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l13 · 10 months

Text

bitter

dunno what brought this on but reader has good taste;P also let's pretend that lyla is team reader x miguel for plot reasons

word count: 2.3k

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+, MDNI, f!reader, ex!miguel, aged up bf!hobie<3, miguel has some v descriptive sexual thoughts about you (p in v sex, f!receiving oral), swearing, jealousy, ANGSTTT

English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any misspells, errors or grammatically incorrect sentences.

Miguel often thinks about how he ended up giving in to his desires and starting a situationship with you, how he regrets it when he can tell how you've fallen for him. How your eyes crinkle when you smile at him, looking at him like he hung the moon. He regrets it because that's how he looks at you as well.

Why’d you have to ask him on that stupid date?

“That’d be unprofessional.” is what Miguel had said in reply. Because it was the truth. You were only fucking, nothing more.

You’d scoffed, “Oh come on, Miguel, we’re not office workers. Surely we can go out together?”

“What, fucking me ain’t enough for you?”

You'd huffed, your expression dull, shaking your head in disbelief, “No, actually, it isn’t. I genuinely like you, is that so bad?”

Miguel had ignored the flip his stomach did at your confession “You know why we can’t, now drop it.”

“No, I want you to tell me why.”

“It’s not in the canon” He cringes every time he remembers what he’d said, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was right. He was, but fuck, how he wanted to be wrong. He so desperately wanted it to be him that you were meant to fall in love with, him you were meant to build a life together.

“Fuck the canon.” had been your reply, before you turned to walk away and he'd made no move to follow you.

He'd failed to ignore Lyla when she'd whistled, “That was painful even for me,”

“Jesus- can you not?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, can't interrupt your brooding time. I'm just saying. You prevented the woman of your dreams from falling in love with you, because she's meant to fall for someone else? But that's stupid- Your heart literally jumps when you see her-”

“Lyla I swear to God, if you don't stop talking-”

And now, as he stands in front of your house months later, waiting for you to answer the door, Miguel found himself to be annoyed. Annoyed that he hadn't gotten your mission report on time, and had to come and fetch it for himself.

Some sick, twisted part of his brain wanted you to have forgotten it on purpose, and ignored his calls in order for him to come over, maybe reconcile- fuck your brains out till you're begging him to take you back, even if it meant putting your feelings aside.

“She better be home,” Miguel hisses to himself, his hand massaging his temples, and he doesn't even flinch when Lyla shows up out of nowhere “Oh, she is. The thermal scan picks her up, see? Wait who’s-”

Miguel was thankful for the interruption, but what he saw when you opened the door was not at all what he expected, or was even prepared for.

You were practically naked, an oversized t-shirt covering your body, stopping just under your ass and- Jesus Christ were those thigh highs? Yes they were, pretty ones, too. They were sheer white tights, that ended just in the middle of your plush thighs, the material hugging your legs beautifully, the very top of them decorated with a lace material, giving them a sexy twist.

God, he'd get on his knees right here and now if you just asked-Miguel licked his lips and cleared his throat, quickly averting his gaze, praying that he doesn't appear flustered.

“Miguel! Are you okay? Is something wrong? Hey Lyla-” you seem out of breath as you talk, clearly not bothered by your lack of clothing in front of him. Lyla offers you a bright hello and wave, one you softly smile at.

No, he's not fucking okay.

“I'm great.” he hisses, but really he was trying to convince himself of it. You study him for a bit longer before humming, not believing him for a moment.

“I need the report from the mission that you were sent to do yesterday. The one you forgot to send me.” Miguel inhales sharply and stands taller, trying to hide the fact that your presence damages his brain functionality severely, by trying to look more intimidating.

Memories of last night flash in your mind suddenly, being pressed against your bookshelf, the furniture rattling loudly, books almost toppling to the floor, but you didn’t have the heart in you to care. Not when he was grinding up at you, hand under your thigh to keep you upright as you moaned against his mouth crossing your legs around his waist and bringing him closer, the sound of your watch beeping pulling you out of your trance, “Fuck, wait. T-the reports-”

He undid your watch expertly with one hand, and you gasped trying to snatch it from his grasp, but he held it up above your head, placing it on top of your bookshelf carelessly, before grabbing the top shelf to brace himself and grind himself harder against you, moaning under his breath, “Fuck ‘em.”

Your eyes widen comically, and you sputter, “Right! Shit- fuck. I'm sorry, umm, wait here.” and you slam the door right in his face. Miguel's eyebrow twitches.

There's shuffling from inside before Miguel realizes that you're talking to someone-

“Can you go in five minutes? Please?”

“Nah, ‘m afraid I need to go right now, love. Got things to do, places to be.”

“Can't you open up a portal here?”

“When there’s a perfectly usable front door? I don’ think so,” “C’mon pretty.. what are y’so afraid of?”

“He’s our boss.”

“He’s your ex. Now, if you’re ashamed to be seen with me, I get it-”

“No! Baby, no. I just don’t want to rub it in his face, don't want him to think that I am either,”

“But that’s so boring. Let’s make ‘im suffer, you’ll thank me later-”

“Hob-”

The door opens suddenly and Miguel could act surprised, could act like he’s been waiting for quite a while not knowing what’s going on inside, but he doesn’t. Not when he’s face to face with Hobie. Not when he obviously knows how good Miguel’s hearing is, how he could definitely hear every word that was spoken, not when you’d tried to be nice- tried to whisper and be subtle, not when Hobie blatantly did the opposite out of spite.

So he just stares ahead with a blank face, as Hobie leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest lazily. There’s a hickey on his neck and Miguel feels like he might throw up.

And somehow, Miguel still thinks that this is all some sick joke, a prank, a dream. Anything to explain what he's seeing. Because there’s no way you're dating Hobie. There’s no way you fucked Hobie fucking Brown- the single most annoying person in Miguel’s life (after peter, of course). And after what, only eight months after you stopped seeing him? That's how long it took for you to get over him? He can almost hear Lyla laughing in his head, 'You're just bitter that you're not over her yet'

Hobie smirks at him “Hello mate, long time no see.” Miguel at least has the human decency to offer him a curt nod, which Hobie apparently finds hilarious as he huffs out a laugh, “'S alright if I send my report later, right? I'm kind of exhausted right now, did a lot of runnin' yesterday, y'know,”

Lyla visibly winces and disappears a second later.

Running. Miguel needed breathing exercises and he needed them now-

Miguel's eyes snapped to yours. Were you just gonna let Hobie talk all that shit, without saying anything? (Knowing Hobie's life was in imminent danger?) Apparently so, because you just scoffed and rolled your eyes with a smile on your face. What a great couple you two made.

He refused to believe that this is who you chose, refused to acknowledge that his anger was pointed at himself and not you. He’d never, ever, admit it, not even at gunpoint, but Hobie was a good kid, he’d treat you right and that's what pissed him off the most.

“Fuck the canon.” Hobie would have laughed and nodded in agreement at your words, not Miguel though. Miguel had said nothing and it had cost him his future with you.

Sensing that Miguel wouldn’t reply anytime soon, Hobie just shrugged nonchalantly, “Thanks for understanding, boss.”

Miguel felt like he could hear his own veins pulsing. Boss, he'd called him boss. That little-

Turning to you, Hobie throws a hand around your waist and squeezes you against him, pressing a kiss on your cheek “I'll see you later love, don' forget to put some ice on that, yeah?” he lays a slap on your ass that makes you almost tumble forward, and Hobie's smirk widens when he sees Miguel ball his fists at his sides, nostrils flaring. Hobie throws a wink at Miguel before squeezing through him to walk out, seeing as Miguel didn't make any attempt to get out of the way.

Miguel doesn't turn to see him open up a portal to leave, he's too busy looking at the way the multi-colored lights illuminate your face, how you grin and wave shyly at your boyfriend.

“So sorry about him.. d'you wanna come in?” you ask, shifting from one leg to another once the portal disappears. Miguel just stares at you, eyes hooded, mouth pressed in a tight line.

“Ookay, I’ll just go get the- yeah” you trail off and turn to walk deeper into your apartment, and Miguel hates himself for craning his neck to catch a glimpse of your ass. And then hates himself even more when he thinks about how smug Hobie would be if he knew Miguel was checking out his girl. He'd say some dumb shit like "Wanting somethin' you can't have again, boss?"

Meanwhile, you're standing on your tippy-toes in front of your infamous bookshelf, arm outstretched, trying to grab your watch but to no use, cursing Hobie in your mind for putting it so high up. You had no idea that by trying to get your stupid watch, you were giving Miguel the perfect view of your backside, seeing as your shirt rode up each time you stretched out your arm.

No, fuck that. You knew exactly what you were doing, and Hobie was right. Let him suffer. He chose this, so now he can deal with the consequences.

Miguel wanted to give everything up right then and there. It's funny how quickly you could strip him of his morals, and he just wishes he could have done that before realizing he'd lost you forever. He could picture his future in his mind so clearly, if only he'd just said yes to your question.

“Will you go out with me?"

He’d resign, move out some place nice, next to a beach preferably. Spend his days laying on the sand and drinking piña coladas with no care in the world.

Except you’d be there. Straddling his lap to steal his drink, giggling and laughing when he tried to take it back from you. He’d grab your hips and with a swift motion you'd switch places, your back against the hot sand. The drink would spill from the movement, the liquid falling over your bikini covered tits, and you’d gasp oh-so prettily when he’d bend to lick it all up.

You’d moan even sweeter when he’d move lower, when he’d eat you out till you’re a crying, babbling mess, whining that you can’t take it anymore. Oh, but you could. You would take it, and he’d prove it when he’d later fuck you against the pool, and he’d make sure he fucked you good. Your mewls would be panted against his ear as he’d thrust into you relentlessly, your fingers digging into his wet back, and all he’d taste would be your pretty moans and the faint taste of rum against his tongue.

His cheeks would hurt from how hard he'd be grinning as he stared at you when you both would go for a walk by the beach later. He'd jog up to you, springing you in his arms, nuzzling his head against your hair- your distinctive smell fogging up his brain- your laughter mixing together, as you chased each other through the waves.

When you'd had enough, and stood panting, your -now wet- dress clinging to you like second skin, he'd drop to his knee, pulling out a ring from his pocket, one he was anxious not to drop when he was chasing you around, and you'd gape at him, tears already welling up in your eyes.

You would have said yes that night. In fact, the word would have been repeated against his shoulder as he fucked you later, rolling his hips into you slowly, kissing your pretty tears, holding you, loving you–

“Done! I just sent it–,” you could have sworn you and Miguel shivered at the same time when he blinked down at you, his mouth parted. His eyes were glistening all of a sudden, and it made your whole being fill with a sense of longing and dread.

“Lyla?” you swallowed harshly at Miguel's hoarse tone, gnawing at your lip as you avoided his gaze.

It was as if Lyla knew not to fuck with him either, because she didn't even make him beg for it, instead pulling up a hologram that showed the report, “Yup, got it!”

You cleared your throat, eager to get back into bed and forget the look on his face just now, suddenly feeling nostalgic for a memory you couldn't quite place- “I'm sorry that I forgot, it won’t happen again, promise.”

Yes it will.

“See you back at HQ?”

Miguel hums, not saying anything, not even caring to correct you, because he’d sooner see you in his dreams than at headquarters.

2023 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.

#•ूᡣ𐭩 — hobie #•ूᡣ𐭩 — miguel #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk x reader

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rafeandonlyrafe · 4 months

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stupid baby

words: 600

warnings: toxic/manipulative rafe, fighting/arguing

“its seriously not that big of a deal!” you shout, chest rising and falling as you glare at rafe, arms crossed over your chest.

“you're right, that's why you just need to listen to me!” rafe yells back.

it's a stupid argument, one that only started because you were tired and rafe came home frustrated.

“you just want me to do everything you say, you don't even care about me!” you flop down onto the couch, burying your head in your knees as your curl up, tears falling down your cheeks as they finally spill over, unable to blink them back any longer.

you hear rafe audibly sigh. you've gotten into little fights before, minor arguments that never lasted more than an hour at most, and he's never made you cry before.

“baby-” rafe coos, sitting down next to you, putting his arm around your small frame, tugging you into his body. “don't cry.”

“i hate fighting with you.” you whine, pressing your face into his chest, moving so you can climb onto his lap.

“i know, and none of that would happen if you just agree with me in the first place stupid baby.” rafe says softly, the harsh words not cutting as hard with his sweet tone. you sit up on his lap, rubbing the tears off your face as you sniffle.

“i only tell you what to do when it's to protect you. i want you to be your own person baby, but i also need to look after you and sometimes just need you to listen. okay?”

“yeah.” you nod. “i love you.”

“i love you too kiddo.” rafe says, petting his hands over your thighs. “and i hate having to yell at you, so please don't make me do it again.”

“promise.” you nod, snuggling your chest into rafes, wrapping your arms around his shoulders while he holds you close to him.

rafe presses kisses to your shoulder and neck, nuzzling his nose into your skin.

“i don't even really remember why we started fighting in the first place.” you admit shyly.

“me either.” rafe chuckles. “either way, im glad we worked it out.”

“me too.” you hum, sitting up straight. “maybe we can just chill out? i know we were talking about going to a party but i just wanna stay home with you.”

“that sounds good to me baby.” rafe says, also tired out from the fight and knowing you need to spend some time alone. “why don't you go change into something comfy and then we can cuddle and watch a movie?”

you nod, getting up off of rafes lap. you hurry up the stairs, walking past the mirror and remembering why your fight started. your dress is riding up high on your thighs, and it's fitting you like a second skin. rafe said you couldn't wear it out and when you pushed back for the first time in your relationship, it turned into an all out fight.

you shake your head with a laugh when you realize that the dress not only is too tight and small, but it doesn't even look good on you, hugging your body in all the wrong places while hiding what you want to show off.

you change into pajamas, tossing the dress right into the trash.

“rafey.” you call when coming down the stairs, taking his place on his lap. “you were right about the dress.”

“im always right, honey.” rafe says, like he knew you would come to this consensus.

“next time ill just listen to you.” you promise, giving rafe a kiss before turning to the tv, grabbing the remote to pick a movie for the night.

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#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe cameron x you

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nathannnnnnnn · 4 months

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so tell me you love me.

wicked games - the weekend.

you and Carl get high, go into the woods and end up making out, one thing leads to another.

!tw - getting high, public sex & almost getting caught.

carl is 18 and so is reader.

..you were with Daryl, in the woods fucking around, scavenging..."the hells that?" you say, pointing at what looked like a house, you start walking towards it..until daryl grabs your shoulder and tells you to wait before getting in front of you with his crossbow ready to shoot at whatever. you get in side safely, and start rummaging through shit, until, you find some weed, you put it in your pocket. you didn't care wether Daryl saw or not, it's not like he would try to stop you. he knew you were a teenager and would still find one way or another to get your hands on it. "you find anything?" you ask, "....nah, nothin' good here..you?." ..you debated wether you should tell him what you found. "..nah. nothing good over here, either." .you two started walking back to Alexandria.

you were excited to finally be back, you missed your boyfriend, carl. and you genuinely couldn't wait to show him what you found in the woods, you were walking to his house. but on the way you seen his dad, "hey, rick, carl home?", rick looks at you "yeah. he should be there, you gonna go by?".."yeah.. I am" he nods and walks off, you get there and open the door, you start to head up to his room, you open the door and throw the pot on his bed.."you got paper, pookie?" you hear him laugh a bit at that. "well I do have some pretty thin paper? would that work?" he looks at you while holding some pretty thin paper "maybe, Its been awhile since I've done this. we could also use a can, all we need is a lighter but I got one." taking the paper and somehow managing to roll it.

"we should go to the woods, your dad could get here any minute, you know? besides, the house would start smelling." you look at him while licking the joint to make it stick together. "..yeah, sure. my dad would probably kill me if he found out we smoked inside anyway." you hum in response of that. you always thought rick would be more chill about that kinda stuff, considering you ARE in a zombie apocalypse. but once you started dating carl, that changed.

you two were in the woods sitting against a tree smoking away in silence. until carl breaks it. "you used to do this?" he said hitting the joint. "yeah, I used to take daryls cigarettes, until he found out." you laugh a little. "hey, carl." you say, "yeah?", you start to lean in him not noticing because of how high out of his mind he was, until you were right in front of him, both of your noses touching. you leaned in completely until your lips were touching, pulling you onto his lap, he kissed you. after a few seconds you pull back and say, "its still burning. give it here." you take it and turn it off. it hadn't even been a second after you turned it off, and he had you under him, pinned, legs entangled. his knee on top of your crotch area, you grunted when you felt his knee there. "carl!-" you moaned out, not meaning to. he laughed a little "what's wrong..? you were kissing all on me not too long ago." he said, pushing his knee down on him and leaning down to plant small kisses up and down on his neck, his hand running up the other males thigh and side. you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it when he got like this.

after a few minutes of making out and taking off each others pants off you hear something..or was it someone?. carl stops and grabs his knife from his pants next to him not knowing who it was.

until he saw michonne. he threw the knife to the floor with his pants, and got on top of you again. "..wh-" "michonne, don't worry about it. she didn't see us." he grabbed both of your hands and pinned them above your head with one of his hands, giving you a kiss.

"you ready, pretty boy?" as he spoke he was pulling down the waistband of your boxers waiting for you to reply. you gave him a simple nod, but he wanted to hear you. "use your words. I want to hear you." when he said that you took a deep breath. "yeah..im ready." when you said that he took your boxers off, and immediately pushed his middle finger in and started moving it in a circle motion. "Carl!- fuck!" you were whimpering out his name over and over just because of his finger. it made you feel unbelievably pathetic and desperate for his cock to be inside of you. "look at you..you look so pretty like this, baby." after he said that he pushed in a second finger and started stretching you out in a scissoring motion, truthfully, it hurts like a bitch, but it felt so good just because it was him. if it was anyone else you'd hate it.

after he finished stretching you out, he puts his thumb to your chin and taps it, "open, honey." so you do. and when you do he puts his ring and middle finger in, gently rubbing against the males tongue with his fingers. once he got enough spit on his fingers he put some on the males entrance while pulling his own boxers down with the other hand. releasing his hard cock. once he put some on your hole he put what was remaining on his tip and on the rest of him.

once he put the tip in he leaned down so he could kiss you, distracting you from the sting of his cock entering you. once he was halfway in he pulled away from you causing your moans to be louder. tears were starting to form in your eyes, from the sting. once he realized this he keeps going but speeds the process up a little.

"you're gonna be okay, it just hurts now but it'll feel better eventually, okay? just like the other times." he says wiping away any tears you had while you grasp onto leafs and sticks next to you. once he's fully in he looks at you for any sign that it's okay to move, "I'll start moving once you want me to, sound good?", you cant even bring your self to reply, considering what was inside of you at the moment. but once you felt like it was alright to move, you nodded. "you can.. you can start."

once he starts moving he starts off slow and gentle. him being settled on top your body, his hands at the side of your thighs, kissing and biting your collarbone. your hands scratching and clawing at his back, while your a moaning and whimpering mess. "cum with me, okay? be my good boy and cum with me." he says with little grunts here and there.

the slow and gentle pace didn't last long, he started being faster and rougher with you, your hands still scratching up his back because he's fucking into you so good that you can't think straight, you can't even make a sentence. all you can do is moan his name and be a perfect little stuttering mess for him.

as soon as you feel that familiar knot and uncomfortable feeling your back arches, and you grab onto his hair as if you're trying to tell him something, but it seems that's what it took to make him go over the edge. almost as soon as he came inside of you, you came on his stomach.

on your way back to Alexandria, you see Rick. waiting for you at the gates.

#carl grimes x male reader #carl grimes smut #twd fanfiction #twd smut #carl grimes #x male reader #male reader #twd x male reader #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #chandler riggs x reader

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luv-elixir · 1 month

Text

Cherry-Coloured Funk

Stepfather Leon S. Kennedy x Reader Your stepfather finally comes home after a long work trip and shows you how much he missed you.

Part of “Body Electric” series

18+ Content Warnings : Stepcest, power imbalance, fingering, p*ssy slapping, slight degradation, facial, stepfather!Leon, stepdaughter!reader

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION! I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE ACTIONS WRITTEN BELOW; ALL THAT IS WRITTEN IS PURE FICTION AND FANTASY!

“Do you really have to go?”

“I’ll be back before you know it."

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That was two weeks ago. Two very long weeks of blue balls caused by being without his vixen of a stepdaughter.

Leon sighs as he enters the house, grateful for the quiet atmosphere.

He needed to think and get work off his mind.

He also needed to get his new wife off his mind.

They’d been having arguments nearly everyday and knowing he’d be back today opted to have a girls night at a friends.

Not that Leon really cared, you were home and that made everything better.

He knows he should stay out of your room, that he should wait until morning, but he’s missed your soft skin and vanilla perfume too much to wait.

After taking the fastest shower possible he softly opens your bedroom door, the tv light illuminating your sleeping figure covered by the floral duvet on your bed. Your hair is all splayed out and Leon can make out his old hoodie from his academy days on your exposed upper half.

“My baby,” he murmurs, slipping in beside you and pushing the hairs in your face back.

You turn and groan as your body makes contact with his, the familiarity both comforting and startling you out of sleep.

He hears your breathing pick up and sees your eyes shoot open.

“It’s just me baby,” he coos, stroking the back of your neck to lull you back to sleep.

It doesn't exactly work, you get your bearings and your eyes peel open and the smile that takes over your face has Leon’s heart beat speed up.

"You're home," the smile makes it into your voice and Leon can't help but feel love explode all through his chest.

"Yeah baby," he kisses your forehead just as you hook your knee to his narrow hip.

It's then, as you press further into Leon that he feels your thighs and his hands follow the curve of your skin and groans when he touches your bare cunt.

"No panties, sweetheart?" he tilts your chin upwards so you can't hide your sleepy eyes or your coy smile.

"I knew you’d be home," Leon shakes his head when you lean up to pepper kisses to his jaw.

"Little vixen." he curses, finally kissing your lips.

It's tentative at first and then his tongue prods into your mouth and licks at your own. His lips suck yours into his mouth, swallowing your moan as he pulls your hips into his. It’s wet and sloppy and has your cunt soaking through the material of his pants.

"Leon," you whine, his lips leaving yours to suck at the column of your neck.

He only hums, nipping and biting at the tender skin on your neck.

"Daddy please," your hips are rocking against his, and he sits up, pulling you with him as he changes positions and lays you flat on your back.

"Please what?" Leon says with a spank to your pussy.

Your answer is interrupted with him grinding his clothed hips into yours, a moan slipping past your lips as he brushes your wet cunt with his bulge.

"Please don't tease," he kisses you again, and this time even more wet.

"God baby," he coos, fingers spreading your cunt open so that he sees even more of your slick gushing out. "You miss me a lot?" It's mind numbing the way he uses words to make your mind melt and shut off.

He just says a couple nasty things and your brain short circuits.

His thumb brushes at your little hole, a smirk pulling on his lips as your hips buck into his touch.

"I asked you a question, baby."

His mouth is sucking at your clit almost immediately after he speaks, and your whines are breathy and high as your hands reach for his hair.

A broken, "Yes," manages to escape you and after that, it's the only coherent thing to leave your mouth.

Leon’s fingers finally slip into your cunt, and he loves how tight you feel.

"God," you cry, hips moving to meet the thrusts of Leon’s fingers, growing closer and closer to your orgasm. "I'm gonna come, please daddy."

He only hums, eyes meeting yours as your hands knot into his hair, holding his head still as you ride his tongue and fingers to your release.

"Atta girl, fuck yourself on my face." He praises, watching as you continue to ride his fingers and tongue till your orgasm fizzles out. Leon crooks his fingers in your pussy so they brush against your g-spot over and over again till he feels the tell-tale signs of another orgasm.

"Gimme another one, slut. Let me see you come again." Your mouth drops open as he rolls your clit and a second orgasm washes over you.

You can't fight his touch as Leon drags you to the very end of your orgasm and pats your cunt as he pulls his fingers out of you.

“Want your cock, daddy," your eyes are glazed over already, and Leon has to physically restrain himself from just slamming his fat cock into you.

"Yeah? How bad do you need it? How bad do you want your stepdads cock?" He likes playing this game with you, there's something about the way you spread your legs and offer your pussy over to him that makes his head swim with lust.

"So so bad, it’s all l've been thinking about since you left.” he wouldn’t even doubt your statement because you're all he's thought about too, “Please daddy, need your cock in me, You always fuck me so good."

He can't resist you anymore, and slides in, both of you groaning as he bottoms out in your tight cunt.

Your breath is short and sharp as he fucks into you, hands fisting the sheets as your hips match his thrusts. All you can think about is the way the head of his cock is pressing at just the right spot that has your toes curling with each thrust.

Tears pool on your lash line as his thumb finds your clit again, ready to pull a third orgasm from you.

"Oh fuck," you croon and Leon pulls back to slap at your clit. "You're gonna make me come again." you mewl, eyes full of tears as your pussy clamps around him.

"Yeah? Y'gonna make a mess?" your nails dig into Leon’s shoulders at his teasing, tears falling down your face as his thumb resumes rolling your clit. "Soak my cock, baby." the order has your back arched off the bed completely as you obey it, legs trembling from the force of your orgasm.

Leon manages to hold off his own till the very last second, holding the back of your neck to keep your slick bodies pressed together as he pumps his cock with his fist.

“There you go baby, fucking slut.” Leon mutters as his cum spurts on your face, giving you a sticky facial.

#leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #tw stepcest #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut

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jihanbang · 2 months

Text

BANG CHAN: "I MAKE IT UP FOR YOU"

WORD: 669 (been lazy writing)

WARNINGS: naughty mreader, bang chan being called chris (cuz it's hot) (Y/N) being a 5! uT, JEONGIN CAMEO (soooo sorry baby bread) (not exactly a smut but a tease)

A/N: OLD DRAFT ALERT! I'm not an active writer right now cuz I'm lazy af but, I have to take this out of my drafts cuz it's too many of them. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Jeongin, where are you going to spend the night?" (Y/N) asked as he was calling Jeongin, who apparently got kicked out of his apartment.

"I don't know hyung, can I sleep to your place?" Jeongin asked nervously, he really don't wanna bother his hyung especially Chris.

"Well, we have enough space for one person so, it a yes."

"Yes!" Jeongin exclaimed in the other end.

"But no bringing peeps you don't even know." (Y/N) said with authoritive tone.

"Yeah, yeah I'm really sorry about that."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "You what?" Chris exclaimed as he got home late at night, he was frustrated to his coworkers and clients all day long. "I know, I should have told you but it's Jeongin. He's homeless right now and we are his hyungs so we have to take care of him." Chris sighed at tiredness as he laid down the bed. "You know the consequences, right? Sleep on the couch right now." (Y/N) nodded as he took some pillows with him and laid down the couch in the living room. (Y/N) just looked at the ceiling as he hears Jeongin snores loudly in the guest room, he pitied the boy of course but, he also guilty of not saying this to Chris. He is determined that he should do something that make up for Chris, so he got an idea. Being a brat he was, (Y/N) changed into a tight boxer, a sleeveless shirt, and a knee-high sock that highlighted his thighs. He then approached the bedroom door where he opened the door and see Chris unbuttoning his work shirt. (Y/N) smirked as he acts shy. (Y/N)'s eyes instantly snapped back into focus as he realized he should have knocked on the door before entering. He had just gotten a little carried away staring at Chris's impressive physique. He was embarrassed he had forgotten his manners for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure as he stood there awkwardly in Chris's room.

(Y/N) started to blush as Chris's eyes took in his outfit, he had picked a rather revealing attire tonight, hoping to feel more confident and comfortable.

"I-I can't really sleep, I'm sorry I should've knock." (Y/N) said actively nervous, looking away from Chris's gaze. (Y/N) was feeling a little self-conscious in his outfit now, knowing how Chris was looking for him over.

(Y/N)'s blush grew stronger as Chris picked him up and carried him to the bed. That was a very masculine and confident move, he felt a little nervous and excited at the same time. He's body was pressed against Chris's body; he could feel his strong chest and muscular arms with his own body as he was carried over to the bed.

(Y/N) was starting to grow nervous about what might happen next, but he still felt a little aroused by the feeling of being carried by Chris's arms. Chris ripped off his shirt as (Y/N) was embarrassed by what was happening, but he was also very excited as he felt Chris's hands moving slowly down his body.

The feeling of being so close to Chris's body was making his breath come a little faster and his heart beat a little louder. (Y/N) could feel how hot his body was getting in that moment, Chris was taking off a layer of his clothes at a time, adding to the arousal of the situation.

(Y/N) felt his body growing warmer and more aroused with every layer that Chris removed.

"Chris, stop~"

"Why would I?" Chris said huskily.

"Innie could-" (Y/N) was cut off by Chris's rough hands around his mouth.

"He's a deep sleeper, you're my slut tonight."

The way Chris was forcefully taking (Y/N)'s clothes off was making him feel very helpless and vulnerable, which only added to the excitement of the moment. (Y/N) was becoming increasingly receptive to Chris's every word and gesture, he wanted to be taken and used. He felt the shift in (Y/N)'s body language as he could see his desire growing stronger with every moment.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A/N: ACKKKKKK THIS EMBARRASSING!!!

#bang chan #male reader #stray kids #bang chan x male reader #kpop x male reader #stray kids x male reader #IDKWTHisTHIS!?!

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drabblesandimagines · 6 months

Note

400 request! Leon x female reader. How they meet or first impressions.

(Also omg I’m so happy you write about resident evil too!)

Thank you, anon! I'm happy I write about Resident Evil too x Travel Pillow Leon Kennedy x female reader, fluff

Looking at the rain smacking against the tarmac through the plane window, you’re not convinced you will be taking off any time soon, despite the airline’s confidence when they’d opened the boarding gate 20 minutes ago. The last of the passengers are finding their seats in the small plane, only two seats either side of the aisle. You feel a knee bash against your thigh and you turn, seeing a handsome man with light brown hair framing bright blue eyes, jeans with a white tee and a semi-smart black jacket stood over the empty seat, looking apologetic.

“Sorry.” He rubs the back of his head, scolding himself for a bad first impression on the pretty girl he is going to be sitting next to for the next three hours. “I swear they make the leg room on these tin cans smaller and smaller every time.”

“No harm done. And, yeah, I agree - trying to get you to splurge for the emergency exit.”

“Mm, and my work won’t cover that expense.” He tugs off his jacket before he sits down, banging his knee against the upturned tray table on the seat in front and winces. “Yep, should’ve got some knee pads.”

You laugh at that and he smiles, sensing it’s genuine in nature. Makes a change.

“Name’s Leon.” He offers you his hand and you take it, giving it a shake and offering your name in return.

“Take it you’re traveling for business, then?” You probe – he’s easy on the eyes and much more interesting to look at than the rain out the window.

“Was.” He leans back, buckling up his seatbelt. “On the way home now. You?”

“Moving - starting a new job on Monday.”

“Oh, wow. Moving via plane?”

You shake your head. “Got a guy driving my stuff over in a few days. Only got the job offer Wednesday.”

“Huh,” Leon mulls. “They sound pretty keen for you.”

“Yeah, well-”

The PA system pings, interrupting you. There’s a crackle of static before a voice rings out. “Good evening, this is your captain speaking. I’m afraid we have a storm warning rolling in and, currently, we are unable to take off. As we are still at the gate and it will be a little while before we can depart, we are going to ask you to disembark.” Groans ring around the plane. “Please be sure to take all your hand luggage with you and be sure to pick up your complimentary drinks voucher from the cabin crew.”

“Bets on it excluding alcohol?” Leon asks, unbuckling his seat belt and getting to his feet as your fellow passengers follow suit - grumbling about the delay, grabbing their bags. “Got anything in the overhead?”

“Yeah.” You get to your feet, having to hunch over a little as the side of the plane slopes. “Black duffel bag.”

“I got it.”

“What a gentleman.” You smile, watching as he raises his arms above his head to reach for your bag, your eyes lingering on the way his biceps tense.

“I may have an ulterior motive.” He smirks, pulling the bag down and hanging it off his shoulder with ease. You hadn’t been exactly subtle while you had admired his arms.

“Oh?”

“Hoping you might partake in a non-complimentary drink with me.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“So, what do you do?”

You’d grabbed a cosy table for two in the corner of the airport bar, a clear view of the departures board in sight in case any news came through about your delayed flight. The complimentary drinks voucher had excluded alcohol, so you had ended up with two drinks in front of you – a soda from the airline that you’d quickly polished off, and one from your handsome seat-mate that you made sure to take your time over.

“Me?” Leon shrugs a shoulder. “I work for the government – just boring bureaucratic nonsense, wrapped up in a lot of red tape. How about you?”

“Software.”

“Guess you’re pretty skilled to be in such high demand.”

“Something like that. Just a niche area. Money was too good to say no.” It wasn’t strictly a lie. “And, if I can be so bold, no-one to leave behind?”

“Bingo.”

“Well, I feel that. No-one for me to return home to. Work keeps me too busy – can be away a few days to a few months.”

“Ah, so you don’t always flirt with women you meet on planes?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “This is just an elaborate apology for bashing your knee earlier.” “Gotcha.” You take another sip of your drink. “So, how long have you lived in DC?”

“A few years now, on and off.”

“Good, then you can tell me all of the bad coffee shops and tourist traps I need to avoid.”

Leon shakes his head, grinning all the while. “I can’t hand over that information, you’ve gotta work your way through sucky cups of coffee like every other fine resident that came before you.”

“Please?” You pout, tilting your head and he’s so tempted to give in with how adorable you look.

“Cute, but no. You’ll understand one day.”

“Not even a clue?”

“Uh-uh, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah,” he lifts his glass to his lips, trying to hide his smile. “I’m not.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about DC, then?”

He ponders for a moment. “They really like brunch.”

“Maybe…” you rest your hand on the table, wondering if you could reach out and touch his, “..you could take me for br-“

“Passengers for delayed flight AA4628 are asked to head towards gate 34 to commence boarding.” The PA system announces from above your heads. “That’s passengers for delayed flight AA4628 are asked to head towards gate 34 to commence boarding. Thank you.”

“Guess we better head back.” Leon downs his drink and gets to his feet, heaving your bag back over his shoulder.

“Mm,” you agree, downing the rest of your own and your question, and following him back to the gate.

The drink must’ve gone more to your head than you thought, especially after a frantic few days of packing, late nights from trying to get everything in order before you moved across the country because you don’t remember the plane even taking off. You wake up to your ears popping as the plane begins its descent and slowly open your eyes, wondering why the seat in front of you is at an angle. It’s then you realise you’re not upright in your own seat, instead cuddling up into someone’s chest, almost nuzzling your cheek into them, an arm draped around your shoulders.

You shoot up, the arm sliding off and you see Leon besides you, smiling sleepily, “Hey, sleepyhead.”

“I am so sorry.” You can feel your cheeks burn as you worry if you drooled, or snored or…

“What, for using me as a pillow?” He chuckles. “It’s fine. For the record, I fell asleep too so it was mutually beneficial.”

“Oh. Good.” You nod, settling back into an awkward silence as the plane continues its descent towards the tarmac and you turn your attention to the window, looking down at the place you’ll be calling home for however long.

As the plane lands and begins taxiing to the gate you wonder if you should ask Leon for his number, or give him your own. It would be nice to know someone in DC, after all. You pull your phone out your pocket, about to ask when an air stewardess appears at Leon’s side, whispers in his ear and he smiles, nods in thanks and unbuckles his seatbelt to stand, before he hesitates and turns to look at you, noting your look of confusion.

“Seems work’s been waiting for me since our delay. My boss has pulled some strings to get me off the flight first, so…” He swallows, disappointed - though he knows he shouldn’t be. He knew from the moment you started talking, despite the feeling in his stomach, that it was fantasy where he could pretend that after you’d arrived in DC, the two of you could exchange numbers and he’d take you out for the good coffee, brunch and dinner, buy you flowers, kiss you under the streetlights…

Idiot, he reprimands himself. You’re a sweet girl, too sweet for the world he’s involved in.

“It was nice to meet you.” He smiles. “Good luck with the new job.”

“Oh.” You can’t hide your disappointment as he finally stands, the air stewardess waiting to lead him back up the aisle. “Thanks. Nice to meet you too, Leon.”

He nods, once, and you watch him walk away.

You hesitate outside your new work, the building looming over you. You still don’t know how to feel about this, but how can you reject a job offer from the President of the United States? You bin the cup of coffee you’d bought from a cart in the park on the way here – mistake, curse Leon for not giving you any heads up – and walk inside, navigating through security and reception, before being told to head up to floor three where an Ingrid Hunnigan is waiting to brief you, standing by the elevator doors. She’s a smartly dressed woman, curly hair tied up in a bun and studious glasses, though she greets you with a smile and a handshake.

“Welcome to the DSO. Glad to have you – I’ve been admiring your work over the weekend.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m… It’s good to be here.” You correct.

Hunnigan doesn’t press, instead gesturing you forward. “Sorry, I promise we’ll do a whistlestop tour another time, but you’re going to be hitting the ground running this morning – we have an intel briefing at 0915.”

“We?”

“Mm – me, you and Agent Kennedy.”

You’re led to a small meeting room and told to take a seat, but Hunnigan remains standing by the door.

“Coffee? Since I haven’t had chance to give you the tour, it’s the least I could do.”

“Oh, yeah. Thank you.” You reply, taking a seat.

“Be right back.”

You fiddle with the hem of your shirt, looking around at the room – not that there’s much to take in, it’s a small, circular table with six chairs around it, a projector hanging from the ceiling and some adaptor cables poking out the middle for someone to connect a laptop.

The door opens a couple of moments later and you turn your head, eyes widening at the figure who enters.

Leon looks equally surprised for a moment before a smirk crosses his lips and he strides in, taking the seat opposite. He leans back in his chair, crosses his arms and quirks an eyebrow.

“Software, huh?”

You wake up to your ears popping as the plane begins its descent, your face resting on Leon’s chest, his arm wrapped around your shoulders and head resting atop your own – an all too familiar routine when you travel together by plane. You nuzzle your cheek into his warmth, feeling too content to open your eyes just yet when you feel him move and place a kiss upon your crown.

“Afraid it’s time to wake up, sweetheart”

“Mm, five more minutes. We can’t be landing already, we only just left the gate.” You protest.

His chuckle vibrates through your cheek. “You were out like a light before we even took off. I’m beginning to worry you only keep me around as your personal travel pillow.”

Sighing, you sit upright, trying to rub the crick out of your neck. “That, among other reasons.”

“What other reasons?”

“Hmm,” you pretend to muse, cupping his face in your palm and press a soft kiss to his lips before pressing your forehead against his. “Cos I love you.”

“Love you more.”

-- Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day! x Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff

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bunnypansy · 6 months

Text

NSFW Alphabet: Rook Hunt!

Rated R for EXPLICIT CONTENT!

A short (hm.) script covering the ABCs of Rook's sex life!

Featuring: Rook Hunt, and you!

Beware! This film contains: gender neutral reader, knife play, blood play, sounding, somnophilia, predator/prey dynamics, voyeurism, exhibitionism, nudes, sex tapes, mirror sex, marking, dacryphilia, praise, body worship, masochism, overstimulation, bondage, impact play, guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, cucking (yeah), dick piercings, outdoor sex, public sex, stalking, face sitting, nipple play

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

You will NEVER catch a member of Pomefiore lackin when it comes to aftercare. No one is better at pillow talk than Rook Hunt. Too good. Make him stop talking. Seriously, this guy starts talking after you finish and doesn't stop until you fall asleep. Mostly about how well you did, how beautiful you are, certain things you did that he particularly liked. Rook doesn't like baths, so he'll give you a shower instead, but he's still going to pamper you. You won't have to lift a single finger- frankly he won't let you. After a soothing shower that he used as an excuse to worship your body, he'll place you in front of a vanity and tend to you like you're a delicate doll. A hand tucked beneath your knee as he lifts your leg, fingers smoothing over your thigh as he rubs a sweet-scented lotion into your skin, his mutterings becoming muffled through your sleepy haze.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For Rook to pick a single part of you he loves the most of an impossible task, this boy could go on and on and on about every part of your body down to your fingernails…however…. It's your eyes, definitely. He takes pleasure in seeing every micro expression you make, and your eyes just give it away. Definitely enjoys heavy eye contact during sex.

Rook’s favorite part of himself? Elementary, Watson, it’s his shoulders. Why, you ask? Well for one, his shoulders are very broad and well defined (catch me pushing my dorito-Rook agenda) from all the archery, and they’re still dotted with freckles from all his time in the sun, so he appreciates them aesthetically. However, much more important is the scratches you leave on them; red, raised, sometimes bleeding, nothing pleases him more than the physical evidence of your pleasure on his body.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

So… if you guys know anything about the semen and diet connection, you probably know that a high protein diet results in a very salty and sometimes uh… nasty flavor. We know Rook does a lot of exercise, and protein is a necessary component for building muscle so the first time you swallow for him it's a pretty gross experience. However, with a sustained relationship, Rook will happily change his diet for you so his cum has a bit more of a neutral taste. In terms of texture, he remains well hydrated so it's a bit syrupy and has a nice slightly off-white color. Rook likes cumming both in and on you, so every time you fuck, you are sure to end up with cum dripping from your hole and stuck to your face by the end of the night.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He desperately wants to let a couple other men have their way with you and photograph the whole thing. Rook has always enjoyed watching you masturbate, nearly as much as he enjoys bringing you pleasure, this is simply a natural progression of those desires. Ideally, there'd be If he could truly have his way, he'd film everything, then make you watch it back while he fucks you; the whole time commenting on little things you do that drive him crazy and attempting to recreate what happened in the video. Honestly, Rook is so up front about what he wants that is hardly a secret

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

His experience is middling. I believe Rook has probably had 3-4 relationships, but none of them lasted longer than a year (he was a bit too obsessive and his partners were put off). He's fairly experienced, but also knows that it's important to learn the intricacies of every person he's with, and not everything he knows will work instantly. Rook will approach every session like a learning experience, exploring new places and techniques to make sure he can find all the little spots that drive you crazy- and once he does, God knows he's going to abuse the fuck outta them. Also his first time was in the woods, thanks

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Before I start, I'm drawing a firm line; Rook Hunt does not like doggy style- or anything where he can't see your face! He firmly believes that any position where he can't see your beauty is a waste of his time. So of course he likes missionary and the mating press, but his real favorites require some extra supplies. Namely a mirror. If Rook is feeling rough, he'll shove you right up against the mirror and take you from behind; but usually he prefers to have you settled on his lap, one arm hooked beneath your leg to lift it up to your shoulder as he fucks you. He likes having the free hand to tease you with (:

Now, I know everybody likes big dom Rook but he's a switch okay guys. The seeing your face rule sticks for even when he bottoms, he needs to see you constantly. Honestly missionary has to take number one for him, but he's also real fond of being tied to the bed, it gives him no choice but to admire you as you work.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Usually if there's laughter in the bedroom, it's just Rook teasing you a bit, but that doesn't mean he's no fun! Having a partner you can laugh with is valuable to Rook, so if something happens while you're fucking it out, he won't be afraid to giggle a little, maybe poke a bit of fun at you, then rather easily slip right back into sexy times.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He's part of Pomefiore, did you think this man was anything but well-shaved? Frankly, his pubic hair is beautiful, somehow princely?? It's fine and light, but very soft and incredibly well trimmed- not to mention always clean, and never smells like ball sweat. He can't manage to grow a happy trail, just a tiny little path that starts beneath the waistband of his pants and ends in a small tuft at the base of his dick. Otherwise, he's completely shaved down there, smooth balls and not even ass hair.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Painfully so. Rook will be intimate with whomever he chooses to bed, fuck buddies, one night stand or long term lover, it’s just in his nature. He has a knack for making your feel like the most gorgeous, lovable person on the planet while you two have sex- it’s something in the way he holds you, unabashedly keeping his eyes on your face the entire time he presses kisses against your neck between proclamations of your beauty, checking in and focusing wholly on how you feel. Your pleasure is his, afterall. Never, not even once, will you get the impression that Rook isn’t madly in love with you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

A lot. Once a day, maybe more, if we're all honest with ourselves. Rook is a man who loves indulging his senses- He's got a high libido and he uses his own orgasm as an energy boost, which is enough to make a horny man, but he's also incredibly easy to rile up. He fully indulges the pleasure of masturbation, his favorite places to do so being your bed and outside. Rook really draws out the process; starting with gloves on, letting the leather get slick from his own precum as he slowly strokes up and down the length, squeezing around the tip just for a bit of extra pressure. Eventually, he'll pull the glove off and touch himself a bit more fervently, by now he's getting noisier, letting slip soft calls of your name, whimpering as he rocks his hips into his hand. Rook only whacks it while thinking about or looking at pictures of you, after all, you're the most beautiful thing in the world, what else would he touch himself to?

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks):

Voyeurism: I think we could all see this coming. The stalker, a voyeur?! Shocking. He prefers when you don't know he's watching you (he'll receive consent beforehand don't worry boo-boo), something about the thrill of getting caught makes blood rush to his dick. Please let him take photos though

Photography/filming: Master of the nude.Sending you nudes, receiving nudes, whatever it is, Rook likes it. Rook’s nudes are downright artful. The lighting and angles are always perfect, even at night, and he never fails to look beautiful. Rook is the king of the post work-out gym bathroom photo; standing before the mirror with the hem of his shirt between his teeth. He likes to record when he's fucking you too, just so he can watch it throughout his day as a sort of pick me up. He's also fond of some good photos after sex when you're an absolute mess, expect for him to gush over them in your presence

Exhibitionism: this goes well with the voyeurism kink, one of his greatest fantasies would be watching you have sex with another person, then get caught jerking off to you two

Mirror sex: Tenfold if you're self-conscious, he makes your anxiety his pet project. To Rook Hunt, there is nothing sexier than sitting you in lap, legs spread, forced to watch yourself while he fucks you to stupidity. Not to mention, he gets the best view of your body.

Marking: Take a shot every time you read beautiful- but really, he thinks you look beautiful covered in little rose and violet hickies. A painting of his conception, an empty canvas covered in his marks. If you cover them with makeup he'll sneakily wipe it away every time you see each other that day.

Dacryphilia: there's nothing that makes his pride swell more than bringing you to pleasured tears. Of course, Rook isn't the type to enjoy your pain, he'll never want to see you cry because you're scared or hurt, but if it's because you're overwhelmed? Then he's happy to make you cry even harder.

Praise: Again, a guy who cannot stop talking, specifically about you. It's even worse if you're self-conscious; he'll make you sit in front of a mirror, on his lap and guide you through every part of your body and why he loves it, and you. Oh and of course Rook does the standard encouragement. Murmuring sweet things as he slowly pushes into you; "good job, you're taking me so well" or "deep breaths, darling, I'm almost all the way in". And when you're close to cumming; "ah- you're close, aren't you? Go on, cum for me, you can do it"

Body worship: I feel like this one is obvious. He loves everything about you, he finds every inch positively beautiful. If Rook wasn't so hopelessly horny for you, he'd do nothing but kiss every part of your body up and down. But alas. Horny.

Predator/Prey: must I even elaborate? Man is literally a hunter. However, Rook prefers a long con; stalking you throughout the day, appearing here and there, then finally striking when you're all alone. What he really likes is watching you get nervous and fidgety before you finally break and run away from him, so Rook can chase after you. In the end it'll probably end up with you two wrestling and he's absolutely okay with however it turns out- win or lose

Overstimulation: this is on pleasure dom Rook!!! All Rook really wants to do is make you feel good as much as possible, even if that leaves you twitching and crying because you've cum 6 times in a row.

Masochism: PAINSLUT ROOK!!! Rook likes everything you give him, and if what you give him happens to be pain? So be it, lay it on, baby. Nails scratching down his back, biting, hitting- just anything

Bondage: something about being physically tied down makes him feel like a hunted animal, like you two have been fighting back and this is the result of his failure. Rook, the perfect hunter, lines to feel like he's been defeated once in a while, it keeps things fresh!

Impact play: This is for bottom Rook for sure, but please spank him, slap him, whip him. You could slap Rook across the face and he'd get hard. I'm not even kidding. He's particularly fond of riding crops, especially on the inside of his thighs or across his back

Knife play: cut him. Do it. Do it. Do it. Being roughed up makes Rook feel satisfied, bruising, bleeding. And yeah he'd absolutely be okay with branding- if you're in a long term relationship. Cut your name into his thigh, he wants it

Blood play: Rook finds the look of blood against skin striking and gorgeous, he's not inclined to hurt you unless you ask, you can draw blood from him however you like. Hitting him til he gets a bloody nose? Hot. Biting him til he bleeds? Hot. Cutting him up? Hot.

Somnophilia: Rook is nasty okay. His stalker tendencies and love of vulnerability have made a monster, and if you'd let him, Rook would love to sneak in your room and fuck you while you're fast sleep

Guided/mutual masturbation: tell me that Rook wouldn't make you sit on his lap while you jerk off, you can't. Sat in front of a mirror, guiding you through every move so he can watch you write and get his lap all wet. Ahhh he's so cute

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

If you're okay fucking somewhere, so is Rook. If you let him, Rook would fuck you in front of anyone and everyone, this is NOT hyperbole. While the preference isn't strong, I think Rook probably prefers to have sex in public places that anyone could walk into; living room, kitchen, the counter of a public bathroom- of course the woods is a classic. The risk of being caught gives him a thrill that the bedroom just can't do!

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

It's the little things with Rook; how your neck looks when you turn your head, the little way you jump when he sneaks up behind you, how it feels when he can overpower you. Generally, Rook likes seeing you vulnerable, that's part of the reason he enjoys stalking so much.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Genuinely this was so hard to think of, but Rook won't treat you like trash. I know some of us like mean, cruel men, but Rook won't do it, he refuses to mar your beauty or tell lies about his feelings towards you. One of Rook's defining traits is unwavering, brutal honesty, so chances are Rook will never degrade you- he just cares too much. Doesn't mean you can't degrade him though-

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Giving, for sure. He likes seeing the cute faces you make while sucking him off, sure, but he thinks the noises you make while he's tongue fucking you are much better. If Rook is going to give you, head you're going to ride his face though- it's the best position! Sitting on Rook's face means A) he can see all your facial expressions and B) you can quite easily make him do whatever you want, which sounds lovely to him

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Honestly Rook will move at whatever pace you like but let's forget about that for a minute. Rook naturally wants to start out slow and sensual, dragging his cock along your walls, making sure to hit all your sensitive spots with each thrust in and out. As he goes along, Rook gets more excited and his thrusts pick up speed, turning a bit more rough and shallow until he's finally cumming. When Rook cums, he goes still while he's fully inside you, shuddering and moaning as he fills you up. He's got a habit for biting when he cums, like an animal sinking his teeth in to make sure you stay there while he finishes.

Now, I'll elaborate on quick rounds with Rook because they're a bit different. If you need to be fast, or if Rook is so horny he's gone feral, the word "slow" exits his dictionary. His thrusts start and stay hard, fast, and deep, it really gets across the desperation he feels good you, how cute 🫶

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Absolutely! Rook has no problems with a little pick-me-up sex, something to just satisfy your needs and move on. Of course, he prefers to draw out sex, but also takes a good amount of pleasure in tearing as many orgasms from you as fast as he can before sending you on your way, weak-kneed and sweating. I like to think Rook keeps a vibrator on him just got this sort of occasion

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Are you kidding me rn. Rook is the risk man, the only ones fighting him for this position are the tweels, and it's real close. Rook could approach you with something new to try every single week, and if you're the one to ask for experimenting, it's highly unlikely Rook will never say no. Maybe to like… vomit? Any way you slice it, Rook if freaky deaky and pulling you along with it

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

We all know Rook is athletic, baby!! I give it six rounds before Rook gets a bit too overstimulated and needs to give his dick a break before it turns purple, but he's happy to go on pleasuring you while he gets a little rest- but chances are you're exhausted by then too. How long each round lasts really depends on what you're doing, but he can last around 25-35 minutes before- not including any foreplay -so it'll really be up to you to keep up

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

This country boy is mostly an acoustics only partner. It's not that he's against toys, there's just nothing he's particularly interested in using on you. I believe Rook owns a good ol wand vibrator that he uses on you during guided/mutual masturbation, just because he appreciates how squirmy and whiny you get when he presses the toy against your sensitive spots.

But if you're using toys on him oh well… that is a different story. I think he mostly prefers good ol 'weiner up his ass, but Rook is real fond of a good vibrating cock ring and a few bullet vibes- taped to his nipples or the base of his cock. He also likes nipple clamps, ball gags, blind folds, riding crops, and basic whips.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You'll be shocked but Rook mostly likes to play things fair, he'll tease a little but Rook is straightforward. If Rook wants to fuck you, he'll just come out and ask, no need for any roundabout games! When it comes to actually having sex, Rook wants to make you feel good, he's not going to delay making you cum your brains out!

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Rook Hunt is for sure the noisiest man you’ve ever met. Not that he’s a screamer, moreso, he will not stop talking. We all know he can go on for hours about things he’s passionate about, but he’ll hardly let you get a word in edgewise, he’s too busy going on and on babbling about how gorgeous you are, how good you feel, praising how well you’re doing, murmuring sweet nothings- proud member and president of the “can’t shut the fuck up” club. Of course, you’ll get some good, loud moans from him too (usually interrupting his endless chatter). Rook is more of a moan guy than a grunt guy, it comes out high and is usually accompanied with a shudder and pleased sigh.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Sounding. This is WILD but Rook likes wild, and he would absolutely be 1000% be down for sounding, in fact he's the one who brought it up. He's already done research, he's already bought toys- come babe, keep up, get the rod in his dickhole already!! (Also I think he has piercing nipples, they're just basic golden studs, but they look cute on him)

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Rook is rocking long but kinda skinny. He's around 5.5 inches in flaccid, getting up to an even 7 when he's fully hard- man is a major league grower. As I said, a bit on the skinny side and no prominent veins, but his tip is a lovely cute pink and he gets so twitchy and leaky when he's hard. I'm not sure he has a dick piercing, just because he's a bit worried about the healing interrupting his sex life or exercise, but Rook has thought about getting a piercing or two- guiche or prince Albert I think

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Turning on Rook is like turning on a light switch; you only need one good slap and you could do it with your eyes closed. You could breathe too close to him and Rook would get hard. Rook would fuck you every single day, multiple times a day if you let him. He's not afraid to ask you- or send videos of himself masturbating to the thought of you! Mwah enjoy the teasing babe

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It really depends on whether or not he tops, honestly. In terms of topping? Rook could never sleep after sex, it makes him energized! For this reason, Rook actually prefers not to have sex after dark, morning or midday sex works out better for him. After a good round or two, sometimes Rook will go straight into a workout.

Bottom Rook, though? He still feels refreshed but he's more likely to just settle down for a little while and chill out. He likes to lay back with you and blab on about whatever comes to mind- Rook low-key the king of pillow talk, he could give a 5 page essay debrief on your sex life.

That's all for today's showing guys, thank you for watching!

Hooooo boy! This one takes the cake for the longest alphabet yet at 3.8k (for reference, Trey's was 2.1k) this alphabet gave me some trouble, I didn't expect Rook to give me this much of a challenge! I think I got in my own head and tried to make this one really professional for a lil, then I went back a read some of my last alphabets and eased up. But there was a lot of writing, re-writing and re-formatting- sorry @birtha I did not mean to take this long, but it's finally done and I hope you like it! Also for that anon who sent in the Barbatos req, I see you, I hear you, I love you, it's in the works. Mwah thanks for reading you guys are baller

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

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Jungkook: By Chance

In which Jungkook, simply by chance, meets the soulmate he didn't even believe existed.

Tags/Warnings: Soulmate AU, Idol!Jungkook, angst, fluff

Length: short

Additional Content: Short 1

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'Jeon Jungkook, the Idol without a Soulmate...'

'Fans suspect to have found Jungkooks soulmate, company responds...'

'The truth about BTS' Jungkooks soulmate-curse...'

Every article seems to be the same these days.

It's true that a lot of people call his soulmate bond a curse, and he himself sometimes believes it is as well. Because he's not only unable to see color until he looks into his soulmate's eyes, he also has a mark on his wrist, suspected by specialists to be a bond. A red line reaching out for his future partner and lover. It's essentially like a thin blood vessel that sits so high under the skin it appears bright red, and it develops in teens at around 15 years old.

The only issue?

His line looks more like scribbles. It's scrambled, chaotic, broken, doesn't reach anywhere. Research and multiple doctor's visits had only given him the most dire answer there could be.

A broken bond.

His soulmate had passed away before he'd ever gotten to meet them.

For a long time, It hurt. Knowing the only one who could love you fully wasn't alive.

He tried to maybe move on, but falling in love with a person that's not your soulmate is nowadays almost impossible. It's just not the same, and it's always stressful and bound to end in bad blood. It's been seen numerous times before, from celebrities and 'normal' people as well.

Jungkook has simply accepted it.

There's no use in crying over what he can't change, so he rather throws himself into his work and deals with it by distraction rather than daydreaming. He'd done that enough as a kid.

Fans always dream of being his soulmate, and he can understand that. He himself yearns for a partner just as much, so if his existence can give them a bit of a soothing feel, then he's happy to provide it. They won't ever have to deal with watching him find someone that's not them, after all. So he just calls himself everyone's soulmate.

It's him until they find their own.

It's dark tonight, windy, snow still on the streets, making everything a bit slippery, dangerous. He wonders how many people must've fallen at this point. He hopes no one had been seriously injured yet.

Just as he thinks that, something is heard in front of him, and he can only helplessly watch as a short girl slips and crashes onto the concrete, bag of groceries spilling out. "Oh God, are you alright?" He asks eagerly, forgetting for a moment that he shouldn't be seen out as an Idol, rather occupied with trying to attend to you, who's still shaking on the ground, holding your knee. Your black and slightly sheer tights had clearly ripped, stripes of broken fabric already decorating up to your thigh and down your shin. "Hey, let's get all that back into the bag yeah? Did you hurt yourself?" He wonders, because you're clearly crying.

Or are you? Because that sounds suspiciously like laughter.

"Oh my God!" You clearly laugh out now, head thrown back, cat-shaped earrings dangling freely as you cringe with closed eyes for a second. "What a waste of eggs." You giggle, looking at the few broken eggs already spilled out.

"A few are still okay. Is your knee alright? Anything broken?" He asks, a but relieved that you're not in too much pain it seems.

"Yeah yeah, just scratched. AND I can throw those out." You huff, pulling on the broken fabric now before letting it snap back against your skin. Your hands are bloody, just a bit, but it doesn't seem to bother you. "Thanks. God how embarrassing, I hope it's caught on CCTV at least so someone's got a good laugh out of that." You grin, slowly getting up to brush your clothes off of any dust and dirt.

He smiles to himself, putting all your things back into the paper bag- but it's ripped. There's no way you can carry all that on your own. "Uhm.." he says, showing the broken brown paper to you, and you whine bitterly.

"Oh come on!" You complain, crouching down next to him. "Maybe.. ugh I don't know. God I was looking forward to eating that shitty lasagna." You mumble bitterly, probably contemplating what to leave behind.

"I could help you carry some stuff?" He asks, and you look at him for a second.

"Really?" You grin, and he looks oddly frozen now. "You- huh?" Now you notice it too. Then your gaze falls down to the ground. To the orange light from the streetlamp. The green of the bell pepper, and the red packaging of the lasagna.

That's color.

"Holy shit." You gasp out, before you hear Jungkooks quiet voice.

"Thats.. not possible." He almost whispers. "My soulmate is dead." He murmurs more or less to himself.

"I-what? No, I'm clearly alive! Okay a bit scratched up but hey, damaged goods are still okay?" You joke, but he seems genuinely confused. He shows you his wrist, his oddly shaped bonding line, and you compare it to yours.

It's tiny. Barely there. Just a single, short line.

"Oh, I think I get it now." You say.

"Huh?" He wonders, looking at you. His heart is beating out of his chest.

"I had an accident when I was younger, around 11 or 12. They had to resuscitate me four times. I was basically dead for like, I don't know, really." You explain. "Maybe that fucked up your bond? I'm really clumsy, sorry." You laugh, and suddenly, he laughs too. Because One look at you, and he knows.

Not just because of the colors-

But because he would've fallen in love with your smile anyway.

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#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine

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readershewrites · 11 months

Text

show me what mercy feels like

As someone who struggles deeply with body image and self-talk, I wrote this to fulfil my longing to be seen and be treated with fierce love. Deeply inspired by the works of @kneelingshadowsalome. Specifically “Love Is A Heavy Weapon”, her sequel to “Man-Sized”, and her recent drabble also dealing with body image.

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x f!OC

Tags: Explicit sex, light LIGHT choking I guess, passionate sex, body image, mirror sex, tongue-licking, a smidge of knife-play, a waft of dom Simon

Trigger Warnings: OC is struggling with body dysmorphia/body image

She’s used to these feelings. They’ve come and gone intermittently through her life - beginning in teenagehood and lasting until now, so she’s become accustomed to the routine. Rumination, despair, rebirth. The endless cycle, never triggered by the same thing, never predictable.

This week is about the fourth or so day of these feelings. Her jeans feel different, her shirts and blouses feel different, and it’s not so disastrous as to enact any drastic change yet she feels burdened by the weight of the feelings and disheartened by the oncoming storm.

Loving herself has always been a conscious effort, and like most people there are dips and troughs as well as highs. Often the highs are brought with or by her lover, Simon. She was on her way to self-acceptance and self-compassion when he stepped into her life, and proceeded to shove her face-first into a sea of love and feeling so deep she felt like she had never been alive before him.

Simon loves her well, and she is sure of that.

But her feelings towards herself are distinct, and today she really can’t shake her sadness no matter how much she is in need of it.

This morning she stands a moment longer in front of the mirror, dismayed by what she sees. Her heart constricts when she thinks of the beautiful woman she walked by the evening before, resplendent in velvet and dripping contentment. She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye before it can fully form, and quickly looks away.

She opens the bathroom door and there is Simon, sitting on the side of the bed, knees parted widely and hands resting on his thick thighs. His dark, observant eyes are already watching her when she raises her eyes, and the moment their gazes meet she is undone.

Her eyebrows pinch as the hot sting of tears burns her eyes, and Simon sucks a deep breath in. He sits still, hands betraying tension in the fingers pressed firmly against his knees, and only releases his grip when she dives into his body.

She doesn’t really sob, but the ache is deep and well rooted in her soul.

“Talk to me.” Simon’s gravelly voice rumbles through her last defenses and she trembles slightly as a few tears slip down her face.

She presses herself harder into him, and he receives it all.

“I just-... I just can’t bear the way I look sometimes. I don’t like the way I look, I don’t understand the way I look, and I’m tired of fighting to keep positive about it.” She squeezes her eyes firmly shut as the exhaustion hits her.

“I don’t want to accept my body as it is. I don’t care about gratitude and compassion and all that stuff and yeah I know it’s right and good and all that stuff but I hate that I have to put the work in to like a body that doesn’t look good. I just hate it so much! I hate that I look like this.”

Her voice shakes terribly and her nose is clogged up with snot and emotion, but Simon is steadfast. This is what she loves about him - he asks for all that she thinks and is never critical of how cruel she can be.

“I don’t want other people to tell me I look good because I don’t believe them and I never have and I worry that I never will. I worry that people are lying when they say I look nice and I hate that I can never take a compliment and I hate that I’m too insecure to be gracious and above all I hate that I look like this!”

Simon readjusts his grip on her, one thick arm wrapped tightly around her torso and the other fiercely clutching her head to his chest.

“I don’t want to have to consider what colours suit me, what stupid body type I am, what glasses or haircut or– or– or what length my dresses should be. I just want to wear what other people wear and look like they do.”

She’s done, and she has a headache. She has aired her grievances and shown him her valley of sorrow, but in the wake feels defeated and tired.

Nevertheless, the cycle is familiar to her and she knows Simon will be there. He is her lighthouse when she is at sea.

She lifts her head from his neck and sees his shimmering, pained eyes staring back at her. Wordless and strong, he draws her into a kiss full of intent with his dry, warm palm resting firmly at the base of her throat.

“Go to work,” he murmurs, eyes tracing over the shape of her lips. She wills herself to stay still though she feels nude under his stare. “We will recalibrate tonight.”

She gives him a nod, throat still under loving hostage, and pulls away.

As she pulls open the front door and toes her shoes off, she meditates over how the day has gone. She had tried not to let her mood affect her work, but had nevertheless been more withdrawn than usual. She was grateful for having two excellent friends at work who knew her propensity for turning inwards and were kind and warm but not intrusive.

Padding steadily to the bedroom, she feels the familiar mix of nervousness and anticipation waiting for her.

“Recalibration” is to Simon a sort of potent mixture of sex and therapy. Every time she has a wobbly moment he takes her apart piece by piece and guides her into the recesses of feeling that she is afraid of. He shows her that they may be her demons but that they exist in a corner of fear and loneliness that he won’t let her get lost in.

Even so, even after all the times he has done this with her, she is afraid.

But she trusts him to guide her ahead with his sober seriousness and unflinching determination to love her.

She opens the bedroom door and there he is, sitting in the same position as this morning but facing the door.

She looks to the wall opposite their bed and sees that he’s moved the large gilded mirror that normally resides above their fireplace to rest against the wall. From the angle she’s at she can’t quite see the reflection, but knowing how directly she will see her nakedness sparks a kindling of stress in her.

“Come ‘ere.”

Simon beckons her with his hand and her feet move without her even knowing it.

He reaches for her once she is in his space and lifts her so that she is straddling his wide hips.

“Si–”

He hushes her with a squeeze of her thigh. “How do you tell me you’re okay?”

Her mouth dries and her underwear grows damp. “Two taps.”

“And your safeword?”

“Apple.”

Simon’s hand travels from her thigh to the crease where it meets her hip.

“Are you ready?”

She nods firmly, gaze still locked on him.

“Good girl. I love you.”

Her eyes prick with tears and the sight of her wet eyes, Simon’s own turn hard.

Her cunt clenches at the way he regards her now. Soft, sympathetic Simon is gone. This version of him is determined, relentless, and dominating.

“I’m going to take your clothes off,” he says, finally dropping his eyes to her chest where her nipples have pebbled to hard, sensitive points.

He releases her thigh and methodically unbuttons her blouse, taking it off and dropping it to the ground as his focus turns to her singlet. He draws a calloused finger along the line of her throat, traces the mole he loves to bite, and slowly drags it down to circle her right nipple.

She releases her breath - not having realised she was holding it - and watches the seriousness of his brow as he leans close and licks the light shape of her hard nipple over her bra and shirt.

At first he’s gentle, kissing it and licking it as though it were the first time, but then his arms are at her back and pushing her into him and all of a sudden he is biting ravenously at her nipple and wetting her tank top and holy fuck she can feel his saliva through the thick cotton of her bra.

Her heart is thundering at her chest and she desperately wants to feel his tongue on the skin of her breast, but the rule is that tonight is for Simon to enjoy her body so she allows it to continue, all the while aware of the growing warmth and wetness of her crotch.’

Pulling back ever so briefly, Simon is breathing hard and releases an arm from its grip around her to pull the strap off of her right shoulder and gently pulls her breast out. She looks down and he is staring right at her, staring staring staring as he takes her nipple between his teeth and rolls it.

She can’t help the whine that leaves her lips, and the moan that shatters the air when he pushes a small amount of spit just over her nipple and then closes his mouth over it and sucks.

Her cheeks are hot and her heart is pounding furiously and Simon still hasn’t broken his penetrating stare. He reaches for the other strap with his other hand and pulls it down and her left breast is engulfed by his hot hand and she begins to rock over his crotch as he continues with the agonisingly slow pace of his suckling.

She registers distantly that he is hard, but focuses on burning the image of him at her chest into her brain.

A moment passes, and Simon reaches behind him. She looks and he has a combat knife in his hand, and brings them to the front of her shirt. The cool blade glides lightly against her skin and they both watch in fascination as her skin erupts in goosebumps.

Hand confidently gripping the handle, Simon turns the blade to lie flat against her skin and slides it under her bra and the bunched up top. He pulls the knife towards his own chest, then turns the blade and slides it up and down only a few times until the material gives way and her chest is exposed and they can both watch her breasts move up and down from the thrill.

She complies as Simon peels the cut cloth from her body, lifting her arms obediently, then settles her hand in his thick, rough hair.

Simon lifts her slightly so that she is holding her own weight above him, and curves his right knuckle as though he is holding a pen. Then he presses his hand against her crotch, adds pressure and languidly strokes back and forth against her.

She leans forward to kiss him, but he pulls away with a grunt.

“Tongue out.”

She sticks it out, panting slowly but deeply. Simon’s eyes twinkle darkly as he leans forward to lick her tongue with his, and she just about ascends to heaven.

He brings her back down with a shockingly firm hand clutching her throat, and she blinks furiously at him, tongue still out and heart racing wildly.

Simon ignores her surprise and licks her tongue twice more before leaning in, enclosing his mouth over her tongue and sucking hard.

She squeals at the sensation and her thighs quiver dramatically.

He chuckles lowly and she is - for a brief moment - embarrassed, but is distracted by him unbuttoning her jeans.

“Take these off,” he says, “then get down in front of the mirror.”

She clumsily shuffles off his lap, looking longingly at the bulge in his pants, but obeys.

She wriggles out of her jeans and slides her underwear off, but stops short of turning to the mirror. Simon watches her carefully in the middle of taking off his own clothes, thick and scarred chest moving in motion with his breath. She stays facing him even as he takes his own trousers and pants off, his juicy cock bouncing, pink and wet.

“Love.”

Lowering her gaze, she turns to the mirror and kneels. She doesn’t want to see herself. Then, she leans forwards onto her hands and stares right at the rug under her palms. Seeing, but also not seeing the pattern she had chosen for their room.

Simon’s hands settle on her shoulders then bring her back to her knees and she meets his burning gaze in the mirror with difficulty.

His erection is pressing hotly against her back, but she’s not sure anymore whether the goosebumps are from arousal or discomfort. She stubbornly locks eyes with him and thinks, I don’t want to look at this.

Simon’s nostrils flare and there’s just a beat of silence before his big hands flex and then his right hand settles haphazardly over a breast and the other at her belly and then they both grab, hard.

The action takes her breath away and her eyes blow wide before he growls lowly, “I want to always be able to grab handfuls of you.”

With a firm knee he nudges hers apart and pushes his forwards until her crotch is sitting back against his thigh.

Like the good girl she is, she begins to rock, and Simon grunts approvingly. The hand at her belly relaxes, only to reposition slightly and grab her tummy again. The hand at her chest slides to pinch her nipple and yep she is definitely back at full arousal and can’t help the wail that leaves her when he yet again opens his mouth to let warm glob of spit drip down her chest.

He tucks his head into her neck and bites down firmly before using his hand to smear his spit along the skin of her breast.

“I want to always be able to bite you.”

She closes her eyes and lets out a sob of want.

He uses his hands to push her down harder against his knee. She tries desperately to angle her hips so that something will touch her clit, but he holds her steady. This is just the beginning.

“I want you sticky and wet and naked.”

He abruptly releases her and she lets out a sharp yelp and catches herself with her palms before she can face-plant. She finds him smirking at her in the mirror. Mouth twisted and teasing but eyes knowing and warm.

Back on your knees.

Behind her Simon pumps his pulsing cock with his right hand, reaching down slightly to collect her juices and then smearing the warm wetness over his cock and even down to his balls.

She lowers herself slightly by bending her elbows so she can watch the delicious scene. Her bear of a man. Palming himself over her spread legs. The thrill that she gets from watching him stare at her puffy and ripe cunt is the definition of addiction.

He leans forward slightly and guides the head to her opening, and she sighs in relief. Simon is silent, but the sweat beading at his forehead and the shine of his chest reveals the strain on him.

He pushes in slowly, drawing it out to the point where she wants to scream. She lets out a weak whine and rests her head on the ground.

“No.”

A hand fists her hair and pulls back on it. She gasps as her head is wrenched back so that she is once again staring at her own blown pupils, wet chest and red face.

“You’re gonna watch today,” Simon says, buried to the hilt but also totally still, “Don’t care if ya watch me or yourself, but don’t even fuckin’ think of taking those beautiful eyes off the mirror, ‘kay love?”

“Okay”, she chokes out.

“Mmph.”

Pleased, he pulls out slowly and then pushes back in.

She can feel his cock all the way up in her throat. Each measured thrust punches the breath from her lungs stops time for just a second before he grants her peace and pulls out.

But the pace he sets can’t be called peace at all. In fact, he isn’t even quicking at all.

“Si,” she says, fingertips turning white as she grips the carpet.

“Si,” she chants as he smiles and tightens his fist in her hair.

“Si,” she sobs as he runs a covetous hand down her sweaty back.

“Please…”

“Don’t think so,” he laughs, relishing in his power.

“Fuckin’ hell love,” he says, “wish you could see the view I’ve got ‘ere.”

She closes her eyes at the sweet torture just for a moment–

SMACK!

She shrieks and clenches down furiously on his hot cock.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet you’re creamin’ on me. Fuuuuuuck, darlin’.”

The tremor in her belly spreads to her thighs, and she can’t bear that he’s talking such sweet words when he won’t. let. her. come!

A dark chuckle bounces from Simon and reaches her burning ears. Her looks up wetly at her lover and cries quietly as he slips out from her completely.

Simon ignores her tears and pulls her torso up and against his chest. They’re breathing heavily and out of sync, and both of them are shaking slightly from the tension of a drawn-out fuck.

Simon then manoeuvres his right leg so that his foot is planted on the carpet and his knee is facing the mirror, then he drags her shaking right leg to drape over his and nestles her close to him. She can feel his pubic hair pressing against her ass and the right side of her body is slightly compacted by the position, but she knows this is going to be a delicious experience.

He wraps his left arm around her body and waits for her to dig her hands into his muscular forearm for support. It’s a challenging position as they’re both balancing their weight on their left sides, and he’s got her right leg propped up on his, but they both can’t resist watching the way it spreads her cunt wide open.

He especially eagerly watches the way her juices slide down her left thigh. He dips a hand to catch the drip and sucks loudly at his fingers.

“Put me in.” He commands.

She enthusiastically complies and he allows her to tilt forward slightly until he notches in at the right angle and slides smoothly into her tight cunt.

His right hand smooths lovingly over her thigh as his eyes bores into hers.

“Here we go love.” He warns, and then begins their carnal dance.

He pulls his fat cock from her walls and then generously shoves it back in, watching as her thighs flex and the cries begin yet again.

She is clawing at his forearm, unable to stop watching his beautiful manhood make use of her the only way she wants to be used.

Distantly she looks at the rolls of flesh on her right side and is momentarily distracted and disturbed by the observation, but, as astute as ever, Simon notices immediately and his lustful, loving monologue begins.

“Look at you, fuckin’ hating yourself like that.”

He slams his hips into her with extra frustration.

She weeps.

“This body was made to love like this, can’t you see?”

His right hand grazes over her clit and she yells out in pleasure and frustration when he moves away.

“No one else can take me like this.”

His hand grabs her jaw so their mirror-gaze breaks and she has her neck twisted to look up and behind at him.

The proximity forces her to flutter around him, and Simon ups the pace.

“I fuckin’ love you. You know that?”

“I luh–”

“Uh-uh” he commands, and she shuts her mouth. “I’m talking.”

Her eyes leak tears and her cheeks are just as wet as her cunt. Small squeaks come out her mouth at every push of his hips.

“You make my life.” He grunts, mashing his lips against hers. She warbles against his mouth and her entire body clenches.

Simon wrenches his head from hers and then forces her back to face the mirror. The speed is more frenzied, and there’s no containing her volume now.

“Ah–ah—-hah!... Si! Yes!”

He grabs her right hand, intertwining their fingers, and leads her down to her clit. He ensures that both their hands are touching her engorged, sensitive nub and begins to furiously work it.

“Uh- yes!”

“Fuckin’ sick of you hating yourself like you don’t have me wrapped around your finger.”

“Ohhhh! Uh–uh—uhh— yessss please Simon,” she sobs, crying and crying but still looking directly at him, “Please. Please!”

“You don’t know how much I want you always.” He huffs, pace manic. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore.

“I want to be in you all the time. This cunt is heaven.”

She’s close, and he’s right behind her.

Refusing to lose control, Simon lowers them to the carpet as carefully as he can manage. Her breasts and his arm are pressed against the rough jute material and he waits a moment to release her right leg to the ground and allows her to shift her left to a more comfortable sprawl.

This fucked iteration of the froggy position is tight on her legs and more than a tad uncomfortable, but at this rate she’d rather die than complain.

He brings their intertwined hands back to her clit, brushing lightly against it to test her readiness and at her cry of please please don’t stop Simon licks his lips and resumes his relentless drilling.

“Your body is my endless heaven. You are my dream. You are my dream.”

He repeats the second time with fluttering eyes and she cries unabashedly into the carpet, mouth open and drool and tears and sweat dripping onto the floor.

“I’m coming! Si I’m coming I’m co--”

Her scream almost drowns him out, but she feels his words against her neck anyway.

“You make me want things. A fuckin’ baby, your belly huge and tits full of milk and fuckin’ soft everywhere.”

The mental image is so horrifyingly clear in his head that Simon is hurtled into his own orgasm, his speech ripped in half by a loud moan. His grunting accompanies hers as she bucks and wails and thrashes beneath him, milking him to the point of near-madness.

Her left ear is ringing and the ache in her hips is more than a little painful, but by the time their highs are over she’s a mess underneath him, and sobbing openly into the carpet. This has been by far the most visceral ‘recalibration’ they’ve ever had, and her heartache has more than been met by intimacy and affection.

She feels such grief and sadness but the feelings are crushed by waves of love so fierce she can’t do anything but weep.

Above her, Simon shifts and smooths a hand down her sweaty back.

“Shhhh,” he whispers against her sweaty head. He repeats it over and over as she expels her anguish and is overcome with lust, adoration, feeling.

“I’m here. I’m here.”

#Simon Ghost Riley x OC #Simon Ghost Riley #COD MW2 #Simon Ghost Riley smut #Simon Ghost Riley angst #Simon Ghost Riley fluff

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lxstfathier · 10 months

Text

Mean

Master! Luke Skywalker x Padawan! Reader

Summary: a simple lightsaber combat with master Luke turns into something else.

Warnings: soft dom Luke, oral sex (m! receiving), inappropriate use of the force, implied age-gap, established relationship (?).

A/N: a little late but here it is, the soft dom Luke fic requested by anon. i also used the padawan reader cuz some of y’all asked for more… and yes, i put that gif of Graham as Luke cuz he’s super hot too idc lmao. Hope you like this! 💗

It all started as something innocent. Just a simple lightsaber combat to train and have fun. Neither of you expected to end up all sweaty, high in adrenaline and with a sexual tension way too strong.

It’s almost unbearable. The only thing you want to do is go straight to your room, strip naked and rub your clit all night until you get rid of that annoying frustration.

But you’re really dumb if you think that master Luke is not hearing your thoughts. You’re being louder that usual, of course he can sense it easily, and those filthy fantasies of yours are enough to drive him wild.

So, before you decide to excuse yourself out of the situation, Luke uses the force to snatch your lightsaber from your hands, hiding the blade and letting the hilt hang from his belt, just like all those times where he punished you for misbehaving.

But you did nothing wrong this time! you’re being a good girl, why is he acting like that?. Both of you were enjoying the friendly combat, so that sudden change is difficult to understand. You don’t get it. You weren’t acting like a brat.

“On your knees” he demands. “Now”.

“W-what?”

“You heard me”

Of course he won’t repeat what he said, and you heard it clearly, so now you need to obey his commands, even if you think it’s unfair. Cause you know full well that, if you don’t do as he wants, your lightsaber will stay on his belt for a week and you’ll be forced to meditate instead of having fun with the other students.

Letting out a sigh, you get on your knees, right in front of Luke, immediately noticing the prominent bulge in his pants.

So that’s what has your master all moody and pent up? He needs your help to relieve some stress and frustration? oh, maker, he could have just asked instead of making you feel like brat.

However, you won’t deny him a little bit of pleasure, not when you’re also extremely horny and dripping wet between your thighs.

“Come on, pretty girl, you know what to do” Luke says, impatient to feel your touch, stepping closer until his crotch is almost rubbing against your face.

And of course you know, you’re no stranger to any of that, so you get to work, looking up at him with big doe eyes while running your hands up his thighs and abdomen, pushing the belt out of the way and moving his black robes aside.

Finally, when you pull down his pants and underwear, his hard cock springs out, swollen, leaking pre cum, and begging for attention.

You take his fat length in your hands, feeling how heavy it is, pumping it a few times before licking the pink tip, earning a soft moan from him that sounds like music to your ears.

But Luke is not in the mood for teasing, he wants more, so he bucks his hips forward, urging you to take him in your mouth. And you comply, doing exactly what he wants, sliding that big cock past your lips, inch by inch, until he’s buried all the way down to the base inside that pretty little mouth of yours.

Then you start moving, up and down in a steady pace, trying your best not to gag when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck yeah, just like that” Luke hisses, almost whimpering, grabbing a fistful of your hair to keep the rhythm.

A moan escapes from you, sending vibrations to his sensitive cock, and you can feel your slickness soaking your panties, practically humping the air, desperate for some friction.

You need attention too, and Luke knows it, so he uses the force to rub your clit in circular motions, torturously slow, sending waves of pleasure through your body, but not enough to make you cum, he wants to do that himself.

Tears fill your eyes when you take him as deep as you can, too lost in the moment to care about breathing, wanting nothing more than make him feel good.

And seeing you just like that, crying from the stimulation and his cock stuffed in your mouth, has Luke going absolutely crazy, on the verge of an orgasm.

He thrusts hard a few times, fucking your throat, soon finding his own release, a deep groan rumbling out of his chest as he spills inside your mouth, feeling him twitch while you milk him dry, making sure that not a single drop of his hot sticky seed is wasted.

Once he has rode out that euphoric sensation, you let his cock out of your mouth, finally catching a breath, cleaning the spit running down your lips and whining when he suddenly stops working on your clit.

For a moment you think that maybe he’ll leave you there, frustrated, and then go back to his duties as a jedi master. But what you don’t know is that he’s still hearing your thoughts, smirking at the fact that you’re so damn needy, and so so good for him, always willing to do anything.

“I’m not that mean, baby” Luke says, reaching down to put two fingers under your chin, forcing you to look directly at his pretty blue eyes. “Now lay down and spread those legs, cause i’m not done with you just yet…”

#luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker fanfiction #star wars smut #luke skywalker smut

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shdo-xplosion · 1 year

Text

@kenmakai’s prompt request for my welcome event! thank you for participating :3

8. 🖤 YANDERE BEST FRIEND - e. kirishima

yandere!kiri, oblivious reader, obsessive behavior, drugging (cold medicine), somnophilia, non-con, fingering, oral(fem!receiving)

Kirishima has wanted this so badly for so long. He thought he could wait, bide his time, and that you’d eventually see him as more than a friend. He’s been with you since high school, through all the ups and downs. He’s nursed you back to health after on-the-job injuries. He’s held you as you grieved the loss of other friends. He’s done everything in his power to protect you.

And yet…

You’re me best friend, Eiji. What would I do without you?

You’re both in your late 20s now, and Kirishima can’t wait any longer. He’s tried to curb his desires. He’s held himself back, told himself time and time again how wrong it would be.

Tonight, though… tonight the opportunity is just too good to pass up. It’s wrong, yeah, but it’s also easy.

You’ve been sick for a few days, a head cold that’s just kicking your ass. Kirishima came over to bring you soup only to find you passed out on your couch, a packet of PM medicine ripped open and nearly empty. He hopes you didn’t take all of the pills in one go, but you are dead to the world, and it would be a shame to just leave you here like this. So vulnerable.

Kirishima is sitting at the end of the couch by your feet, rubbing his hands nervously, attempting to wet his painfully dry mouth. He’s trying to work himself up, needs a little push.

And then you reposition yourself on the couch, turning on your back, and Kirishima suddenly can’t breathe when your knees fall apart just slightly. The push he needed.

Carefully—so carefully—he crawls higher on the couch. He can’t kiss you like he wants to. Touching your face like that might be enough to wake you, so he’ll have to refrain. So, he trails his fingers up your thighs, kisses the side of your knee.

Up, up, up, he travels, eyes flitting to your face to make sure you aren’t waking. When he finds no sign, Kirishima dares to brush over your covered core, protected only by cotton underwear. Your PJs usually only consist of large t-shirts and panties, a blessing Kirishima has always appreciated.

Taking them off entirely isn’t an option, but moving them to the side is. As gently as possible, he pulls the elastic until your folds are exposed, licking his lips at the sight. You aren’t dripping wet, still clueless as to what’s happening, but Kirishima can change that. He plans to change that.

Leaning down he begins to softly lick you, tongue delving between your folds then flicking your clit until it begins to swell between his lips. He stops when you exhale suddenly, glancing up and preparing himself for a look of shock and disgust, but your eyes are still closed.

Kirishima knows he can’t fuck you. He’s too big and wouldn’t be able to control himself. And, he’d need to hear you say you want him, help guide him into you so that he doesn’t hurt you.

He can touch you, though. He can push into your velvet walls and feel you begin to dribble slick. He can suck on your little clit and relish in the way you clench around his fingers. He can watch the way your eyebrows cinch together and your legs spread further.

You’re enjoying yourself. Even if it’s just a pleasant dream for you, that’s okay. He just wants to feel you cum, just be good and cum for him.

When Kirishima feels the engorged tissue of your g-spot, he makes sure not to hit it too hard, simply massaging the bundle. Too much pressure could be enough to wake you up, but this simple motion is still enough to make squirt leak onto his tongue.

You let out the prettiest little whimper, barely shifting your hips to press against his face. Kirishima has to be careful, hold himself back, but all he wants is to slide into your heat. His cock is throbbing with desire, slimy precum making his boxers stick to him.

Part of him even wants you to wake up. Maybe you’ll be close enough to beg him to fuck you, get you there the rest of the way.

You reach your peak just like this though, creaming on Kirishima’s fingers as your lips part in a quiet moan. He’ll never forget the way your cunt pulses around him, or the way you soak his palm in cum.

He pulls out slowly, pulls your panties back over your pussy and bites his lip when you soak through them. Kirishima just finishes licking you off his hand when you begin to stir, blinking sleepy eyes at him.

“Eiji?”

“Hey, you,” he grins, a throw pillow securely on his lap to cover his obvious hard-on. “I brought you some soup.”

You wipe your face and show a lazy smile. “You’re a god send. How would I survive without you?”

event masterlist ✿

#kirishima x reader #Eijirou kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #tw yandere #tw noncon

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chaseadrian · 2 years

Text

vandalism in the closet

Rushing off to Atlantic City to elope with Eddie might be a stupid idea, it might be the best idea you've ever had. But if there's one thing you do know, it's that rockstars know how to trash hotel rooms.

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader tags: 18+ ONLY, explicit, established relationship, elopement, dom!eddie, also soft!eddie, fluff, post-canon, like circa 1989 or something word count: 4k+ a/n: if you listen to She Rides by Danzig right as you start reading, by the time Eddie starts singing lyrics the song should also be around the same lyrics. fun thing i noticed lol but uhh yeah this one is minimally edited so feedback and comments are appreciated as always. likes are great, reblogs are better.

When you and Eddie came up with the idea in the middle of the night, you thought you’d change your minds somewhere along the way.

Hopped up on the adrenaline of his cock buried inside you, his hair dripping sweat onto your shoulders, you thought the cold swipe of a wet washcloth on your stomach would change things.

You thought when your heart rate slowed you’d change your answer, he’d tell you nevermind, you’d both just give up the idea.

When he slipped one of his rings on your finger—the corroded steel band and webbed howlite crystal just a tad too big for your ring finger—you still didn’t think it was real.

When you hopped in the van, when you loaded up with snacks at the corner store, every pit stop and refuel, every passing state line—commemorated with grainy photos from your polaroid.

Every memory you’d made in the eleven hours it took to get to Atlantic City, none of it felt real.

Sure, you could’ve gone down to the courthouse, could’ve celebrated at the Hawkins motel, but Eddie wouldn’t stand for it.

“Only the best of the worst for my girl,” He’d said with a wink, with your hand pressed against his lips.

And though the Elvis impersonator was booked, Cher ended up being a better stand in. Good enough for you. Good enough for two idiots who found themselves wearing makeshift rings and rushing off to the nearest high rise hotel.

You were against the wall before the door closed, Eddie’s mouth on your neck, towering over you, his hand on the wall above your head.

“Why don’t you go get all pretty on the bed for me?” His voice had you shuddering, and you pulled him in by the back of the neck for a filthy kiss. Your tongue pushed into his mouth, the slick of his lips sliding against yours, a faint growl sitting in his throat.

You ducked under his arm, and his hand caught you with a firm smack on the ass before you rushed over to the bed, slipping out of the flowing white dress you’d pulled from the back of your closet and thrown on.

Shucking off his jacket, he followed you into the suite, diverting to turn on the radio. He turned the dial, finding Danzig somewhere between poppy Madonna and the immortal Sinatra. Cranking the volume up as loud as it would go, he pointed at you and mouthed the lyrics, shaking his head as he stepped towards you.

You leaned back on your elbows, melting into the mattress as his figure covered you. The giddiness in your chest had you laughing, but as he whispered the lyrics, one of his large, calloused hands dragging down your body, you choked on your laughter.

She slides, Down inside your skin

Falling to his knees on the carpet, he put a hand on either thigh, spreading you slowly, letting his head fall back, shaking his hair with the words.

In time, She will make you scream

He buried his head between your legs, sucking a wet patch into your underwear, hands on the insides of your thighs stretching you open as wide as you could stretch. Wider, still.

You lost all sense in that moment, before his tongue had even touched your cunt, before he’d snapped your underwear away from you with his teeth, sticking them in his back pocket before diving back into your folds. The music was deafening, thrumming in your chest, making you ache for him.

Without asking, you knotted your fingers in his hair, pushing him deeper against you, burying his face between your legs.

Eddie was too amped up to care, the coarse black denim of his jeans straining his hard cock. He brought a hand down to his bulge, groaning into your pussy as he palmed himself, as he unzipped, tugging on his cock until he was starting to lose focus on making you scream.

Letting go of his cock, he resituated his hand on your body, sliding over your bare tits, his thumb smoothing over the hard nipple, squeezing nail marks into your skin.

His tongue swiped up your slit, flat against the wall of nerves, head tilting left and right, coating your cunt with his slick spit.

You slammed your head back into the bed, over and over as his tongue worked your clit, fuckfuckfuckfuck and please, fuck right there, pleasepleaseplease and all manner of noises almost completely silenced by the thrashing music from the radio.

Eddie could hear you, though, could feel your voice from your chest, from the way your tits bounced with each jerk of your body, each spasm of nerves, from your head smashing into the mattress, desperate for release. Hot air hit your cunt as Eddie laughed, his lips pressing into your inner thighs, licking away the beads of sweat, skin flushed from the way his hair smothered your skin.

You combed your fingers through his hair, waiting for his tongue to come back, waiting for his face in your pussy, waiting for the release you thought you were promised. You whined and lifted your head up, watching as he stared at you from beneath furrowed brows, tongue skating up your abdomen, between your tits.

Whining again, your hands sliding over your thighs, just grazing the slick skin of your cunt before Eddie shook his head at you, and you snapped them back, curling them up between your bodies.

He brought his lips close to your ear, almost a whisper with the music blaring, and you felt the tip of his cock prod at your hole.

“What’re you whining for, huh?” He teased his tongue on the outer cup of your ear, “You don’t think I’d take care of my wife.”

Not stated with fondness, but with possession, he slammed his dick into you, and you inhaled a sharp gasp of air.

“Cause that’s what you are now, isn’t that right?” Fucking his cock into you, he slid a hand behind your head, nails against your scalp, tearing at your hair, tugging until it hurt.

“You gonna be my good little housewife? Let me fuck you against the stove? Suck me off when I come home from work?” He threw his head back and cackled, closing his eyes and ramming into you harsher and faster until you were losing your breath.

The rough hilt of his pelvis against your clit, the bursting pressure of his cock in your cunt, he had already worked you enough with his mouth and before you could stop it you were spasming and crying, clawing at the comforter on the bed, framing your bodies with the plush linen.

Eddie came not long after, hot bursts of cum seeping from the seams of your cunt, his cock pumping the orgasm out from your body, belt buckle clinking with every thrust. He kept fucking you without letting you cool down, but you were high on the night, high on Eddie, and the blunt you’d smoked on the way to the hotel room helped too.

Tugging his shirt off, he ducked back down to your mouth, squeezing your jaw with his hand and sticking his tongue between your lips.

“If you think I’m gonna give you a break, you’re dead fucking wrong.”

Except, he eventually did.

You both thanked the universe for all-night room service, a white rolling cart of fries and crab and whatever your blissed out minds could think of was there twenty minutes from the moment Eddie put the phone down.

White robes adorning your slicked up bodies, you sat on the floor of the suite’s living space, shoveling food into your mouths.

He threw a fry at you, and you caught it between your teeth, beaming at the applause he gave you.

You took a swig of the champagne he’d ordered, cringing at the taste. Eddie smiled, exhaling a laugh from his nostrils.

“Hey you uh,” He started, reaching over to play with the cuff of your robe, “You think we made the right decision?”

Shrugging, you brought his hand to your lips, kissing the knuckles, “I dunno, but like, do we ever know?”

He looked down and nodded, swallowing hard, shaking himself out of his worry, “Guess not.”

You squeezed his hand, interlacing your fingers and swinging them in an arc, back and forth in the air, staring at the ring on your hand, the rings on his. The way they slid together, scratched up over years of use.

You sang the words, plucky and brief, “I. just. know. I. love. you!” Bouncing your hands in the air with each word, you smiled at him and cocked your head, “Eddie, I drove eleven hours in the car with you and we didn’t like, die or kill each other. You ask me, we’re battle tested, baby.”

There was a moment of pause when he looked at you, the amused smile on his lips teetering between keeping the moment sweet and turning you into a slobbering mess again. The way you rested his hand on your thigh with a gentle pat, the way you went back to the pile of fries, a sip of champagne, a grimace. You did a double-take when you realized his eyes hadn’t left you once, those cavernous brown eyes that wrapped you in warmth, brought you home.

“What?” You asked, physically unable to wipe the smile from your lips.

He propped his elbow up on the table, sitting his cheek in his palm, “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his nose, “No, you.”

He shook his head with a laugh, “Babydoll, how are you still this blitzed?”

Shrugging again, you teetered over to his lips, and he slid his hands into your hair, his palms pressed against your cheek.

“You know how much I love you?” He asked, gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips, the tips of your noses brushing against each other with every deep inhale he took.

“Nope.” You grinned, letting your head fall into your shoulders, staring up at him.

He kissed you, a deep, smothering kiss that lit up your brain, had you melting against him. The kind of kiss that forces your eyes shut, forces the world away until it’s just the blackness behind your eyes and his lips on yours. Not rough, nor desperate, just full. Like every step you took was made with this kiss in mind, getting you to this moment, something of a crux, a certainty, an answer to all the times you’d looked up at the sky and asked why?

Eddie pulled back from the kiss, eyes wide as though he’d just had the same revelation as you, “Me neither.”

Then there was that tongue in cheek smile you knew, the one that saved him from the kind of vulnerability you both shied away from when you could help it.

With your heart bursting in your chest, you could no longer help it.

“Eddie.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, “Yeah, doll?”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrists, holding his grip on you.

“If someone told me that, y’know, waiting, at the end of—of all the bullshit and—and bad things and whatever, I went through,” You looked down for a moment, blinking fast and shaking the thoughts away, “If they said I had to go through it to get to you…there’s no doubt in my mind that I—I would.” You loosened your grip on his wrist, running your thumbs in a pattern over and over the same spot of his skin.

“Ohh, baby.” His voice was soft as he pulled you into his lap, hands wrapping around your shoulders, rubbing your back.

“No more bad things,” He said, holding you as close as he could, “Not long as I have anything to say about it.”

You breathed against the soft fluff of the robe, allowing the silence between you to settle, the faintest hum of the radio over in the bedroom carrying the moment, the comforting thrum of an electric guitar.

Neither of you wanted to break the comfort you’d fallen into, Eddie’s hand petting the back of your head, your fingers sliding underneath the lapel of his robe, grazing the tattoo on his pec. There was no doubt in your mind you’d made the right decision today. In five years, ten, twenty, maybe that would change.

But right now?

Right now, nothing felt better than his ring on your finger.

You pulled your head away from his chest, looking up at him, into those brown eyes. Always sparkling, always home, and they fluttered closed as you leaned up to kiss his cheek, spattering pecks down to his jaw, covering his face until he was smiling and you could press your lips to his dimples, too.

He shook his head at you, combing a hand through your hair, stilling when you finally made it to his lips.

Eddie melted easily when you were sweet to him, cheeks flushing pink, posture sinking into a bashful curve that was entirely incompatible with the daunting tower of his frame when you weren’t being so sweet.

He pushed against your kiss, guiding you down to the floor, keeping rhythm with his lips as he balanced himself over you.

You linked your hands behind his neck, your ankles around the backs of his knees, bringing his body in, his weight firm and comforting on top of you, but he pulled back.

“Can’t believe you’re all mine.” He flicked a few strands of hair out of your face, smoothing a thumb over one of your eyebrows.

You wiggled your left hand in front of his face, “Believe it, babes, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

He licked the back of your hand, and you jerked it away with a hey! and a laugh, Eddie ducking into your neck to press kisses that tickled you more than anything else, and you kept giggling until he pulled away.

“Hey, excuse me, I’m trynna kiss my wife here.”

You feigned surprise with a gasp, “You’re married?”

Eddie cocked his head back, “Well, ‘married’ is kind of a loose term.” He rolled his eyes as he talked, that shiteating smirk on his face, “Don’t you have a hubby waiting at home for you? I thought we were both stepping out here!”

Sitting up on your elbows, you forced Eddie to back away from you, hovering in wait, “Ugh, I do.” You scoffed, shaking your head, “He’s a total burnout, though, and he’s got a tiiiiiny—”

He covered your mouth with his hand, laughing, “Don’t you dare.”

You licked the palm of his hand, but he just stared at you, lips stretched into a smile, tilting his head in amusement. You squinted your eyes at him, waiting patiently until he slid his hand away.

“Tiny dick.” You sputtered out, tucking your lips into your mouth, trying to hold back a smile.

“Oh how dare you!” He laughed, ducking into your neck, tickling you again, his hands unfastening the tie on the robe so he could get at your hips, fingers coasting across the skin until you were slapping him on the shoulder, pushing on his chest, trying to get him away.

Eddie held strong on top of you though, kept you there until he’d decided to bring his lips to yours, laughing as you tried to regain your breath, efforts ruined by your own laughter.

The kisses deepened as the laughter died off, Eddie moaning into your mouth, reaching between you two to tug free the rope of his own robe, bare bodies squishing together. His cock hardened against you as you made out, but he made no move to fuck you yet, both of you content with his skin on yours, lips gliding together.

There was no telling how long you stayed like that. With the city lights outside, the night was livelier than the day and the only sign of passing time was the change in tempo from the live music down the street.

When the hard thrashing turned to soft rock, when your lips were swollen and red, bodies slick with sweat, Eddie started shifting down. He dragged his mouth down the column of your throat, over your tits, tongue swirling over each nipple, sucking until you were nice and firm. Slower down your stomach, his fingers finding their way to yours, grounding you in the moment, keeping you from getting overwhelmed with the excitement of what comes next.

Lips on your pelvis, your thighs. He paused to look up at you, and you brushed his hair out of his face, grazing his cheek, thumb at the corner of his open mouth. A warm wash of exhilaration lit up your skin when he tilted his head, tongue sliding under your thumb, lips closing over the dewy skin.

Eddie swirled his tongue around, eyes burning into yours, before he pulled back and closed in between your legs, that first graze forcing your head back into the ground. You squeezed his hand, languishing in his slow laps of his tongue, just nicking the nerves of your clit.

He moaned into your pussy as he sped up, never hitting the speed he’d hit earlier, just driving you deeper and deeper into the feeling of his mouth. You kept yourself disciplined, quieting your moans, holding your body down best you could. It wasn’t that kind of moment, but you knew he’d be proud anyway.

And proud he was. Spurred by the restraint, he worked harder to break you, sliding two fingers into your pussy, curving them against your walls, coupling the pressure in your cunt with the sharp pleasure from your clit. He never turned rough, only sped up as your breathing did, hand still tightly laced with yours, slowing down every time it seemed you might break.

You relished the hot moisture of his mouth, stirred with giddiness every time he pulled you back from the edge.

“Oh,” You breathed, mind fuzzing with television static, his tongue making you dizzy, “Eddie, I love you. I love you so much.”

You combed a hand through your hair, and he lifted his head, pressing a kiss to your thigh, “I love you too, doll.” And ducked right back in, driving you closer this time.

It seemed you had cracked the code, because Eddie didn’t slow down this time. He took you to the edge and over it, squeezing your hand and encouraging you with soft hums. The wet laps of his tongue faster and faster until you were paralyzed on the floor with bliss, a velvety pink warmth spilling from your legs, coating your body in pillowy elation.

Eddie wiped his mouth as he made his way back to your lips, kissing you with the same sweetness as earlier, slow and quieting. He whispered between you, “You wanna ride me, babydoll?”

You leaned up to kiss him again, nodding against his lips, and he slid a hand around your back, guiding you as he flipped onto his back. You threw a leg over his lap, straddling him, still slick pussy enveloping him between your folds.

He breathed a sigh of relief, smushing his bangs up off his forehead with his hand, exasperated and wanting.

“God, I fucking love you.” He exhaled, his fingertips running down your torso, “You’re so hot.”

“Mmm,” You smiled, sliding forward, lining his cock with your entrance, “Speak for yourself.”

He slid into you with impossible ease, breath leaving his lungs, eyes screwing shut, “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Grinding against him, you smiled, “Wonder why that is?”

“Shh, don’t tease,” He groaned, setting his hands on your hips, guiding you back and forth over his dick, his hips bucking up, locking your hips together.

You leaned down to kiss him, “Sorry, babes.”

Eddie pawed at you until you leaned down to him, burying your head into his neck, kissing harsh marks into the skin. He slid his hands down your back, lifting his hips, “Make me cum and all will be forgiven.”

You rolled your hips against him, leaning back up, hands on his shoulders, “Deal.”

You found yourself struggling to maintain rhythm, already drained from the torture of his tongue on you, the delayed gratification of your orgasm wearing you out now as you tried to maintain your composure.

Eddie slid his knees up, sensing your fatigue, fucking into you, taking control as he was wont to do. His hands held you down, fingers sliding up your back to bring you down to his lips, letting you rest in his neck, overwhelmed and panting against his skin.

It didn’t take long before Eddie himself was speeding up, fucking you faster, harder, but with the same delicacy, the same flattery, I love you’s and fuck, you feel so good and the prettiest moans you’d ever heard.

You pulled away from his neck to see his face as he came, features painted with agony, eyebrows knit together, crinkles under his eyelids, pink lips open and gasping, the shudder of his pelvis with every moment of undoing. It was a beautiful fucking sight, and you pushed your lips hard against his, grinding against him, heightening the orgasm. You loved him like this, loved the way he could lose himself under you, when he couldn’t help but surrender to you.

With a few last thrusts, Eddie came down from his peak, wrapping you in his arms, his cock still buried inside you, cum seeping onto his thighs. Your breathing synced over the minutes that passed, hands in each other’s hair, stroking through the knots.

“I love you,” Eddie sighed.

You lifted your head up, resting your chin on his chest, letting out a pleased hum, “I love you too.”

He tilted his head up, straining to kiss the top of your head, and fell back against the carpet.

The two of you stayed there until you were sure it would hurt to stand up, your legs still straddling him, just listening to the muffled music from outside, the faint radio in the bedroom.

“How cold you think those fries are?” He asked, and you painstakingly rolled off of him, groaning from the dull pain in your legs, the effort it took to unstick them from their splayed position.

“Ow, fuck,” You whispered, reaching over to grab a fry and pop it into your mouth, stretching each leg out at a time as you munched on several more fries, “Not so cold that I wouldn’t eat the rest of them.”

Eddie shot up, wiping away the cum on his legs with the bottom of his robe and bringing his hand down onto the fries like a claw, taking a chunk of them off the plate to shove in his mouth.

You smacked him on the arm, “Hey, manners, buddy.”

He spoke with his mouth full, reaching over to take a swig of your champagne,

“Manners? Never heard of ‘em.”

And that was how the weekend continued. Holed up in the hotel room, throwing away money on expensive room service, hands on each other’s bodies, lips covering every inch they could reach, sweat and champagne and blankets on the floor.

The room was trashed by Monday morning, bathroom towels flung about, picture frames crooked on the walls, a side table turned over. It wasn’t irreversible damage, but it was incriminating enough that you spent a few minutes fixing what you could to save face with housekeeping.

With your duffle bag in hand, you waited by the door for Eddie to join you.

“Hurry it up, babes, we got a long drive ahead of us.”

“Yeah yeah yeah I’m comin’!” He yelled from the bedroom, and you dropped the bag to go see what was keeping him.

He had his back to you as he leaned into the closet, scrawling something on the underside of the shelf.

“There.” He stood back and gestured toward it, “Check it out.”

Scrawled in fading Sharpie were your initials and the date.

You laughed and grabbed his hand, “Real juvenile of you, Eddie.”

He winked and dragged you back to the door, reaching down to grab your bag, “Like I said,” He kissed you, smiling against your lips, “Only the best of the worst for my girl, and I’m the best.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #my writing #mine #i dont looooove the writing on this one but i like it #its fine #but like. red light at the bowling alley fucking sends #so comparatively ofc im not gonna be screaming about this one lmfaoo

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passcode58 · 10 months

Text

Not Requested |

Fluff |

High School Gojo Satoru x reader | Comfort

Warnings | Manga Spoilers

"Oh baby, my sweet pretty baby."

Hands hooked under his chin, you pulled the boy's delicate forward, pressing a gentle kiss upon his appled cheeks. Gojo's lips turned down, forming a saddening pout as he sat with an empty seat next to him. It was hard, you know. Grappling with a series of unfortunate and life changing losses.

The day he stumbled into your work, blood and terror on his face you knew something was wrong. He couldn't even utter a word. That was not Gojo Satoru, and you felt cold creeping in. Something on this earth scared Gojo, something struck terror within his soul. Then he told you…he was killed. Not harmed, killed. His life…the everlasting debate of many men and philosophers alike— The teenage boy right in front of you faced death, you fell to your knees, your hands shook and your heart stopped. Gojo died, and if not for a last ditch effort he would still be dead. Then, his friend— his one and only walked out of his life.

Now you were left with him and his attempt to live with reality, as he also struggled with being a father of two. You just wanted your friend to get a break, but life had other plans. His composure barely broke in the past but he seemed to be struggling as of late and you couldn't blame him because you felt that way too. Something even sex couldn't solve, as you'd come to discover your numerous hookups failed to prevent your deep plummet into insanity and repair your broken soul.

"My love." Tender, sweet and filled with patience you thumbed at his cheeks and coaxed his eyes open. Once they opened you were met with a deep ocean blue, and the sorrow of incomprehensible proportions. It shattered you, and your hands shook. This wasn't pity, you'd never pity this boy, he was deserving much more than that. "My angel, my beautiful angel."

"(Y/n), I don't think I can do this."

"Baby…"

"It hurts so much, I feel so stupid, I feel so sick. I'm the strongest, so why do I feel so weak."

"Baby, even the strongest soldiers fall sometimes…you need time to heal."

"But I'm not a soldier, I'm a sorcerer. There is no time, not for him, not for anyone… what if, what if something happens to you tomorrow? I'd be all alone, (Y/n). I can't do this. I need you, I need him, we should have been together…that's what w— we promised."

It hurts to see him like this, broken and hurt, you wanted nothing more than to console him, but all you could do is sit at the desk and pull him into your thigh as you combed your fingers through his hair.

Gojo was a child at heart. Mature beyond his years, after facing a sickening reality and having the weight of the world placed upon his shoulder. You weren't even in his league, in his world or in his universe. Yet he always gave you his heart, his full, sheltered heart. Something he kept rather close to his chest, locked deep away and covered under a carefully crafted facade.

"It's okay baby, shh…it's okay." thighs wet with tears, you felt yourself slip a bit. You missed his voice, his touch, his smile, his scent….his voice…his beautiful voice. He would sing to you at night with his ridiculously alluring voice. You called him a siren, but you'd willingly drown if it meant you got to hear his sweet melodies. Now he's gone, and you don't know where.

It's just the two of you, Shoko distanced herself considerably and you didn't want to burden her, so here you are.

Gojo lifted his head, eyes red and puffy as he leaned forward, in your space.

"I hate this, but…don't get me wrong. People like you make life worth living. I don't always think about others but I don't want to give you the impression..that I'd leave. I won't."

"I know you won't, angel. I know. Let's…go to your room, yeah?"

"And will you stay with me?" His lips graze the surface of yours, and you could never say no. "I will, always will. Let me dry your eyes. I love you, I hate seeing you cry, Satoru. My heart is forever intertwined, your pain is mine, your joy is mine, your agony, your regret, your triumph. You may feel alone, but truly, I am by your side. Till I die." His voice perished among the emotions that rushed over him. He falls forward into your chest and sobs gently. He's barely able to stand as you let him lean over, it's uncomfortable but you don't care. "(Y/n) I love you. I love you, I do– I swear to god."

"You don't have to swear to anyone, I know you do…and I love you too. We can do this…even if it hurts and kills us inside we…we're the strongest— you forbid yourself from uttering those words. So instead you settled for, "We have each other."

For all the world has to offer, none other mattered more than Gojo Satoru.

#gojou satoru x reader #gojo imagine #gojo fluff #jjk manga spoilers #jjk angst #gojo angst #gojo x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo comfort

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jakesguitarsolo · 5 months

Note

happy sexy sunday!!! so, jake is often perceived to be dominant and rough in fics, and I LOVE that, but lately I've been so caught up in the idea of just teasing him. more specifically, straddling him while he lays down with his hands tied to the headboard while you rub your pussy up and down his cock without him entering you yet.

I'll just leave that idea there to marinate xx

lots of love !!

This idea was SO hot that I had to let it marinate for a whole week… Also, as a switch myself, WHOA… 😅 🥵 🔥

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ below the cut! Minors DNI

You stare down at your handiwork as you circle the bed. Jake is lying naked, sprawled out and tied up, arms above his head, legs bound to each post. He’s looking absolutely delicious as always, but something about the role reversal tonight has him looking extra intoxicating. You rarely get the opportunity for this type of physical control and power over him, and you’re going to take full advantage of his submission.

The way his hair is disheveled from tugging on his restraints. The way a bead of sweat slowly drips down his forehead from the anticipation. The way his mouth is parted slightly. The way his chest is moving up and down from the heavy breathing. Everything about him is driving you absolutely mad.

You want nothing more than to give him exactly what he wants. You want to take his cock in your mouth until you’re choking on him. You want to let him fuck you hard and rough, just the way he likes. But that’s not in the cards for either of you tonight. You’re going to use him. Like your own personal fuck toy. You want to see him beg, crawl, grovel for you to let him cum.

“Baby, just let me see you at least.” Oh yeah, and you have him blindfolded. “Ask nicely, Jake,” you command him. “Please, angel. I’d do anything to see how beautiful you look right now,” he pleads.

His hard cock is resting against his stomach, twitching as he feels you peel off the blindfold. Jake blinks, adjusting to the change in light. His jaw drops as he sees you standing before him. Wearing your sexiest black lace lingerie set. You even put on the matching garter belt, stockings, and high heels to fully submerse yourself in this new dominant role.

“Wow, y/n… You look…” Jake can barely get any words out. He’s in complete awe of you. “What did you just call me, Jake?” You snap. Clearly, he forgot who is tied up right now. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. Please,” he begs. “Please, what? Hmm? What do you want?” You tease him, putting one foot up on the bed spreading your leg open as you rest your elbow on your knee and your chin in your palm. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t soaking wet, but you just hope he can’t see it through your lace thong or dripping down your inner thigh. Jake tugs on his hands again, trying to free himself to no avail. “Let me touch you, please. Or touch me. Something. Anything, angel.”

As much as you love to hear him beg for you, you’re sick of waiting. You want to relieve the ache between your legs as much as he does. But you’re not ready to give up the power and give in to him just yet, so you come up with an idea. Something you’ve always wanted to try but nervous that maybe Jake wouldn’t be into it. Tonight, none of that mattered. You can use him however you please, and fuck would you derive the greatest pleasure from this.

You climb up on the bed and crawl over to him. As you throw your leg over his body to straddle him, you lean down and whisper in his ear, “This is just for me, alright. You’re gonna lay there and take it like a good boy, right Jakey? You gonna be my good boy tonight?”

“Yes, angel. Please use me. Do whatever you want with me. I’m so lucky that you’re gonna use me to make yourself feel good, baby. Please… Show me.”

You lean down again and for the first time tonight capture Jake’s lips in yours. He’s like a man starved. Leaning into your kiss as much as he can from his vulnerable position. Opening his mouth up to you, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. Hungry for more of you. Hungry for as much as you’ll give him. You take his bottom lip between your teeth and pull harshly, eliciting a moan from him.

Releasing his lip, you smirk down at him. Staring directly into his big caramel eyes, you pull your panties to the side, exposing your cunt to Jake. There’s no doubt about it now, he can see how wet you are already. You line yourself up so you’re hovering directly over the underneath part of his thick shaft. You lower yourself and both hiss at the contact. Fuck, it already feels so good. You place your hands on his chest and start to move your hips back and forth on his cock with ease, grinding against him. You hear Jake moan beneath you, reveling in the feeling of how warm your pussy is on him.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so sexy getting yourself off like this on me,” Jake groans out with a raspy breath. You continue rubbing your clit against him. You knew this would feel good, but you didn’t think you’d be this close so quickly. You roll your hips slower, trying to savor the buildup to your impending orgasm. “Mmm, Jake… You’re being so good for me. So proud of you taking what little I give you.” He lifts his hips up, trying to create more friction for you. Throwing your head back, you’re shocked at the moan that escapes you.

You’ve changed up your rhythm, gyrating your hips quicker. Your pussy lips are spread open, fitting deliciously around his thick cock. The position creating the most incredible sensation for your clit. You feel the heat spreading in your lower stomach, knowing that you can no longer fight it. Your body has taken over now. Jake pants, “Keep going, angel. You look so pretty on top of me. Wanna see you cum just like that.” Your thighs squeeze and clench against his body. His words sending you over the edge. Your entire body is tingling, in a complete state of euphoria. If there is a heaven, your soul has ascended to it. As you come crashing back down to reality, you realize your eyes had been closed. When you open them and look down at Jake, you see ropes of his cum decorating his stomach and chest.

Confused, you ask, “Jake, did you…” But he cuts you off before you could finish, “Couldn’t help it, angel. That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” If your face wasn’t beat red from the orgasm, it is now from what he just said. There’s no way he came simply from you grinding on him, you hadn’t even let him enter you yet. You barely let his tip near your heat. “I was going to untie you, Jake… I was just going to get myself off like that and then untie you and let you fuck me however you want…” You were shocked that he enjoyed that as much as you did.

He pulls his hands out from the restraints and drops them down to the meat on your hips. Wait, he could get himself out this whole time? “I loved that, baby. Wow. Think we could do it again sometime? Would you like that? I know I would,” he smirked and pulled you down to lay on him. Jake gave you a gentle kiss on your forehead, then the tip of your nose, and finally your lips.

“Absolutely! Are you kidding me Jake? Hell yes I would,” you said, kissing him again.

#GVF Sexy Sunday #jakedown #greta van fleet #jake kiszka #jaket kiszka #greta van smut #greta fic rec #greta van fic #greta van fluff #jake fic #jake kiszka fanfic #gvf smut

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maxybabyy · 6 months

Text

inspired by this gif

He shows her a photo first. It’s not the one that he ends up ordering, but it’s close enough; the same pleated skirt but the cut of the shirt is different, the colour scheme changed too. Max, half distracted by the sim race she’s trying to join, says, “This is of course very American of you, Daniel.”

“Yeah? Did you bring the ears from last year then?” He asks and makes her squeeze further into the corner until there’s almost no space between them. “Gonna be a kitty cat again, Maxy?”

“For this, I will need also the –“ she says after squinting at the screen. She claps her hands enthusiastically and throws them up in a high V, the controller left in her lap. “The sparkly things for my hands, no? I think this will be very important, Daniel.”

“I will get you some pompoms, baby.” He says, pulls her into a kiss when her hands still haven’t come down. “Maybe then you can do a little routine for me, yeah? Show me who you’re really cheering for?”

In the end, Max is let into the discord call and is allowed to join the race – even if she is away from her sim set-up. Daniel sits beside her and looks through uniform options, tries not to lose himself in the images of her on her knees, skirt spread wide over her thighs as she sucks his cock.

Max has a last-minute shoot with Red Bull, so he meets up with some of the others for a drink or two before the party.

It’s fine, if a bit uneventful. None of them has put much effort into their costumes. Alex looks great, but only when his girlfriend stays close enough to add complexity to the otherwise bland costume.

Max has been live blogging the shoot in their texts, another fluff piece to take the heat off Checo’s race in Mexico. And then at the end, sent just over an hour ago, a picture of the pompoms Daniel had made sure to order resting on a wide shot of Max’s thigh in the backseat of a car.

Daniel hadn’t replied, didn’t see it until now, but. He goes, downs the cup of shitty but expensive vodka and makes his excuses to Lando, who hasn’t stopped staring at both Oscar and Carlos at either end of the room like he’s at a fucking tennis match.

Max has her own drink in hand when he finds her, straw sucked deep in her mouth as she nods at whatever Charles is saying. Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s obviously having a good time if the way she’s smiling is anything to go by. She must know he’s watching because she turns to look at him, eyes bright as she waves the pompom at him.

She looks fucking amazing.

The uniform fits perfectly, and even with the sensible white long sleeve that she’s wearing underneath, she looks fucking hot. When it came in the mail, he hadn’t told her it was a Chicago Bulls costume; the ‘Bulls’ on her chest the closest thing to Red Bull he could find. But he looks at her now and thinks, ‘Maybe they should do a rebrand.’

She’s wearing the same sneakers that she always is, black and practical, and her hair is tied back in her usual high pony, only this time with a striped ribbon instead of a beige hair tie. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but Max has always been in a league of her own. In racing, in life, in Daniel’s heart –

“Hey there, pretty lady,” he says and leans in close when Charles has escaped with a choked-up laugh. “I would offer you a drink, but someone already beat me to it, huh?”

Max lets out a laugh, shakes her head. “We are of course not in Austin anymore, Daniel.”

There’s a smushed ‘3’ painted on her cheek in red; the font unlike what is usually used for jersey numbers, and instead oddly reminiscent of what it would look like on the RB19.

“Did you come here from the big game too?” He asks instead and puts a hand on her waist, his thumb poking under the fabric to rest against her skin. “Bet your team won real easy with all the attention on you, pretty girl. Hardly any eyes on the ball, I reckon.”

“Daniel! It was only golf with Checo. Always, he was very interested in the game, I think, but –“

Daniel breaks her off with a kiss when he cannot help himself anymore, pulls her closer to his chest for a moment before he steps back. “Did you come here with a boyfriend? A friend, maybe?”

Max stares at him, teeth biting into a lip that must have been painted red once. There’s still a bit of lipstick left, maybe there’s something on him now too. She must see something in his face, because she says, flushed, “Tonight, it is just me from the – the big game, of course.”

“Yeah? No quarterback waiting for you at home? I bet you looked hot cheering for your team,” he says, looks at the hand now wrapped around his neck, the pompom resting loosely against his chest. Max gives it a little shake over her head, the rustle loud in their tiny self-imposed space.

“It was a very lovely game, that,” Max hums, rubs at the eye black on his cheek. “The team, I think, is very good this year. We can of course win the ra – “ she takes a sip of her drink to hide the stumble, glares at Daniel when he laughs at her. “I can do the pyramid very well, so we will win the next match also.”

Daniel does want to hear more about Max’s ideas of cheerleading competitions, of the trophies and championships she would have won in that too. But more than that, he wants to drag her into the bathroom and make her come; fuck her open and loose so when they get back to the hotel, he can fuck her right.

“That’s your type then? Athletes?” He asks. He doesn’t kiss her, but he wants to, knows she wants it too. But they’re so close, almost there.

“It is very hot, I think, when they are also into the sport,” she says, her breath hitching when his free hand finds its way under her skirt, to the almost non-existent thong she has on. “When they are very good, I think that is very lovely also.”

“Do you have a favourite? Someone you’re just dying to meet, to fuck?”

Max whines softly, presses against the leg Daniel has shoved in between her thighs, “You are so stupid Daniel,” she says, breathy and hoarse. “You look of course very handsome in your little outfit, but always race car drivers are the –“

He kisses her, doesn’t let her finish.

They’ve strayed from the plan; from the loose script he had in his head. But Daniel doesn’t care, feels greedy with it that even in this – drunk and unserious as they pretend to be people they aren’t – Max still cannot pick someone else, someone who isn’t fully and completely him.

#maxiel #maxiel fic #my writing #it's november and I'm the fool :(#i didn't notice the gif was an edit before someone pointed it out ...#AND first draft had them do halloweeen in LV :/ which i only now realised is wrong #my fic #fi #girl max

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