded over him. Sam’s mind was lost in a sea of lust. This was a moment he’d dreamed about for years. The thought of it was almost too much, the entire situation overwhelming.

You guided his hands up to your chest and Sam wasted no time in palming your tits. He squeezed gently, kissing you with blazing fervor. When his thumbs experimentally swiped across your nipples, you let out a sigh of pleasure against his lips.

Sam’s brain short-circuited the minute he heard your reaction. His hips surged forward, pushing his aching erection between your clenched thighs. He had been so worked up and the pressure provided just the right amount of friction. He gasped, letting out a strangled moan as he clutched onto you. His eyes rolled back as an orgasm ripped through him, instinctively continuing to thrust between the plush skin of your thighs.

Sam panted, slowly opening his eyes again as he came down from the high. His entire body flushed at the revelation of what had just occurred. He took in your amused expression, groaning in embarrassment as he buried his face into your neck.

You stifled a giggle, gently rubbing his back as you whispered, “It’s okay, Sammy. It happens.”

He whimpered against your skin, wrapping his arms around you. He was torn between wishing he could disappear, never having to face you again, and wanting to stay in this moment forever.

“Besides,” you smirked, leaning down to pepper gentle kisses across his shoulder, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Sam inhaled, sharply, his breath hot against your neck. His body instantly responded, his arousal already stirring again at the prospect alone.

You grabbed his face, lifting his head back up to meet his gaze. His cheeks were still tinged pink, bringing out the bright blue of his dilated eyes.

You traced his swollen lips with your thumb and asked, “Do you think you can do it again for me?”

“Mhm,” he responded, nodding eagerly. “I’ll do anything for you.”

You grinned, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “Promise?”

He pulled you into him, closing the gap between you so that you couldn’t pull away again. He kissed you passionately, groaning as you bit down on his bottom lip.

“Promise,” he mumbled into the kiss, “anything you want.”

You reached up to grab his chin, tilting it to the side as you slowly kissed down his neck. His eyes fluttered shut, his body quivering at the tender attention. He cradled your head with a trembling hand, urging you on as your lips made their way across his skin.

Sam whimpered when you nipped at his pulse point, the hand in your hair tightening as you gently sucked a dark mark into the pale skin. You kissed across his chest, letting your hands run down his sides. He gasped as your teeth grazed over one of his nipples.

Your lips continued their descent down his body as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him. Sam let out a shaky breath, whispering your name as his legs nearly gave out.

You blinked up at him, water drops coating your lashes, as you rubbed your hands up and down his thighs.

“You’ll do anything I want?” You asked, kissing across his hips.

“Uh-huh,” he rasped, licking his lips as he nodded his head. “Anything you want. I swear it.”

Your mouth watered as you sat eye-level with his dick that was steadily twitching back to life. He gasped as you took him into your hand, his fists clenching tightly by his sides. You slowly began to stroke him, watching as he bit his lip to try and hold back the sounds threatening to spill from his lips.

“Then I want to hear how good it feels, Sammy,” you told him, pressing a teasing kiss to the tip.

“Shit,” he cursed, hardening again in your grip.

Your tongue traced a line up his shaft, slowly circling it around the head of his dick before taking him entirely into your mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, panting as he gripped the shower wall for support. “That’s…a-ah…that’s really good.”

The sight of you was overwhelming. He had only ever pictured you this way in his dirtiest dreams. You, on your knees with your lips wrapped around his cock, gazing up at him like the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, peering down at you through hooded lids. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”

You watched his chest heave as you worked him, using your hand to cover what your mouth couldn’t fit. His fist was still tangled in your hair, but he didn’t dare attempt to control your movements.

Sam’s eyes rolled back as he felt himself hit the back of your throat, the sensation causing his hips to stutter. You swallowed around him and his entire body threatened to crumble. Strings of lewd moans and whimpers escaped his lips as his back arched off of the wall.

“Oh, god,” he panted, throwing his head back against the shower wall, “I’m…fuck…I’m gonna…”

You pulled off of him and he let out a whine, thrusting to desperately chase your lips. You grabbed his hips, holding them still as you rose back up to your feet.

“Why’d you stop?” Sam pouted, scrunching his eyebrows together in desperation. “I was so close.”

Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart beneath it, as you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“I didn’t think you’d want to stop before getting to be inside of me, but if you’d rather settle for my hands then I can keep going,” you taunted, cocking your head to the side.

“No,” he croaked out, his voice breaking off into a desperate moan at the mere thought of that privilege. “I wanna be inside you. Please, let me be inside of you.”

He clutched at you, pulling you into him as he crashed his mouth against yours. You immediately responded to the kiss, parting your lips and tasting his tongue with your own.

Without breaking the kiss, you pulled him forward and switched your positions so that your back was now pressed against the shower wall.

You reached down, grabbing his dick and stroking it as you lined it up with your entrance. He gasped, breaking apart to rest his forehead against yours. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he looked down between your bodies, watching you tease them finally joining together.

“Please, don’t keep teasing me,” he begged, his voice hoarse with need. “I can’t take it.”

You wrapped a leg around his waist and Sam held his breath, his mouth falling open as you guided his hips to slowly sheath into you. As his length filled you, stretching you out with a delicious burn, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan.

Once he was buried to the hilt, his hips flesh against your own, he finally released his breath in a strangled whimper.

“You’re so tight, fuck,” he breathed, unable to take his eyes away from the sight of you wrapped around him.

“Fuck me, Sammy,” you whispered, watching as his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

His breath hitched as he nodded, his body trembling with nervous anticipation. He pulled back, almost completely out of you, before pushing back in with a slow, experimental thrust.

You both gasped at the feeling, moaning into the shared air between your mouths. He repeated the motion again, familiarizing himself with the way your body practically pulled him in.

His thrusts got faster as his lips found yours again in a heated kiss. You clutched onto his shoulders for support, feeling every nerve in your body ignite in flames of pleasure.

“You feel so good,” you mumbled, arching into him. “Such a perfect fit.”

Sam groaned against your lips, his hips picking up the pace. He pulled back to look at you, his eyes dark with desire.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confessed, the dam of his emotions suddenly breaking as he fucked into you. “I-I dreamed about you, every day. You were all…ah…I ever wanted.”

“I know, Sammy, I know,” you panted, reaching up to kiss him again. “I’ve always felt the same way, you were just too blind to notice.”

He whimpered at the revelation, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He grabbed your waist, using it as leverage as his hips snapped up into yours.

“Fuck,” he whined, breathing out your name. “I-I’m getting close. I’m not gonna be able to last.”

“I need you to hold on just a little longer, Sammy,” you told him, earning a desperate whimper as his eyes grew glassy again.

You grabbed one of his hands, guiding his thumb to your clit. You moved it in slow circles, showing him how to touch you. He picked up the action quickly, moving his fingers on their own accord.

You moaned at the added stimulation, feeling Sam’s hips stutter as you squeezed around him. Ragged breaths wracked through him as he tried desperately to hold on for you.

“Wanna hear you, Sammy,” you prompted.

A single tear drop fell down his cheek from the sheer effort of keeping his climax at bay as he began to mindlessly ramble.

“You feel so good. Squeezin’ around me all tight and warm. Could just stay buried in you forever. Never wanna stop. I’ll do anything to satisfy you. Anything you want. I’ll get on my hands and knees if you ask me to. Just wanna make you happy. Just wanna keep feelin’ you like this.”

He kissed down your neck, needing to occupy his mouth. He buried his face against your chest, gasping and whimpering as his movements chased the high he desperately craved.

“No one else gets to have me like this,” you promised, feeling that familiar knot of pleasure tightening in the pit of your stomach. Each stroke of his thumb against your clit, paired with the tip of his dick repeatedly brushing that spot inside of you, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re the only one I want, Sammy. The only one who can make me feel this way.”

He let out a strained cry against your skin, his fingers gripping the plush skin of your waist tighter.

“Please, I need to come,” he begged, the desperation making his voice raw. “I need it, baby, please.”

The sweet sounds of his pleading was the final thread that unraveled the knot.

“Come for me, Sammy,” you breathed.

You felt the white hot pleasure course through your veins as you tightened around him, feeling your climax wash over you in a tidal wave.

He came with a cry of your name, clutching onto you as he continued to thrust into you. His vision seemed to black out as he finally let go, giving you everything.

The world around you seemed to fade as you both came down from the mutual high. Sam’s body relaxed into yours, his hands still trembling as you both tried to catch your breath. You settled into a blissful haze, engulfed by the warmth of the shower.

You held him close to you, running your fingers soothingly through his hair as you smiled lazily, “You done avoiding me now?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, grinning sheepishly. He nuzzled into your neck, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “Never gonna avoid you again.”

“Good,” you responded, “it would be a dick move to avoid your girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Sam asked, his head snapping up as he looked at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Well, yeah,” you grinned, biting your lip. “Unless you’d rather this just be a one time thing.”

“No!” Sam interjected, quickly, shaking his head. “I want this to be an all the time thing. Every day. Multiple times a day, if possible.”

You rolled your eyes, giggling as you playfully shoved him. He laughed, his entire face lighting up with joy and relief as he hugged you to him.

“You know, it was kind of a creeper move to barge in on me in the shower,” he joked, looking down at you with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Hey, you were the one jacking off to me in my own house!” You argued, laughing as you poked his chest.

He grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles before grabbing your face and sweetly kissing your lips.

He hummed softly and whispered, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.”

You beamed up at him, feeling your heart flutter in his embrace. You used up the remaining hot water to actually shower off, tending to each other as you did. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was how it was always meant to be.

Maybe it’s true what they say. Everything happens for a reason.

#hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen #sam monroe #Sam Monroe smut #smut #smut requests #Hayden Christensen fanfiction #Sam Monroe fanfiction #Hayden Christensen imagine #Sam Monroe imagine #Drabble #one shot #life as a house #life as a house smut

[ohmygraves]

“an invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance. the thread may stretch or tangle, but will never break.”

~~~

there was a moment in simon's life when he yearned for some kind of connection.

a relationship. to be cherished by someone else, to have someone to come home to and hold, feel the soft beating heart in his arms that slowly fades his mask away. someone who would melt his cold, dead heart, making him warm again.

well, shit happens, and he stopped.

he's broken, he didn't even know how many pieces have fallen apart, scattered around and too small and tedious to pick up. there was no way someone like him would have any chance, or even deserves a chance in the first place. it wouldn't be fair. it's only right to give up the idea of even any romance or whatever his old, naive heart thinks of.

it's less trouble, and there's no use chasing for something so impossible.

ghost poured himself into work, focusing on each and every grueling mission thrown his way. much more productive than spending his time wallowing his lonesome, or even just drowning his sorrow with alcohol while he watches some 6/10 show on the tv, knowing full well he can't be arsed to pay attention to it and just using it as background noise.

life was easier like this. it was lonely, but it sure was easy.

until he met you.

he bumped into you when you were at the base, and you were walking around cluelessly. he knocked over your files, papers scattered around the ground, and he helped pick it up. you were wearing a visitor badge, he noticed, and the papers were some of the stuff for the military, with a shadow company logo on the header. ghost just assumed you worked for the company, and plus some shadows have been staying at the base for the upcoming mission.

you laughed nervously, thanking him as you dusted off yourself, taking the files from him. he didn't know why, but his heart clenched when he saw your nervous smile and red cheeks, which concerned him. was that a sign of a heart attack?

still, he tried to push it to the back of his head and told you to be careful, lots of people wandering around the base since it's a busy day, and to secure those papers more thoroughly since they seem to be important files. you nodded, thanking him again and asked if he could show you the meeting room, since you couldn't find it.

well, he was going to go there anyway, so he'll walk with you. why not? it's not like his heart has been thumping faster and faster in his ribcage and he's trying so hard to ignore.

ghost keeps listening to you talk, about seemingly nothing meaningful, yet somehow interested him. weather? yeah, been cloudy lately, it's not great for flying later. shadows? bunch of rowdy bastards, but they get the job done good. tall people everywhere at the base? surprisingly, yeah. not much of a surprise considering you're quite small to ghost, but a lot of people are shorter than him so it's not much of a surprise. he just nods along with you.

the two of you were halfway when he saw graves, talking to some other shadows in the hallway until he saw you, immediately approaching you. the commander quickly bombarded you with questions, asking where you had been and how you were late for the meeting for ten minutes. you explained how you had to pick up the documents you left in the car and you forgot where the room.

graves introduced you to ghost as his assistant, a secretary to help him with some paperwork for the shadows. you'll just be here for a while and then you'll stay behind and work some more on paperworks for your boss while he's away. he placed his hand behind the small of your back as he ushered you into the room, looking over to ghost to make sure that he's following. there was a small hint of something in his eyes, a slight glare, as if judging him for seeing how you're being friendly to him.

was he jealous?

ghost let out a sigh, his heart clenching just slightly as he walked inside the room, seeing how graves kept you by his side while he started the meeting.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty headcanon #cod headcanon #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod ghost x reader #cod #ghost x reader #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #cod graves #cod graves x reader #old wip

[authorhjk1]

Pink

(Lim Yoona X Male Reader)

"That's some nice throat you have. I'm glad you are using it for more than just singing."

Lim Yoona is unable to do anything, except shoot a death stare in your direction.

Her bun acts as a pillow. The only thing that protects the back of her head from repeatedly getting pounded into the white wall behind her. You fuck her face without any regards for her comfort or safety. Your hands on both sides of her face, keeping her barely in place, while hers are tied behind her back by your tie.

"Although I think-"

You groan mid sentence as your cock completely disappears inside Yoona's mouth. An ugly thud echoes through the bathroom as you see her frown in pain.

"Although I think I'm the one who is using your throat right now."

No reply but another deadly stare.

Yoona's lipstick has disappeared by now, marking your cock in the form of a couple of rings on its skin. One right beneath your tip, where she first took you into her mouth. A second one around the middle, just when you started to fuck her face. And the the third one right at your base, which she occasionally reaches when you force her to deepthroat you, while you push her against the wall.

Her lips are now mostly covered in spit as bubbles start to appear around her mouth. Most of it is covering the floor she is kneeling on though.

"Fuck Yoona."

It's a praise, a groan of pleasure and an order to yourself all in one.

"You really are nothing more than a tight throat."

Only gags and choking sounds come out of her mouth as you keep violating the thing that produces her beautiful voice.

Yoona's lewd sounds are echoing through the otherwise empty bathroom, but are unnoticeable outside. The film festival is keeping everyone busy and is loud enough to cover up your sinful act.

The muscles of her throat massage your cock as you keep thrusting into her as hard as you can. Yoona occasionally reaches her limit, just when she reaches you base. But apart from that, she barely struggles. The benefit of having her mouth used like a fleshlight by you on a regular basis.

"You look really good in that dress, you know?"

You can't help but complement her. It's a shame you can't properly ruin the pink fabric right now. She still has to look presentable. At least until she reaches her hotel.

"I'm gonna cum all over your body, while you wear that thing tonight."

You could swear Yoona is trying to nod her head. But your harsh grip on her head makes it impossible for her to move her head.

"I'm still gonna give you a taste of what's to come though."

The opportunity is too good to not pass up on. It's literally right in front of you. As you start nearing your climax, you look past her face.

Yoona's beautiful skin is decorated by a simple silver necklace. And a little bit lower, you can see right into her cleavage. It's almost as if that dress was made for exactly this moment. Exactly for you.

You are now reaching your breaking point. The last couple of thrust are harder than usual, forcing Yoona's back and head against the wall. They make her gag on your length properly at the end as she feels your cock throb inside of her.

Almost too late, you pull out. It's not like painting her throat with cum isn't a blissful experience. But you've done that often enough already.

Your mind starts to go blank. You do your best to keep your eyes open as a hard orgasm washes over you.

Your aim is almost perfect as you cum on Yoona's cleavage. Right between the pink fabric and her naked body. Your thick cum slowly runs down her body, making it's way over her chest and soon her tummy. You know the never ending small river of your cum, which is running along her curves, will eventually reach her pussy.

By the end of the event, her dress is probably gonna stick to her like a second skin. Something you don't mind.

Like you said, that dress looks good on her.

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

Hi everyone!

Thank you for reading.

I'm planning on turning this into a small series. Each chapter will feature an idol in a specific dress and I give myself 30 minutes to write the whole thing. It helps get rid of smaller thoughts I have here and there. These chapters will all be pretty much straight up smut, since I only have limited time. You are free to request an idol, but there is one requirement: she needs to wear a dress. So please send me a picture of the idol you want to read about please.

Of course I won't neglect the other stories I'm writing and I will also keep working on the requests I have. I'm reorganizing a little, which basically means, you can now find my masterlist in the description of this blog. The pinned post will now be a list of pieces I'm actually working on and their estimated states of completion. Because I do have a lot of old requests in my inbox, I want to make sure that I'm able to get to all of them and I want to show you guys that I didn't just forget about them. I tried to do that recently by just putting a "coming soon" part on my masterlist, but that wasn't the right format I guess. And since a couple of people were asking about their requests, I think this is the way to go. Because I don't want to spoil any surprises, I won't reveal who the idols in the stories are, until I post them. But I'm gonna do my best to make it possible for the people who's requests I have, to be able to identify their own request.

Sorry for the long speech, I hope you made it this far. Excited to see some of your ideas for the this small series.

Stay healthy!

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #yoona #yoona snsd #yoona girls generation #lim yoona #girls generation smut #girls generation #snsd #snsd smut #authorhjk1shorts

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 25

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: 😁.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The queen snores in her bed. At last, peaceful. You leave her as she is, piled in bedclothes amid the glow of the low-burning fire. You emerge into the corridor, silent, and the door drags closed with a scrape at your cautious pull. The shadow by the pillar shifts.  

You glance over at the guard. Gilles has been relieved of his watch and another man stands in his place. You think you recognise him. He must’ve been one of those which helped the queen seize your cart. The road feels so very long ago and yet there is still much ahead of you. 

“Hold,” the guard warns and gives a whistle, the noise echoing along the high ceilings.  

There’s scuffling further down and you turn to face another silhouette, this one slender and lithe like a wraith. Ezme steps into the light of a lamp and stare at you placidly. She beckons with a hand. 

“Come, maid, I will show you your quarters,” she says. 

You bow your head and go to her. It is unusual you wouldn’t be left to find your way to the servants wing yourself, likely near the kitchens, and yet you are much too weary to question any of it. She turns and you walk at her side. The promise of sleep, even if only a little, has you aching to recline. 

The corridors are quiet but for the soft pad of your footsteps. Fewer lamps light the way than in the daytime and the path grows black. You follow the stirring of the women next to you as she carries on. She touches your arm to stop you, nudging you to the right. You wait and listen as she lifts a latch, the metallic noise cutting through the din, and hinges creak loudly. 

She guides you into the dark chamber by your wrist. It is lit only by moonlight and a brazier burning at the foot of a broad bed. The door clanks shut and you shiver. Ezme moves around you, her skirts brushing your own, and she goes to the low mattress. You squint, these are not servants’ rooms. The bed frame, the brazier, the space swathed in darkness; more often, bodies crowded over bags of hay or on the scant tatters of blankets. 

“You will sleep here,” she says softly, “with me. You will be safe.” 

“Safe? From what?” You croak and rub your cheeks as they burn with fatigue. 

“Need you ask,” she replies knowingly, “it is much too late for those questions. Come, lay, the morning will be upon us swiftly.” 

You don’t argue. She is right. You go to bed and remove your apron and cap. You fold them and put them to the foot of the mattress. She moves a dark square over the blankets towards you. You pause and reach to touch the obscured shape as the dim light offers only vague outline. It’s soft, furry. You feel around and find the familiar rough patch sewn into the lining. It’s the king’s cloak. 

“You will want to keep that close,” she says, “the soldier made certain to leave it for you.” 

“Bryce?” You wonder aloud, “is he your friend?” 

“He is a familiar face,” she shrugs and pulls her dress over her head. “The Lord of the Castle likes him well enough.” 

You shift the cloak over your apron and strip off your outer layer, standing only in your shift. You mirror the maid across from you and slip beneath the thick blankets. A sigh escapes you as your muscles finally release the tension of the day. She is still on her back as you lay upon your side, staring at the low flicker of the brazier against the wall. 

Curiosity nips at your exhaustion. How does a servant come upon a room like this? Is it simply at your expense? For whatever reason Bryce has bid her to keep you close. Certainly, the old soldier is overly cautious. 

Your eyes close before you can think very much on the unexpected resting spot. The day has been turbulent and full of many surprises. You only dread those that await you on the morrow. 

⚔️

Ezme wakes you from a heavy slumber. You both dress in the morning hue, rinsing from a basin before you face another day. You leave the cloak on the assurance it will be waiting for you. A thought glimmers of what the king might think should it go missing. Would he blame you? 

You emerge and part from your nocturnal companion. You procede to the queen’s chambers to find them open and the corridor a titter. A pair of servants, themselves dozy, carry one of her chests through as her shrill cry careens through. You approach as the steadfast guard with the fiery hair watches you with narrow eyes.  

You peer within and find the Queen Jazlene digging through the contents, tossing fabrics without a care, in a desperate search. You are stunned to find her awake with the sunrise but not disheartened. It might be a good omen. 

"Where is it?" She throws her hands up and scowls as her eyes skim around, "you," she points in your direction, "where is my blue dress? The one with the silver lace? It must be here!" 

"Your highness, perhaps another chest," you step inside. 

"You did remember to pack it, didn't you?" She accuses as she stands, "I did bid it." 

"Yes, your highness," you affirm, though it was Merinda who would've taken the order. "Shall I go look in the luggage?" 

"Oh, yes, you shall," she struts toward you, "I will not be dressed as some northern wench for the banquet." 

Banquet? You withhold your curiosity and bow your head. You have a task and it is always better to tend to it without question. 

You spin and hurry from the room. You nearly collide with another servant, a tray in their hands. Another chore you needn't attend. You press on and find your way through the kitchens to the rear of the castle.  

The luggage remains mostly in the stables which entails a venture into the wintry without. You mourn the cloak upon the foot of the bed but it would be worse to flaunt the king's patch so heedlessly. You tuck your hands into your sleeves and put your chin down before you push through, the door resisting your strength as the wind blows against it. 

You stagger through and the heavy wood slams just as quickly as you clear its breadth. The gales are strong but the snow has relented. You see dark bodies speckled amid the white as powder dusts up in heaps. The servants work to clear away the thick piles and make pathways around the castle's yard. 

You cross to the stables and delve into the stink of horses and hay. The beast nicker and neigh as you pass as others doze without notice. You find the luggage, chests still upon carts as others litter the unswept floor. If you find the dress, it might just reek of horse. 

You recognise the crest of Debray upon a chest and the painted sides of a few others. You unstrap several lids and raise them, the cold nipping but sweat rising nonetheless. The longer you sift through the contents, the number your hands and fingers become, the clumsier you are. 

A patch of blue, so pale and shiny it's almost white, gleams from beneath the heaps of cloth. You yank upon it, bringing out several other gowns with the effort, and claim victory. You do not neglect to suss out a pair of slippers and a hair net you think might go with it. You set it aside and pack away the mess you've made, breathless from the expense. 

You hug your lot and curl around the next row of horses, searching out Daisy as she leans her head against Chestnut's dark neck. Their eyes widen at your approach and they huff almost in time. You pat their noses before you apologise that you must leave them. 

Once more, the violent gusts greet you in the open, sending a spiral of snow around you and dusting you with the chill. Your teeth chatter as the wind pushes you from behind and fill your skirts. You can hardly aim your steps as you end up against the castle wall, sidling along until you're at the door. 

Within, the cold follows and lingers in your bones. You flit through the kitchens, pots steam as the large ovens blaze and bodies cluster and clash. You barely avoid a collision as you pass into the corridor. As you step around one figure, another appears. 

“Aye, there the mouse is,” Bryce greets as he folds a leaf around his finger, readying it to pop in his mouth, “I see she’s got you at work already.” 

“Sir,” you stop before the soldier, “how was your night?” 

“Eh, dark,” he shrugs, “and you? The other maid saw to ya?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Very good. If ye can, stay close to that one at the feast,” he girds, “she’s wise. She knows well how to bide the shadows.” 

You nod and hug the fabric, another shiver flowing through you. He tilts his head as he continues to play with the leaf between his fingers. 

“Don’t tell me you were outside without a cloak,” he accuses, “where’s yours, then?” 

“Sir, it was only for a moment--” 

“This cold does not soften for summer maids,” he tuts and shakes his head, “you will make yerself sick and who should have to deal with it, hm? Who should have to hear the king rant of it?” 

“Apologies, I was only in a rush,” you pout. 

“Don’t be sorry,” he steps closer and touches the dress in your arms, “in a rush for flimsy gown. These halls are too cold for satin.” 

“The queen bids it--” 

“Oh, I would expect,” he chortles. 

You purse your lips, slanting them one way then the next, as you recall your task. You watch him pinch the silk before he rescinds his reach. He puts the leaf in his mouth and chews. 

“You said feast and the queen said banquet? Is that this evening?” You wonder. 

“Certainly, is,” he sucks on the sweet leaves, “Lord Vesemir would celebrate our departure most fervently but as any good winter lord, he would not send his guests out in the cold without full bellies.” 

“Oh,” you utter thoughtfully. 

“And I suppose, it will appease the queen,” he adds, “for a time before she is once more miserable in the wildlands.” 

“And we are to leave on the morrow?” 

“Aye, by the nightfall,” he crosses his arms. “They must clear the pass and ready the horses and carts. It will be a labour but best we move on.” 

“I believe so too, sir,” you teethe your lip. 

“Aye, you are prudent, as ever,” he lowers his gaze to the floor, “mouse.” 

You shift on your soles and exhale solemnly, “I must...” 

“Yes, very well, go on to your queen,” he steps aside, “I must find our king. I suspect he might be hounding the lord of this castle, if not sparring with him.” 

There is a reluctance between you as you carry on your way; Bryce to one wing and you to the other, as if to mark the divide of king and queen. You come up the stairs and hurry along, the queen’s doors still ajar. Her voice carries still and servant scuttles out as a plate is hurled after them, crashing onto the floor as it narrowly avoids their foot. 

You slow and cautiously peek into the room. The queen shakes her head and pinches a morsel of brown meat on her plate, eyeing it with scrutiny. For a moment, her face twists, then she forces herself to shove it in her mouth. She chews as a battle rages across her features. 

Her gaze is drawn by your movement and she gulps down her mouthful. She stands, nearly overturning the stool upon which the tray rests. She brings her hands up as she storms over to snatch your armful. You back away as she lets the dress unfurl and you bend to gather up the slippers and hairnet as they fall. 

“Ah, wonderful, a proper attire for my first proper appearance as queen,” she beams and dances around with the dress, “oh, my hair, my hair. You must braid it for me.” 

She lays the gown on the bed and gives it a longing touch before she retreats. She clammers to the plain wooden table upon which she’s had a looking glass propped up. She leans forward as you stand behind her. Her hair remains in the braids she’s worn for some time, looking wilted and ratty from neglect. 

“Yes, your highness.” 

“I suppose the king feels horrid for his display yesterday,” she preens at herself. “He must realise he cannot keep a lady like me cooped up.” 

You think to mention that it is more send-off than anything. That is on Lord Vesemir’s whim, rather than King Geralt’s. At least that’s how you have it. Yet, you know well not to argue. Let Jazlene believe as she well and the world is always a bit more pleasant. 

You set to undoing her hair, gently as you notice how dry it is, whether from the cold or the air. She snaps her fingers and demands another servant bring her the tray off food. She picks at it as you unwind her hair and let it free. 

She looks at herself one way then the other. She smiles and wipes her mouth with her sleeve.  

“I am still pretty, aren’t I?” She asks, “I will be after the child comes, won’t I?” 

You swallow and nod, “yes, your highness.” 

“Gilles, Gilles,” she chimes and waves a hand, “come, come,” she turns in her seat and you pull away from her, not wanting to tug on her locks. “Tell me, how pretty am I?” 

The man steps into the doorway and clears his throat. He looks as sheepish as you’ve ever seen. You glance back at Jazlene as she poses and bats her lashes. 

“You are beautiful, my queen, as the summer sunsets,” he avows. 

There’s a click in your head, a wriggle in your chest, and a churning in your stomach. No. No, it can’t be. She wouldn’t betray her marriage. 

Yet you thought the very same of her husband. That’s different. The king rules all, even the queen. And that she so garishly flaunts her fleeting affections. But how can you judge, when your own folly looms over you like a cloud? 

You think of the king’s story; Cerrill and Wynifred and their forbidden romance. It tints in a different effect now, it aligns more evenly, for you do not see this ending well for either queen or guard should they stray. Just as you don’t see yourself faring any better. 

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #winter's king #the witcher

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Sneaky Link 💙 (Toxic!Student!Gojo x Professor!MILF!Reader FWB 18+ One Shot)

“You know you want this.”

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Black!Fem!Reader (Teacher x Student/FWBs to Lovers)

Synopsis: You’re a stressed-out mom and college professor who has been swamped with your job and mommy life lately. You’re so knee-deep in your work and kids that you need some kind of release. Unfortunately, you’re not finding any of that in your husband, but luckily, that’s what Gojo Satoru is here for…even though he’s way too young for you and is your student.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Professor!Reader; College Student!Gojo; College AU; MILF!Reader; FWBs/Fuck Buddies; Toxic!Fuckboy-ish!Gojo; Switch!Gojo (MDom + msub); Switch!Reader (FDom + fsub); Infidelity/Cheating; Oral (Giving + Receiving); Some Analingus; Body Worship; Deepthroat; Facefucking; Spit Play; Pussy Drunk!Gojo; Cock Drunk!Reader; Daddy Kink; Mommy Kink; Multiple Positions (Doggy, Missionary, From the Side); Dirty Talk; Possession/Ownership; Scent Marking; Cum Play; Breeding; Unprotected PIV; Raw Creampie; Facial

Writer’s Note: I was listening to SWV’s “You’re The One” & got an idea for this. I love me some toxic!Gojo 🤤 Enjoy! -Jazz

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You never knew how loud a man could get until your husband orgasmed.

Usually, you’d find this sexy. You love vocal men. You love your vocal man. All of his slutty moans, gasps, and groans that bounce off of your bedroom walls would usually trigger your nut quick.

“Cumming!” he moans, hovering over you, his face glistening in sweat as he rails into you like he’s trying to wake the neighbors with the knocking headboard. “Fuck, baby, I’m cumming! Cum with me! Are you cumming with me?”

But instead, you lie there underneath him like a dead fish, just staring and not moaning or orgasming like you should be. Like you used to. “Uh-huh,” you reply.

Even as his handsome face screws up the way you like, you don’t find it even remotely attractive. It isn’t like your husband isn’t a sexy man. Every time you go out, you catch the wandering eyes of women and men alike who ogle at your man despite the ring on his finger and being the father of your beautiful twins.

But what they don’t know is that the sexy man they all want for themselves is dry in the sheets. What they don’t know is that he isn’t attentive or a good listener when it comes to doing what you want and need to achieve pleasure. What they don’t know is that your marriage that seems so perfect and amazing actually isn’t.

Case in point, when your husband finally orgasms, gripping the headboard and pausing to cum while buried deep inside of you, he doesn’t even notice how quiet and stoic you are. You are not enjoying yourself yet he is completely oblivious to it. Just like he is every night…or any night he decides to fuck you, that is.

Finally, he lets out a shudder and a satisfied smile stretches across his mouth, a sign that the sexy was more than satisfactory. He pecks you on the lips and rolls over onto his back, lying naked beside you while you lie in your beautiful gown from tonight’s date night. You didn’t even take off your dress! That’s how unsatisfied you feel and how much you didn’t want any kind of sex tonight.

“Wow,” your husband sighs. “That was amazing, baby.” He turns to you, a sparkle in his eyes. You don’t look at him, instead staring at the ceiling. “Mmm-hmm,” you hum.

He moves in close and wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his sweaty chest. “I’m so glad we were able to do this,” he chuckles. “I know we’ve been pretty busy with work and the banquet tonight was tiring, so it’s nice that we always get time to have sex.”

‘On your time, that is,’ you sourly think.

“Yeah,” you say instead. “It was…okay.” Your husband ironically catches onto your bored tone and sits up, his flaccid dick hanging between his thighs. “Okay?” he parrots, confused. “But we tried that position you’ve been wanting to try! Y’know, the one with your legs up and your head hanging off the bed?”

You play with a loose strand on your gorgeous dress that you bought a month in advance for your husband’s work banquet.

The banquet you went to tonight and shucked your kids off to your parents for.

The banquet you were hoping your man would get drunk at, notice how sexy you look, and use all of tonight without your children home to make you cum your brains out.

And even though he did agree to do a new position for the first time in months, it didn’t feel any better. You felt no kind of enjoyment. “Well, yeah,” you say. “A-And it felt good, but—“

“But what, Y/N?” He sighs, sounding tired of your shit. You’re tired of your shit too, but also his. “I thought we had managed to squash this finally after our dry spell.”

Dry spell. You nearly scoff. Is he still convinced that this dry spell is moistened now? You glare at him, not liking his tone or his blasé attitude towards your needs. “You only noticed that it was a ‘dry spell’ because I wasn’t sucking your dick anymore,” you snap.

This has been happening for the past couple of months, especially since the beginning of spring semester. You’re a college professor working at one of the most prestigious Ivy League universities in the country, so half of your time is given towards work. And if your time isn’t given towards work, it’s given towards your two beautiful yet chaotic 5-year old twins.

You are married to a bigtime corporate lawyer, going on year six. They’ve been six years full of love, happiness, and great communication. But lately, that communication has been waning thin because of work. Your hubby is a very busy man, constantly at work juggling cases and sometimes working on the weekends when he should be spending time with you and the kids…especially with you.

Ever since the spring semester started for you, things have gotten worse with the stress of grading assignments and exams before your senior classes graduate. Your head is filled with planning things for the next month: planning class lessons, grading, what to fix the kids for their school lunches, etc.

You are drowning in your stress! All you want to do is be with your man. Hug him. Kiss him. Have him put you in the mattress again and again…but that’s barely been happening. He’s always tired or asleep when you’re in need of attention. And when you do get the attention you crave, it’s lackluster and half the time you end up making yourself cum when he rolls off to sleep.

It wasn’t always like this. Your sex used to be amazing, filled with connection and intimacy. Now it’s just…nothing. The fact that he doesn’t listen to what you want or even attempt to try is even worse. He is too busy for you and it’s starting to piss you off.

But not enough to hit up the one guy you know can get the job done. Not enough for that at all! So you roll your ass over and tend to your irked husband. “I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around him. “It’s not you, baby; it’s me. It’s just stress from work and the kids an’ all.”

And that’s the truth, though you left out that you’re also pent up, horny, and sexually frustrated. However, your husband embraces you back, so you don’t say anything to ruin your cuddling session.

After a while of soft kisses and snuggling, your hubby gets out of bed and steps over his suit that he quickly stripped off as soon as you got back here an hour ago. “You wanna shower with me?” he asks, putting his bathrobe on.

You open your mouth to respond with an excuse not to, but your phone ringing on the nightstand gives you one. “Uh, in a minute,” you reply. “I’ve gotta take a call.”

He nods and gives you a smile which makes you feel horrible. He truly is a great husband, but your throbbing pussy and rising libido tell you differently. Once he leaves, you answer the call to the one person who can truly understand your dilemma. “Answering my call at 10 PM on a Friday night?” She asks. “You either fought your man or the sex was bad. Good evening, Ms. L/N.”

“Hi,” you chuckle, quickly looking at the bathroom door where your man disappeared. When the water starts running, you speak louder. “And no, it wasn’t bad. It was just….average.”

Your friend laughs despite your pain. “Well, be happy that he at least had the time to reciprocate this time. Did you cum this time?”

“Uh….” You contemplate whether to lie or tell her the truth. If you lie, you’ll feel bad for doing so, but if you’re honest then she’ll berate him like she always does. Finally, you sigh and give in. “I tried, but no. There was zero trying on his end.”

Your friend isn’t happy to hear that. “Please tell me you didn’t fake it this time,” she groans. “If he’s embarrassed, let him be embarrassed!” You roll your eyes at the mention of you faking your orgasms for your husband at one point to appease him. You do things for the ones you love. “No, I didn’t,” you sigh. “I did as you said and kept quiet, but he didn’t even mention it!”

You put a hand on your forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “I took the kids over to my parents’ place for some time alone after the banquet. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother with this.”

“Well, you could always come out with me and my man tonight,” your friend suggests. “They’re having this special called Freaky Fridays at the bar we like. You could meet a nice guy there.”

You can’t even picture yourself getting out of bed to get into your sexy clothes and cheat. You’ve done that already. “Thanks for the invite, but I’ve had enough drinking for one night.���

“Oh, how was the fancy banquet, by the way?” Your friend excitedly asks. “You looked so fuckin’ good tonight! If I were your hubby, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you.” You laugh at her referring to your photos on Twitter of you at your husband’s work party. Something about his firm celebrating their 50th year in business.

“Maybe I should’ve married you then,” you giggle. “It was fine, but all I could think about was gettin’ fucked in the bathroom. I tried to initiate a quickie before we left, but he wasn’t having it.” You sit up, ignoring the insistent throb of your clit and the need to get your vibrator out of your nightstand if not use your fingers.

“Plus I still have grading to do over the weekend before next weekend when graduation starts.” Your friend dramatically groans at the mention of your work.

“Girl, you’ve been busy since the beginning of the damn semester!” she scoffs.

“That’s the life of a professor,” you chuckle, taking your hair down and running a hand trough your curs/twists/locks/waves/braids. “And to make matters worse, I’m extremely horny.”

“That’s why I said come out and meet somebody!” your friend says. “But then again, maybe you don’t need that. You’ve still got Mr. Long Dick on speed dial, don’t you?” She giggles knowingly despite you cringing on the other end.

“Don’t even mention him,” you sharply warn her. “I told you before: what we had was just a fling and it should’ve never happened. That’s why I ended it. Plus, he’s my student!”

“Not for long!” she argues. “He graduates in a week, Y/N! And he’s a grown-ass man! He wouldn’t have agreed to fuck you if he couldn’t handle it.”

You squeeze your eyes to try and will away the thought of ‘Mr. Long Dick’ with his snow-white hair, alluring blue eyes, charming smile…and his long dick. His long, thick, perfect dick. And his sensuous, pink lips. And his tongue and fingers that he absolutely knows how to work.

Gojo Satoru. Straight A student, athlete, and renowned fuckboy. He has every girl and guy on campus going crazy for him. Yes, he is perfect. Yes, he is good in bed. But he is also too young, has community dick, and is one of your senior students.

You made the mistake of having a five-month long sexual relationship with him that you quickly ended last month before finals month. It first started when the chill of November came and your bedroom problems with your husband got bad to the point where he was sleeping at his brother’s place.

Gojo was always a flirt and made it clear to you that he had a thing for you—always complimenting your hair and outfits; holding the door for you and flashing you pretty smiles; always making excuses to stay after class or meet you in your office to discuss assignments.

You didn’t realize that he truly wanted you until he was in your office one day and happened across a photo of you and your twins together. “They’re beautiful,” he commented, smiling at them. Then he turned to you, his gaze soft and intimate. “Just like their mother.” You swear you’ve never been so wet before, your panties becoming soaked under your pencil skirt.

That was also the day you kissed him. Overcome with lust and desperation that your man wasn’t fulfilling, you stood up and planted one on him which he happily embraced. His kiss was electric and passionate, his hands soft and happily wandering your ass and hips. But you didn’t have sex in your office. Instead, you invited him over that night when your husband was at a work dinner and your kids were sleep.

There, in your marital bed, he fucked your brains out and made you realize how good young dick is…or maybe that’s just his. He made you cum three times before he left, keeping your panties in his back pocket when he did. For the next five months, you would see him behind your husband’s back.

You’d fuck him in your office. In his dorm room when his roommate was gone. In your house on your lunch hour while your husband was out and your kids were at school. In hotel rooms. In empty classrooms. It was the most alive you’ve felt in a minute…but despite how good it felt, it was also wrong, so you cut him off last month.

“No,” you sternly say. “Sure, Gojo was a good time, but it was inappropriate. Besides, who the fuck would I be fucking my own student? He probably would’ve started asking me to bump his grades up.”

Your friend, of course, goes to argue, but the bathroom door opens and you quickly jump up like your hand is in the cookie jar. “I’ll call you back,” you say and quickly hang up the phone. Your husband comes out in his robe, smelling of soap and cologne.

You watch him walk over to his closet and take out some fresh clothes. “Uh….where are you going?” You confusedly ask. He turns to you, putting on his shirt first. “Got a call from one of my working buddies,” he explains. “I forgot about this bar crawl my job is throwing just for my company. It’s the mandatory after-banquet after-party.”

You scowl at him, knowing he’s lying. “Mandatory?” You scoff. “There’s no such thing as a mandatory after-party. You just wanna go just to go.”

He shoots you a look as he drops his towel before putting on some boxers and jeans.

“Well, metaphorically, it is mandatory because of my position, just like the banquet was,” he argues. “And even if it isn’t literally mandatory, what’s the big deal?”

This is another thing you dislike about your husband: his inability to put aside his own wants. You do it all the time for him! “Well, I thought you were gonna stay here for a while so we could watch a movie or cuddle,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your bosom. ”Y’know…spend time together without the kids.”

You hope he’ll see how upset you are and reconsider. But he doesn’t. “Well…I’ve gotta get dressed, babe. Everyone is waiting for me.” And to add flame to the fire he’s already started, he scowls at you while buttoning his jeans. “And I just spent an hour here trying to make you cum!” he continues.

You gape at him, silently seething. So now it’s your fault. “Never mind,” you sigh. “Forget it. I’ll just grade these assignments.” Immediately, you shut down and scoot to the edge of the bed to dig into your nightstand for fresh panties.

Your husband realizes how bad he fucked up and quickly rushes to apologize. Like he always does, but never delivers. “Don’t be like that,” he huffs. “I’m sorry. I was gonna ask for you to come with me if you’d rather put the grading on the back burner tonight.”

He moves to sit next to you, shirtless and still damp from the shower. “Or I could stay here,” he continues. “You’re right—we should be spending more time together.” He puts an arm around you, willing you to look at him.

You do and instantly, you feel tired. Tired of doing this dance. You try to talk about your needs, you argue, you get angry, you fight, you stop talking, he apologizes, and then it starts again.

“No,” you say. “Go ahead and go. I’ll be here when you come back.” Your husband furrows his brows at you. “You sure?” he asks and you kiss him to silence him, cupping his face. “Yes, my sexy lawyer husband. Now go and tell your work buddies about how good I looked tonight.”

You share a laugh, another kiss, and all is forgiven (at least to your husband, it is). You watch him get dressed and begin to get a head start on grading, pulling out your laptop and glasses while still in your dress. By the time he is ready to go, you’ve already finished grading two papers.

Once he leaves, you regret it. Your horniness rears its ugly head once you are alone. Your pussy throbs insistently in your panties, desperate to be touched. You know that nothing you do for it is going to work, so you take a shower instead. You strip off your dress, jump into the cold water, and wash off tonight. You even squirt on some perfume to make yourself feel better.

But nothing works. While in the shower, all you think about is being held against the wall and railed by your Mr. Long Dick.

So you try other remedies to distract yourself with: a glass of wine; more grading; watching TV; calling your folks to check on the kids, reading a book, etc. But nothing. Fucking. Works. All you can think about is sex. Specifically sex with your FWB. Finally sick of your shit, you give in to your urges and toss your book aside before reaching for your phone.

You scroll down to your contacts until you get to “Tarou 💙” (the blue heart added by him). You couldn’t even bring yourself to delete his number, too emotionally tied to the dick to do so. You decided to keep him on call just in case. You’re so glad that you did now.

Taking a deep breath, you hit his contact and bring the phone to your ears. After three rings go by, he picks up. The first thing he does is chuckle, the silky, sexy voice making your stomach flutter. “Well, this is unexpected,” he chortles. “I thought you weren’t ever gonna call me again. You told me last time was the last time.”

You bite your bottom lip, your heart thundering in your chest. “Things change,” you impatiently reply. “I need you over here now. Are you busy?” You get right to it, not wanting to lose your nerve.

Gojo pauses for a moment, obviously surprised by your random call. “Uh…no,” he finally answers. “Just with Geto and Shoko, but they can watch the rest of this movie without me. I’m guessin’ he’s gone?”

You grip the phone to your ear, swallowing your shame. “You know he’s gone.”

Once again, Gojo pauses, weighing his options. “I’ll be over in ten,” he says and you sigh in relief. “Leave the door unlocked.”

You hang up and immediately begin to prepare for your dick appointment, leaving your phone on the bed. You replace your shirt with a sexy, satin slip and slather on some body butter to make your skin silky and soft. You put on lipgloss and spray on more perfume. You pour yourself a glass of wine to relax yourself. Then you venture downstairs to sit and wait with the door unlocked.

As time passes, you begin to feel sick with shame and second guessing. Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe you should call Gojo to go home.

But before you can get up to go back upstairs for your cell, you hear a knock on the door. Your blood pressure nearly shoots through the roof. “It’s me,” Gojo says through the door.

That makes your blood pressure even worse. “C-Coming,” you stammer. Slowly, you slink off of the couch and walk to the door. With a shaky hand, you grasp the doorknob and yank it open like you would yank off a band-aid.

And there he stands: six-foot something and looking sexy leaning against your doorway in a leather jacket, jeans, and white tee that is way too tight on his toned upper torso with a gold chain on his neck that you want to yank on and kiss him. He smiles at you, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Hey, you,” he greets you. “I’ve missed you.”

You feel your stomach flutter at the sight of him, the sound of his voice, and his scent. He always smelled so expensive and sweet from the combo of his cologne and body wash. “I’ve missed you too.” The words come out naturally.

Gojo smirks, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “Mmm, I bet,” he replies. At the sight of your frown, he laughs. “I’m kidding. Just wanted to see that sexy eye roll.”

“No jokes, please,” you sigh. “I feel worse even hittin’ you up again after I said I was done. Just come in before I change my mind about this.” You open the door further and let him come in before swiftly shutting the door. He walks into the empty living room, his hands in his pockets. He is quiet. Too quiet.

You don’t blame him for being awkward. It’s been a month since you’ve seen each other or talked. “How are the kids?” he finally asks. You nod, giving him a small, thankful smile for asking. “Good. They’re not here.”

He nods understandably though he didn’t ask. “Would you like a drink?” you ask, nodding at the bottle of wine sitting on your coffee table. “I’ve got juice, water…” He shakes his head, instead stripping off his jacket and placing it on his lap as he sits down.

He leans back against the couch, his long legs spread like the slut he is. “Come sit,” he says, patting the seat next to you. His inviting eyes and smile welcome you, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. So you sit down next to him, thigh to thigh, the slight touch making you scream inside.

Gojo wriggles his hands, obviously thinking to himself. “Sooo I don’t know if this question is allowed, but why did you call me over tonight?” He glances at you questionably and you flush with shame. “You know why,” you quietly retort. “You just wanna hear me say it.”

Your student smirks playfully at you. “Can you blame a guy?” he chuckles. “A gorgeous woman hittin’ me up late at night would be any young guy’s fantasy.” You passively shrug, not wanting to be any young guy’s fantasy except his…for tonight, at least. “I’m guessin’ things didn’t go well with the hubby? I thought that dress would’ve worked on him too.”

You look at him, confused, and he sheepishly shrugs. “I may have seen your pics on IG,” he chuckles. “Sorry for bein’ a stalker.”

Though you should be irritated by this, you’re not. Maybe it’s your arousal clouding your judgment, but you find this hot. “He…tries,” you sigh. “But he doesn’t listen and that’s the problem. You do.”

Gojo’s eyes flash with something familiar: passion. Something that has been seriously lacking in your sex life and missing in your husband’s eyes. You turn to your student and fuck buddy, holding his eyes with yours. “Listen to me very carefully,” you firmly say. “Just to be clear, this is just sex. I need something and I’m sure you do too, so we’re just giving it to each other. This isn’t a relationship and I’m not leaving my husband for you.”

Gojo’s brows rise at this statement. “I didn’t think you would’ve,” he chuckles. “Honestly, I can’t see myself playing daddy to your kids though they are adorable.”

“This is the last time,” you continue. “You graduate uni in two weeks which means we’ll never have to see each other again. You fuck me, help me get my nut, and then you leave. No cuddling, no calling, none of that. My husband cannot find out you were here.”

It is the same as it has always been, except this time is the last time. It has to be.

“Am I understood?” you ask lowly. The handsome, young man cocks his head to the side, searching your face for something. You try to keep your face as firm as possible, needing him to understand how serious you are.

Finally, he gives you one of those charming smiles that get your knees weak. “Absolutely, miss,” he purrs. Relief floods your body and you immediately reach for your glass to down the rest of your wine. “Good,” you exhale. You lower the glass down and then turn to him, beaming.

“Now fuck me,” you quietly demand.

You don’t have to tell him twice. Immediately, he wraps a hand around your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. You eagerly accept it, even crawling into his lap which he happily accepts by hooking your thighs over his to straddle him. You wrap your arms around his neck like a koala bear and press yourself flush against him, your thighs open and your panties gliding against his fabric-covered cock that you feel is already hard.

Gojo has always been a good kisser. He has the softest, juiciest, pinkest lips you’ve ever kissed in your life. His kiss is slow and passionate yet sloppy. His tongue swirls with yours as you softly moan into each other’s mouths, appreciating the way you taste. His kiss is full of longing and yearning, his hands gripping your ass and thighs as they hike your slip over your hips.

You grind your pussy down into his hard-on, earning a moan of pleasure into your mouth. You pull away from him, staring down into his hooded eyes. “Upstairs,” you exhale. “Please.”

Quickly, Gojo wraps his arms around your waist and hikes you up against him before picking you up and carrying you upstairs to your bedroom. He knows the way like the back of his hand having been here many times before. When he walks in with you, he kicks the door shut with the back of the foot and walks over to the bed before tossing you down.

You giggle slightly as you bounce on the mattress right before he pounces onto you. He begins peppering your body in wet, soft kisses—your lips, your neck, your chest. You run your hands through his soft, white locks of hair, moaning and arching your back at his touch. “I still can’t believe you wanted to see me again,” he murmurs. “I swore you never wanted to talk to me again.”

You sit up and watch him slide down to his knees in front of you, peeling your slip up to reveal your naked breasts and panties. “That’s because you started talkin’ ‘bout me leaving my husband for you,” you breathlessly retort.

Your slip comes up and over your arms, discarded onto the floor. His blue eyes tick up to meet yours as he kisses your stomach, a brow raised. “Correction, miss,” he chuckles. “I said to date me. I never said you had to leave your husband. I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

His hands reach up to grope your tits, gently molding and massaging them. As he does this, his teeth lightly nibble at your thighs while attempting to drag your panties down your legs. You moan at the feeling of his fingers pinching your nipples, the sensations making your back arch off of the bed. “Gojo, fuck,” you exhale.

He finally gets your panties off and drags them down your feet one after the other before giving you a cocky grin, your drawls hanging between his teeth. He then lets them fall and pushes your thighs open, biting his lip at the sight of your sobbing, wet cunt, so puffy and pretty for him.

“C’mon now, baby,” he whispers. “Why would I ask you to break up such a lovely marriage for me? Is my dick that good?” He leans in, pressing teasing kisses to your pussy lips and clit that cause sparks of pleasure to explode in your body, coursing through your muscles. “You really wouldn’t stay with your man and just date me?”

He looks up at you between your thighs, his long, white lashes fanning his cheeks. Suddenly, his tongue slithers out of his mouth to toy with your clit and all coherent thoughts and words are stolen from you. “N-N…Oh, fuck yes,” you moan, tilting your head back in ecstasy.

He chuckles, his hot breath making your cunt throb. “Guess I‘ll have to convince you a little more.” He suddenly sits up and yanks on your ankles, pulling you closer to him. “After all, it’s been a month since we’ve been together. We’ll have to make up for lost time.”

“God, Satoru!” You whine. “Just shut the fuck up and use your mouth on this pussy instead.”

He stares at you, shocked by your outburst, and then begins to laugh. “Someone’s eager,” he chuckles. “I like my women eager.” He stares back down at your pussy, tutting at the beautiful, brown rose petals of yours. “Aw, look at my girl,” he coos. “So wet…so lonely. Your hubby ain’t take his time with you tonight, huh?”

He leans in and begins finally tasting you, though his tongue strokes are slow and deliberate to tease you. Make you insane. You can feel yourself quickly becoming impatient, your body squirming for more. “Satoru,” you whimper.

He instantly stops and you realize your mistake when his sapphire eyes pierce into yours, as firm as his tone: “Sorry, who?” He asks, narrowing his brows at you.

You swallow hard, that forbidden name you only call him at the tip of your tongue. “Daddy,” you whisper. “Please just give it to me.”

A pleased smile stretches across Gojo’s lips and he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “Gladly.”

And the man damn near dives into your pussy, slurping at your juices and sucking on your clit with his pillowy-soft lips. He alternates between swirling his tongue around your entrance while swiping his nose against your clit and sucking on your sensitive, little button, his hands pinning your thighs apart as far as they will go. You are losing it, your voice box turned on autopilot so your mouth makes whatever noises it feels like.

“God, yes, yes, yes!” You moan. “Right there, ‘Tarou, fuck, right there!” His hot tongue, tinged with cool metal from his tongue piercing, swirls about over your slit and pussy lips, making a mess of your pussy.

“Right there?” He teasingly asks. “Not right here, baby?” You then feel his finger gently probing you, slowly slipping inside of you and aimed upward to rub against the underside of your clit. “Ain’t you weak here?” He chuckles, his tongue still working its magic on your clit.

Your eyes roll back like you’re possessed as your thigh clamp around his head, desperate to keep him where he is. “Fuck,” you whine. “How the fuck are you so good at this?”

Gojo chuckles, feeling cocky and proud at his work. “Only for a needy pussy like this,” he hums. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed this pussy.” He pauses to spit on your cunt, letting it drip with a copious amount of saliva before slurping it back up. “Obviously, she’s missed me too,” he chuckles. “Look how wet she is for me.”

He spits on you again, this time letting it drip down to your ass. You feel his tongue there, the hot, wet sensation making you gasp as his tongue travels from your asshole up to your pussy. “Satoru,” you whine. “Don’t be so nasty.”

His eyes twinkle at you, ever the mischievous man he is. “But you love me at my nasty, baby,” he pouts, his bottom lip poking out. “Don’t you?”

And then he shows you that yes, you do. You really fucking do. When he moves his hands under your ass to hold you up and eats your pussy like he would a bowl of spaghetti, you nearly lose your shit. You grip the sheets and shamelessly grind your hips against his mouth, riding his face as he finger fucks you and eats you out.

This is it. This is what you’ve been missing with your husband. This is what you needed. He listens to your words and your body, paying close attention to how you respond to his movements. He keeps gliding his finger in and out of you while he sucks your clit, quickly bringing you to your peak. Shit!” You gasp loudly. “Satoru, baby, you’re gonna make me cum!”

He pulls away from your clit only to command you to do so. “Do it,” he growls. “Give it to me, baby girl. Give me that fuckin’ cum.” His eyes lock with yours and you are suddenly put in a trance as you stare into his ocean blue gaze. “Let go for me,” he purrs, his words just as hypnotizing as his eyes. “I’ve got you now.”

And like a puppet on a string, you do as he commands. With a loud scream-like moan that echoes throughout the bedroom and would no doubt wake your kids if they were here, you cum all over Gojo’s mouth, squirting down his throat and on his pierced tongue. He greedily slurps it all up, teasing your sensitive pussy until he can feel it throb in your mouth, pleading with him to stop.

But he doesn’t. He makes it a point to continue to eat you out even through your orgasm, making it last longer than it should. Your back arches so hard that you’re afraid that it will snap. Your vision blurs, fat tears sticking to your lash line. Your words become slurred and jumbled as you beg Gojo stop: “S-Satoru,” you whimper. “Please…oh, fuck, please! S-Stop! I-I can’t…oh, I can’t…it’s too m-much.”

Fortunately for you, he finally stops and stands between your thighs, his chin and mouth glistening with your cum. He gently takes his finger out of you and sucks on it, staring into your eyes as he does. “Betcha man can’t make you cum like that, can he?” He breathlessly chuckles. He then raises his brow at you, a smirk on his lips. “You’re sure this can’t work between us?”

You ignore him, suddenly feral at the sight of seeing your juices glistening on his lips. Immediately, you sit up and cup his face between your hands before mashing your lips passionately with his, tasting yourself. You taste so good coming off of him.

Then you pull away and stare into Gojo’s twinkling, pussy drunk eyes. “Shut up and take off your clothes,” you growl. “Stand at the edge of the bed.” Once again, he doesn’t need you to tell him again.

With quick fingers, Gojo strips off his shirt, leaving his toned body up for your full indulgence while he works on his pants. The sound of his belt buckle loosening and his zipper coming down excites you, making your stomach and pussy flutter in tandem. A small, excited smile crosses your lips as you watch him strip, his arms, stomach, and pecs making your cunt clench around air.

After his socks and shoes are off and on the floor, off goes his underwear. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, he peels down his briefs and his long, thick cock slaps against his stomach. He is already dripping with precum for you, the pink head glistening with it.

Immediately, you crawl to him on your knees and wrap one hand around the base, noticing how much prettier your nails look wrapped around him. “Look at you, so hard for me,” you purr. “I’ve missed this pretty cock so much.” You begin to stroke him, pumping him up and down while using your other hand to gently massage his balls.

Gojo instantly reacts to your touch and furrows his brows in pleasure. “Ah, shit,” he hisses. “M’sensitive, baby.” You continue to touch him, pulling delicious whimpers and low moans out of you. You smile, feeling powerful and oh-so sexy. “Perfect.”

That’s another thing you love about Gojo: he isn’t afraid to let you take control. He is a big time switch—sometimes taking control of you, but also letting you take the reins and submitting to you. You can’t get enough of it. The power you feel making this beautiful man writhe and beg for you to make him cum is like a drug to you. Your husband would never even imagine doing this for you.

That’s why you give Gojo the best blowjob of his fucking life as a thank you. It is sloppy, passionate, and absolutely amazing judging by his facial expressions and the sounds he makes. He watches you suck and slobber eagerly on his cock while your hands pumps him up and down through slitted eyes, the sight almost too much for him. His moans are almost high-pitched and slutty, the sounds doing so many delicious things to you.

“Mmm, shit, Y/N, that’s good,” he groans. “Let me fuck your mouth already, c’mon.” His hands clench at his sides, desperate to grab your head and force his dick deeper down your throat. You pull away, narrowing your eyes at him. “Um…who?” You sharply ask.

He gnaws on his bottom lip, a blush on his cheeks. “M-Mommy,” he murmurs. “Please let me fuck your throat. I wanna be such a good boy for you.” Those are the magic words. The embarrassing words that your husband wouldn't even think of uttering.

You smile, pleased. “Okay,” you giggle. “Just don’t cum. Save all of that for me.” He nods, a delighted twinkle in his eyes. “Yes, miss.” You then take him back into your mouth and allow him to wrap a hand around your hair before he begins thrusting his hips and fucking your mouth.

With each thrust, he goes deeper and deeper, his cock quickly filling up your throat. You accommodate to his girth and length by opening your throat up more, breathing through your nostrils as Gojo pumps away, using your mouth like he would a pocket pussy. You hold his hips and drag your nails down his toned thighs and stomach, indulging in his muscles.

The sounds coming from Gojo’s gorgeous, pink mouth are sluttier than you’ve ever heard them. He is loud and unashamed, his face screwed in pleasure and his white locks of hair sticking to his forehead. “Fuck, Mommy, m’gonna cum!” He gasps. “Have to…pull out!” Quickly, he does so, leaving you to breathe.

As he pulls away, a string of saliva connects from his cock head to your bottom lip that is coated in spit and pre cum. He begins to slowly stroke his cock, heavy and glistening in his hand, as you wiping your mouth and lick it off your hands. “Mmm, good boy,” you praise him. “You didn’t cum for me at all, but you did leave me a preview.”

Gojo is losing his self control, his hand quickly speeding up on his shaft. “Tell me what you want,” he begs. “Please or I’m about to fuckin’ bust.” You could easily watch him blow his load for you and get off just from that, but no. You want more. If this is the last time, you want to go out with a bang.

You sit up and place your hands on his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Lay back and let me fuck you,” you whisper, taking a nibble of his ear. “I wanna ride you.”

As quick as a flash, Gojo jumps onto the bed and leans back, quickly getting into position. He spreads his thighs for you and aims his cock upward, right where you want it. Once you straddle him, he lets you take the reins while he holds onto your hips for balance. “Easy now, mama,” he coos. “Take it slow. You look so beautiful up there.”

You smile, his compliment making you feel warm all over. He never fails to make you feel gorgeous despite your body after your kids and your older age. You take a hold of his dick and begin to grind against it first, nudging it up against your pussy and between your slit.

Looking into his eyes, you slowly press the tip to your entrance and slide him in, emitting a gasp from the both of you. You don’t stop there. You do more, taking it inch by inch, grinding against him as you do. “God, Satoru,” you moan. “You’re so…so—“

”Big?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “Thick? I know that’s how you like it, baby. Just take it slow. After all, this is the last time.” He holds your hips and stares up at you, locking your eyes with his. “Do what you want with me. I’m all yours, Mommy.”

And you do. You brace your hands on his chest and squeeze his pecs as you begin to slowly ride him, alternating between grinding and bouncing on top of him. You can’t describe the feeling you feel as you feel his cock plunge in and out of your body, disappearing and reappearing from between your thighs. “God, Tarou, yes!” You moan. “You’re so fucking good!”

Gojo watches you, ogling your jiggling tits and pretty face blissed out above him. You look down at him, watching him struggle to take you. You giggle, cupping his face in your hands. “Does it feel good, ‘Tarou?” You cooingly ask. “Is this pussy too much for you?” You roll your hips back and forth, rubbing your clit as you do.

The sight is too perfect for Gojo and he bites his lip, holding himself back from cumming right there. “Fuck, b-baby,” he moans. “You’re makin’ this so hard for me. Tryna…hold back…fuck!” He grips your hips tighter as you continue to ride him, quickening your pace.

It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to rise, making you ride Gojo’s cock like it’s stolen. “I’m gonna cum again,” you warn him through a gasp. “Want you to cum with me, ‘Tarou. Fill me up.”

Though Gojo is a moaning, whimpering mess underneath you from how good and tight your pussy is, he doesn’t cum. Instead, he grabs your ass the way you like and fucks you back, hitting that spot you love again and again. “Cum for me, Mommy,” he begs. “Please, please, please cum for me. Cum all over that cock.”

He begins to babble—“Please, pretty girl, gimme that cum, fuuuck, please, please”—and his words, soft pants, and moans tip you over the edge. You become aggressive, rolling your hips forward and back, Gojo’s hand now on your clit and working it until you finally cum. “Fuck, ‘Tarou, yes!” You whine as you finally reach your second orgasm, making his cock wet and sticky with your cum.

Your mind goes blissfully blank for a few seconds as your second nut courses through you, making you sink your nails into Gojo’s pectorals and slow your riding as you ride out your orgasm. When you look down at him, he stares up at you almost lovingly, his cock still hard inside of you. “You…didn’t…cum,” you gasp out.

He shakes his head, smiling. “No,” he states. “‘Cause I wanted to watch you first. I wanna finally cum inside you when I’m fucking you stupid…with your permission, of course.” His eyes flash with a fire that you know that only you can put out. You feel that same fire blaze within you.

Your need to be held down and fucked takes over, making you willing to take whatever Gojo gives you. You hold his gaze with yours, gently rolling your hips to persuade him further. “Then do it,” you demand. “Take me, put me however you want me, and fuck me, Satoru. I want you to take control this time.”

Those ocean blues darken and a devious, sexy smirk crosses his lips. “Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles and before you know it, you’re being flipped onto your stomach. Gojo slides off of the bed behind you and grips your ankles, yanking you all of the way to the beside toward him. You squeak and giggle as he does, loving his strength and how unafraid he is to be rough.

You immediately assume the position: hands and knees, your back arched and ass in his face. “So,” he says, his voice dipping an octave, “you want me to take control now, hm?”

Smack! His hand comes down onto your asscheek, making it jiggle. The sharp sensation makes you gasp, your toes curling at the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure. “Such a nasty girl,” he sighs. “Gettin’ wet over one little spanking. You really are touch-starved, poor baby.” His hand slides down to massage your ass while his cock slides up against the puffy, wet lips of your pussy. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, his lips at your ear. “I’ll help you. Just do everything I say, okay, mama?”

Feeling his breath fan across your face and his cock slide against your slit makes you want to do anything he wants. And you will. You turn to him, staring at him over your shoulder the way he loves. “Yes, Daddy,” you whimper. “I will.”

That’s all Gojo needs to hear. After planting a kiss on your lips and another smack on your ass, he positions his cock and in one swift motion, slides back home inside of you. “Oh, fuck,” he moans while you let out a gasp, gripping the sheets below you. He doesn’t start off slow either. Instead, he gets right to it, pistoning his hips against your soft, jiggling ass with full intention of making you cum again.

“Fuck, ‘Tarou, sh-shit!” You moan, your knees and arms quickly becoming weak with the force of his thrusts. “Daddy, wait! D-Don’t…oh, fuck!…don’t go so fast! Ohh, my God!”

Gojo cackles at your pathetic stammering and babbling in between your moans and gasps as he drives himself into you again and again, gripping your hips so tight that his fingers dig into the fleshy parts of your ass. “Why?” He puffs. “I’m tryin’ to make you cum. And after all, we don’t know when your man will be home.”

He pauses mid-stroke to hike his leg up on the bed and continues to drive his cock into you, making your jaw fall slack at the deep angle. Every time he thrusts, his balls slap against your clit, filling your body with absolute pleasure. His hand swoops around your neck and squeezes, tight enough to make you feel restricted but not enough to cut off your breath.

“Or do you want him to come in and see you like this?” He teasingly asks. “You want your hubby to see you get this pussy stuffed by your side dick?” He tilts your head up by your neck, emitting a choked moan from you.

“I betcha do,” he giggles. “I bet you want to get caught with your boy toy…show your dude how a real man fucks a woman.”

Your eyes shut and you see your husband walking in under your lids. His expression is written in shock and horror as he watches Gojo pound into you, his wife, from behind, bringing you closer and closer to orgasm. You hate to admit it, but the idea of that makes you even wetter.

Gojo continues with that breakneck, agonizing pace, alternating between fast, short pumps and long, slow strokes that make you see stars. His other hand leaves your hip to rub your clit while he continues to choke you, moaning about how pretty you look for him getting railed by his cock.

You feel your third orgasm rising, your pussy tightening around his dick while that knot in your core begins to tighten as well, signaling your end. “Yes, ‘Tarou!” You cry out. “Fuck, m’almost there! I’m almost—“

Your words are cut off when Gojo suddenly stops, putting an end to the symphony of moans and skin slapping against skin. You look over your shoulder at him, confused. “W-Why’d you stop?” You pant. The white-haired hottie smirks at you. “Because I wanna see your pretty face when you cum,” he answers.

He then flips you over onto your back and slides between your thighs, standing between them. Without waiting for you to give him permission, he slides into you again and tosses your leg up, your painted toes pressed against his hard chest. His thrusts now are slow, long, and deep, his cock stroking your pussy walls and making you arch your back.

Your mouth falls open, soft moans and gasps leaving your lips that Gojo relishes. He can’t believe how good you look taking him, your soft titties bouncing and your pussy sliding up and down his dick. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he pants. “Your man is so fuckin’ lucky to have you all the fuckin’ time. What the fuck is wrong with him?”

You think he’s pretty too. His face is flushed and glinting in sweat, his white locks sticking to his forehead. His eyes are dazed with lust and pleasure as he stares down at you taking his cock so well, his brows furrowed as if he’s in pain. You’ve never seen him look prettier than now, completely pussy drunk off of you.

“Fuck me, ‘Toru,” you beg, tossing your arms over your head to grip the sheets. “Fuck me and make us both cum. Do it like you won’t do it ever again.”

Gojo shifts into another mode immediately. It’s like your plea has pushed some button inside of him that makes him shift into a setting where he is merciless, pounding into you with every intention of either A. Making you cum or B. Breeding you with his baby. Or both.

You bounce and jiggle on the bed as he fucks you silly, making the bed creak and moan underneath you. He looks so good on top of you, his white locks hanging in his face, his blue eyes dark and blown with lust. “Really though,” he growls. “What the fuck is wrong with your man to not fuck you like this every night, hm? Why does he neglect such a perfect slut like you?”

He pauses to turn you on your side, hooking your knees to your chest before grabbing your ass and drilling your shit from the side. You are a hot mess—moaning, gasping, crying out for more, your hair unkempt, your skin coated in sweat, and your thighs dripping with your juices and Gojo’s pre-cum, making your pussy a lot sloppier than before and easier for him to fuck as much as he wants to.

“But that don’t better,” he continues. “Because I’m your man now. I’ll fuck you like this any time, any day you want, baby.”

He gives your ass another smack as he continues to fuck you. “You know you want this,” he says, a smirk on his face. “You know that I’m the one for you, Y/N. You know you want me…you’d even want my baby.”

Your loud moaning pauses as his words process. You look up at him, not sure if he’s playing or not. “W-What?” You gasp.

Ding!

You turn your head to look at your phone sitting beside you. You stretch one arm across the bed to grab it, but Gojo beats you to it. While still stroking your shit, he reads the notification and his brows raise. “Huh,” he says. “Looks like your baby daddy is home. He just pulled in.”

“What?!” You shriek, your words breathless and broken as your fuck buddy continues to put you into th mattress like your husband isn’t home. “Gojo, he’s back! H-He’s in the driveway!” You try to push him off, but he pins you down, tossing your phone aside. He goes faster, harder, using your pussy like he would a fleshlight.

He has never gone this hard or this fast before, gripping your ass and hips so tightly that you’re sure he’ll leave bruises. ”What are you doing?” You attempt to ask.

“Don’t move,” he demands. “I need you to cum with me first.” He leans down to press his face into your ear, rutting into you like a wild animal. You grip his back and shoulders for dear life, holding on tightly and moaning into his ear while you sneak a hand between your thighs to furiously rub your clit. “God, ‘Toru, yes!” You moan. “Fuck, right there, ah!”

“You’re mine,” Gojo pants into your ear. “You’re all fuckin’ mine, you understand me?”

Even in the haze of pleasure and above your mingled moans, you can hear the sound of your husband’s car door opening outside and him chatting with the neighbor. Fear bursts inside of your stomach, somehow making your pussy clam tighter around a feral Gojo. “Satoru, please!” You beg. “He’s coming!”

“So am I,” he groans. “But not until you do. Tell me what I wanna hear and I’ll make you cum, pretty girl. Look into my eyes and tell me you wanna be mine.” He leans up to stare down at you, his blue eyes transfixing and hypnotizing you as his giant hands knead your tits and ass.

You stare at him in horror. You want to cum, yes, but to do that, you’d have to tell him everything he wants to hear. Therefore, ruining your marriage and your vows…but then again, you already did that. “N-No!” You shout, delirious.

Gojo frowns and immediately slows down, his thrusts shallow and slow. “No, you don’t wanna cum?” He asks. That devious tinkle in his eye is there as he continues to slowly fuck you, teasing you.

A choked hiccup leaves your mouth, tears wetting your eyes. You can’t take this. This is torture. So you swallow your pride and let yourself break: “Goddammit!” You sob. “I want you, ‘Tarou! I wanna be yours! I’ll be your baby, your slut, your girl! I’ll be whatever you want me to be! Just make me cum!”

A wide, gigawatt smile crosses Gojo’s handsome face. “Good girl,” he chuckles. “Now give me that fuckin’ pussy.” He grips you and speeds up his thrusts, putting his whole back into it, his cock drilling your wet cunt over and over and over again until…

”Cumming!” You whimper. “I-I’m gonna cum!” Gojo’s lips part as he pants and groans at the feeling of you squeezing around him. He leans down, wrapping a hand around your throat. “Kiss me,” he demands. Without waiting for you to do so, he leans in and captures your lips in a sloppy, moan-filled, open-mouthed kiss.

Instantly, you are creaming all over his cock, his kiss swallowing your moans and gasps of release as your body tenses and writhes in his arms. With a few more thrusts and a high-pitched moan, Gojo empties himself into you, a stream of cum leaving his heavy balls and entering you hot, wet pussy, making you quiver and tremble against him. The orgasm is tense and dizzying, stealing your sense of self for a moment.

You then hear your husband’s footsteps click against the brick walkway outside to the front door. Suddenly, you are brought back to reality and to the man you just let fuck you raw that isn’t your husband, but your student.

You don’t get a chance to say anything though because Gojo gently slides his cock out of you. You look down, realizing that he’s still hard. He wraps a hand around himself and begins to vigorously pump his cock in your face, his hand turning into a flash with how fast he’s going. “Not yet,” he growls. “Gimme that pretty face. I want my nut all over that gorgeous mug.”

You don’t say a word and you don’t even move. You can’t. Your body is too exhausted to do so that you just lay there, helplessly watching Gojo jerk himself off in front of you, his pretty face screwed in pleasure and his lips pressed together in concentration. “Thaaat’s it,” he hisses. “That’s my good girl.”

And with a low groan, Gojo gives you a second orgasm, sending ropes of his cum all over your face and mouth. Your lips part in shock, causing some droplets to get onto your tongue. Some also fly onto your stomach, tits, and ass, coating your skin in cum. His cum. You can smell him all over you, marking you as his.

Gojo sighs in relief, his muscles loosening and a light chuckle leaving his lips. He releases his cock, soft and coated in your mixed cum, and tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling. “Now that was a nut,” he whistles. You don’t say anything, still too exhausted to do so.

Jingle-jingle.

You hear your husband’s car keys and then the lock on the door clicking open. You gasp, immediately sitting up and looking at the closed bedroom door. Both you and Gojo look at each other, panicked. “Shit,” you say in unison.

“Honey, I’m home!” Your husband shouts. “I bought you back something!” Like fire has been lit under your ass, you jump off of the bed while Gojo grabs his clothes, hurrying to put them on. “U-Uh, wait, baby!” You shout. “I-I need to get dressed!”

You yank your slip off of the floor and toss it in the hamper beside your closet, unseen and unheard of. You turn to Gojo hurrying to get dressed, quickly pulling his shirt over his head. “Hide under the bed,” you whisper. “I’ll distract him and then you leave.”

Gojo nods and Quickly, you dress into a T-shirt and some gym shorts, checking to make sure all traces of sex are gone, including the nut on your face (thank God you keep baby wipes in your night drawer). You even take your laptop and glasses back out to make it seem as if you were working this entire time. Once everything looks okay, you fix your hair and walk to the bedroom door to greet your husband.

But with your back turned, Gojo makes no move to actually get under the bed.

Too late to realize this, you open the door and smile up at your husband back from a night out. “Hi, honey,” you sweetly say. “How was the party?”

He gives you a smile and takes something from behind his back: a bouquet of colorful, sweet-smelling flowers. “I bought you these,” he says. “I wanted to apologize for…Gojo?”

His eyes trail behind you to meet the young man standing behind you. You turn, horrified to find your fuck buddy still standing there but fortunately dressed. “Hey there, sir!” He politely greets your husband like he didn’t just fuck his wife stupid in their marital bed. “Sorry to show up like this. I had to drop off a last-minute assignment to Ms. L/N and she invited me over with no problem.”

He walks over to shake your husband’s hand like his wasn’t just spanking your ass or wrapped around your throat. “Oh,” your husband says. “Well, I hope everything is worked out now.” He returns Gojo’s handshake. “Oh, it is!” He answers. “Isn’t it, Ms. L/N?”

You feel his hand sneak behind you to grab a handful of your ass. You bite back a squeak, instead forcing a smile. “Y-Yeah,” you stammer. “Everything’s fine now.”

Your husband doesn’t look the least bit suspicious which makes things worse. “Well, good!” He says with a smile. Gojo drops his hand from your asscheeks and gives you both a smile. “I’ll be taking my leave now,” he announces. “Thanks again for your help, Professor. I really appreciate it.”

Unbeknownst to your hubby, he shoots you a wink and walks past you to exit the room. You can feel the walls that had begun to close in on you begin to widen a bit, making you feel like you can breathe again, until—

“Oh, Gojo!” Your husband says, stopping the young man in the hallway. “You can look for me at the graduation ceremony. I look forward to seeing you at the firm.”

You blink at him, confused. “Firm?” You cluelessly ask. “What firm?” Your husband and Gojo stare at you, making you flush. “Oh, he didn’t tell you?” He questions. Gojo gives him a smile and a playful laugh. “I was gonna let her know at the ceremony.”

“Gojo recently got a full-time job at my firm and he’ll be working in my department!” Your husband joyfully states, passing you the flowers. “He starts next month in June with the training. He is quite an intelligent young man, so we intend on keeping him.” He shoots Gojo a proud smile, but your student is too busy smiling at you.

This smile isn't’ at all nice though. It is devilish, almost as if the devil has jumped into Gojo’s bones. “That means you’ll be seein’ an awful lot of me around,” he deviously says. “I’ll see you soon, miss.”

And as he turns to leave, you see in his back pocket your soiled panties.

You watch him go, standing there with your husband's flowers and your student’s cum still dripping down your thighs. ‘Oh, no,’ you lament to yourself. ‘What have I done?’

“Uh, sweetie?” Your husband’s voice drifts to your ears, sounding almost far away. “Why is the bed all wet? Did you take a shower?”

So much for ‘the last time’.

THE END.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #my fic shit #black coded reader #jjk smut #satoru gojo x black!reader #gojo smut #gojo x black y/n #gojo x black reader #satoru aka my boo #gojo satoru #jjk x reader smut

[cherryredstars]

hello cherry this is my first time requesting something :)))) i was wondering if you could do a miguel x reader where y/n and miguel get into a big fight because miguel hasn’t been home / hasn’t been letting the reader know when he isn’t going to be there and after their fight y/n goes out to the club to let off some steam with her friends and it turns out miguel is at the club for a business meeting and he spots her and gets a bit possessive (feel free to add anything else you’d like hehehe that’s what im mainly been thinking about )

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: Possessiveness, Suggestive, Slight Praise, Dom!Miguel Vibes

A/N: Hello, love! I hope you enjoy!

Unedited

You were still fuming when he left.

Your cheeks puffed in agitation, glaring at him from the couch as he walked out the door. Horrible timing if you ask him. One second the two of you are fighting about how he barely has time for you with all these meetings, and the next he’s asking for a rain check because he’ll be late for a business conference. Really helping him out there.

It’s left him annoyed the whole meeting, resisting the urge to bang his head against the table and rub his face until it peels off. In all honesty, he doesn’t really need to be part of this meeting. He’s only here for looks, not even expected to know what the meeting is about or add any input. He could be at home, laying on the couch between your legs as he laps at the liquid gold between your thighs as an apology.

Miguel lets out a heavy sigh, the noise getting lost with the loud music that’s giving him a headache. His eyes wonder from the table of men, turning his head to peer over the railing surrounding the balcony of the VIP section. His eyes scan the mass of people, taking in the writhing mass. At his age, things like clubs have lost their appeal, but he knows this place would be something you would like. You’d love to dance to these songs, too.

Miguel hums to himself, making a mental note to take you here sometime soon. His eyes are about to go back to the meeting when he spots a familiar face in the crowd. Or, multiple faces. His eyes zero in on you, your face turned to talk to your friend behind you. The strobe lights light your face in different neon colors, and he straightens up. His eyes stay on you as you walk through the crowd, a drink in one hand and the other slapped over the top as you walk. Good girl.

Miguel is content to have you have this time with the girls, knowing after fights like this you need something to take your mind off of things. But his eyes stray to a group of men near the bar leering over at your group of friends, one of the sleazy fucks gaining courage to walk towards you. Miguel’s expression sours, and he fixes his suit jacket as he stands up. The group instantly stops talking, focusing on Miguel.

“Where are you going?” One of his coworkers ask, brows furrowing in confusion.

Miguel doesn’t spare him a glance, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. “Bathroom.”

The group continues to watch him, slowly turning back to each other and continuing the conversation. Miguel turns his back to them as he leaves, his eyes sticking to where you and your group stand. He can see the fuck walking towards you, and he grumbles when he realizes he’ll get to you first. Once he descends the stairs, it gets slightly harder to spot you. But it isn’t an impossible task with his abnormal height, and he can still make out the vague area you’re in. The crowd parts easily for his intimidating build, and soon enough he’s a few feet away from you.

As expected the sleaze is already with you, mouth moving way too much as he talks to you. Your brow is furrowed in annoyance, and you glare at the man as he talks. Miguel can’t make out what he’s saying, but he can tell you aren’t interested in his shit. Miguel’s stare hardens when the man leans forward, getting into your personal space and whispers something to you.

Miguel reaches you right as you lift your hand to slap him. Miguel’s front presses into your back, his hands acting fast as one wraps around your wrist and the other around your neck to tilt your head up. Your face shoots up to stare at him, the glare in your eyes softening slightly at the sight of him. Miguel’s thumb strokes the pulse point on your neck, calming you down as he stares at the man in front of you.

“Down girl,” he mumbles to you, slowly lowering your hand so it rests at your side.

You make a sound similar to a scoff, but you don’t resist. Your body melts into him, and you turn to hug him when he lets go of your neck. The man looks between the two of you and scoffs, walking off with an irritated grumble once he realizes he’s not getting lucky with you. Miguel watches him go, his large hand stroking your hair.

Once he’s completely gone you pull away from Miguel. That glare is back on your face, and you cross your arms as you stare at him.

“I’m not some dog.” You sass, tilting your chin up.

Miguel hums. uninterested. His hand comes to grab your cheeks, squeezing them together so your lips pucker. The furrow in your brow grows deeper, and Miguel’s mouth twitches at the corner.

“Of course not, mamí,” he agrees. “But you are a brat.”

You begin to grumble a protest but Miguel pinches your cheeks tighter.

“Ah-“ he cuts you off. “Behave and have fun, yeah? I’ll come get you when my meeting’s done.”

Your lips jut out further with a pout, and your grumble something inaudible before nodding reluctantly. Miguel hums, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“Good girl. I’ll be back”

He lets go of your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead before giving you a once over and leaving. You watch him go, trying to ignore the ache between your thighs.

You hate that fucker.

#cherry's requests🍒 #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel spiderman #miguel o hara #miguel x reader #miguel 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel o hara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o hara x y/n #spider man 2099 #sm 2099

[ataliagold]

I'll Sing Silence

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, background Robin Buckley/Nancy Wheeler

Rating: T

W/C: 2706

Tags: established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, autistic Steve Harrington, sensory issues, stimming, autistic shutdown, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care Of Steve Harrington

Notes: Title from Drinking Song For The Socially Anxious by The Amazing Devil. A lot of this is based off my own experiences with autism, other stuff I've added in.

Summary: A series of unfortunate events leads to a bad day for Steve. Luckily, Eddie's there to take care of him.

___

It was a series of unfortunate events that led to Steve’s meltdown that evening.

First of all, he hadn’t slept well last night which had led to him sleeping through his morning alarm since he’d been so tired, and then he hadn’t had time for a shower before work so he was feeling sweaty and gross, and it was already hot when he stepped outside which led to his clothes sticking comfortably to his skin and he was already upset by the rupture in his morning routine but then Robin was running late and he’d had to sit in the car outside her house and stare anxiously at the minutes ticking by on his watch while his leg jiggled impatiently and then he’d had to pretend everything was fine when Robin asked why he looked so tense…

They were late opening Family Video, late to clock in, and Steve hated being late.

He had a routine, he had a system, and when it was upset it took him a long time to settle again.

But he’d listened to Robin chatter away while they rewound tapes and put them away, murmured non-committed responses and retreated back inside his own head a bit until he started feeling semi-normal again.

Just as he was starting to feel a little better, lunch time had rolled around, and he realized he’d forgotten his lunch in his rush this morning, and he’d stood in the breakroom with his fists clenched and his heart pounding because now he was going to have to rush to Melvalds and try to find something to eat but he wasn’t sure he had enough time and he’d never gone there before during a lunch break, it was out of routine and it shouldn’t be a big deal but it fucking was because there was something wrong with him, why was he so upset over fucking lunch…

He was wasting his break. Couldn’t get his brain to cooperate and just choose a constructive path to follow, became stuck in a frustrated loop and frozen in place as the minutes passed.

He did nothing, in the end.

Spent his time staring at the wall of the breakroom, trying to breathe slowly, trying to settle himself but without something to eat he couldn’t find anything for his hands to do, ended up stuffing them into the sleeves of his jacket and clutching the fabric hard, hard enough that his fingers started to ache and it was making him too hot but it felt good to just squeeze something…

Robin found him. Frowned, offered him half her own sandwich which he gratefully took but it wasn’t right, there was too much ham and the cheese was a different brand to what he usually bought and it didn’t feel right in his mouth.

A run-in with a grumpy customer that afternoon almost tipped him over the edge.

He’d felt tears building, felt that familiar tight feeling in his throat, the way his lungs were starting to constrict and his hands were starting to tremble even as he frantically twisted the bracelet on his wrist, the one Eddie had given him after seeing him constantly play with Eddie’s own jewelry…

The woman was saying something, her face twisted and angry while she waved around a tape in her hand, but she wasn’t giving Steve any time to process her words and every time he tried to talk she’d yell over the top of him and Steve had had enough.

Before he could lose it in front of the customer, he backed up. Turned on his heel, strode away, threw a pleading look at Robin as he passed her.

She nodded, smoothly intercepted the woman with a fake smile plastered on her face, and Steve retreated quickly to the relative safety of the breakroom.

He breathed. Stared unblinking at the floor, still rotating the brown leather bracelet, running his index finger over the intricate design etched into it.

You’re fine, calm the fuck down, stop being a fucking child.

But he couldn’t.

He knew this wasn’t normal, that he should be able to deal with the day like any other person, but it was like there was this block in his brain telling him otherwise.

“Steve, you ok?”

Robin interrupted his downward spiral, placed a hand on his back and Steve immediately leaned into it because the pressure was good, the weight of her hand comforting and grounding.

“Mmm hmm,” he mumbled.

“Ignore Mrs Brown, she’s a bitch.”

“Yeah.”

“Tried to tell me the tape didn’t work, I put it in the store player and it was totally fine so it’s probably an issue with her player but I swapped the tape out anyway because I really couldn’t be bothered arguing it further…Steve?” Robin’s tone was concerned, her hand rubbing small circles into his back.

“Mmm?”

“You don’t look too good, what’s happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, it’s clearly something -”

“M’fine.”

“Do you want to head home early? I can finish off here and call Nance to pick me up.”

No, because that would mess up his routine even more and he didn’t think he could live with that today.

Steve shook his head.

“Well…we can skip dinner tonight, if you want. We can just postpone it, if you’d rather go home.”

He would rather go home. Or preferably to Eddie’s, where he could curl up on his boyfriend’s bed and let Eddie wrap his arms around him and squeeze him tight and pull the blanket up over his head and just shut out the rest of the world until he was ready to crawl back out and deal with it again.

But they’d been looking forward to going out to the diner for a while now – Steve, Eddie, Robin and Nancy – their schedules had finally aligned, and they’d eagerly organized the double date.

Everyone was looking forward to it, and Steve wasn’t going to let them cancel it just because of him.

Just because he couldn’t deal with a few minor inconveniences in his day.

He shook his head again.

“You sure?”

“Mmm.”

“Ok, well…how about you just sit out here for a few minutes, ok? Come back out when you’re ready.”

Some days, Steve went about his day and felt almost like a normal human.

He woke up, he went to work, he chatted to his friends, he’d see Eddie whenever he could, kiss him and watch movies and eat dinner and everything was fine.

But some days, everything was too loud. The tag on the back of his t shirt scratched at his neck, the door to Family Video creaked a little too much and he felt it in his teeth, the lights overhead were too fucking bright and there were too many people demanding his attention all at once and it was like a flip switched somewhere and he went into shutdown.

He wasn’t quite there yet, but he was about to crest that wave, and everything would come crashing down then.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, too slow and too fast at the same time, and Steve waded through it like molasses, heavy and slow.

When Eddie sauntered in at the end of Steve’s shift, all warm smiles and soft eyes and familiar scent, Steve felt his heartbeat slow a little.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie murmured, looking him up and down and immediately wrapping his arms around him tight because there was no one else in the store and he knew, he always knew when Steve was having a bad day.

Steve sagged a little, pressing his face to Eddie’s neck, breathing him in, hands curling in the soft material of his Metallica t shirt.

“You still wanna go out, sweetheart?” Eddie whispered.

Steve nodded, most of the motion lost due to the fact he was practically burrowed into Eddie.

Eddie kept a hand on him the whole way to the diner. Whether it was holding his hand in the car, or allowing their pinkies to just brush as they walked side by side to the diner, or the gentle grip on the back of Steve’s shirt as they rounded the corner and saw the large queue outside the diner.

Steve’s stomach dropped.

He liked the diner.

It was familiar, he knew the menu by heart, he knew what he liked and the staff were friendly and happy to swap out a couple of the things on his plate because he always preferred his sauce on the side and he didn’t like tomato in his burger, and the music was never too loud and the lights were just dim enough that they didn’t irritate him to hell and back.

They hadn’t bothered to book tonight because it was never usually this crowded.

“I’m gonna go see what’s happening,” Nancy announced, striding past the queue towards the door.

Steve swallowed, shifted from foot to foot.

Eddie leaned in. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” he breathed, “if it’s too busy, we can go home, ok? We can come back another day.”

He nodded.

Nancy returned, looking mildly irritated. “It’s some special they’ve got on, you get your food half price before seven pm, it’s already completely full in there.”

Eddie tilted his head, contemplating. “We could come back after seven, when the crowd’s thinned out?”

Robin groaned. “I’m starving, I gave half my lunch to Steve because he forgot his.”

Eddie glanced at Steve, fingers brushing the back of his arm briefly.

“We could go to that new place?” Nancy suggested. “The one on the corner? It only opened last week, it might be quieter since half the town’s here.”

Eddie’s gaze flicked to Steve again. “Maybe we just go home, do this another day,” he said carefully.

Steve wanted to speak, found his mouth glued shut, pulse thrumming in his ears.

“It’s Mexican, right?” Robin asked excitedly. “Yes, can we go there? Please?”

Steve liked Mexican food - when he could cook it himself, or when he’d been somewhere before and knew exactly what to order. But he’d have to study the menu at this new place, have to no doubt awkwardly ask them to omit some ingredient or another and what if they didn’t like that, he didn’t want to complicate things or make it uncomfortable for the others, and what if they had the music up too loud and he wouldn’t know where the bathroom was to retreat to so he might have to ask but what if he couldn’t get words out…

“Steve?” Robin was saying.

“Mmm?”

“Can we go?”

“Sure,” he said, because he’d give Robin the world if he could.

Robin clapped her hands, darted ahead with Nancy.

Steve went to follow, but was stopped by Eddie’s hand on his wrist, turned to see him looking at Steve with concerned eyes.

“Stevie…lets go home, huh?”

Steve shrugged him off. Started to walk determinedly, because Robin was excited and she was bounding ahead and Nancy was smiling bright at her and he wasn’t going to ruin this even though he was currently swallowing back tears.

“Steve -”

“It’s fine,” Steve snapped. “It’s nothing, ok? We’re just going to a different fucking restaurant, it isn’t a big deal, ok?”

“Sweetheart, just breathe for a second, ok.”

“I don’t need to…I don’t need to fucking breathe, we need to get to the restaurant because we’re already later than we usually are which means we’ll get home later which means I’ll have to be quicker to get ready for bed tonight so I get to sleep on time so that I’m not so fucking tired tomorrow and -”

Eddie pulled him to his chest. Hugged him tight in the street, in view of any passerbys, because Steve was about to fall apart and there was no other option.

Steve was crying, was still stammering his way through his explanation, his world shrinking to just Eddie and his own heartbeat booming in his ears.

Faintly, as if underwater, he heard Robin and Nancy, their concerned voices saying his name, Eddie telling them he was going to take Steve home, that he was ok, that they should carry on to dinner and he’d call them later.

“…Mrs Brown, she was yelling at me and her voice makes my skin crawl and she wouldn’t stop yelling and everything’s so loud today -” Steve was whining into Eddie’s chest, as Eddie ran a hand over the back of his head, scrubbing his fingers through his locks in the way that Steve loved but right now he needed to get away from here, needed to go home.

“Shhh, baby,” Eddie murmured to him. “I’ve got ya, we’re gonna head back to the car, ok? You can come home with me, I’ll run you a bath if you want one and get you something to eat, ok?”

Steve nodded as best he could, followed Eddie back down the street.

“Robin -” he started, voice miserable as they approached his car, as he wordlessly handed the keys over to Eddie because they both knew he couldn’t drive in this state.

“ – will be fine,” Eddie told him gently, “she and Nancy will have a nice night, and we’ll hear about it tomorrow, ok?”

“I ruined it,” Steve sobbed, breath hitching.

“You didn’t,” Eddie insisted, opening the door for Steve and gently guiding him into the passenger seat. He reached over, clicked Steve’s belt in, pressed a brief kiss to the side of his head. “Sweetheart, you didn’t. You’re allowed to have a bad day, ok? Shit, you know I’ve had plenty, and you’ve looked after me every time. Let me look after you, ok?”

Eddie kept the music on a low volume as they drove to his trailer. Loud enough that Steve could hear it, that it softly filled the silence because silence would’ve been too loud right now, but quiet enough that it didn’t irritate him at all.

It was just right.

And Eddie had one hand on the wheel and one hand cradling Steve’s, rubbing circles into the skin over his knuckles, keeping Steve here, keeping him present.

Wayne was working a night shift, which was fortunate for them tonight. Not that Eddie’s uncle would’ve minded Steve being there in this state, but Steve hated anyone seeing him like this – the less people around right now, the better.

Eddie led him inside, sat him down on the couch, gently lifted Steve’s arms up above his head and peeled his t shirt off him.

Steve sighed in relief at the tag no longer itching his neck, and then Eddie was draping the throw from the back of the couch over his shoulders, the soft one Steve loved to burrow under while they watched movies.

Eddie lay down at the other end of the couch, gestured for Steve. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

Steve went. Draped himself over Eddie, fell into him easily, chest to chest. A soft noise escaped him when Eddie’s arms circled about his waist and squeezed, the pressure fucking lovely and Steve pushed his face into Eddie’s collar and hummed, index finger and thumb playing with a belt loop on his boyfriend’s jeans.

He wasn’t sure how long they lay like that. Eddie had turned the TV on at some stage, some nondescript show playing to give Steve a tiny bit of background noise. His eyes were closed, his breathing was evening out, his tears drying on his cheeks and on Eddie’s t shirt.

“Stevie?” Eddie whispered eventually. “Can I get you something to eat?”

“Toast?” Steve asked quietly, hopefully, his voice small.

Eddie smiled into his hair. “Sure.”

Steve tipped his head back a little, feeling groggy and heavy and slow but better, calmer. “And please can you -”

“- cut the crusts off?” Eddie chuckled softly. “’Course I will.”

Steve smiled tiredly. He didn’t always need his toast like that, but today was very much a no-crusts day.

“And then if you’re up to it I’d like to run you a bath, ok?”

Steve nodded, briefly unhappy when Eddie detangled himself from him, slipping out from under Steve carefully.

When he turned to head for the kitchen, Steve reached out, clutched at Eddie’ wrist.

“Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Stevie.”

___

#stranger things #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #autistic steve harrington

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron blurb (+18)

warnings: smart!reader (doesn't take shit) x bimbo!rafe <3; pope being an absolute menace (a smart one tho); mentions of sex but no actual p in v okay; written in lower cap bc i enjoy exploring the way i write and put sentences together lmao; this shit is football and y'all can argue with a wall <3 IT PAINS ME TO WRITE SOCCER Y'ALL BETTER APPRECIATE IT !!!

ps: this is just for fun cause someone asked me to post it (it was just a draft😬)

you’ve never been one for academic sports spirit.

what’s the point? okay, your school as incredible athletes, that’s good, but why the fuck would you kiss and praise the ground they walk on? you’re a fantastic student and no one gives a shit. why do they get all the glory while brainiacs get zilch?

the double standards piss you off. somehow academics always take the backseat to sports. maybe that explained your dislike towards jocks like rafe cameron.

up until sophomore year, you’d only heard about him, saw him occasionally around school. it was understandable why people talked about him so often. he looked like he’d just been ripped off a page of an abercrombie and fitch catalog, and apparently – you’d never attended a game to check – he was the best player on the team, playing forward. but, unlike many, you didn’t form an opinion about him until you met him. the veridic? total pain in your fucking ass.

ever since you two were paired in a class project together, an annual class at that, he suddenly took an interest in you, like you were some sort of exotic animal he’d never encountered in his life, only because you wouldn’t flirt with him. outrageous, never done before. for the first four months, it was just him laying on the cheesy pickup lines and you rolling your eyes so hard you thought they'd pop out of your head. eventually, rafe dialed it down and you were able to be civil, perhaps friends. if you could call it that.

wich is why, as his friend, you’re starting to lose your fucking patience. the season was not going well for his team. at all. there’s little to no chance they’re going to be able to win the championship.

not that you care, but apparently the whole school does. everyone seems to be on the verge of a meltdown.

“i swear to god if they lose to standford next week–“

“pope, will you kindly shut the fuck up? it’s just soccer.”

“just soccer?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at pope who looks at you like you’ve just shot someone, “can we study? peacefully?”

"it’s not just soccer! it's about school spirit, camaraderie, y’know?"

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "camaraderie? please. more like a bunch of testosterone-fueled egos chasing after a ball," you retort, disdain evident in your tone.

“you don't know what you're talking about. and i'm being dead serious, cameron’s been on edge lately. never seen him like this."

you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "yeah, well, losing does that to people. don't why you're complaining soooo much" you sigh, "i’m the one who has to put up with all the brooding and pouting.”

pope’s quiet. too quiet. you can picture the gears turning in his brain as he blankly stares at you. nothing good ever comes out of that.

“what?” you press, wondering if you have to break the school spirit out of him.

“you should fuck him. after or before, don't care. but you should."

you recoil, nearly tumbling out of your chair at pope's suggestion.

your eyes widen in disbelief, your mind struggling to process what he just said. for a moment, the room spins around you, and you feel like you’ve been thrust into some surreal alternate universe.

“what?! pope?" you finally manage to sputter, acting like you're about to go into cardiac arrest, "the fuck's wrong with you?"

“don’t look at me like that,” he merely shrugs, “that man is depressed. he needs to get laid if he’s going to win something.“

you hardly think a guy like rafe is not getting laid every other day, but that’s irrelevant. your jaw drops, stunned by his audacity. "are you kidding me? you don’t even like him!”

“but i like winning!” he whines, all but pushing his books aside to place in his elbows on the table, “and he’s so obsessed with you it hurts watching. he’s like one of those little crusty white dogs always running after you.”

you shake your head in disbelief, "he does it to be funny, okay? he’s not actually interested.. t's just a joke”

your best friend only laughs, a raucous, almost maniacal sound that echoes through the room. he clutches his stomach, "just joking?" pope gasps out, his laughter still bubbling to the surface. "oh man. you're hilarious, honestly, wow."

you stare at him, lips set in a straight line, feeling like you missed the entire joke. "what's so funny?"

pope wipes away a fake tear, trying to compose himself. "he almost ripped a new one to jj after he pulled that stunt last semester.”

your eyebrows knit together in skepticism. “and? i still don’t follow.”

rafe and jj couldn’t stand each other. both are incredible athletes and everyone always gushes about how great they are together on the field. outside, however? not so much. they don't mix. ever.

“and?! why do you think jj randomly talked about you in the locker room?”

“because he’s a horny creep and got a kink for fist fights with undressed men?”

you love jj. really, you do. but sometimes he’d win a lot more if he just kept his mouth shut or thought before speaking. you've lost count of how many times that boy has been suspended.

pope leans in, his tone low and conspiratorial, “cameron practically threatened to rearrange jj's face if he ever mentioned you again.”

you narrow your eyes, “nop. you’re making that up.”

pope shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. "nah, i'm dead serious.”

your mind races, trying to piece it all together. while your brain always clicks instantly in class, feelings...emotions are a little more complicated to grasp sometimes.

"wait, so you're saying he actually cares about me?"

he nods, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "yep.”

“seriously?”

pope chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "head over heels. you’re our school’s only hope.”

your brain's on overdrive trying to process pope's bombshell revelation. rafe cameron, the big-shot jock, actually giving a fuck about you? it's like some twisted plot line from a teen drama. you didn’t see this one coming. but then again, you hardly pay attention to anything outside academics.

“so what? ’m supposed to fuck the mediocrity out of him?”

he grins, clapping you on the shoulder, “there’s that school spirit!”

you slap his hand away, “oh fuck off. ‘m being serious.”

he’s still grinning like he just cracked the code to life. "come on, hear me out. it's like a strategic move, y’ know? boost his morale, boost the team's performance. win-win."

you roll your eyes, not buying into his scheme. "yeah, because my sex habilities are definitely the key to winning soccer games."

he shrugs, undeterred. "it's not like you'd be doing it for him. it's all about the greater good."

you scoff, rearranging your notes for the millionth time, "this isn't some feel-good sports movie."

it’s not like you never thought about rafe. sure, he's a yapping idiot around you most of the time, but every time you need help or an extra hand, he’s always the first one to offer. that has to count for something, right?

“the ball’s in your court.”

yeah it is.

truth to be told, you’ve been sick and tired of rafe acting like a loser over soccer. what was the point in whining about it if he wasn’t going to try and do better? god, you'd never seen him like this before and it's been irking you to beyond. even more now that pope mentioned it again.

at this point, you just want to march up to him, shake him and make it come to his senses. you can’t even remember that last time he tried to hit on you. that’s how bad it is! the memory is buried under the weight of his brooding.

so maybe….maybe pope's onto something, y'know? maybe there's more to it than just you and rafe. and yeah, okay, you're not exactly thrilled about the idea of hopping into bed with him, but only because you’d hate the attention that comes along with his name.

but...a part of you is weirdly intrigued. not because you're dying to be his next conquest, but because you're just done with watching him drown in his own misery. maybe this could be the wake-up call he needs. a swift kick in the ass to snap him out of his funk.

you wouldn’t be doing out of selfish reasons! school spirit and all. you’d be doing everyone a favor. and you wouldn't need to blame it on yourself if things went downhill.

you had pope for that.

which is why you’re standing in front of rafe's room in his frat.

a jock and a frat boy? charming. you’ve certainly hit the jackass lottery. but you’ve been here before. he always saved the day when the library was packed or when your roommate was too busy fucking her boyfriend in your dorm room. this was weirdly your safe place to work.

taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles against the door, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. it's not about you! get a grip.

the door swings open, and there's the fucker, all brooding and rugged, like he just walked off the set of a sports movie. you roll your eyes at the cliché, but there's something weird about the way he looks at you. or maybe the tight wife-beater is doing a number on you.

you still notice the bags underneath his swollen eyes.

there's a flicker of surprise in him, like he wasn't expecting to see you, out of everyone in this school, standing there and you can't blame him; after all, you're not exactly a regular visitor to the frat house, only when your academic needs force you to.

“hey?”

“you look like shit, cameron.”

rafe's eyebrows raise in surprise at your blunt remark, “uh, what?”

you roll your eyes resisting the urge to scoff. "can i come in or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot all day?”

rafe chuckles, stepping aside to let you into his room, “come on in.”

you step inside, taking in the cluttered room with a mixture of amusement and mild disgust. it was never this bad before, you know rafe’s a clean freak and this? this is not him. but it is exactly how you imagined a frat boy's room would look like—dirty.

there’s laundry strewn across the floor, empty beer cans littering the desk, and a distinct musky smell lingering in the air. you shake your head in disbelief, shooting rafe a disapproving look.

"what are you? a divorced forty-five-year-old man?”

rafe laughs at your comment, though there's a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he scratches the back of his neck. "yeah, i know. sorry about that."

he’s doing worse than what you realized and it tugs a little at your heartstrings.

you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced by his apology. "sorry doesn't cut it, cameron. you should be ashamed of yourself.”

"okay, fair point. i'll clean up, promise."

“not just your stupid room. i mean your whole attitude. you've been moping around like a loser!”

rafe's expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his features. "hey, ‘m not—"

"don't even try to deny it," you interrupt, not backing down. "everyone’s noticed. you’re pissing me off.”

you don’t know why you’re suddenly so tempted to give him the scolding of a lifetime, but there’s just something about seeing someone with so much potential and drive wasting it all away without a fight. it’s not like him.

and by the kicked-puppy look on his face, you can tell he's not used to being called out so openly. but you're dead set on breaking through to him, no matter how awkward it gets.

“see! you’re just staring at me like—like, a fucking idiot!”, you fire off, frustration lacing your tone. the irony of the situation isn't lost on you. “will you speak for gods sake? for more than five seconds? i spent months trying to get you to shut up and now you do?”

rafe's stunned expression makes you second guess your approach for a moment, but you push the feeling aside, knowing you can't afford to let sympathy cloud your purpose here.

“why are you mad at me?”

you can't believe he's still clueless after all this time.

"why am i mad at you?" you repeat incredulously, feeling the irritation rising your my chest. "seriously, rafe? have you even looked in the mirror lately?"

he blinks at you, his confusion evident, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"you've been moping around like the world's about to end.”

rafe's brows furrow even further, and for a moment, you wonder if he's playing dumb or if he genuinely has no idea what you’re talking about. "i don't—uh, i don't understand," he finally stammers out, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

that’s it.

you’re gonna pull the feelings card and hope it doesn’t backfire.

“do you like me?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

rafe snorts as he lifts his finger to scratch his face, “course i do. pretty obvious.”

for a second you get a glimpse of the real rafe and it soothes you inside.

“and you want to fuck me?”

you’ve never seen him look so gobsmacked in his life, you’d laugh in his face if it wasn’t such a serious matter.

“what?” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. you can’t believe the rafe cameron is blushing. over you.

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "do you want to fuck me? do i need to spell it out for you?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, and you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at finally catching him off guard, “’m sorry? is this—are you…is this for punk’d?”

"punk'd? seriously, rafe?" you snap, incredulous that he would think this is some sort of prank, “it’s 2024.”

rafe's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, and he stammers again "no, i mean— i just...didn't expect you to— uhh”

“yes or no.”

rafe blinks at you before breathing out, “yes.”

“okay. so win your next match and you will.”

he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, exhaling through his nose, trying to keep his agitation to a minimum. “what?”

“i’m sick and tired of this version of you. i need you to win, and if this” you gesture to the both of you with your hand, “is your motivation, then we’re doing it.”

"y’serious?" he takes a step closer, his demeanor suddenly more serious, “me and you?”

you nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilt your head up to look at his features, “dead serious. and it’s not just you and me. it’s for the team, and for the school spirit or whatever nonsense pope keeps going on about."

rafe lets out a small chuckle, a hint of his usual cocky confident demeanor returning. "is that so? can't say no to that kind of motivation."

“i figured.”

he reaches out a hand, his fingers lightly grazing the strands of your hair, eyes fixed on your lips. "are there any rules?”

you swallow hard, feeling your heart race at his touch. “no, just win.”

rafe's lips curl into a playful smirk— the money-making smirk that makes you want to punch him and kiss him, not necessarily in that order — as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"never would've guessed you'd be the one to offer yourself as my motivation, though," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, "i'm surprised."

you try to maintain your composure, but his proximity is making it increasingly difficult to think straight. "just doing what needs to be done," you manage to stammer out, trying to sound perfectly unaffected by his words.

rafe chuckles softly, his hand still lingering in your hair as he leans back slightly to look at you. "my pretty prize, huh?" he says, his tone teasing as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you feel a flush spread across your features at his boldness. you blame him entirely for this side of you. without thinking, you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek, tips pressings against his skin lightly.

“just win the fucking match, cameron."

rafe's nasty smirk widens into a heart-stopping, soul-gripping grin as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

"consider it done."

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron au #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fic #rafe imagine #bimbo!rafe #smart!reader #soccer!rafe #frat!rafe #rafe blurb

[realjungkook]

Too Busy Being Yours

Keigo Tamaki (Hawks)/Reader

Note: first smut (except that one omegaverse i did with my friend on Ao3, but please bear with me, this is probably bad.) Anyway!

Warnings: 18+ (pretty vanilla), Not proofread

Summary: You don't like Hawks, until a late night of unexpected, Passionate events take place.

Word count: 1857

Enjoy!

Your heels click on the floor as you try to follow Hawks’ quick steps. His long legs makes it difficult to follow him while wearing stilettos. The pile of papers are tightly pressed against your chest, as you desperately try not to drop them. You’re barely looking where you’re going, and almost hit two people. Hawks is pulling you along by your arm, and he’s the only reason you haven’t hit anything yet. 

“Can you slow down?” You hiss between your teeth. He turns his head, a cocky smile perched on his lips. 

“Can’t keep up?”

You roll your eyes. Hawks was always teasing you in the worst situations possible, when you were least in the mood for it. 

“I told you we had to leave earlier.”

“Whatever you say.” He turns back. You’ll be there soon. 

Hawks always had a tack for being late. Being his assistant was by far the most stressful job you’ve ever had. And his constant jokes and cheerfulness were draining sometimes. Even if it was uplifting when you’d had a bad morning. 

You finally get to the interview, in a small apartment on a street corner. You stop to catch your breath, sweat immediately collecting on your brow. Of course, Hawks was irritatingly unaffected. 

“See ya later, darling,” he winks, and you shake your head, ignoring him. You were stressed. This interview gave you a bit of time to focus on all the paperwork you were behind on. 

You of course, don’t see Hawks’ smile quickly fading when he realises you weren’t really affected by his teasing. Funny. He wasn’t used to that. 

Hawks rising in popularity meant more paperwork for you. And paperwork for a top 3 hero wasn’t something that could wait until morning. A headache had been forming behind your forehead for the past two hours and it was simply getting too hard to ignore. You sigh, pushing out your chair, getting up to get yourself another cup of coffee. Was this your fifth today? Your seventh? It doesn’t matter, anyway. The only thing filling your brain is heroes, interviewers and media. The tiredness wasn’t allowed to nudge its way in. You couldn’t afford that. 

You’re so lost in thought, you don’t feel the presence sneaking up on you. Only when two warm hands grab your shoulders and you shriek, heart jumping in your throat. 

“What are you doing here so late?” And oh, it’s just Hawks. You groan, pushing his hand away. 

“Fuck off.” 

You turn to walk away again, suddenly forgetting what it was you came for. But Hawks isn’t giving up so easily. 

“Aww, come on, humour me.”

You’ve had enough. 

You turn around, grabbing his collar in anger. Of course, he doesn’t budge an inch. But it certainly feels good, and you’re tired and irritated, frustrated and angry. And you just… explode. 

“Don’t test me! This has been too long of a day… a week… a month… a year for that matter. You’ve tested my limits every day, for however long I have worked for you, I’m so fucking sick of being your plaything. You don’t respect me, you don’t respect my work-”

“Y/n.”

“You don’t seem to care for how I’m doing, just constantly putting more pressure on me. You never take a moment to stop and think. Maybe you’re not the fucking only person in the world.”

“Y/n.”

“Maybe, for just a second, could you care about someone that isn't you. And maybe, just maybe, would you think it isn’t my job to take care of you when you’re alone or sad, I’m your assistant for god's sake, you big!… fucking!… man baby!”

“Y/n! Oh my god, listen!”

You push him back. “But you never listen to me!”

Hawks’ eyes are wild. He looks flabbergasted, as surprised as you’ve ever seen him. But his open mouth slowly forms into a smirk. Your stomach drops. Whether it’s in anticipation, fear, or maybe even excitement, you don’t know. 

“Oh but I do. About the things that are important.”

You tsk. “What things?”

He looks too smug, as he starts to speak. 

“I know that you deeply hate the guy from block 1.”

You stare at him with wide eyes. 

“I do not-”

He laughs. “Don’t play smart. You frown everytime he opens his mouth during meetings, and always object when he has an idea. It’s obvious.”

Obvious, yet only you’ve noticed. 

It’s your turn to look flabbergasted now. 

“Okay, so maybe he’s not my favourite person in the world, you’re right about that.”

Hawks smiles. 

“And you never wear your hair up. I take it you don’t like the sensation.”

It had never really caught your attention, just how much notice Hawks took of you, compared to how little you took of him. You’re borderline speechless. This always happens to everyone around you. His fans, coworkers, but never you. You 're never affected. The man takes notice, and he suddenly seems closer than before. 

“Cat got your tongue?”

If this were five minutes ago, you would’ve sighed and rolled your eyes. But now, you’re silent. 

“I just- I didn't know.”

His fingers find Your neck and goosebumps travel through your whole body. 

“Didn't know what? That I like you?”

Your immediate reaction is of course, denial. 

“That doesn't make any sense. Why would a pro hero be into someone like-”

But you don't get to finish, as he suddenly pulls you close. 

“I’m going to kiss you. That okay?”

 You’re so surprised that you just freeze, staring up into his big, owlish eyes. You can’t tell what kind of emotion hides behind them. 

“Okay,” you whisper, feeling the desire pull in your chest, more intense than you’d ever experienced. Before you get to take another breath, Hawks lips are on yours, soft and wanting, like this is the last time he’s going to kiss you. You really hope that’s not the case. 

Breathing is the last thing on your mind as your mouths passionately move together. You’re clutching his shirt hard, and you can feel his erection growing against you. 

“I wanna eat you out,” he says, biting your earlobe. The surprisement from all of this has still not entirely passed, but you’ve decided to just go with it. 

“Please,” you moan, and it comes out a lot more desperately than you’d anticipated. You clumsy move towards your desk, his lips sucking eagerly on your neck as you both try to unzip your skirt. He hits a spot on the end of your neck that feels incredibly ticklish and good, and you moan a bit too eagerly as he desperately pushes all of the papers off of your desk in one swipe. 

You feel a stab of irritation in your chest, and is about to give him a piece of your mind, before he pushes you down with practised ease. His incredible strength really comes to sight in a situation like this. It turns you on a lot more than you’d thought it would. you seem to get surprised a lot today.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”

You’re pretty sure he’d be able to spread them just fine himself, but you still listen, flinching a bit when the cold air hits your aching cunt. You’re so wet already that it’s almost embarrassing. 

He grips your thighs securely, kissing up your inner thighs. You’re so wet that you can feel the slick dripping down to your asshole. 

As soon as he gets started, Hawks is unstoppable. He eats you out like he’s starving. You’re too gone to be embarrassed about the wet squelching sounds, as he eagerly sucks your clit with the confidence of an experienced man. Your legs are shaking, and you’re sure that there will be marks tomorrow from where his fingers grip your thighs tightly. 

“Don’t, ngh- don’t stop!” you loudly breathe out, voice trembling as you, to your utmost surprise, suddenly cum. Everything feels overwhelming as he stops, lifting his head, his whole underface covered in your wetness. 

“You’re acting like I would ever,” he says, a bit out of breath. You can’t deny your attraction to him anymore, especially in a moment like this. “You taste too sweet,” his voice drops an octave as he leans closer to your face, breathing against your lips. “You can’t imagine how long I've wanted to do this. I could go on all night, until you’re completely dry. And then in the morning, I want to fuck you until my body gives out.”

That would take a while, especially with the incredible stamina he has, you think, feeling as if you’re in some kind of pleasant haze. 

“You don’t know how feral I am for you, y/n. It’s scaring even myself.”

You stare up at him in surprise, suddenly unsure of what to do. But you don’t need to be sure about anything, as Hawks leads you through it. 

He pulls orgasm after orgasm out of you, as you wonder how you’re even able to take this. On an uncomfortable desk at that. But true to his word, you’re riding him like you’ve never ridden anyone ever before in his apartment a few hours later as the earliest sunlight start to stream through the curtains. 

Hawks face is pulled back in pleasure as he slides his hands up your hips, shamelessly studying your bouncing breasts. 

“You’re so good for me,” he grumbles, and you let out a pleased whine at the praise. The sheets under you are soaked, but with the way Hawks is praising and caressing you, you feel like you could go on forever. 

His mouth drops open, and you can tell that he’s about to cum. You increase your pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin getting impossibly louder. You just hope the neighbours won’t complain tomorrow. 

It’s incredibly thrilling, having the famous pro hero in the palm of your hand like this.

“I’m going to cum,” He warns, and not even a second later, warmth suddenly fills your belly as his white seeds coat your walls. You cum yourself only seconds later, resisting the urge not to scream as you feel his cum dribble down onto the sheets, your body spasming with the shocks. You hold back a wince at the distant thought that you’d maybe scratched his back a bit too hard. You’ll have to remember to ask him later if he’s okay. But for now, you can barely keep your eyes open. 

“Can we stay like this for a little while?” He asks, and you nod faintly, resting your head on his shoulder. Not a single thought passes behind your eyes, only the warmth of your bodies sticking together and Hawks, Hawks, Hawks. 

You didn’t care about the mess. Right now, you only cared about him. And that was enough.

#my hero academia #hawks x reader #smut #hawks smut #female reader #f reader #keigo takami #mha takami keigo #bnha keigo #keigo x reader #keigo tamaki #mha x reader #mha smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #keigo smut #keigo x you #keigo x y/n #mha hawks #hawks mha #bnha hawks #hawks #takami keigo

[changisworld]

Hii, I've got a request in mind, thinking about Hannie but ain't not sure if it fits Seungmin too (that "honey can you bring my towel" scene he acted at that tv show lives rent free in my mind), so it's a first time thing + shy reader + he puts her hand on his hard on (Idk I feel like they give such a sneaky vibe, in a moment you're laughing with him and the next you're underneath him). Steamy make out, dry humping, handjob, whatever you feel more fitting, just pls don't let poor bb with them blue balls 👀

Little note: can I be 🍦 anon? ❤

MY BABY 🍦im so sorry its taken almost 3 months to write this:( better late than never though! i hope it was semi worth the wait<3

i had no idea what you were referring to so i had to go on tiktok n find it n i THINK i know what youre talking about!

Word count;2,760

18+, MDNI SMUT WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here.

SMUT WARNINGS: PIV, whiny hannie, handjob, fingering(f rec), spit, creampie, dry humping, teasing, hannie & y/n are both subby?, slightly nervous hannie, tit play, slight mommy kink

You're currently sitting on your new boyfriend, Han jisungs bed while he showers in his small bathroom connecting to his bedroom & you're just scrolling through tiktok as he belts out whatever song that's playing from his phone without a care in the world.

You've been dating Jisung for around 3 months but you both have agreed that you can both see it going long term, much to both of your happiness!

You've warmed up to Jisung a whole bunch, being a whole lot more shy before meeting him & he was just as much as a nervous person as you are, but you've both brought out the best in one another. But, because you're both a bit more reserved, you've been a bit too scared to make the first move. You've kissed countless times & he has slipped a finger in once or twice, but nothing else past that, him not wanting to push any more boundaries.

You're just watching some of those true crime tiktoks, sprawled out on top of the messy, unmade bedsheets, not realising the shower had turned off until you hearing Jisung kissing his own teeth & groaning.

"Y/nnie? Can you go into my closet n gimme a towel, I've forgotten mine!" Han yells through the door, dragging out the last syllable & you just hum in response before dragging yourself to where he stores his clothes, towels & blankets & grabbing the first one you see.

"Open the door then Sungie!" you cheer, fingers fidgeting with the material. Jisung slowly opens the door & pokes his head out, not wanting to show anything non PG, he pinches the towel out of your hand but doesn't bother to fully close the door over again as he tries to tie it around his waist before awkwardly chuckling.

"Y/nnie, uh, I usually just.. air dry? after showering & I genuinely have no idea how to tie it like how girls do! If you... don't mind could you tie it for me? Or you can just bring me some sweatpants n I can change in here!" He splurges out, almost being able to hear his heartbeat through the door separating you both.

"You'll just stay damp in there since the steam is hitting me in the face, yeah I can.. I can tie it for you." you reply, trying to sound confident. You give him the time to hold the towel around him & you slowly push open the door, the smell of the shampoo & body wash he used still strong in the air.

You give him a smile & a small giggle, which he gladly mirrors & you take the top part of the towel & tightening it before tucking it in, making it stay put without the need to hold it with his hands anymore.

As you do this though, you realise the towel is a bit of an odd size, it being a bit small despite it being wrapped around his tiny waist, showing off his growing bulge through the tight DIY now skirt he is wearing & you can't help but blush.

"Oi! Don't look! I said I don't use towels I didn't realise they're a horrible size!" as he covers the growing tent under the towel, his chubby cheeks going red as his big eyes look at you & you just laugh but your eyes can't stop trailing down to his now fidgeting hands.

"You're so dramatic Sungie, It's hot in a way, you're so unaware it's funny." You giggle, your fingers pinching his cheeks & he blushes even more before his hands move from where they were perched to swat your fingers away, but as he does so, his towel of course begins to slip & you both realise at the same time, your hands & his hands racing to stop it from falling.

Your hands reach the towel first & you grab it & his hands cup over yours & you both realise instantly, you're cupping over his now even more hardening cock, his own hands keeping you there.

You both look up at your hands at the same time then back up at each other, both of your eyes wide open. He quickly removes his hands from yours, but to both of your surprise, you don't move your hands away.

"Y/nnie, you gonna move your hands or what?" he questions, his voice full of shock. You snap back into reality when he says this & your hands whip away from him, holding them up to your chest.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know you wouldn't lik-" you rush out. "hey hey hey! I didn't not like it, I liked it as much as any other guy would! I just didn't think you would be so bold or ballsy I guess?!" he cuts you off, using one hand to hold the towel around his waist as he is waving the other hand around, trying to get his point across.

You blush at what he says & you pause for a moment, but when you can't really think of a verbal response, you give a physical one instead, & you move your hand to lightly cup him again which makes his hips twitch as he looks at you, his jaw slightly open.

You move your hand slightly, getting a bit of a better feel & he instantly gets harder under your touch & he stutters & you just giggle again at him, looking at his features, watching for the reaction he's giving.

"Is this alright, Sungie?" you ask as you take the extra mini step & lean in to his neck & give it a quick peck before looking into his eyes, smiling at his pretty face. "Y-yeah, can we not do this in the bathroom though? ruins the mood, unless you wanna get back in the shower with me?" he jokes, trying to sound confident despite him absolutely freaking out inside.

You nod your head & take his hand & you both walk back into the bedroom & you straddle him once the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, him flopping down. "Can I.. remove this? We don't need to though, Hannie." you murmur out, cupping his cheeks.

"Mhmm, please, please please." he pleads before he pushes on the back of your head & he kisses you, his tongue not taking long to begin poking into your own. At the same time, you raise your hips just enough so you can paw the towel away, now leaving him bare beneath you, which makes you think your heart is going to come out of your mouth.

You slowly grind over his cock with your covered core in a slow motion as you deepen the kiss, Jisung letting out a small groan at the contact & his hips buck up when you allow a shaky hand to wrap around his already somehow leaky cock & you begin jerking it at a good pace, his lips involuntarily breaking away from yours for a second, drool completely coating his lips & chin by this point.

"This okay f'you?" you tease, his reactions already giving away the fact that it's more than okay, he just lets out another small whine before moving his head up enough to kiss you again, his hips bucking up into your hand & his precum coating parts of your hand, his tip completely shiny.

You grind down on his upper thighs as you jerk him off, your own little pants swapping between your lips as you get a bit, but no way near enough friction for you to fully get off on.

Hans breathing begins to speed up & become slightly erratic & he moves his fingers from the back of your hair & he rests them on your hips, helping you grind, but not long after, he is fiddling with the waistband & you take the hint, you break your lips from his & take the few seconds to wiggle off your pants, leaving you in your plain cotton panties & Jisungs shirt you stole.

Hi big boba eyes, completely blown out, stare up at you in awe & he sits up, his face level with your covered tits. "Can I take this off too, y/nnie?" he asks & the second you give the okay, he gets rid of it before you have the time to blink, letting out a strained grunt at the fact you aren't wearing a bra.

Once you're left in just your underwear, Jisung flips you over so he is between your legs, leaning over you & he basically has his eyes glued to your now pebbled nipples & he has to bite his lip to avoid drooling all over them & you giggle at his reaction, your cheeks going red with a mix of nerves, slight embarrassment from his eyes burning into you & also love.

Jisung makes his way down slightly so he is level with your chest & he simply admires your tits as his left hand now rests on your inner thigh, thumb caressing it.

"Can I touch you, jagi? We don't need to go any further." he asks for reassurance. "Hannie, stop asking, I'm dying for it, please." you respond, your hips jerking up to convince him. He blushes more than he already is & he lets his fingers trail onto your covered core as he runs his finger up & down your slit, making you bite your lip, trying to not moan too loudly.

"Don't silence yourself jagi, don't be nervous, it's just me." he says in a sweet tone as his fingers move your underwear to the side, happy with himself with the wet spot he caused on the fabric.

His fingers begin spreading your wetness on your slit, making sure to prolong an extra few seconds of attention on your clit before he enters one finger into your dripping hole, a small squelch noise being made from it & your back slightly arching off the bed, Jisung not being able to hold back the smirk now spreading across his lips as he lets his lips latch onto your nipple.

"O-oh shit! Sungie, right there." you whimper, your fingers weaving into his hair as you spread your legs a bit more & wiggling your hips, trying to get his finger impossibly deeper.

He decides to add a second finger as he finds your G-spot & your breath hitches in your throat & your eyes scrunch shut, pulling his hair, him moaning into your tit along with you.

You feel your orgasm beginning to build up as you can both feel yourself clenching around his now two fingers. "Sungie, lie down, wanna cum with you." you whimper, trying your hardest to concentrate enough to speak an actual sentence.

Jisung unlatches himself from your tit & pulls his now soaked fingers out of your cunt, much to his displeasure. He crawls his way to the top of the bed & rests his head on the pillows & you are quick to follow behind him, straddling him again before leaning down to kiss him.

"Can I put it inside? Wanna feel you." He pleads, glossy eyes looking up at you as his hands are resting on your waist. "What's the magic word?" you decide to tease, your fingers reaching down to fondle his balls, making his eyebrows furrow & another bead of precum dripping down his cock.

"Pleaseee, mommy please, please let me." he begs, not being able to stop his ears going bright red as his fingers move their way to your ass, kneading the flesh in his hands as his hips keep buck up into you.

You are caught slightly by surprise by the 'mommy' part of the sentence, but you also know it's exactly something he & now also you're into.

You decide to not let him wait any longer as you're also itching for him to fill you up, your wetness leaving a small slick patch of where you were straddling as you raise your hips & Jisung grabs his pretty dick & runs it over your folds, making you jolt, before aligning himself up with your hole & you begin to slide him inside.

You sink down until you can't anymore & you both hiss at the feeling, him already resting against your spongey spot & the warmth of you wrapped around him making his mind spill.

You raise your hips slightly & then sink back down, setting a slow but pleasurable pace as small moans begin escaping your lips, jisungs eyes completely stuck to you, simply admiring you.

Drool escapes his lips & dribbles down the side of his cheek, his tongue poking out his jaw dropped mouth ever so often as you both share moans.

"Yo-you're so tight jagi, mind is n-oh m, fuck." Jisung babbles, his hands helping your thrusts by moving your ass up & down as his hips jerk up to also meet you in the middle, making you squeal.

You place your hands on his shoulders as you begin to quicken your pace, trying your best to ignore the stinging pain in your thighs as you do so.

Jisung sits himself up against the headboard, making sure to not slip out of you as he settle you both in the similar but different position. You begin grinding on his cock & slowly bouncing as Jisung reaches to begin suckling on your nipple again as his fingers begin to fondle your other tit, making you moan.

"Y-you're filling me so well, Sungie" you whimper as your motions find the best spot where his cock can reach & picking up your speed.

Jisung lets out a loud 'uumph' as his tip hits into your soft spot, making your belly go hot inside, but he can feel your speed slowing. Jisung unlatches from your now spit covered nipple & blows some cold air on it before he repositions you both, helping you lay on your stomach & you lift your hips so your ass is in the air for him, which makes him groan.

"Sungie, put it back in, wanna make you cum." you implore, wiggling your ass in front of him to convince him, which works as he swallows a choked moan before lining himself back up with your sopping cunt & sliding back in.

You both let out a moan in unison as Jisung begins to pick up his pace, trying his best to not throw his head back from the new position & angle, looking down at the way your ass ripples every time his hips hit against it & he can feel his orgasm building up instantly.

You both keep babbling, mostly to yourselves, his pace just right so you can't stop clenching, your knuckles turning white from gripping the bedsheets, your cheek pressed against the bed.

"S-sung- I'm gonna c-cum." you yelp, eyes rolling to the back of your head, Jisungs cock got a white ring against the base of his cock, being able to quite literally hear the wetness coming from between your legs.

"S-me too, clenching t-too much, w-wher-" "Inside, inside Hannie." you are quick to cut him off, rushing the words out just in time before your orgasm bubbles over, your legs getting weak & if it wasn't for Jisung holding onto your hips. As soon as your cunt begins to spasm around him, his own release hits him & his cum paints the inside of your walls white, basically squealing as the pleasure washes over him, his bottom lip all puffy from how much he has been biting it.

He pulls out & slowly helps you lay down fully on your stomach before he lets himself flop down too, straddling your ass & his face level with yours.

You both stay like this, him turning his head slightly to kiss your earlobe, his fingers moving the hair out of your face.

"You wanna get back in the shower then?" you murmur, getting your breath back, chuckling.

"I wouldn't mind that, we are sticking to each other, but I wouldn't mind staying like this." he hums back, smiling to mostly himself as he shuts his eyes, inhaling the smell of your skin, your perfume still a bit faint on your skin after all this time.

"n a mommy kink, Sungie? Who woulda thought." you tease, giggling. "Hey! if you liked it then who cares, its hot." he replies, him trying to hide the slight fluster in his voice.

->Anon list is open!

->Taglist is open!

#skz smut #stray kids #han jisung #han jisung smut #jisung smut #han jisung x reader #kpop smut #smut #han jisung fluff #skz #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #straykids x reader #straykids #straykids imagines

[apollosfavkiddo]

⛧° he just needs love

summary: jason needs a little love from his overworked girlfriend

request: here!

warnings: fluff, jason is a golden retriever, a little of jason’s traumatizing childhood

word count: idk

now listening to… treat people with kindness - harry styles

y/n was used to staying up late. whether it was to finish an assignment, to study, to put order on her cohort… it didn’t matter. but she was already used to it.

usually, she had no company. she actually preferred it that way - no one would bother her or distract her study sessions.

but sometimes she accepted an extra with her. this night’s plus one was her amazing boyfriend and his insomnia.

“y/nnnnnnn, when are you going to finish iiiittt?” the blond asked, pouting and making puppy eyes at the girl.

“soon, amor, i promise. i just need to finish a few reports. give me ten minutes, ‘kay?” the brazilian explained, smiling softly at the taller boy in front of her.

“fine.” he muttered and laid back down on her bed, playing with her stuffed wolf.

one minutes and a half later, the boy pulled her chair back and looked at her with the most adorable puppy eyes in existence.

“y/n, take a lil break, please?” he begged, pouting at his girlfriend.

she just sighed, but soon smiled and got up from her chair. “alright, make room.” she said, and scooted closer to him in the bed.

the boy smiled with his win and moved to the other side. she hoped in the bed and went closer to him, placing his head on her chest and caressing his hair.

they stayed like that for a few minutes, basking in the comfort of being together, until she felt a wet spot in her shirt and jason sobbing.

he was crying? why?

“hey, hey, amor, o que aconteceu?” (what happened?) she asked, cupping his cheeks and wiping away his tears.

“i just… i’m not used to this, you know.” he muttered, wiping away his tears and smiling softly at her. “with being caressed and loved like you do.”

y/n felt her heart breaking for him, because how could a kid cry because he got what he deserved his whole life? so she just kissed his lips and smiled at him.

“oh, jase. i’ll love you whenever you need me to, baby.” she whispered, kissing his tear stained cheeks. “you deserve all the love in the world. nothing less than that, you hear me? nothing. you’re too sweet for this world, amor.”

“i love you, you know that right?” he asked, looking up at her with literal heart eyes.

“of course i do. and you should know that i love you twice as much.” she said, pulling him close to her and caressing his hair.

“mhm, mhm, sure you do.” he muttered, smiling in her chest and just laying against her, feeling the most comfortable he’s felt in ages.

let’s just say that she didn’t finish her reports that night, but it was definitely worth it.

a/n: sorry it took me so long to write this, but i really hope you enjoy it!

#all my love 🍀 #postcards from leah #jason grace #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo #jason grace x reader #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x you