#midnight dribbles

[everythingisubtext]

Marinette knew Chat Noir better than the back of her hand. She knew the ways he flicked his tail to express his emotions. She knew how much of a senseless flirt and romantic he was. She knew almost every line from him was another pun that would put most fathers to shame.

What she didn’t know was how most of what she knew about him was thrown out the window when Mister Bug was transformed.

“Are you alright, Marinette?” A red polka dotted hand was held out to her, with serious green eyes observing. Gingerly she placed her hand in his.

“Yes, thank you… Mister Bug?” She stood up, removing her hand from his to dust off her leggings. Just her luck that she de-transformed and ran into him (literally) before having the chance to change back. She half expected Mister Bug to playfully bow and kiss her hand in a flirtatious greeting.

Instead the blond boy waved.

“That’s me.” His smile was.. Awkward? It soon dropped as he looked past her to the street, eyes searching the surroundings. “Say, by any chance have you seen a stray cat running around? Long braided hair? Goes around by the name Lady Noire?”

Oh right, we need to swap our miraculous back-

Marinette quickly hid her hands behind her back.

“Oh..Oh! Lady Noire ahaha,” Play it cool, Mari. “She’s… I think I saw her heading towards the eiffel tower.” That should give her enough time to transform and race him there.

“Really?” He glanced behind him towards the Eiffel tower questioningly. “I could have sworn I saw her go this way…”

Swinging back and forth on her feet with a reassuring smile. “Nope. She definitely went that way.”

“Alright. Thanks Marinette.” He grabbed the yoyo off his hip, walking away as he started to spin it around. As soon as she thought he was about to swing away, the yoyo stopped.

He turned to look at her. “Are you about to go home?”

“No.. I mean, yes!” It was a convenient excuse as to what she was doing in the middle of Paris alone at least. Not that she needed an excuse but it sure as hell beats ‘I’m just about to meet you at the eiffel tower! Don’t rush or anything.’

“Awesome, It’s on the way! I’ll take you there.” Suddenly he was by her side before she could protest, putting his arm around her waist in a strong grip. The panic started to claw at Marinette's throat.

“No, no, it’s ok Mister Bug!” She tried to push away, albeit not strong enough against someone in a super suit. “I don’t want to bother you anymore than I have! I can just walk, or take the subway, or the bus!”

He smiled down at her gently. “Nonsense Marinette. It’s the least I can do for my favorite citizen.”

The yoyo in his hand started to spin again.

“Thought superheroes weren’t supposed to have favorite citizens?”

She felt him shrug against her. “Suppose that just means you're extra special.”

Suddenly they were in the air, zipping around the streets of Paris in a way which felt so familiar and foreign to her. The air rushing past her face, the tug and pull of directions. The weightless shift in movement. With her as ladybug, she arched smoothly in a repeatable pattern. Downwards then up, downwards then up. With Chat Noir- Or rather, Mister Bug, the pattern felt backwards. Up and down, up and down. She wasn’t in control of the yoyo. Somehow this both frightened and excited her.

The route they took wasn’t at all what Marinette was used to either. As they traveled in silence she couldn’t help but take note of every little comparison. The preferences of swinging around the rooftops and streets closer to her home instead of subtly going through the alleyways was very evident.

Soon enough they landed on her balcony.

With both feet on the ground and reassurance that Marinette was stable, Mister Bug moved his arm away.

“Thanks for the lift home.” She smiled, feeling the sudden lack of warmth against her side. Seeing his returned smile almost made up for it however.

“It was nothing.” His eyes widened. “Not that it was nothing! Just that I, I meant, it’s ok! Not that it was just ok, but that, it’s-” His hands scrambled around in the air searching for the right words. Marinette placed a hand on his shoulder, giggling softly. He took a breath. “Just, you’re welcome.”

The silence in the air seemed both stiff and warm at the same time. Her partner, so familiar to her yet currently, was practically a stranger at this moment. Hesitantly she moved her hand away.

“Did you.. want to come in for some macarons?” She vaguely gestured to the trap door behind her. Mister Bugged frowned in response, shaking his head.

“Ordinarily I would love some treats from the best bakery in Paris. But unfortunately I have a cat to catch.” Sighing, he let the yoyo loosely hang from his hand. “Next time, I promise.”

Marinette wanted to smack her forehead. Right, the miraculous needs to be swapped. Why did she keep forgetting?

“I’ll.. see you around then?”

“Hopefully with a tail and claws instead.” She replied.

He laughed. “And no ears? Their the best part!”

“Debatable.”

With a wide grin, which felt oddly charming without the signature sleazy cat smirk, he shook his head and pulled himself up onto the balcony railings.

“Au revoir, Marinette.” He waved. The action completely unlike the silly bow and salute he would normally give. “See you soon.”

“Au revoir, Mister Bug.” And just like that, he let his yoyo fly out into the street and zip away towards the eiffel tower.

“Oh, if only you knew how soon.” She smirked.

When she was sure he was completely gone, she transformed back into Lady Noire and pushed herself into the air with the batton. The lingering thoughts of the akuma battle earlier and her interaction with Mister Bug rattling in her brain as she raced towards her destination. She knew Chat Noir better than the back of her hand. Yet seeing this side of him opened up to new thoughts. Perhaps she didn’t know him quite as well as she thought she did.

#midnight dribbles #cant believe i wrote this instead of doing my school work #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #ladybug #ml #ml fanfic #miraculous fanfic #mister bug #lady noire #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous swap #misternette

[fuckmuttkim]

i have this fantasy about getting so wet before sliding a thick dildo into my boycunt. pull up tight panties to keep it in, wear some baggy, masculine clothes and go on a midnight walk around the neighborhood. my pussy getting wetter and tcock growing needier with each step as the dildo stays buried inside me. a stranger has been watching me closely, noticing my expressions and breath hitching, my thighs shaking a little, and soft moans every now and then from my mouth that i try to hold back. they creep up behind me and snake a cold hand up my shirt around my waist, lightly gripping onto my tummy, making me stop in my tracks.

“such a pretty boy, keeping a dirty little secret all to himself…” they slide my pants and underwear off to reveal my sopping wet, drippy cunt stuffed with the dildo. pleasantly surprised and caught off guard, they throb and drop their pants immediately… their hard, dribbling cock springing up behind me. they slip the dildo out of my pussy effortlessly, making me moan and clench… lining the head of their pulsating, aching cock up with my hole before hurriedly shoving it in, filling me back up. fucking me sloppily on the sidewalk in the streetlight. they didn’t anticipate that i’d have such a pretty, slick, tight little pussy to fuck and fill under all these clothes. the sound of their cock pumping into me, their full, ready balls slapping against me and their uncontrollable animalistic grunts and moans echoing down the street. pinching and rubbing and jerking off my tcock, playing with it just for fun to feel me tighten around them. just fucking me relentlessly until they release their hot cum into my pussy, it dripping out onto the sidewalk as they twitch inside of me.

“i wanna see you back here with that cunt stuffed same time tomorrow.” they carelessly pull my pants up, trapping their cum in me and walking away, zipping up their pants.

#ftm bottom #ftm breeding #ftm nsft #ftm top #t4t nsft #ftm t4t #ftm dom #ftm sub

[shotmrmiller]

1.8k of what was supposed to be a drabble, oops. same au as this just different situation.

there he is.

the titan the crowd calls Ghost. a creature who seemed to have crawled out of the abyss itself, rage etched into the very marrow of his bones. scars crisscross his arms, chest, and back— souvenirs of battles both won and lost. no one knows much about him. no real name, no past, no future. blank.

a void.

just like his sunken eyes, the only thing anyone can see from behind the midnight black skull balaclava that clings to his face like a second skin. (does he even remember what he looks like underneath?) he stands in front of the club's owner in ragged clothing: a tattered wifebeater that's been stitched, torn, and re-stitched. his pants have strained seams and patched knees. his boots are high cut, made of worn, scuffed leather with laces in the front, pulled tight. functional.

he's terrifying. most here come to fight for glory, for redemption, for escape. not he, though. reverent whispers claim this is all he knows. that he fights like a cornered, wounded beast, with no discipline nor strategy. just primal hunger and unmatched ferocity.

and that's who your idiotic, egotistical boyfriend wants to fight. granted, he's a pretty damn good boxer. not that you'd know much about that, you're simply parroting what you've heard his coach say. but this isn't boxing. no one here wears a padded helmet, with comfortable gloves and silky shorts. the fellow with the mohawk currently fighting isn't even wearing a mouthguard, for fuck's sake.

there are no fucking rules, no referees, no honor, no mercy.

your shoulders rise up to your ears as you tense at a nasty blow the pretty one you've come to learn is named gaz gives mr. mohawk. it splits his lip instantaneously, crimson dribbling down his chin and onto his barrel chest. he should be in pain, but there's only a glint of madness in those bright blue eyes of his. the crazed smile he gives gaz is all blood-stained teeth.

your boyfriend taps you on your shoulder, making you jump. "i'm gonna go talk to mr. price now that he's no longer busy."

what?

"no! you can't be serious!" the metal chair you were seated on screeches as you shoot up and run after him, feet slipping on the mud-slicked floor. "hey! wait!"

he reaches the tall, burly man(broker?) with the antiquated mutton-chop beard before you do. the tailored suit clings to his large frame, molding to his mountainous shoulders and tapered waist. his polished shoes are pristine, unlike the surface he's standing on that's littered with wager slips and sodden with cheap beer.

"don't. be smart, fight smart. you can't possibly— did you see the way the one with the mohawk took a hit to the face without flinching? he's insane! they all are!" you flick your eyes to mr. price. "no offense."

he chuckles low. "none taken, sweetheart. soap's a vigorous man, is all."

soap. gaz. ghost. they've all got bloody fighting nicknames. meanwhile, the only thing your boyfriend's ever been called is dearie by his elderly neighbor.

"your pretty girl's right. i'd steer clear of the pit. this ain't no place for a sheltered bloke such as yourself." his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, yet it felt like a facade. the evenness of his tone had dread crawling up your spine.

"boss." you squeak at the deep voice that comes from beside you— accent thick on his tongue.

mr. price waves a hand dismissively, the rings that adorn his fingers glinting under the dim light of the overhead lamps. "it's nothin' but a couple a'folk placin' their bets."

the look of unfettered stupidity flashes on your boyfriend's face as he turns his head and realizes just who mr. price was talking to. "if it isn't the masked specter himself."

stupid. stupid stupid stupid. god, your boyfriend came in one piece but he's going to leave in bloody pieces if you don't stop him. "stop," you hiss. "this ridiculous stint of yours is over." as is this sorry excuse of a relationship. he'd been a sweet guy at some point, or maybe you were just blinded by his good looks. "sorry for the bother, mr. price. we'll be taking our leave." tugging on your boyfriend's sleeve, you try to lead him away but he stays anchored in place, posturing like a peacock; chest out, shoulders squared and head held high.

he looks at ghost as he challenges him. "name your price. anything, i can meet."

how he can be so blasé in the presence of this bastion is beyond you. ghost stands tall, his shadow engulfing you whole. you can feel the weight of his presence, a crushing force pressing against your sternum. he doesn't speak; and honestly, he doesn't have to. ghost's silence spoke volumes.

"he's not interested, see? let's just go before we're thrown out on our arses."

but your boyfriend doesn't concede. if anything, it only adds fuel to the fire. "not good enough for you? eh? is that it? think yourself untouchable just because you're king of the underbelly?" he goads.

your cheeks are hot, scalding with embarrassment. he's starting to garner attention from the audience that's supposed to be watching the current fight.

and then ghost breaks said silence. "i don't want your money." his rich voice reverberates through bone and marrow; it rattles your very core. "you didn't work hard for it, i can tell. golden spoon runt."

your boyfriend's eyes ignite with anger. for a moment, you thought he was going to swing on the spot, but then, like a wisp of smoke, it dissipated. his fists unclench, his jaw relaxes. "what do you want, then?" he questions.

ghost tips his head your way as he keeps his gaze on your boyfriend. "her. i win, she's mine."

you should've known your now ex would agree. nothing would keep him from accomplishing his goals of 'putting the big dog down' as he so eloquently put it. now you're firmly sat right next to price on the stands (because you will not be calling him john anytime soon, no matter how many times he corrects you) essentially as his hostage.

"nothing personal, sweetheart. i'm a businessman, after all, and the prize walkin' out the front door would be bad for business. hope you understand."

no, you don't. so you tell him as such.

"tha's alright. simon'll take good care of ya, i promise."

"is there any particular reason you're so cocksure of your simon winning?" you manage to ask, your voice fragile.

he takes a thick inhale of his cigar before answering. "unfortunately for you, i've seen it all— the broken bones, shattered dreams, and—" you watch tendrils of smoke unfurl from his mouth, "adversaries who never walked back out."

spectators have already begun to huddle around the cage, puffing on cheap cigarettes. they all look desperate, eyes gleaming with greed. this time the one collecting wagers is a blonde woman, older in age, with her hair in a low bun and a puffer vest. "that your wife?"

he curls a large hand around my shoulder before twisting to look at— "laswell? no. don't swing tha' way." price gives you a gentle squeeze.

oh. you can feel warmth creeping up your neck. "sorry. didn't mean to- er. i didn't know."

"'s'alrigh'. her wife's nice enough. you'll like 'er.'' her wife? the confusion must've shown because he rumbles out a laugh. "no. it'd be me barkin' up the wrong tree. i—" he tightens the grip on your shoulder, "like whatever's pretty to look at." his words from before resounded in your head.

'your pretty girl's right...'

the heat that'd receded now stung the tips of your ears. whatever words you want to say are lodged in your throat but thankfully, you're saved by the bell. literally.

the rusty thing tolls and the crowd hushes their voices and stills their restless shuffling. first walks in your ex (idiot), looking exactly like what ghost had called him earlier— a golden spoon child. his shorts are glossy, even under the flickering, sickly light that falls over the cage. his boxing gloves are a vibrant red, pristine as if right out of the box. (you don't remember soap getting his pretty face broken by hands with gloves, but whatever.) he looks perfect, like something out of a hollywood movie.

and so out of place.

unlike ghost who's just stepped into the ring— who commands the attention of all within the hazy room. he fits right in with the rats who scurry around in the bowels of the city. he moves like the shadows that cling to the dark corners, his steps silent as whispers. a haunted being— one the world above with its neon signs and bustling crowds has long forgotten— has made his home down here.

ghost bumps his mma gloves with your ex's boxing ones, in a show of surprising sportsmanship.

the bell tolls once again, and the fight begins.

and just as quickly as it began, it ended. you blink, momentarily displaced, because there is no way what just happened is real. there hadn't been no real fight. it'd been one devastating blow to the side of your ex's jaw that ended everything. he hadn't stood a chance. it—

"'s done. sorry, love. but simon's headin' this way to claim his prize." price gives you a sympathetic pat to your back. "i swear it on my life he won't harm a hair on your head."

what?

ghost barrels through the roaring crowd and comes to a stop before you. "you're with me, now. best get used to it." shock blurs your vision, or maybe it's the fact that you've been hoisted up and thrown over a shoulder that did it.

it doesn't matter. the one you came here with is currently lying limp on the stained mat, his mouth hanging open a little awkwardly. is he broken? you're put down on a bench in a large dressing room that has only one tall locker in it with a tiny ghost sticker on the front.

"did you... is he dead?" you ask, pulse quickening.

"no. either dislocated or broke tha' jaw of 'is only."

you sputter when metal clinks on the surface of the wooden table he's currently leaning his weight against. dusters? "you used fucking dusters?"

he turns his head and looks at you, piercing and intense. "you and i both know i didn't need anythin' to knock his teeth down his throat, isn't tha' right, pet? eh?"

his knuckles are calloused and heavily scarred, the little finger bent at an angle even when straight. "don't worry 'bout him, you're with me, now." he shrugs on a plain, black jacket and heads for the door. "try to leave and i'll jus' find you again. don't make this any harder than it has to be."

welcome to the rat king's domain, sweetheart.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you

[katsukiizmoon]

╰┈➤ ꒰🕸🍒┊Explaining | Katsuki Bakugou꒱

Can’t stop thinking about this post by @tired-biscuit and thinking even harder about catching Katsuki one night.

Will this turn into a thing? Maybe— (update from future! me: This is somehow 2.7k. I don’t know if it even makes any sense, mush brain. It’s midnight. Christ. Edited and added a little read more thing)

『♡』 f! reader, best friends to lovers, m masturbation, piv sex, arguing, anxious katsuki for a bit, some praise, fingering, idk guys sex stuff, unedited bc I wrote it half asleep

Katsuki fucks his fist sloppy, chewing on the end of his shirt. Slippery beads of precum well up and spill down the shaft and he circles his thumb over the head.

He chokes back a moan and squeezes harder, slamming his hips forward desperately in need of release. The tension in his body has been pulling like a rubber band for hours. It stretches farther and farther every time.

Tonight was torture for him. You’d worn those stupid shorts and a loose crop top. You never wear a bra under your crop tops, let alone around him.

Every time you’d lift your arms too high he’d get a peek of your pretty tits and jerk his head to the side. Your shorts were no different— showing off the underside of your ass cheeks and tight enough he could just make out the outline of your pussy. Normally both would be fine but, fuck.

His strokes get faster while his mind fuzzes. Lust clouds his thought process as he shoves the guilt to the back of his mind to deal with later. His face feels numb, his lips tingle, the metaphorical rubber band pulls tighter.

Tighter. Like his fist is while it squeezes down on his cock and spreads the precum all over him.

Tighter. Like he’s sure your pussy would be as it was wrapping around him and sucking him with each thrust.

The end of his t shirt is wet and slobbery. A thin sheen of sweat coats his body and the slapping wet noises of his thrusts is getting louder. His brows furrow as he closes overwhelmed eyes. With the sound of the water running in the background he doesn’t even hear you coming.

You’re usually a little loud when you’re sleepy and heading to the bathroom. Your feet amble beneath you without too much sense, body heavy, mind foggy— you’re a sweet little thing when you’re sleepy. One too many times has he woken to you running into walls while trying to get into the bathroom.

But he doesn’t hear you this time.

He pants and whines a little in the back of his throat, sloppily fucking his hand. He’s focused on the thought of you up under him. Sliding your shorts to the side and letting him eat your pussy. Bouncing on his cock in that big shirt you stole from him a year or two ago.

He’s a goddamn mess. The tension and heat in his tummy gets tighter, tighter, until he feels like he might pass out. The world is about to allow him the grace of relief.

And then you sleepily open your bathroom door. You’re still half awake with drool on your face and your eyes hardly open. You’d changed into comfier shorts and kept the crop top, which was now riding up on one side so that your tit was on display.

“Gotsta’ pee,” You blink hazily trying to figure out why your bathroom smells like fresh salted caramel.

He forgot to lock it.

Katsuki is frozen in place. He doesn’t know what to do, say, think— you just walked in on him jacking off in your bathroom. Precum is still dribbling out and all over his hand. He opens his mouth with a red face and lets his shirt drop to cover his abs, quickly shoving his cock into his pajama pants.

And you’re just standing there like you hardly even register what’s going on. Your eyes widen when two and two come together, making four. Watery carmine eyes meet yours as his lips tremble before he’s shoving past you with sparking palms.

He tries to rush out and makes a mad dash to your bedroom to grab his things. Embarrassment and guilt makes him panic, filling his being with a nauseous feeling. And he’s not sure what to do or say.

Does he say sorry? Does he confess? Does he block you and run?

For once, Katsuki doesn’t want to be brave. He is scared and he is tired of being the hero who has no fear. Anxiety makes his fingers shake while tears threaten to spill over his pretty tanned cheeks.

You come rushing around the corner with flushed cheeks and determined hands. Your fingers twist into his shirt and pull him back, spinning him around to face you. It’s a miracle you managed it with how much bigger and stronger he is.

Katsuki’s terrified gaze holds yours with a trembling lower lip. He might be much bigger but right now he feels small.

“Wait, wait, wait. Hey— hey what’s goin’ on?” You coo, pulling him toward your bed to sit. His feet move on their own accord and do as you please. “Why are you leaving?” Fingers twist tighter in his shirt.

The blonde gawks and scrambles for words. Quick breaths leave his lips with little to no time between. Katsuki wants to cry, scream, and just die. You caught him beating his fuckin meat in your bathroom and now you’re comforting him.

“What else m’ I supposed to fuckin do?” He grunts, putting his brave face and frown right back on.

“Get in bed and go back to sleep?” Your head tilts and you say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Katsuki confusedly jerks back with a frown and snort. Thick hands grip his sweatpants for dear life.

“You want me to get in bed with you and go back to sleep after—after that?” The AC kicks on in the background and whirrs to life, sending cool air through the room.

“Yeah? Unless you wanna talk about it now at,” you glance at the clock on the nightstand “, two fourty five in the fucking morning.” You rub your face with your palm.

“I don’t think me jacking off in your bathroom needs explaining.” He spits, flustered and annoyed. His face scrunches up all sour and huffs, the tips of his ears still red.

You sigh and frustration bubbles in his chest.

“What? You can’t seriously want me—“

Your hand presses to his mouth and you shoot him a glare. Exhaustion spreads your features with a huff to shut him up.

“What’s going on? And don’t give me some bullshit. Just tell me what’s going on.” Your tone leaves no room for an argument.

“You and your stupid fuckin— stupid shorts and whiny voice and shit. That’s what’s going on!” He leans in so that his nose is only a few inches from yours and snaps.

“Me?” You mumble, obviously confused.

“Yes, you.” His fingers press near your sternum and poke with a growl.

You squeak and narrow your eyes, moving closer to him yourself and pushing his chest lightly.

“What about you?” You guffaw. You’re not quite wrapping your mind around the situation yet, still tired and not understanding what the big deal is.

And Katsuki nearly loses it. The tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, his mind racing and chest heaving. He’s been dealing with you practically torturing him day in and day out for years— and now you’re asking about him. But before he can speak you start rambling on.

“You run around in these goddamn sweatpants-“ you tug at the grey fabric a little “and you say I’M what’s going on? You still haven’t explained shit!”

Katsuki turns a shade of red you’ve never seen before. He starts noticing your close proximity, the way your breath still smells like toothpaste, your pout. Your lips are an inch away from his and it is taking every little bit of willpower he has to not kiss you.

“Yes.” A puff of air ghosts over your lips and you take in the sight in front of you. Feelings you tried to shove down bubble in your tummy and spread.

The rubber band that’s been winding in his gut and mind for far too long grows tighter. Stretched to the point of which it’ll never be the same.

Heat in your stomach starts to flow and consume your being as things begin to click into place. He was getting off in your bathroom, he said you’re what’s going on.

“Oh..” you breathlessly whisper. Something in you burns. If he feels the same way then.. it couldn’t hurt, could it?

Katsuki jerks his head away from yours and looks to the side. His shoulders tight, grey t shirt with a damp area at the bottoms wrinkling as he fidgets with it. It’s like he’s waiting for the sting of rejection.

You grab his jaw with unsure hands and guide him back to look at you. His big, misty and wide eyes peering into your own.

And then you kiss him.

Snap

All tongue and soft lips, teeth clashing against his from the awkward position. You dig your nails into his chest like he’s gonna float away if you don’t.

And katsuki just might. Because you taste just like he thought you would, your mouth moves against his like he was just fantasizing about before. He soaks in the kiss like it will be his last until you break for air while panting.

“Don’t you ever try to run from me like that again.” You whine and dive back in.

His body acts before he can think enough to stop himself. You fall back against the mattress, plushie beside your head. His thick heavy body presses you into it and weighs you down while big hands travel up and down you. He explores your body like it’s something to be worshipped.

Your own hands push and pull at him. They slide under his shirt and drag nails down his toned, tan back. Your legs open up so he can slot between them with a particularly good suck on his bottom lip.

A breathy moan leaves your lips and it sends fire down his body.

“Fuck— god.” He whines between kisses. The line of his cock presses against you through your thin pajama shorts and makes you antsy. Your fingers grip at Wheaty blond roots and tug.

“Is this— oh,” You can feel him drag against you through his sweats. “ is this what you were thinking about?”

Katsuki shakes his head.

“Close enough.” He gasps, guttural and needy as your teeth nip under his jaw. Your tongue slides down the column of his throat as his clothed cock does against your heat.

“Wanna know what I think about?”

His mind stills and he nods feverishly before diving into the crook of your neck to suck. Pink marks are left in his wake and his fingers slide under the fabric of your shorts to rub little circles on your clit.

It makes you stutter and forget what you’re doing for a moment, your legs shake and squeeze around him.

“Been thinkin’ bout your cock in me—“ your pussy drools all over his fingers and the breath gets punched out of him all at once.

“God you fuckin minx.” He growls and slips a finger into your already soaked core. He feels a little more sure of himself, a little better about it.

Your head throws back when he adds the second finger and curls them up. The pad of his thumb works in little circles and flicking motions rhythmically. You keep making these little noises that send jolts to his cock and make it twitch.

For the second time that night, his cock drools precum. It smears against the inside of his pajama pants and dribbles even more when your eyes go wide.

“Katsuki— god, like that, like that!” You babble until a particular stroke of his thumb has your body tightening and then shaking. Release covers his fingers and he yanks your pajama shorts off your body and throws them to the side.

“Good girl, that’s a good girl.” Thick fingers rub soothing circles over your pussy while he slides his shirt and pants off.

You feel his cock press against your folds and then his face is right above yours. He licks lazily into your mouth, hand coming up under your thighs to guide them around his back where your ankles cross over.

“Shit— y’so wet for me.” He mumbles between kisses and then links a hand with yours, pressing it into the mattress. “You want it? Want my cock?”

“Quit being a tease! Just give me your ohhh” You whimper and gasp, head throwing back and free hand coming to clutch at anything you can get your hands on.

He’s girthy and hot as he fills you up to the brim. There’s not a space untouched by his cock, making you feel so stuffed and out of breath you can hardly move.

“That’s it, you can take it.” He breathes into your mouth.

You slowly adjust to him and as soon as you relax, he pulls his hips back and thrusts. It makes you hiccup and lose your mind. The sheets are much too sweaty, AC be damned, and he looks like a literal god over you.

All tanned muscle and flushed cheeks. His pretty focused face scrunched up in determination not to cum immediately. You’re not sure how much you can take before you tear the sheets apart and scream.

He sets an even pace with his hips before propping your hips up a little and slowing down. It’s slow but it’s deep. His cock head touches something in you that has expletives leaving both your mouths as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-“ he desperately tries to keep hold of sanity. But you taste good, you smell good- better than any of his fantasies. Your pussy wraps around him in ways he couldn’t imagine. You’re really sprawled under him and moaning.

His cock is frothing near the base because of how wet you are, pussy juice and precum sliding between your ass cheeks and onto the bed. Your pink bedsheets are damp and one of your plushies has been thrown off the bed in the midst of your feverish mess.

It doesn’t last long. His face crumples as he cums and he rubs your clit and pussy until you squeeze down on him right after.

His jaw drops into a low “o” when he cums. You thank every lucky star for birth control while you both come down off a high. The two of you lay there and pant for a while before his cock slides out of you and he collapses onto your bed.

“Holy fuck.” Katsuki mutters to no one but himself. Half of him can’t believe it. He feels like icy hot with his back and forth his thoughts are, reeling and trying to take in what happened and what is happening.

“Yeah—“ you roll and press your chest against him. A kiss to his jaw makes his heart throb. “God that was good.”

A thick, beefy arm wraps around you and he hides his face in your neck. He sighs and pulls you in closer.

“I better not be readin’ this shit wrong but..” He mumbles, yanking up the blankets over the two of you. “We’re a thing now right?”

You snort and laugh for a minute.

“Yeah, duh, dummy” You smack his chest and roll your eyes.

The AC finally does it’s job at cooling the two of you off and he grumbles and gets a towel to clean you off. It only takes a few minutes before the two of you are back in pajamas and laying on top of a throw blanket. The massive comforter pulled over the two of you.

You flick on the TV and scroll through some of the go to shows before curling against him with a sigh. When you glance up, you notice a deep frown on his face and grumble.

“What are you looking so pissy for?” You place a peck on his jaw and turn your attention back to the screen.

His big hands run up and down your body, thumbs dragging over your hips. With a look of defeat and a pout, he admits, “Eiji’ bet me a hundred bucks you liked me back.”

That earns him a smack on the chest. “Don’t you dare tell him it’s cause I caught you beating off in my bathroom, Katsuki.”

#[ katsuki ] #i haven’t redone my tags just yet #sorry for another tag biscuit #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x yn #masterlist #bakugo katsuki smut

[futureman]

don't wanna leave this play date

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: you and mike find a way to make a boring shift at freddy's a little more interesting

warnings: 18+ MDNI, coworker!reader, smut, pwp, overstimulation, edging, blowjob, extremely rough oral, throatpie, fwb

word count: 1.9k

(based on these two requests, tysm for sending them in!)

"Thank you. God, thank you so fucking much."

You can't respond to him with your mouth as full as it is, but he picks up the acknowledgment in your next extra-hard suck. He probably wouldn't have heard you anyway, not with how loud he's gotten over the last half hour.

Should you both be working right now? Yes. Could something go terribly wrong because you're too busy blowing your coworker to watch the security monitors? Oh, absolutely.

But when his curly mop of hair appeared at the edge of the doorway midway through your shift, you knew you'd end up doing whatever he asked you to. It might just be your fatal flaw—you can never say no to Mike Schmidt.

He buries his fingers in your hair, tensing but not tugging, as you steadily work him the way you know he likes. He's surprisingly gentle for someone so eager to get his cock in your mouth every night, but you figure there's not much else to do during a midnight to 6 a.m. security gig at a closed-down pizzeria no one gives a shit about anymore.

Plus, you like doing it. You like him. It's cute how unashamed and unapologetic he is about how badly he wants you, and he makes you feel so good, you've never even thought about turning him down.

Even on nights when he just needs a quick release to ease the boredom or relax him enough to squeeze in a nap, just the taste and weight of him on your tongue has you soaking right through your panties. And he always makes it up to you.

But you're bored tonight, too. With three hours left to go, you'd been sitting in your shitty folding chair wondering how the hell you were going to stay awake and pass the time when Mike offered you an enticing solution. Except, you're still feeling antsy, and you don't want this to be over as fast as it usually is. Tonight, you want to play a little longer.

You pull off of him with a lewd pop and jerk him off languidly, loosening your grip to stave off his quickly approaching orgasm.

"That feel good?" you ask breathily, inhaling a lungful of air after letting him rut into the inside of your cheek for the past ten minutes. His fingers twitch against your scalp as he nods.

"S'good, feels so good," he slurs, his head tipped back as he bucks off the chair and into your fist.

"You want more?" You start to twist your wrist whenever you get close to the tip, and you can see and feel the shudder that wracks through him.

"Yes, god, yes. Please," he pleads, just short of begging.

"More what?" you goad experimentally. It wasn't your intention to make him beg when he walked into your office asking for help, but now you don't want him to stop.

"Y-your mouth," his head lolls forward, and he bites his lip hard at the sight of you licking away the precum streaming from his tip.

"Deeper, can I—," he tries to ask, but you shift to tease the underside of his head, and he chokes out a groan. "Wanna fuck your throat so bad."

"Are you gonna cum if I let you?"

"Fuck, probably," he admits reluctantly.

"Then, pick something else," you give him a teasing smile, a little charmed by his honesty.

Continuing to stroke him, you duck down to press a wet kiss to the base of his cock, then surprise him by sucking one of his balls into your mouth.

"Jesus, fuck," he gasps, leaking more precum that dribbles onto your cheek as you alternate between harder suction and softer swipes of your tongue.

He tastes salty and heady, and you were right. You're wet as fuck and so tempted to shove your other hand down your pants to toy with your clit, but you know he'll do that later. And you're not even close to being done with him yet.

Your grip tightens as you pick up your pace and focus closer to the head, maintaining eye contact that seems like it's setting him off just as much as your mouth or hand. His whole body vibrates with those telltale whimpers, and he finally starts to tug at your hair.

"M'gonna cum. Shit, keep going, I'm gonna cum," he grits out, his chest heaving.

His eyebrows pinch and his lips part, and he looks like he's seconds away from blowing his load all over your face—but then you release him again. You slide your hand under his shirt to stroke his heated skin comfortingly as he squeezes his eyes shut, panting like he just ran a marathon.

"Shit...shit," he keens, and you can feel his abs tensing and relaxing under your palm. His cock jerks pathetically next to your face, and you grip the base to make sure he doesn't accidentally topple over the edge.

"Shit," he whines again frustratedly, half-heartedly trying to pry your fingers off him. "Why?"

You rest your head against his thigh and smile, watching him pout down at you. He really is so cute when he gets fussy like this.

"You really wanna cum that fast? What happened to wanting to fuck my throat?" you tease him, beginning to jerk him off again. He sighs in relief, and his hips jut forward to meet your hand on every downstroke.

"You already said no," he replies dejectedly.

"I said not yet," you correct. "If you give me one more, I'll let you do whatever you want."

He eyes you curiously like he thinks you're baiting him, and you guess in a way you are. By now, he knows you've been edging him on purpose, but he has nothing to lose and everything to gain if he accepts your deal. He knows you'll make him feel good no matter what.

"You can choke me," you continue, slurping messily around the tip. "You can be as rough as you want," you trail your lips down his spit-slick length to the base and lick a wide stripe back up, "and you can cum in my mouth, and I promise I'll swallow all of it."

He's nodding frantically before you can even finish, and his eagerness reminds you of a golden retriever.

"You're gonna be good?" you confirm.

"I'll be good, I'll be so good," he blurts out, his urgency slurring his words again.

"I know you will. Just one more time, I know you can handle it," you encourage him.

Then, you swallow him down without warning. He lets out something guttural and animalistic, both hands tensing to hold you in place, and you let him.

You never planned on making this easy, but you meant what you said. He can handle this. He can handle the tightness of your throat constricting around him, contracting intermittently to mimic how your pussy feels fluttering around him.

Or, at least, you hope he can. You feel his balls draw up dangerously under your chin, and when you peer up through your watery lashes, his eyes are starting to cross. That's not good.

Slowly but steadily, he nudges the back of your throat harder and harder until tears and drool are streaming down your cheeks and chin. He's mumbling incoherent strings of praise and curse words between drawn-out whines, but you can barely hear him over the wet sounds of your own gagging.

"Fuck, that's...good, that's so fucking good," he pants raggedly, picking up his brutal pace. It's like he's lost all control of his body, and all he can do is chase the high you've been denying him all night.

You gurgle around him, grasping his thighs to ground yourself against the force of his thrusts, and briefly contemplate trying to stop him. But it's too late and he's already too close. His face screws up, and then you know it's coming.

"I'm sorry—I'm...fuck, I'm s-sorry, I'm so sorry. I can't—," he whimpers, fucking into his fist, "—m'gonna cum, I'm so close."

Moaning around him in response, you dig your nails into his skin, hoping the unexpected pain distracts him enough to keep him from cumming, but that only makes it worse. So, you let him.

The subtle vibration combined with the sharp bite of your nails sends him reeling. His expression goes completely lax, and then—

"I'm cumming...oh my god—," he all but sobs, burying himself as deep as you can take him.

You struggle to breathe through your nose as he empties down your throat, swallowing as much as you can, but you've been edging him for too long.

Viscous fluid leaks out of the corners of your mouth and down his cock, adding to the wet mess in his lap, and your harsh grasp on his thighs only seems to prolong his orgasm. After what feels like a lifetime, his whimpers taper into soft pants and he starts to rub soothing patterns into your scalp, an apology for his rough treatment.

You blearily meet his eyes, and they're glassy and unfocused, watching you reverently like he can't believe you just let him do something he's only ever seen in porn. And that you actually liked it. Shakily, he reaches out to thumb away the release dribbling down your chin, and you pull off of him briefly to suck it off his finger before returning to his cock.

That's why you do this night after night—that look right there. It's the awe and hunger that linger even after he's already thoroughly blissed out and softening in your grasp.

Except tonight, he's not. Mike is somehow still hard as a rock and thrusting weakly into your mouth, trembling like a leaf now that his aftershocks have subsided and the sensitivity is setting in.

Tentatively, you grip him at the base and swirl your tongue around the tip to gauge his reaction, and when he doesn't push you away, you take him further into your mouth. But on your next hard suck, his lips part and a violent shudder wracks his entire body, so you hesitate and pull off.

"Too much?" you wince, slowly uncurling your fingers from around his cock, but he shakes his head furiously.

"N-no, feels...so much," he says, dazed, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "Feels good. Can you keep going? Please."

His face is screwed up, as tense as the rest of him as he struggles with conflicting feelings of intense pleasure and pain, but he's not fighting it. He's actually enjoying it.

He flinches as you resume your movements, toying under the ridge with the tip of your thumb, and begins to squirm the longer you continue to play with him. A quick glance at the clock tells you there's still an hour and a half left of your shift—that's plenty of time.

In the four nights you've worked here, the security monitors haven't shown a single sign of activity and you doubt they're going to start now. Your gaze drops from his pained, yet hopeful expression to his twitching cock, and you make a decision.

You'll go as long as he wants. After all, you can never say no to Mike Schmidt.

"Mhm, whatever you want," you hum, then sink back onto him. He sighs gratefully, shivering at the sensation and your words, and verbalizes his gratitude repeatedly like a prayer.

"Thank you, thank you."

thanks for reading!

(dividers by @saradika-graphics)

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #fnaf imagine #fnaf smut #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson x reader

[dirty-jammies]

Late Night Desires 🌙❤️

Astarion x Fem!Chubby!Reader x Halsin

(Reader is AFAB and is referred to with she/her pronouns and terms like "good girl". )

AN: Pure self-indulgent smut because I have Feelings about Halsin's fingers. You ONOW these two would just adore spoiling a cute plus-size princess~ Enjoy!! (Psst! There's a surprise at the end!!)

-~-

Your other party members have long-since fallen asleep, but in a secluded part of the surrounding woods, atop soft grass, you were giving your lover a midnight snack…

You hummed as Astarion’s lips pressed a gentle kiss to the column of your throat, the elf’s tongue darting out to catch the last few dribbles of your blood from the dainty puncture wounds on your neck. You sighed, the usual lightheadedness settling in and your lover pulled you to rest against his chest.

“Decadent as always, darling,” Astarion murmured softly, his arms cradling you close, “you're far too good to me.”

You hummed blissfully and let out a breathless laugh as those dexterous hands of his moved up the soft curves of your body, fondling your plush waist all the way up to your bosom, “Need anything else, my love?” You teased.

Astarion laughed in reply, “How did you guess?” Those hands set about undoing your shirt, flying flawlessly over the buttons and clasps, you watched him work with a smile. Lockpicking or lovemaking, Astarion was certainly masterful with his hands.

Your pale paramour must have noticed your gaze, as he smirked down at you as your shirt fell open.

“You want my fingers tonight, my lovely,” it was less of a question and more of him stating the obvious. Either way, you bit your lip and nodded, legs spreading almost subconsciously; your bloodlessness had rendered you docile and dumb - just the way Astarion liked it. Astarion grinned, bloodied fangs glinting in the moonlight that bathed the small grassy clearing you were in, “Such a good girl for me, already spreading your juicy thighs… lift your hips for me.” he commanded and you obeyed, him watching lecherously as he rolled your leggings down over the plump swell of your thighs.

Now fully bare to both the elements and your lover’s hungry gaze, you swallowed, excitement swirling in your heart and your loins. With your legs spread as they were, your arousal was on full display.

Astarion did away with his shirt as well, leaving his pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight. You saw his nostrils flare and his pupils dilated, “Oh, darling, do you know you smell absolutely divine when you’re like this, wet and desperate for me?” He spoke lowly, roughly, “I normally find your scent delectable, but like this?” He leaned down and kissed you, nearly growling against your lips, “I just want to devour you.”

You gasped as his fingers finally made contact with your core, easily sliding through your slick folds. You moaned and whimpered as Astarion played around your opening, circling your clit for a brief, bright moment before going back down to smear your slick around more. You opened your mouth, wanting to beg him to put those maddening fingers in you already, when a noise alerted you. You nearly missed it, quiet as it was, but both you and Astarion were perceptive enough to pick it up: a groan. Instantly, your heads turned to face the tree line, expecting an undead or a bandit.

What you didn't expect to see was a shirtless, seven-foot tall druid with his cock in one hand, the other clasped over his mouth, mortified.

You reflexively went to reach for your clothing to cover up, but you were stopped as Astarion finally plunged two fingers knuckle-deep into your pussy. You keened loudly and your head tipped back, feeling embarrassment war with your arousal at the needy sound you let out. You heard Halsin give another groan, muffled by his hand but still apparent, and you watched Astarion’s mouth widen into a grin. You moaned as he fluttered his fingers inside you, pressing upwards into the soft, spongy spot that made you whimper his name.

“Now, now, darling,” Astarion scolded you playfully and leaned back, putting your body on display for Halsin, “don't hold your voice back. Let our guest hear your pretty little screams.” he kept massaging that spot inside you and you gasped, writhing in the grass below your lover. You craned your neck over to look at Halsin, and you felt a jolt of arousal burn through your body at the sight of the normally calm druid bracing himself against a tree, mouth open and letting out ragged pants as he fisted his cock. His hazel eyes were darkened with lust and were focussed intently on where Astarion’s fingers were buried in your wet heat before they flicked up to lock with yours. Your lover kept up his pace, swirling his fingers inside you and prodding your sweet spot. He clicked his tongue, “This is fun enough, darling, but… what would you say to letting Halsin have a go at you?”

You couldn't answer, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to ecstasy. Astarion huffed and yanked his fingers out of you, making you whine.

“Please! Please…” you begged mindlessly.

Astarion lightly pinched your clit, “‘Please let Halsin come over here and fuck me with his massive fingers’?” He supplied for your sweet, speechless self, “I thought you'd never ask, darling.” You could barely hold back an excited smile.

Astarion curled one of his fingers towards Halsin, who put himself away (causing his leggings to strain over his bulge) and sheepishly approached the two of you.

“Forgive me for intruding,” Halsin spoke lowly, “I heard noise out here and wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

Astarion hummed and ran his hands over your spread thighs and soft stomach lovingly, “And once you deduced the source of the noise, you figured you would enjoy a free show?”

“It has… been a while,” Halsin admitted, kneeling next to Astarion and raking his eyes over your supple body, “May I touch you?”

You nodded and reached out to him, taking one of his large hands in your own, “Yes, I can’t lie, I’ve been wanting this for a while,” You guided Halsin’s hand to your chest, letting him feel your racing heart. You looked back at Astarion, who was watching Halsin’s hand slide down your chest with a filthy smile, “Both of you, touching me.”

Astarion laughed lightly and trailed his nails, sharp and ticklish, over your soft thighs, “Such a naughty girl we have, don't we, Halsin?”

“Quite,” Halsin rumbled, his large hands finding your breasts and he smiled at your moan, “What a wonderful body, so soft and sweet…”

“Isn’t she just?” Astarion cooed and helped maneuver you into a new position, leaning you back against his chest. His lithe arms wrapped around your body, “Her breasts, her stomach, these delicious thighs and her arse…” he listed, humming as he pressed a warm kiss to the nape of your neck. You could feel the hardness in his tight pants pressing against your cushiony rear, “they’re all exquisite. She makes me simply ravenous.”

At the praise and the two sets of hands exploring your body, you felt your arousal start to grow again. Halsin’s hands were huge, caressing your breasts gently and thumbing your nipples like a string instrument; you could tell he was holding back.

“You don’t have to be too gentle, Halsin,” you spoke, voice trembling as Astarion’s hands sank into your plush waist, holding you steady as he ground his covered cock against your ass, “You can touch anything you want, h-however you want.” Your breath was getting heavier, anticipation making you wet. Halsin seemed to sense it, his nostrils flaring as he took in your heavenly scent.

“So generous,” Astarion purred from behind you before nipping a fresh mark into your neck, a quick spot of cold amidst the warmth of their caresses, “Go ahead, Halsin, I want to see you ruin her.” The vampire’s voice was low and heated and you shivered in anticipation as Halsin's hands left your breasts to travel down your supple form.

“Your body is magnificent,” Halsin rumbled lowly, as if to himself as his hands felt up the soft swell of your belly, “like a Goddess of bounty and fertility…” he locked eyes with yours and you let out a soft moan at the sheer intensity behind his gaze.

Astarion purred and licked up the new blood he drew, “You want to breed her? I don't blame you, her body is practically begging for it,” his soft hands reached down and you felt heat rush to your face as he spread you open, parting the soft folds of slickened skin to show off your hard little clit and needy pussy to Halsin, “Open her up, she’s dripping for you.”

Halsin groaned at the sight of you and he bowed his head, almost in reverence. You could see a smile bloom on his face as his fingers played around your impossibly soft, pillow-like mound, fluffy with hair. It was ticklish and infuriating, it wasn’t enough.

“Please, Halsin,” you whimpered, squirming in Astarion’s hold before he bit you for your disobedience, “Ah! Halsin, your fingers…” you bit your lip and stilled yourself, hoping he would fill you up where you needed most.

“Start with two,” Astarion commanded and you could hear his smile, “she can handle it.”

Halsin nodded and you gasped in surprise as he leaned in to kiss you, full, slightly-chapped lips caressing your own tenderly. Your gasp turned into a loud moan as two of Halsin’s thick fingers slid into you. Astarion opened you up with two of his earlier, but Halsin’s were far thicker, they stretched your walls, eased by your natural lubrication, and you clenched around them needily. You whined into Halsin’s mouth as he gently started fucking his fingers in and out, slow and steady, making your hips grind down onto his hand. Halsin groaned and sucked on your tongue, spreading his fingers inside of you and making you moan.

“Silvanus preserve me, you’re hotter than a brushfire,” the druid panted, “and so tight and wet…”

“Isn’t she positively intoxicating?” Astarion shifted you so you were straddling Halsin’s lap. You instinctively wrapped your arms around Halsin and nuzzled into his neck. You heard the quick snaps of buttons being undone and you could tell Astarion was touching himself, watching his lover be pleased by another. The vampire groaned, “Give her another.”

Your eyes widened slightly, about to object as you were still getting used to two of those thick digits inside you, but all thoughts of stopping immediately left your mind as Halsin’s ring finger pushed into you and pressed firmly against your sweet spot.

“Oh, Gods!” You cried, voice high. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you were stretched further than you have been before. You could feel your pussy pulse around Halsin’s fingers and drool even more slick around them. It burned, but it was so good, “They’re so big…” you panted and put a hand on Halsin’s broad, hair-dusted chest.

“Is it too much?” Halsin asked, rubbing your back with his free hand soothingly. His fingers were still.

You shook your head, “No, it's good,” you looked up to him, all hazy eyes and warm cheeks, “Please, go on?”

Halsin smiled and took a deep, steadying breath, “As you wish.” He slowly withdrew his fingers until only the tips remained, and you whined at the loss before they slid back into you, making you moan again.

Slowly, he continued this steady rhythm, getting you ready, getting you wetter. You relaxed in his hold, taking in his scents of musk and cedarwood.

“Does that feel good, darling?” You heard Astarion purr from the side, “Oh, he’s treating you so well~”

At the praise, you felt the Druid's breathing hitch, and, gone as you were due to blood loss and lust, you picked up on Halsin’s apparent praise kink pretty quickly, “Yes~ Halsin, you feel so, so good!”

“You two will be the end of me,” Halsin chuckled and pushed you back to lay on the grass. His fingers curled upwards and pressed into your soft spot, making you cry out, “There we go, now we can both see you.” Halsin pressed one hand on your belly, appreciating the softness as he once again started moving his fingers.

This time there was no restraint, Halsin plunged his three thick digits in and out of you fast and deep, and you couldn't contain your noises. Sweet moans and whines as Halsin fucked you, stretching your cushy walls and using his palm to rub your clit on every inward thrust. Your head thrashed around, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to your peak. In and out, in and out, in and out…

“Fuck yes,” you heard Astarion moan, “Fucking give it to her, make her cum!”

Halsin was panting at this point, his other hand mindlessly groping every soft swell in your body; your jiggling tummy, your bouncing tits, your pillowy mound, everywhere. His arm was like a piston, filling you up and hammering you until, finally-

You screamed, back arching, body shuddering, clenching and squirting around Halsin’s fingers. Your hands fisted in the grass under you, toes curling. Your mind went blank as pleasure overtook you, feeling nothing but Halsin’s warm arms holding you steady.

“Shit!” You heard Astarion grunt, and you knew he had come as well. You could see him out of your peripheral vision wipe his hand clean on the grass next to him.

“There you go,” Halsin groaned, thrusts slowing the tiniest amount, fucking you through your orgasm, “there you go, good girl…” he took your face in his other hand, caressing your cheek gently, “Beautiful girl…” he pulled his fingers from you with a wet squelch, and you and Astarion moaned as he licked up your flavours from his hand.

You could do nothing but catch your breath with a smile, feeling lighter than air as you bathed in your afterglow. You looked up at Halsin, then over his shoulder as Astarion sidled up beside you two.

“Did you enjoy that, darling?” Astarion purred and wrapped his arms around Halsin’s broad chest.

“Yes.” Both you and Halsin sighed at the same time, making Astarion laugh, light and playful.

“Good to hear,” the vampire hummed and dragged his lecherous gaze up and down your plush, pliant body, “mmh… Halsin certainly did a number on you, didn't he, love? But we shouldn't make our guest go without,” he pouted, “that would be terribly rude.”

You sat up, letting out a little moan as you put pressure on your oversensitive, well-fucked pussy, “You’re right. Halsin,” you looked up at the druid, all doe eyes and soft cheeks, “what else can we do for you?”

Halsin let out a gruff laugh, “You’ve already been so generous, but,” he rubbed a large hand on your thigh fondly and turned to look at Astarion with simmering heat in his eyes, “I would enjoy just about anything you two have in mind.”

You and Astarion shared a dirty look. You had something in mind, alright...

AN 2: Polls??? In MY smut!? Lol I was a little stumped on just how to get Halsin off, so I figured why not get some reader interaction going and let y'all vote? Don't worry if I don't do your fav pick, I'm planning on writing loads more of these guys -w-

I hope you enjoyed! And don't forget that your comments mean a lot to me! 😚💕

#bg3 astarion #bg3 halsin #astarion x reader #halsin x reader #halsin x astarion #fat reader #chubby reader #female reader #Pajama Writes #Baldur's Gate 3 smut

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Imagining being locked into a pillory for several days as punishment for some minor indiscretion, the town I live in both conservative and authoritarian and the church ruling with an iron fist that is tolerated due to the fear of the 'demons' in the forest. I am clamped into heavy wooden blocks at the wrists and neck and cannot see anything behind me.

During the day the townsfolk largely look away, a few throwing small stones or refuse at me from a distance. One or two bolder types come close enough to beat me with hard, painful strokes with their cane or riding crop.

At night, though, I feel movement behind me and my dress being pushed up around my waist, and though I expected this I still beg them to reconsider. It is not a large town, whoever this is I know them and I cannot bear the shame. An answer comes as a growl; that, I did not expect. I am locked tight into the blocks and cannot get away when I feel the clawed hands on me, when I feel the too-large, ridged and knotted cock burying itself in me. I can't see what it is. I only know it cannot be human.

It fucks me roughly but less brutal than I expect, then I feel it swell and lock inside me, hours of midnight silence to follow broken only by my ragged breathing and the occasional low growl. It pulls out of me a little before the sun starts to rise. I can hear it begin to pad away, and without thinking, exhausted and shaking, I thank it out loud for not killing me. After all, that is what everyone says demons do.

It comes back the next night. Well, something like it does. Maybe there's more than one of them.

It - or they - come back and mount me each night, breeding me like the trapped animal I am. I never see them. But in the pitch black of night I occasionally feel half a piece of fresh, sweet fruit stuffed into my mouth, or a dribble of water. And during the day the cruel treatment ebbs, people's enthusiasm dimmed by a new wave of supernatural attacks. Savage, and unpredictable. Or so they say, but their glances flicker scared in my direction. A pattern they do not want to see; anyone who came close and beat me has not survived the night.

When I am released from the pillory I wait a few days to allay suspicion then disappear in the night with everything I need in a small satchel. I get out into the dark forest, where the demons live, and in the soft glow of sunset I strip naked and drop to my knees, lowering my body to the ground and my hips high, legs parted. I want them to come. I want them to take me. I want to see them. I want to thank them.

.

#monsterfucker confessions

[s-4pphics]

click!: in frame. 3 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you crave redemption more than love. [idk au]

WORD COUNT: 17.2k

WARNINGS: professionalphotographer!ellie, strugglingartist!oc who’s black, FLUFF????, angst, mentions of deceased family members, weed, sexual tension, SMUT AGELESS BLOGS/MDNI, they fuck a lot, fingering, pussy eating/face sitting, tribbing YAAY, slut shaming but consensual, fucking on camera, dirty talk mmm, STRAP SUCKING!!! SUCK MORE STRAPS!!, squirting, i think that’s it but i don’t remember tbh

A/N: omg finally….. heyyy idk when i’ll return to this fic tbh …. 😞😞 but i love them so much and i always will. fav couple imo… HOPE THIS MAKES UP FOR THE LONG WAIT BYEEEEE LOL

Ellie’s trying her hardest not to panic. 

Her car is quiet, not a sound coming from either of you, ears comforted by the whistling winds and rustling trees… And Pickle’s quiet coos. She sits in your lap as your thumb caresses her head; Ellie’s can see how she looks up at you, eyes full of love. She's never going to stop reminding you of how much your kitty missed your presence.

Her mind races with unanswered questions, one of the main being why you haven’t said anything to her since the two of you left her father’s home. She yearns to hear your voice. 

She yearns for you… but you’re not yourself, at least from what she can remember. She can’t shake the curiosity that’s been pestering her since you’ve reconnected; What the hell happened to you while you were apart? The energy you brought to your formerly shared home was irreplaceable: your midnight rambles, your nerve-wracked pacing, your cheery laughter… Your laugh. She misses it terribly. It’s not the same. Nothing about you is. 

Ellie’s itching to ask, but her father’s statement blares red like a sonic in her mind. 

Did she tell you she’s in therapy?

You want to talk… You suggested it! Ellie’s tummy twists in anxious knots, hands tightly gripping the leather of the steering wheel. 

… What the hell happened to you? 

“We… we can sit anywhere.” Ellie whispers to you. 

She stands next to you by the front door while Pickle wanders around with her toy mouse between her teeth. You nod in acknowledgment but your gaze stays forward. Ellie peers downward when she hears subtle brushing of skin, catching glimpses of your thumbnail digging into your index finger. She grabs your hand to get you to stop. “Sit with me?” She asks gently, and you allow her to pull you towards the black cushions. You finally sit and she follows, keeping some space between you. Every bit of her attention is on you; She hopes it isn’t suffocating. 

“Your…” 

Ellie follows your gaze at your croak, inspecting the framed photo of young her and her parents at her high school graduation sitting proudly on the bookshelf. Your pupils are overcast in sorrow, and Ellie’s heart jerks painfully. 

“Your dad’s really nice.” You whisper. 

Ellie wasn’t expecting that, but she nods, “He… he really likes you. I know he was a little… standoffish, but he likes y—“

Her words are cut when two large tears dribble down your face like rain on glass. She scoots closer, brows furrowed in concern, one hand intertwining with yours while the other cups your wet cheek. “Talk to me, babe. What… what’s going on?” Ellie pushes as softly as she can. She doesn’t know how to help if you don’t say anything. 

“… Is it me? D-Did I do something?” She asks with a heavy heart, and you instantly shake your head. Your free hand comes up to land on top of hers, warmth radiating off your fingertips. 

“Y… Your dad’s r-really nice.” You exhale before releasing a choked sob. Ellie’s up in an instant, squatting in front of you as she tries to get you to calm down, telling you to breathe, to count, but you don’t. Ellie catches your weight as you fall against her, arms wrapping around you as she whispers comforts in your ears, blinking away her own tears. You’re holding her like she’s slipping from your fingers, each guttural sob synched with the squeezes on her shoulder. 

“Shhh, s’okay… S’gonna be okay.” 

Her whispers aren’t only for you. They’re for her, too. 

“Ellie…” 

“Yeah, babe?” Ellie’s lips brush against your forehead, and you sniffle. 

“… Ever been to therapy?” 

“Um… no?” She ponders with a huff at the ceiling, “I thought about it, but…” 

“It’s really hard,” Ellie’s heartbeat sounds like the beating rain outside, flowing into your ears like water on rocks, “Never do it. This shit sucks,” You snicker wetly. 

“… Noted,” She laughs softly and plants a kiss on your forehead. Your eyes shut when she whispers, “Wanna talk about it?” 

You nod into her neck as she rubs your back, “I just… I dunno where to start…” Your mind races, brain filled to capacity with every mistake you’ve made in the past year. 

“Just… say how you’ve been feeling,” She suggests. Her heartbeat seems louder… or is that yours? Your tears fall from your cheek and into her shirt. 

“I just… really miss my mom.” You say shakily. Ellie sighs from above and holds you tighter. 

“Me, too… it hits me out of nowhere sometimes,” She mutters, “We weren’t even… close like that, but it hurts…” 

“What happened?” 

“She died.” She says plainly. 

You snort, “N — not that! I mean why weren’t you guys close?” Ellie mumbles oh, fuck, sorry between hearty laughs and you smile. 

“I dunno… like, whenever I think back on good times, my dad’s always there. I never…” She pauses and your head rises to look at her face. She’s deep in thought, and you patiently wait for her to resurface. You brush the flyaways back from her face. 

“She just… wasn’t there…” She mumbles, “And when she was, we fought. All the time…” 

There’s so much more that she wants to say — you can see it in her eyes, how the trees in them brush with memory — but she chooses not to elaborate. She nervously fiddles with the charm of the necklace around your throat.

“My dad was like that.” You whisper back. 

“What happened?” 

You grin, “He died.” Ellie’s brows droop in confusion. 

“… I’m sorry?… ” 

“Don’t be. He ruined my life… Your dad’s really nice, by the way.” 

A small smile stretches across her face, “So I’ve been told.” Her fingers travel over your face, over your nose, “Wanna talk about him?” 

“… I think I should…” 

“Up to you,” She whispers and your chest nearly bursts, “I’m listening—“

Meow!

Ellie cranes her neck to look up at Pickle sitting on the arm of the couch, right above her head. “Sorry… we’re listening.” You giggle and pat Pick-Pick’s head before laying your head onto Ellie’s shoulder. Words escape before you can stop them. 

“I hit rock bottom when he died.” You breath wobbles, “Like, I thought I was there already when I dropped out but—“

“You dropped out?” 

Oh… You never told her. Fuck. You’re pitiful, “… Yeah…” 

“Why?” She asks, concerned. You cringe in embarrassment. 

“Just… I was sad. I couldn’t focus on anything. My grades were fucked, regardless, so.” You can practically hear the whirs in Ellie’s brain turning with a billion questions. You answer the most recurring. 

“No, it wasn’t because you moved out.” 

“… I’m sor—“

You sit up, “Don’t you dare. Stop.” 

The sadness in her eyes is evident, but she quiets. And then stands and bolts to her room like a fucking track star. 

“E — what the fuck! Ellie!”

You rush after her but she’s miles ahead, already chest to chest with you in her bedroom entryway…

Or chest to folder. 

No fucking way. 

“I — I owe you this.”

“Ellie—“

“Please.” She whispers, “I want you to see it.” 

After all this time. Her fucking portfolio. 

“It’s the most… important thing to me. I want you to see.” 

Her hand is gentle when it closes around yours and guides you to the couch. She simply sets the leather binder on your lap and kisses your cheek. 

“Consider it my therapy… or whatever.” She huffs. 

You laugh wetly. Why the fuck are you crying? 

Listening to her explain her passions to you was… an enlightening roller-coaster. She’s captured imagery that reflects her emotions in the most subtle, but brilliant of ways; there’s joy, there’s anger, there’s sadness, there’s loss. You two were a wailing mess when she dedicated an entire section honoring her mother. Her father. They have the most beautiful relationship. 

Romance was last. And it’s filled with you in red, right in front of that makeshift backdrop from your old apartment. You’re never gonna stop crying. 

There was a time where you couldn’t look at yourself no matter what you did, completely shrouded in self-hatred and neglect, but seeing these photos of you from another perspective, from Ellie’s perspective… 

You’re a wreck, but she holds you. Tells her how pretty you are. How happy she is to have you back. 

Your sobs are eventually tamed by her rubs on your back, the kisses on your forehead. She hasn’t said it, and neither have you, but you feel it. That electrifying pull that takes over whenever you are separated from each other. 

You wake up with a dead arm on Ellie’s couch… with Ellie’s arms around you. Your heart’s rhetorical legs are kicking its feet in the air with sparkles in its eyes. You attempt to adjust your position to alleviate the static in your hand, but Ellie’s arms squeeze around you with a grumbled whine. You hold back a snicker. 

“Ellie.” You whisper. “C’mon, babe, my arm’s asleep.” 

Another irritated whine. You laugh quietly and push your hips back to put some space between you. A bolt of electricity flies down your spine when a cold, stern hand latches onto your hip. 

“You know better. Stop.” 

Your brow arches curiously, “Whatchu gon’ do, Ms. Bott —“ You gasp, “Ellie, holy shit, are you a bottom?” 

“… We’re talking about this now?” She croaks, sleep cracking in her throat. 

“I’m curious! You’re great at it so I had to ask.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” 

You scoff, “Um, it’s a compliment. You take it like a G. Say thank you.” You push back again for emphasis. Another threatening squeeze on your hip. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hide a smile. She's so cute.

“I said stop. And I’m not a bottom.” 

“Okay, lemme paint the picture. Fuckin’ milf from the club asks you to slide some silicone in her ass for shits and gigs. You doin’ it or nah,” You snark and push back harder on her, “You squirted in my mouth six tim—“

A thundering smack rings through Ellie’s silent living room as pain ripples through your asscheek. “I’m not a bottom.” She says in your ear and you attempt to hide a shudder. 

“Light work, no reaction,” You groan and Ellie snickers, rubbing over the sizzling skin to soothe the ache. “You gotta strap?” 

“Do you ever stop talking.” She snaps in annoyance and lets you go. You take the opportunity to jump in her lap, suddenly full of energy. Her hands land on your hips to steady you. “I don’t have a fucking strap.” She mumbles, eyes full of your tits.

“I know that’s right, baby! Hashtag BringBackTribbing,” You laugh giddily. This is the most alive you’ve felt in a year, “I look good on top? Huh?” You ask, goofily squeezing your breasts over your shirt. You jiggle them for emphasis, and Ellie flushes. 

Ellie tries to hide a smile, “You’re—“

“Hot? Sexy? The best you’ve ever had?” You suggest playfully. 

“— Incredibly annoying.” 

“Annoyinglyyy sexy?” You hum, and Ellie’s eyes twinkle with adoration. You smile and grab her hands, lacing her fingers with yours. She squeezes gently before inspecting your fit. Her dad’s fit, moreso. You hope Mr. Miller doesn’t hate you for snagging his drip… again.

“Did you pack a bag?” She asks quietly. You shake your head, kissing her knuckles. She flushes. 

“We gotta get you some stuff… if you wanna stay a little longer?” 

Your jaw drops in excitement, “Are we… officially U-Haul lesbians?” 

“I didn’t say that—“

“Don’t have to,” Your voice lowers as you unravel your hands, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Wanna get me some trinkets to remember me by? Fucking…” You ponder, “Forget Me Nots or whatever?” You peck her ear, and her hands grab your ass. 

“T-That’s not what that means, you idiot.” Her back arches when your lips travel down her neck, “Are you in heat or something, what the fuck—“

“Mhm,” You grind down on her and she sighs, “been outta commission for a very… very long time.” You gasp like you’re dying, “Must… drink… life-blood—“

“Does tribbing —“ You move your hips faster, and whines escape you and Ellie, “aw, shit — fuck, cause chaffing?”

“Tryna find out?” You gasp when your clit catches on fabric. 

“Might fuckin’ be — fuck, like that —“ Ellie’s nails dig into your hips to help guide you on top of her, right where she needs you. The friction on your clit makes your thighs quiver. Ellie cranes her neck to connect your lips in a simmering kiss; your hands plant above her on the arm of the couch for leverage, pushing your hips down hard; She gets lost in it, no longer being able to keep up with your thirsty kisses as she whines for more. 

“Can’t fuckin’ — fuck — wait —“

You try to fight against her tight grip on your hips, but she’s forbidding, stern with her clutches. She pushes you up until there’s room to pull and kick her pants off, and you follow, tugging your shirt up and over your head before clumsily yanking your pants off, tossing the discarded fabric across the back of the couch. She’s upright when your lips reattach in a fiery kiss, tongues swirling messily against one another, releasing sighs into each other's mouths. 

Ellie’s hands are suddenly shy where they sit on your waist, unsure, silently pleading for guidance. You sightlessly grab her wrists and tug them up until they rest over your sports bra. She gasps in your mouth when your hands press down on top of hers so she can cup you, feeling your nipples rise underneath the fabric. You allow her hands to wander, squeezing at your chest and tweaking your nipples, body shuddering with every brush of cold fingertips against your skin. 

Heat pools in your underwear as she massages all over your skin; your chest, your thighs, the plush around your hips, anywhere she can reach, she’s on, icing your skin like snow. You’re shocked at how delicate her touch is despite the coarseness of her skin, the complete opposite of yours. You tore her apart the night prior, sunk as deeply as you could into her brain, her core, the concave of her spine; touched her from muscle memory. Almost instinctive, but she’s curious. Not controlling or domineering. She’s explorative and unfamiliarly soft, and you’re stunted, but the wettest you’ve ever been and she’s barely touched you. 

Her hands travel rise to pull your bra up, plush lips smacking against your collarbones as it's tossed to the floor. 

You’ve never not rushed to have sex; it’s always desperate and fast, but satiating for the time being. It does the job, gives you a boost of energy, gets you through the day until you’re craving it again. The dirtiness of it all… Ellie doesn’t feel like that. Dirty. 

Her hands feel like flowers against you, littering your formerly bruised skin with petals, orchids replacing the stood hairs on your neck and arms. The array of florals and green in her gaze are being passed onto you, and it’s making you lightheaded; it’s almost overwhelming. You’re torn between hiding from and searching for her. 

“Ellie…” 

She doesn’t answer, just traces your spine with her mouth on your neck. 

“E-Ellie…?” You’re unsure of what to say, but you need to know that she’s here with you. 

“Am I doing it right?” She hums against you, and your clit jumps in confirmation. She’s doing it too right and you need her closer. You nod and tug her bun out of her hair, fingers entangling with soft pili, strands softer than wool. 

“Lay down?” She’s not demanding… Your heart pulls at her tone. You pull away and keep your gaze down, at the wall, anywhere but hers until you're laying back on the couch, the cushions melding with your spine. Ellie’s mouth returns, dousing you in affections. She’s careful, each breath on your hips making you jerk. For the first time, your hands are stiff, frozen. You don’t know where to touch, so you keep them clenched by your face. 

“Good, baby?” She lures and you hum in approval. You’re not good. You’re about to start crying and your heart is fit to burst, to splatter and bleed tears all over her eggshell walls. You don’t know what to do. 

You feel wanted with every grab at your tits, how she inches your underwear down to litter kisses along the sensitive, each trail of her tongue littered with desire. Each breath you take tremors. 

I missed you so much, she keeps whispering against your skin, I missed you, baby. Couldn’t stop thinking about you when I left. You say it back, how sorrowful you were whenever she crossed your mind, how you craved her in the wee hours of the night for years, fiending to breathe her scent. Her smell is wafts of blooming roses, fresh rainfall, the sun rays peeking out from behind the clouds and dousing the streets in light. 

Your underwear is down in seconds, but she doesn’t rush; makes you wait for her touch. You beg her shamelessly, hips twitching with every peck on your thighs, leaving maroon and purple blemishes on your legs before inching up, up, up, until her breath hits your dew. Your thighs quake when she licks experimentally; one quick swipe between your folds has you gasping, nails piercing the skin of your palm. Another swift flick over your pulsing bud, and you’re whimpering, hips bucking. 

Look at me… Look at me, look at me, look at me, please… 

The desperation in her voice lifts you onto your elbows, neck arched downward until you’re met with her clammy forehead and soft eyes, patiently waiting for your instruction. You smirk down at her with a scoff.

“You’re cute,” You mumble huskily and her feet kick like a doll behind her, kissing your inner thighs. 

“Show me what to do?” she asks with doe-eyes, nibbling at the skin. 

“Gimme your hand,” she extends her arm to you and you hold her wrist, licking her middle finger like a kitten. Her thighs press together and you smile, tongue darting out to swirl around the tip before sucking it between your lips. She makes a pained noise against your flesh when you pull her digit into the plushness of your hollowed cheeks, pushing her fingers in until in cranes at the back of your wet muscle. Your throat closes when you gag and she lets up with a soft sorry. An uncontrollable giggle garbles around her finger at her dark cheeks and scared eyes. You release her with a wet pop!

“You good. Ready?” Her head bobs. 

“Hm…” You ponder, “Pussy is like… like an Xbox controller.” 

Ellie blinks. “… Okay.” 

You explain, “You really gotta feel around for the… buttons and whatever. You needa press them from the inside and… outside. At least for me… Everyone’s different—“

“I’m not fucking everyone, I’m fucking you.” She states with confidence, and wetness gushes out of you like a faucet. She eyes your cunt like a predator to a bleeding carcass, lips curling over her fangs at the flesh between your thighs. 

Your voice shakes, “J-Just sayin’… You just gotta touch me and I’ll tell you if it’s doing the job or not.” She nods and her gaze changes. It’s focused and raunchy when her thumb lands on your clit; she wastes no time, pressing deep, calculated circles over the throbbing button, drawing more wetness from between your walls. You eye her like a hawk, how she traps her lip between her teeth, how she stares at your pussy with unwavering devoutness; she replies to every last one of your moans with her own, like she can feel the pleasure she’s spoiling you with whipping deep in her tummy. 

Her caress picks up when your hips move on their own, bucking into her fingers, desperately seeking pleasure that you’ve abstained from for so long; it electrifies the pit of your gut, your jaw slackening when a curious finger inches down until it reaches your leaking entrance. 

Okay? She asks quietly, and you nod earnestly. Please, baby, please, you beseech, walls hugging around the tip of her finger. She’s slow as she stretches you, gasping at the feel of you choking her lone digit, her hips twisting down into the cushion of the couch for friction. Pride grows hot in your core whenever her thigh twitches, dragging her pussy against the couch at every ragged breath. 

You hold a hand up to show her when she asks for help, arching your finger like a hook, and she follows wordlessly. Your head drops onto the couch when she grazes past that ridge that makes you see stars. You feel her smirk on your clit before she takes it in her mouth. Your lips part over every curse squeaked at the ceiling; it’s too much too fast, it’s sensitive, you can’t breathe, but she’s taking it, hitting right where you need, pressing all your fucking… Xbox buttons—

Ellie’s fucking messy; she’s trying to replicate your efforts from last night: every spit-filled swirl of your tongue is now being thrown back onto you… in the best way. She’s a quick learner. Spit globs on your clit, mixes with the juices that build around your spasming hole while she whines like a bitch. Her mouth glistens in the darkness and your eyes cycle. 

Wanna fuck you so baaad, what the fuck, she whines to herself over your cresting moans, begging for another, begging for her to reach deeper inside you. You feel so good, you taste so good, holy fuckin’ Christ—

Every word on your clit sends vibrations up to your ribcage, right in your chest where your heart pounds for her. The couch dips with her quick movements before you feel her breath on your cheeks, smell yourself on her, fingers still nudged inside you. Your eyes flutter open and a smile stretches, “Hi.” You whisper. 

She smacks a wet kiss on your cheek, “Hi. Am I doing okay?” She twists her fingers against your nerves and you gasp, reply sharp. She hides her satisfied grin with another kiss on your cheek, and you can’t even snap how you want to. You’re desperate to tip, to reach that peak you’ve neglected for so long, begging her please, baby, make me cum, in her ear, seducing her until her fingers dig deep inside you again. 

You praise her between jumbled swears to the heavens, and she keens, whimpering into your neck when she feels how tight your walls get on her, pushing another finger past the tightness. You’re mine, It’s a promise and she groans into your neck, fucking you harder, You’re mine, you’re fuckin’ mine, m’gonnacum! Your tongue unravels like thread and you lose focus on everything except the girl on top of you; you feel the forbidden words resting on the edges of your teeth and ready to spill, the ones you swore to never speak again; but still, the unfiltered emotions rush through your blood as euphoria spills onto her hand, dripping down to the couch. 

E-El! Ffuuuck — oh, god I l — agh! 

Your orgasm splatters thick all over your inner thighs, coating her fingers in white as she works you; you feel her smiling even as your brain wracks, she likes this… Maybe she’s not a fucking bottom. Your ears ring while a speckle of drool dribbles from your chin; she licks it up before kissing you, moans trading between both your mouths, your taste coating your tongue. It’s not until her thumb traces your clit again that your legs slam shut on her. She snickers darkly into the kiss and fights against the muscles in your legs. 

I’m not fuckin’ done, gimme this pussy, she grits over your protests; tries to nudge her fingers even deeper inside you, but she’s struggling; you’re winded up so tight. How are you still cumming this fucking hard? You grab her wrist as tight as you can, and she scoffs, letting up. 

“Fine. Meanie.” One last press to your mouth and she’s up, sitting on her knees while you whither, trying to fucking recover whatever strength you preserved… None.

You muffle into the pillow, “Ellie, what the fuck—“

Your slurs are cut with concern, a gentle hand on your thigh. For the first time, she’s not freezing, “Wait, are you okay? I though—“

You send her a shaky thumbs up, “I’m good, baby, just… fuck—“

“Oh, okay…” A moment of pause, “Can we scissor now?” 

“Can I fucking breathe!”

“You can breathe after! C’mon, U-Haul lesbian!” She pats your ass excitedly. 

“After Hot Topic. I need shirts.” 

“Nuh uh,” A kiss against your knee… up to your thigh, on your waist. “Wan’nit now.” 

“Unhand me, hooligan — ow!” You squeak when teeth sink into your side. Ellie sighs in dissatisfaction, but she lets you go. 

With one last wet kiss on your cheek, of course. 

Hot Topic has lost their entire mind. $15 for a ring set? You almost convinced Ellie to steal them but she said getting caught wasn’t worth it. 

She did buy two new Spidey-man shirts, though… For a whopping $45. Geek. Bring. Back. Stealing. 

After ranting about price spikes to the cashier, you and Ellie barely make it three skips down the strip before your eyes catch a glowing, maroon sign. You yank Ellie back before she can continue down, a villainous smirk glued to your face. 

“Oh, Ellliiieee,” you sing.

She spins, “Hm?” Your lower lips traps between your teeth, an arm holding her tight against you. She stiffens at your hushed proposal, fingers clenching around your hand. 

“You ever been to 9M Sex?” 

You hear her swallow before a shuddering exhale. 

“That’s not very subtle, is it?” She mumbles and you cackle. 

“So… what do you think?” You say, voice laced with seduction. 

Ellie refuses to make eye contact. She’ll die and rot if she does; her corpse will be infested with grime and maggots in the next twenty-seconds. She won’t look at you… or the twenty-inch, plastic-wrapped dildo held between your legs. 

She burns where she stands; how is the carpet not sizzling into flames from beneath her? 

“… I dunno.” Ellie mutters; She does know. Knows that you’ve been testing her since you stepped foot into this demonic space. You’re a succubus with violent intentions with every grip on her waist, every whimsy confession you throw in her direction after eyeing the lecherous items on display. 

I wanna use that on you… You whisper when you pass every vibrator imaginable, You’d look so cute in this, baby… as you point at a fucking maid costume, I wish I could touch you right here… 

It’s embarrassing how badly she wants you to. It wouldn’t take much convincing to lure her behind one of these lingerie racks and pull her underwear to the side with your tongue down her throat… again, she swears it. One more salacious twinkle from those brown eyes, and she’s all yours, whenever, wherever. Anyway you want her until you’re satiated. The rush you give her is intoxicating. 

“Oh, c’mon! It’s fuckin’ funny! How the fuck would this fit in somebody!”

“I’m sure they’d make it work,” Ellie cringes at how high her voice sounds. What the fuck is she, twelve? Closeted all over again? 

You throw the… cock over your shoulder like deadweight, and Ellie blushes. She’s oddly endeared at your shamelessness; It’s very reminiscent of when you two first met… Why does that feel like a lifetime ago?

Light is beaming off you, and Ellie can’t get enough. This is the happiest she’s seen you since you’ve reconnected; you’re goofy and loud and full of color, completely unapologetic… Is it wrong to say that she’s envious? She’s never met a person so… secure. The store is nearly empty, but she can’t help but think that you’d act the exact same if it were stacked to the ceiling with people, parading around with your fluffy handcuffs and cat ears to match with a smile that glows for miles. 

Ellie would give anything to have that… The ability to dismiss conformity. Leaving her home is still a journey for her. She’s forced out of her own thoughts by your gasp, “Ellie… oh my fucking god…” 

“What’s the matter?” 

“… Turn around right now.” She follows your line of vision and nearly passes out... There’s absolutely no fucking way. An eggplant… but silicone… With an adjustable strap? No fucking subtly. Ellie can hear the rusty, unoiled, screws in your brain churning, conjuring up something absolutely disgusting… Her spine tingles. 

“Babe…” 

“Y’know we’re buyin’ that, right?” Your lips are at the shell of her ear, voice alluring. “I refuse to leave without it.” 

Ellie gawks at that phallic vegetable; Why is it so fucking big? “I’m not having that shit on my card history.” 

“C’mon, suga mama. Get us somethin’ special…” Her spine quakes at your purr, “Don’t you wanna fuck me… Ms. Bottom?” She can hear the smile, and her teeth grit so tight, bound to snap. 

Ellie whips around with a snippy voice, “I’m not a fuckin’ — “ Her eyes travel to ensure your seclusion, “I’m not a bottom. I told you that—“

Your hands cover your ears, “Blah, blah, blah! Lalalala—“

“You’re pissing me off—“

“Get that eggplant and show me how much.” You’re sinful with the low airiness of your tone. “I’ll do whatever you want.” 

“Liar.” Her entire body gusts into flames. You pout and shake your head, “I mean it! Take care of me with the best root vegetable, mama.” 

“You’re insane…” 

Your brow arches, “Maybe so. I’ll make sure to use a coupon. Ain’t nothin’ like 40% off a nut.” You waltz past her without a care in the world, throwing all your supplies on the counter like they’re groceries. Even threw the cashier the sweetest wonderful weather we’re having, ain’t it!

Ellie swiped her card with her eyes glued to the floor, shoving the receipt that read have a sex-filled day! to the bottom of the bag. 

The air in Ellie’s home feels heavy. 

Your eyes are locked onto her. Her back is to you where she squats on the floor, refilling Pickle’s food bowl with salmon pâte while you rest on her sofa. She can feel the intensity of your gaze through her jacket; it scorches her bones and leaves cracks in the marrow wherever they travel, goosebumps rising on her skin. 

Neither of you have said much since returning home — particularly due to Ellie being intimidated by your sudden calmness. The energy you’re radiating has flipped completely, and it’s only been an hour; The second you picked up your sex shop bag from the service counter and climbed into the passenger seat, you went docile, zoned in on every movement she made with floaty pupils. She’s still shocked you didn’t start undressing in the car. 

Ellie gives Pickle one last kiss before standing, cringing at the pops from her knees. You’re sitting on the crack of the cushions with your legs crossed, hands politely folded and resting on the point of your knee. Your eyes remind her of clouds, plush and delicate. 

“What.” She rasps. You merely shake your head, “I can’t look?” You ask, eyes glossing. Hers match, crystallizing like diamonds in the dirt, “Do what you want. I’m gonna shower.” Ellie’s legs move with the pounding in her chest, halting when you say

“I’m coming with you.” 

“That’s fine,” She rushes. It’s not fine. Her body’s going to give out. It almost does when you frolic past her, the carve in your now bare back on full display, discarded Hot Topic shirt in hand when you push the bathroom door open. 

She follows like a dog. A wolf. She’s so fucking hungry. 

Steaming water beats down on both of you like rainfall as your mouths meld together, swallowing every sigh, every desperate whimper. But still, your arms stay pinned behind your back. Ellie’s tried everything: sucked at your throat, gripped your ass in her palms, licked up your neck, but you won’t fucking touch her. She’s dripping for you, aching for your hands to caress her; she thought pressing herself tight against your body would finally get you to crack, but you’re stone. Tough as brick. Completely unreceptive. 

She knows what you’re doing… You know what you’re doing, and your attitude is driving her up a wall. Your ego’s fucking huge, that’s for sure.

All this over Ellie enjoying bottoming; She’s not a fucking bottom, she likes to bottom, to be taken care of; there’s a difference. It’s not her fault you’ve perfected your craft; Your touch is addictive; every nerve underneath her skin vibrates whenever you glance in her direction, let alone touch her. 

When your lips reconnect, it’s harsh. Ellie’s bothered to say the least, and you try not to smile. Your giddy laughter is swallowed by her when she traps you against the cold, wet wall, your back barely arching away from it before she holds you down, attacks your neck with precision. Your thighs squeeze together with each suction on your skin, hips pushing down onto the thigh that’s pressed tight between yours. 

“I fuckin’ hate you—“ She spits in your ear. Your grin is pageant-ready. 

“Doesn’t look like it, bottom—“

A heavy, veiny hand cracks on your thigh, and you squeak, “Just admit it! It’s not a bad thing—” 

“I know it’s not. I’m not that, though.” 

“Okay, baby.” 

“Shut up. Turn around.” You teasingly kiss her chin before twirling like you’re on ice, cheek smashed against the wall and ass sticking out for her, wrists bound by an invisible string at the end of your spine.  

“I got some waterproof stuff—“

Be quiet, She snarls like you did on night one, and you’re silent. Ellie sucks the skin right under your ear and your leg kicks out slightly. Her curious fingers slip between your legs and are instantly coated in silk. Your weightless head falls onto her shoulder, sighing like an angel at the gentle flicks on your clit. Yeah? She whispers when you groan her name out, chest and ears beet red. 

Yeah, baby, fuck, you treat me so good, You mumble back and she inhales deeply, walls jerking, Such a s-sweetie pie, The noise she makes in your ear is very reminiscent of a wounded animal, nasal and high. Her working wrist gets sloppy seconds after, and your jaw slacks. She’s rushing, eager for you to cum, to make her dirty all over again. 

Ellie loves how deep your voice gets when you fuck; dry and thick and melts her like butter, makes her dizzy. She would beg you to talk back if she wasn’t on this fucking power trip; she wants you to shake under her. Humble you a bit. Y-Yeah? She croaks. 

Ellie’s blanking; She’d planned to say so much when you pulled her into the muggy space by the chain around her neck, but she can’t fucking think. You smell so fucking good and your skin is soft as cotton. 

F-Fuck yes, oh f — uck —

A nasty grin grows on Ellie’s face when your legs start to wobble, hips arching off hers to get her fingers closer to your pussy. 

Uh huh, She hums, squeezing your wrist in her stagnant hand and forcing it around until it rests over your pussy, hold it open for me. Your hips buck back harsher than she anticipates; Ellie barely catches herself, forced to hold you up, trapped completely between her and the wall, fingers attacking your well-exposed clit. Her tongue swirls on your neck as you ride her hand; She wishes she could see your face properly, take in the way your lashes flutter right before your peak crashes into you, how the brown in your eyes cascade into darkness, full of lust. 

It’s her favorite part; how your moans pitch as your walls squeeze in one tight pull. They spasm in harsh twitches as your clit jounces; Ellie feasts on every single quivery alert of your orgasm, boasts in silence after each exclamation of Ellie, Ellie, oh, fuck!

She’s officially made you cum twice. Four more out of you, and you're fair game. Her stomach twists as she holds you down; You’re so loud and she loves it, that satisfied twinge in your voice at its peak. Ellie’s arm is tight around your waist; There’s so much pressure where she whisks your clit, lips closing around her two fingers. 

A tight hand closes around her wrist when you beg her to stop, Okay, babe, fuck fuuu— ah! —

But she doesn’t let up; rubs you faster, spits nastily in your ear, Say you’re sorry, she gravels onto your cheek, Make it good, too. 

Ca — El — uhhh! —

Yeah? Want some more? Tell Ellie how sorry you are. 

Fuckfuckfuck — I-I’m — Oh god, I’m sorryI’msorrybaby—

Ellie feels merciful and drops her hand, and you go lax against her. She’s forced to smash her body against yours so you don’t drop to the floor. She lets you ride out your aftershocks, the last bits of cloud nine, lips pressing into your shoulder. 

Your panting eventually slows, “Ellie…” 

“Hm.” 

“I hope you know…” you scratch, “… that I’m boutta fuck the living shit outta you.” 

She kisses your shoulder before scoffing with an arched brow. 

“Okay.”

Ellie’s choices in room décor never fail to amaze you. She’s so endearing. 

Her adult room seems much more lived in; some clothes scattered on the floor and slung over her black love seat, laundry baskets, open drawers with neatly folded clothes… so many mirrors. There’s one by her nightstand, two small, circular ones stood on her dresser, two full-body ones by her window. You can see yourself in every direction you turn. Her walls are made with black brick and littered with green and yellow fairy lights, draped decorative leaves surrounding her Spider-Man(Toby McGuire and Miles Morales) tapestries. Multiple black, furry rugs cover the floor. And the posters… Bless her heart. You’ve never seen so many constellations and planets on one wall, let alone four. Her bed is so messy, though. Her poor stuffies are face-down. It’s a crime how fucking adorable she is; Your heart is jumping for joy. 

“You don’t make your bed?” You ask slyly. 

She pauses her towel-wrapping, “… For what.” 

“Um, for tidiness. Aesthetic, if you will.”  

She blinks at you, “That’s dumb as fuck. You’re gonna lay in it anyway. I want a kiss.” She walks towards you and steals one… and another, and another until you’re both smiling. Your arms interlace around the back of her neck. 

“Make your bed or I’m snitchin.” Your whisper is followed by a peck. 

“Snitchin’ to who?” 

“P-Papa Miller.” 

“Don’t talk about him when I’m horny.” 

She unravels your towel and lets it drop to the floor, “S… Sorry.” 

“You’re not forgiven. Lay down.” 

You sit on her bed like a cat scoping the scenery, “Or what? Gonna hit me? In my face?” You purr. 

She rests her hands on your knees, bending her spine to kiss you, “Maybe.” 

“No balls.”

She smiles and smooches your nose, “You’re right. I would never.” 

“What if I want you to.” 

She scoffs and stands upright, “I’m not… fucking hitting you—“

“What if I ask politely…” You deepen your voice mockingly, and she shudders, “Oh, Ellie Williams, my dearest flower, may you do me the honor of bruisin’ my cheek with an affectionate handprint?” 

“Dude—“

“You don’t have to… but if you wanna, I’m not opposed.” You fall back onto your arched elbows, knees pulled high in the air. Ellie’s stare is disgustingly enticing as her eyes travel from yours, all the way down to your calves, but she makes no moves. You love how patient she is. 

“Your hands are so fuckin’ nice.” 

She snorts and looks down at them, squeezing a tight fist and inspecting the blue-green veins. “They are? They don’t feel dry?” 

“I love how cracked they are. Scratch me up, papí.” 

Ellie’s nose turns up as her ears glow, feigning disgust, “Shut up.” 

You smirk and your thighs separate, inch by inch, gooey lines of slick snapping when your pussy’s on display, “Make me.” She swallows. Ellie decides her hair has dried enough, shaking the towel from her head and crawling on top of you in seconds. Her mouth mushes against yours; Her aggression is so delicate. Her lips stroke yours until they dust your cheeks, down to your temples. You eye the neon glow-in-the-dark stickers on her ceiling, “Gonna fuck me under the moon, space ranger?” She licks over your mumbles, nibbling at your lips. “M-Maybe…” 

“Havin’ second thoughts, bottom?” You poke and her jaw tenses.

“Put your fuckin’ leg up.” 

You oblige, flattening the other so she can straddle your lax thigh, “Goin’ back to our roots, I see. Traditional lesbianism.” You sigh when her dripping pussy hovers over yours. Ellie has the prettiest cunt; You’ve told her probably a thousand times, now, but fuck, it’s perfect: soft strands of hair submerged in slick, plush lips surrounding her red clit. Your pussy flutters like she’s crushing whenever Ellie finds her balance on top. She fits her shoulder in the arch of your calf, and you’re patient, dragging a light fingertip around her areola. Her tongue wets her lips before she closes the space between your pussies. The muscles in your thighs clench at your intertwined warmth. 

Ellie holds your gaze, forest shiny with arousal with a hand gripping your raised thigh. 

“Send me to the stars, space ranger.” 

She chokes a laugh before kissing your ankle, “You’re cute.” 

“No, you,” you cheese. Her smile matches yours before she experiments, finds comfortable seating on your lap before her hips grind forward, just barely. Her maneuvers are shy, a bit unsteady, but she’s entrancing; Ellie’s face is perfect… Have you ever told her how beautiful she is? 

A trembling whisper from her, Why’re you looking at me like that? shows that you haven’t, not nearly enough, at least. Astonishment settles in your vision; You’re stunned to silence by her. Breaths leave ragged through your nose, eyes trailing over every inch of her face; the curvature of her nose, every pore, every scratch and scar. She’s an image, a neglected picture that deserves all notoriety. To be hung in ancient museums; A modern Mona Lisa. 

Ellie… 

Mhm? 

I really like you… 

She’s motivated, hips pushing forward and back, pressing down, as tight as she can get the gap. H-How much? 

Too much, and it’s a fact. A terrifying one that you can’t ignore. She moans in response and holds the hand that rests on her hip as she rides you, the cup of her breasts jumping, the remainder of shower water mixing with fresh bubbles of sweat in between the valley, glistening under the last bits of sunset. Tell me, tell me, she begs and moves faster, and your heart rate skyrockets, from nerves, from… 

You're perfect, y-you’re so— Her mattress springs wheeze under the sudden pace of her thrusts. Your whimpers seem to drive her, I missed you so much. You’ll never fail to remind her; shame on you if she ever forgets. Wetness squelches between your bodies, the friction sparking the wires in your spleen, back arching with every catch of her clit on yours. 

Stay with m-me, Her voice breaks, and your hand is numb from how hard she grips it, Don’t… don’t go… I like when you’re close to me… Your eyes attempt to close, but you can’t allow it. You drink in every inch of her, and you burn warmer when she does the same, always returning to your eyes before beginning again. 

You’re gonna make me cum, She gasps brokenly, disappointed. You’re begging now, for every drop she has. You want all of it; the claws that sink into her are desperate when her head falls back, her nipples tighten, her pleasure racking off the walls. Your hips buck into hers and she squeals, tries her hardest to keep her balance, but she’s cracking. You feel her throbbing, can almost make out her heart pounding over yours; she’s warning you, she’s right there, and the incoming destruction is evident in her voice. 

Her cry is long and drawn as her clit beats, blush burning in her cheeks as she scrapes at your skin, pulls at your fingers to center as she transports to euphoria. Tears jerk in your eyes when you hear her confession, heart shattering in your chest as darkness takes over you; it’s disgraceful how you’re silent as she lays everything out for you to take. You cry in silence as she rides out everything she deserves. 

I love you… Don't leave me… I love you, baby, I-I love you… 

Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Exhale… 

You count how many seconds it takes for Ellie to breathe. She’s sound asleep with her back to your chest, her arms outstretched in front of her. Your arm rests over her hip as you welcome every waft of her citrus shampoo. It’s doing wonders pausing your incoming breakdown. You’re so, so sick. 

I love you… Don’t leave me… 

It replays in your mind against your will. Over and over, it bounces around your skull until your temples pound. You’re not sure what’s more nauseating: the word she used or that she meant it. You could see it in her eyes, promises of adherence, careless and unbound yearning and devotion. You’re to blame, though. You practically pulled it out of her after your own declaration; I really like you… What an idiot. 

You admire her in every possible way. Her bravery, in particular. 

You don’t deserve to be in her presence, but still, you rob her of time. She showers without you present, and you desperately wait for return so you can hold her again. She’s scared that you’ll leave her when it should be the other way around; It’s been your only fear: her realizing that she deserves everything you aren’t. Someone happy, pure-hearted, successful, just like she is. 

Whatever attracts her to you must be an unimaginable pity. How could she love someone as manipulative and slimy as you? It’s unfathomable. 

And yet, you still lay next to her, under her stars. 

You separate from her as slyly as you can to sit on the edge of her bed, palms digging into your eyes before purring erupts from behind you. You feel nuzzles against your back and you snicker; Pickle’s a vessel of comfort. She never fails to appear when you're in dire need. She’s beckoned over with soft clicks of your tongue, taking refuge on your lap and licking at your thigh. Your lips mash against her little head, peppering kiss after kiss until leaps onto the floor, exiting the room and moving down the hall. You use kit-kat as an escape even if your heart aches to be near Ellie. 

The journey to her living room is slow due to you examining the framed pictures on the wall. Some are photos of just her, while others are her and other nameless people you don’t recognize, all smiling wide. She’s being hugged and kissed on her cheek by presumed friends — maybe family — all while holding the camera in her shaky hands, thanks to the blurred image. There’s photos of her on vacation, on beaches, photos of fireworks and birthday cakes, and so many photos of her father. 

There’s so much light in this hallway, even in void night, and she’s in the center of it. You can’t stop crying. 

Your body drags to the couch to retrieve your discarded backpack, digging for your phone. You haven’t touched it since you’ve been here, and you’re shocked to see that it’s still charged. The influx of missed calls frightens you; they’re all from work. You rush to listen to your last voicemail. 

“Hey, sweetheart! It’s Professor Meyers! Professor Rosnon’s been trying to get in contact with you, so I thought I’d reach out, as well. We’ve got an amazing offer for you if you’re interested! It’s too much to describe on the phone, so I hope we can meet up in person very soon and discuss the details. Get back to me as soon as you can. Enjoy the rest of your vacation, buh-bye!” 

That was yesterday morning. Fuck your life. 

Your sketchbook stares back with impertinence as your tears dry; It’s been months and still nothing from your imagination has transferred onto paper. Why do you continue to disappoint yourself, staring at a blank page with your pen in hand? 

“H-Hey.” 

You don’t react to Ellie’s call, just continue to tap your pen on the edge of your book. You can’t stop thinking about her hands. She appears from behind the couch wrapped in her Princess Bubblegum blanket, scratching at her nose. 

“I was cold…” She mutters with a soft laugh, “How do you stay so warm?” You merely shrug, tongue tied in indestructible knots. 

“Can I sit?” Your head jerks and she’s next to you in seconds, kissing your cheek, then your shoulder.

“What’s the matter, baby?” She whispers against your skin, and you sigh. 

“Just girly things,” You chuckle darkly before bluntly asking, “Are you mad at me?” 

“No — what?” Her voice is as delicate as rose petals, “Why would I be mad?” 

“I didn’t say it back.” You say. 

“… Say what back.” 

“You told me you loved me and I didn’t say it back. I didn’t… say it. I dunno why I didn’t!” 

She stares incredulously, “It’s… That’s fine—“

Your book goes flying into the cushion before you stand, “Ellie, it’s not fuckin’ fine! None of this is fine! I don’t know if it’ll ever be fine! I’m not… I’m not fine.” You exasperate, “Am I… I can’t stop… overthinking everything! I wanna make…” You sob and pace. 

“I want you happy. You deserve… aaalll the good shit that life has to offer!” Your arms flail, “You’re so… I can’t fucking think when you look at me! All my brain cells fucking explode and I never wanna look away! I just wanna sit and stare at your fucking face all day long! Fuck working, fuck a mortgage, fuck — fuck everything! Life is fuckin’ dumb and pointless if your not in the center of it! I’m so—“ 

“I love you.” She whispers, water in her eyes. 

“I can’t… accept that—“

“Me loving you?” 

“Yes! Well… no—“

“So you want me to love you?” 

“Ellie, please, I can’t fuckin’… breathe—“

“Yes, you can. And I’m so in love with you,” She says with certainty, and somehow, your brain convinces you that it’s conniving. “I was in love when I left… and I’m still in love now. You make me so… excited about life.” She continues mutedly, “If you don’t… wanna stay, I understand. But I had to tell you anyway.” 

“I…” You wail with knuckles in your eyes, “I love you so much…” Ellie’s sighs in relief at your cry. She chuckles wetly before you feel her arms around you, “You’re such a fuckin’ lesbian, it’s actually hilarious.” 

“Fuck off!” You holler into her shoulder, “This is your fault! Why are you so perfect! Fucking… fucking bitch—“

“Say you love me again,” she pleads into your sweatshirt, and you repeat it like a prayer. I love you, I love you, I love you so much! Ellie rocks back and forth where you stand, a delicate, scratchy hand rubbing your back under the cloth. 

You're back in Ellie’s room. Your pen is moving. On paper. 

When Ellie ushered you to bring your sketchbook to bed, you couldn’t stop laughing; continuously questioned your ability, trying to convince her how pointless that would be, but that gentle encouragement in her gaze got you here: on another blank fucking page with an exhausted pen. You hate lesbians. 

The lines on the sheet are subtle, gently grazed across white with little focus; The image isn’t super descriptive, but it’s shapely. It looks like… something; That’s all you need right now. Ellie’s watching curiously, eyes flickering between your busy hand and the slowly filling sheet. 

“Pretty.” She says. 

You snort, “It’s literally a blob.” 

“To you. Art is subjective.” Your eyes roll before they land on Pickle resting on Ellie’s throw pillow. “What, you hate it, too?” 

“Don’t do that! She loves it!” 

“Look at her eyes! Nothin’ but homophobia!” Ellie nudges your knee with hers in disapproval, and Pickle blinks. 

“Be quiet. Keep doing that.” She nods down at your paper, and you smirk. “Yeah, baby? Like when I do that?” You hold her faltering stare and scribble blindly, “It’s gettin’ you there?” 

Her cheeks grow plump and shine, almost reaching her eyes, “Stop… or no more kisses.” 

Your jaw slacks, “You wouldn’t dare!” 

“I would! C’mon, finish for me — “ Your body crashes with laughter at the innuendo, and Ellie cringes. 

“Can you focus for two seconds!” She scolds between your cackles. 

“I’m so — sorry, it’s just too good, holy fuck—“

“It wasn’t that funny.” She says blankly. 

“To you! Comedy’s subjecti—“ 

Ellie holds you down by your hips before jumping into your lap, glare sizzling past your teary eyes. 

“Oooh, la la, quite the dejavu moment.” You snicker up at her, book and pen forgotten. 

“Am I a joke to you?” 

Your brow curves scoffingly, “Might be. And what about it?” 

“I think you needa break.” 

“Word?” You toss your pen and book with the quickness, “What we doin’, space ranger?” 

“You’re not doing anything. I’m gonna ride your cock.” 

Your eyes turn to globes as she undresses herself above you, throwing her tee and maneuvering so she can kick her underwear over the bed, only clad in her fuzzy Saturn socks. 

“Where’s the bag.” 

“… O-Over there,” You point where you threw it mindlessly after your couch escapades, and Ellie’s up to retrieve it. You eye the dip of her back and gawk at her fucking ass when she bends over to rummage through the bag. “Are… are you serious right now?” 

“Yup. Take your clothes off.” She calls back plainly. 

“… Alright.” You unclothe into your boyshorts in stunned silence. Since when is she this bold? She returns with full hands: cotton candy flavored lube, a small bullet, and the longest fucking eggplant you’ve ever seen in your lifetime. She throws them onto the mattress carelessly with a shrug, “I think you need some inspo. Am I the best girlfriend?” 

Your heart jerks in your chest, veins reaching out for her “… ‘Course, baby… shit.” 

Ellie holds up the strap by the leg adjustment, “I’m sure you know how to put this on.” She throws it into your lap before popping open the baby blue lubricant. Your face burns when you swing your legs over the bed to pull the harness up your legs. You can hear her giggling as the aubergine jumps up and down above your pussy. She offers to help and you instruct her through tightening the bands until they fit snug around your hips and thighs. 

Your brain’s in overdrive; the curved girth of the silicone builds arousal in your underwear, envisioning Ellie’s plush walls stretching and pulsing around the purple length, her creamy silk building around the perimeter of the green tip at the base. Your clit leaps beneath the fabric. 

“Are you… You want some head? Like… before this?” Your fingers point at the eggplant. Ellie shakes her head with the bullet in hand. 

“Just lay down.” 

“Ellie—“

Her hands clasp your steaming cheeks, her lips brushing against yours when she murmurs, shhh… take good care of me? Your heart flutters where it sits in her hands, Don’t I always? You choke, and she hums with a smirk before her lips curl against yours. Poking fun at her for being a bottom is long gone; This is the most sure you’ve ever seen her in this setting. You’re often the hand that guides, lures her in, eases the unwanted tension and leads you both to gratification, but now she’s doing that for you; her tongue slides over your mouth one last time before balancing herself on the edge of the bed and dropping to her knees, eyes lined up with the fat tip of the toy. 

Oh … Oh. 

You’re one of the most… talented people I know. She flatters, so lustful and genuine. I know that side of you is still in there. It’s all gonna come back to you… M’ just gonna help. 

Is this your proposal of being my muse? You quirk. She shrugs, her hand closing tight around the length, Could be. Depends on how good you think I do. 

Always do so good, You acclaim, I love you… fuck—

Ellie kisses the tip before purring, I love you more… Anyone ever do this to you? 

… Is this a trick question? Uhh… Like… like, one time. Despite your doubts, you choose honesty. The memory is lackluster and quick. It was decent enough. Merely for experimenting purposes. 

The twinkles in her eyes catch flame, What’d you like about it. She asks, but it’s not a question; it’s sharp, and you almost start crying. 

I-I dunno—

Before you can lie, a glob of spit lands all over the head. The glare she sends you is both icy and hot as she massages in the wetness, gliding it all over. Your knees buckle under your weight, and she leers up at you. You like it like that? Nice’n sloppy? 

You’ve had… so much sex in your life, and never once, in the history of the universe, have you ever been this fucking wet. If you were to go on a casual midnight stroll right now, sloshy noises would echo from between your legs for miles. The glint in her eye is knowing, and spit gathers all over her tongue as it swirls around the tip. The sounds her lips make are sinister; your chest concaves in a wheeze. 

When the tip slides a hair deeper on her tongue, you choke a pained noise. She releases the tip when your body stutters again. She says nothing, simply shoves you down onto the bed by your thighs, planting herself in between them once more. There’s so much fucking spit; it slides down in droplets all over the sides of the silicone as she slobbers on the crown, preps it for when it slides down her throat. Her mussed blankets are clenched between your fingers; your breathing is ragged. 

Such a good fuckin’ girl, Your tongue swells, and Ellie keens, eyes sparkling underneath stray auburn when they flutter at your praise. Your cramped fingers brush the strands away before knotting in her hair. The bun at the back of her head slowly loosens, trapping your digits in her locks. A soft whimper leaves her when you pull. 

For some reason, your eyes travel, only for a second, but you’re met with an elongated image of Ellie’s dotted spine, the goosebumps on her skin, the way her head bobs half an inch at a time, all in her full body mirror. You choke on a whine, and the muscles in Ellie’s back twitch. 

Oh my fuckin’ god, Your fingers tighten in her tresses and she whines, the arch in her back deepening. Your walls pulsate when you catch the glistens of slick spilling from her entrance at your sounds, both holes clamping down, pleading for you. Gonna let me fuck that pretty throat? 

Her moans are sloppy and wet. Her head bows, and you know she’s taking you deeper, nails digging into your thighs. It’s a curse that you can’t feel the tightness of her sunken cheeks. She pops off you, desperation leaking from her when whines, Fuck my mouth, baby, please, lips gliding all over the underside. You move on autopilot, sliding up further onto the mattress, feet planted on the floor and hips hanging off the edge of the bed. Ellie’s nasty; practically making out with your tip while you stabilize your position. It’s fucking messy, how her saliva drips down the base until it meets the harness, small beads building on your bare thigh. 

Stick your tongue out, you order before squeezing her face in your free palm. Her pink muscle lulls until it lays on the connective skin between your thumb and index, coated in drool. It’s not enough for you, though; Saliva builds in your mouth before it shoots onto hers, and she moans when it splatters all over her tongue, speckles landing on her cheek. A heavy hand comes down to pat her cheek, and she cries a quiet I love you. You smile and it’s dark, Uh huh, love you, too. Keep it out, your thumb drags on her bottom lip until her tongue rests flat over her bottom teeth. 

The hand that twines in her hair is harsh, Hands behind your back, you say and she does without questioning. You kiss her cheek before guiding her head steady towards the tip until it sits on her tongue. Her jaw widens when your hips rise off the mattress; you hold her still an inch forward, her mouth closing around the wrist. Her noises are quiet and docile, and she swallows; You shudder when you watch her throat close before pulling out. 

Okay? Want more? 

Her eyes plead like a puppy’s, tongue cycling on the prong. Breathe through your nose, Your hand loosens a bit in her hair, Just pull off when you wanna stop, okay, baby? 

One whine of approval and you’re pushing in again; Her hips twitch in the mirror as her mouth fills and you snicker; her thighs are coated in slick, a thin line dripping onto her furry rug. That’s my girl, fuck, you’re so cute, You grit and her fingers clench. The pace of your hips kick up slightly, testing to see how much she can take. You monitor her every move: the way her eyes float empty in her skull when her cheeks expand, how her breathing quickens when your thumb caresses her scalp, how tight her throat gets when you push too deep. 

Look at how wet that pussy is, Ellie moans over your thrusts. Slobber coats her lips and chin; dribbles all the way down to her chest. Your bottom lip traps between your teeth. 

You plunge too deep apparently; she gags and pulls off and explodes into a fit of coughs, forehead falling onto your thigh as she heaves. You kiss her head and apologize frantically… 

And then, she starts giggling. 

“Fuck — Fuck, I’m sorry —“

She snorts and coughs some more, and you’re stuck. You hold both of her sizzling cheeks in your hands and kiss all over her face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry —“

“You’re really hot.” Her voice is croaky and broken and more slick gushes from you. How shameful. 

“Me?! Are you fucking — are you okay?” 

“Mhm.” She hums before pecking your lips, “Fuck me now? I’m… I’m so wet,” She whispers like she told you something secretive. You can bet every minuscule dollar you own that you’re wetter, but anxiety settles in your stomach. Your girl’s asking you to fuck the daylights out of her after nearly killing her with the fucking dick-shaped vegetable on your waist, and you’re panicking. 

“Ellie, I’m scared as fuck, not even gon’ lie—“

“Nothing to be scared of. I trust you.” Another kiss before she mutters, “Take care of me?” 

“P-Promise.”

Your mind rushes. 

The past twenty minutes have felt like a blur; you hardly recall pinning Ellie down on the mattress to keep her still while your tongue swirled inside her, how tight her walls clamped down on two fingers, how she scratched and squirted and squealed for you to fuck her. 

And now she’s beneath you, hips twirling up, desperate for friction as her nails tear at your hips, but you ignore her. You’re gawking at the lubricated strap that rests on her throbbing cunt, how the inches almost touch her belly button. You’re trapped in a daze as your hips move mindlessly, brows furrowed. 

W-What’s the matter, baby? She keens at you. 

Nothin’ You’re gruff, Thinking. 

And you are thinking… about how Ellie’s going to take this shit. The length is concerning on it’s own, but it’s so fucking wide and curves up. You recall the amount of times she’s winced when you fingered her. It should worry you; how far she’s going to stretch to take it all, how much her softness is going to resist against something so big. Your head is twisted where it wanders; conjures up disgusting visuals of her begging you to split her open, to make her take it, to give it to her as mean as you can. You can’t help it, though; She’s an angel when she cries. 

Agitation creases in her brows, “Gimme it—“

“I think it’s gonna hurt,” You slur. Her taste swirls on your tongue when you speak, and it makes you wetter. 

“I don’t care. Give it to me,” she snaps. “Want you… inside—“

Your brow flits, “Want me inside? I’ve been inside. A lot, actually.”

“Don’t fuck with me right now.” 

“Ellie, c’mon! Look at this shit! There’s no way—“ 

“I’m lying here telling you to do it! Fucking —“ She sighs in annoyance, “Let me get on top. You weren’t supposed to do shit anyway.” 

“Ellie!—“

“Stop talking and lay the fuck down!” 

You plop down onto your back with a slew of curses, and Ellie takes — snatches the reins from you; she leaps into your lap, lube in hand, scolding sizzling on her tongue. 

“I don’t wanna hear shit. Just… let me do it.” 

A cheesy smile grows, “… You’re not you when you’re horny—“

“What the fuck did I just say!” She squirts more fluorescent blue into her palm and blindly massages it into your strap. It’s horribly messy by the time she’s done, taking it in her hand and lining herself up without warning. 

“… Wha—“

Her non-lubed palm clamps on your mouth, silencing you with a hefty eye roll. Ellie arches a brow when you hold two thumbs up in silent encouragement. You love your girlfriend! 

Ellie steadies herself with a mumbled, please, God, don’t let me die, right above the tip before her hips drop not even an inch. You’re a hawk the way you eye her tiny hole expanding around the girthy crown. Her breaths are heavy and ragged, but she takes her time; hips rising when she’s taken too much, sinking when she’s comfortable, and you’re hypnotized by it all. 

Her hand drops from your mouth and plants on your chest when you’ve finally quieted — besides the mumbles of ohmyfuckinggod when her lips manage to swallow up the tip. Her bottom lip bruises from her teeth, tears welling in her eyes and her thighs twitching. She looks like she’s hurting and your heart shatters. Carnality be damned. 

“E-Ellie… baby, we don’t have to—“

You’re so… fucking big, she squirms, and you stiffen. 

Your nails latch — sink into her hips and your jaw slacks; gaping at how she struggles to take you, how she winces and gasps at the stretch until she’s halfway. You’re doing that to her, getting her nice and full; it takes all your strength to keep your hips flat on the bed despite every cell luring you to stuff her to the brim. 

… It hurt? 

I don’t — know — fuck, Ellie’s eyes flit in every direction: locks onto the ceiling, the bed frame above you, your breasts and your dick. Ah, shit — 

Good? You confirm and she hums, whimpering to herself until her ass rests on your thighs. Any traces of dark purple are no longer visible, only hints of bright green glowing from the base of the harness. 

You whistle lowly, Damn… you’re real as fuck. 

Gimme a sec, She sighs, and you raise your palms, Whenever you’re ready. 

The longer she sits, the more relaxed her face becomes; flush darkening on her cheeks and above her breasts, more slick ringing around the circumference. 

… This is very interesting, Ellie says aloud, and shocked laughter bursts through your chest. She’s fucking hilarious, actually. Scale of one to ten? Your brows give a mischievous wiggle, and she pauses, hips moving around, testing the waters. Her eyelids bat gently. 

… S-Seven ‘n a half? She moans, and you smirk, You sure? It looks like an eight to me. 

She glares playfully, Gonna have to work for that rating. 

You squint up at her before sitting upright, chest to chest, and her arms wrap around your neck for balance. I’m waitin’ on the green light, you whisper against her lips. She laughs weakly, One star rating on Yelp. Too much back talk. 

You kiss her around a smile before pecking all over her cheeks. She grabs the back of your neck to hold you still, melding her mouth on yours. You swallow her soft noises when your tongues intertwine, hands cupping her ass. Ellie’s jaw slacks when her hips raise and drop, gasping on your tongue. You lick into her mouth and hold her steady, nails deep in her soft skin when her pace quickens. 

You grin, Yeah? Better? 

Ellie nods and a hand slips between you, and you groan aloud when her fingers meet her slippery clit, the tips dripping wet in seconds as sloshing noises echo through her bedroom. Your arm wraps around her waist to yank her down, and she squeaks, back arching, chest shoving against yours. You done showin’ off? You grit against her cheek and she huffs. Ellie’s hands shove at your shoulders until you’re laying flat on the mattress, and you snicker. Her hold is strong on your chest as she bounces, her tits trembling every time she comes down. 

The way she says your name is intoxicating; so drawn out and velvety and makes your cunt tremor. Your eyes trap on how she touches herself; one hand settled on your chest while the other rubs at her clit, pulls at her nipples, makes them shine with her juices. You’re aching to touch her, but you stay put; let her have her fun.

You catch movement out the corner of your eye; Ellie’s trapped in another mirror off to the side, shrouded in pleasure: head thrown back while she cries at the ceiling, slurred flattery of how good you feel inside her igniting the flame in your core. 

Look how good you’re takin’ that shit, you groan and the muscles in her ass squeeze in the mirror; you can feel the ripples in her cunt pulling at your strap, and it nearly sends you. What you’d give to feel her flesh choking around you when she breaks, succumbs to pleasure while you explode inside her. It enrages you to no end. 

Your pupils meet at the bridge of your nose when a clammy hand inches up your chest to the column of your throat to rest. Ellie whines from above, a shaky C-Can I? You're about to make a mess all over her sheets. You hardly register the desperate bobs of your head, and her grip tightens around your neck. Pinches down on the sides, and your soul leaves your body. 

You like that? She snickers dark around a moan and fucks down harder onto your lap, You’re so fucking — holy, fuck —

Your hand clamps around her wrist and she squeezes harder; the hold is threatening, and your clit jumps. Your promises are wet and muffled; exclamations of m’yours melting on your tongue. Your girl is going to break you. 

Her efforts eventually slow, and you know she’s getting tired. You look up, right into her eyes and you nearly break. They’re pleading, imploring you to take care of me, make me cum for you; she eases into a steady grind, and the pressure from her hips add friction to your clit. You curse lowly, and she whimpers back. You’re already so close from how long you held off, but you don’t want to cum yet. She’s getting hers first. 

E-Ellie, get up—

You barely finish your command before she lifts up and off, strings of slick connecting her pussy and your dick together. Your maneuvers are quick; you’re up on your knees in seconds and grab her hips, guiding her until she’s on all fours, facing all of the mirrors at the front of her room. Your mouth waters at the sight of both holes pulsing sporadically, begging for your cock. 

Your hand deepens the arch in her spine until she’s face down on a lone pillow. Your heart swells when Ellie extends a shaky hand to you, fingers curling tight around the hand that rests on her hip. You kiss her wrist and she sighs happily. You grab your slippery dick and line it up at her entrance; her hips push back when you nudge inside, wet gasps leaving her as you split her all over again; but this time, you can see it. You’re moaning with her, a thin line of drool landing on her asscheek. 

It hurt, baby? You grunt, stupid with lust, body on fire, Huh? She can’t even talk, just shoves her face in the pillow and says your name, over and over. You push in deeper, and she groans, sobs, begs for you to fuck me, baby, fuck me fuck me fuck me, please—

That’s all it takes; your hands clutch tight on both hips to yank her back onto your cock. A shocked squeal rattles the four walls that enclose such filth when she’s finally stuffed full: she spurs on your aggression, jumbled yesyesyess hitting the pillowcase, her nails sinking into your wrist. Your strokes are deep; you watch how tight she grips your dick, plush pink milking every inch that leaves when you pull out, desperate to keep you in place, a light rim of cream building around her lips. 

You and Ellie’s teary eyes lock in the mirror on her dresser, her pink lips gaping around each crude praise she throws at you. It’s music to your ears.

You hi — hit it so good, baby! 

Just like that — oh, god, yeah! —

I love you so fuckin’ much!

Her messy hair flies in every direction, bounces with your thrusts, enticing you to grip it. Dark red wraps around your tight fist and you pull, and she goes stupid, eyes crossing in her skull and glossy drool hanging off the edge of her bottom lip.

Your yanks get her up until her sweaty back meets your chest, arch deepening when you lean into her, lips caressing her tinted ear. 

You love me, mama? 

She shudders on you, Fuck, yes — so fuckin’ much! Love this dick! 

Yeah? It’s yours?

F-Fuckin’ mine… A—All mine— 

You reach around to find her clit, and she gushes around you, Show me who it belongs to. You beg and she meets your hips, Get me fuckin’ nasty with it, cum all over your dick, baby, your words hit her like a threat, and she wails curses; sucks you all the way in when the tightness builds; you push in as deep as you can and it sends her over. Ellie’s thrashes and you're forced to hold her up, arm thrown around her chest while she grinds back onto you; you can feel how hard she’s cumming as the base jerks with her pulses, your name a constant on her tongue. You grind into her until she shakes, nails scratching at your hips to stop you. 

Ellie’s limp when you pull out, purple coated in white creaminess, and she whimpers like she’s begging you to come back home. 

Lay down, you choke. Your walls won’t stop clenching. 

She turns her head to kiss your neck before supporting her weight on her hands. 

Nuh uh, You tsk, On your back. Needa see you when I cum. You say, and she whines like a bitch, slick and cum flooding at her entrance. You help her maneuver and yank her closer until she’s staring up at you and her entrance lines up with your strap, eyes delicate and trusting and obsessed. The trees in them brush with ferocity and need for you; a tight hand squeezes her cheeks so her lips pucker, and you bend down to kiss her. It’s gross: desperate and uncoordinated tongues entangle with one another, spit spreading on the outside of each other's mouths, loud smacking noises filling your ears with lecher. It gets you hot, and you melt when Ellie’s hand blindly grabs for your dick to slide it between her sopping lips. Your body flattens on top of hers as she guides you in, her mouth opening around moans as you stretch her all over again. 

There’s still resistance; How’s she this fucking tight? 

Your hips follow her guide until you're nudged deep, barely half an inch of green exposed. Her thighs spread wider around your waist so you fit snug between, no space amidst your bodies. Your elbows rest on either side of her head, holding you up while your tongues swirl. Your knees dig into the mattress and your hips move on autopilot; your tongue dazedly licks over her lips to her jaw, bruising the skin a deep maroon. The sounds that erupt from her cunt are filthy, begging for your cum in earnest. 

Your eyes flutter open to study Ellie’s face; her body bobs when your hips meet, her eyes squeezed shut and her battered lips glistening, sinful verbiage spilling from her, completely brainless as her peak approaches. 

Your head drops into her neck and she holds you close, moaning against her throat with every deep thrust; the stimulation on your clit is nearly too much; You’re so sensitive, but you drill into her, take what’s yours. Her nails are deep in your back and it stings, wetness spilling from you from the pain. You’re hardly fucking her, just grinding your hips as you chase your release, filling her deep. 

She’s mumbling about how hard she’s going to cum. Yeah? You spit in her ear, Gonna fuckin’ cum? And she squeaks out curses in approval. Ellie’s moans pitch high before slick splatters on both your thighs, soaks through the sheets. You lift your heavy head to watch Ellie jerk and sob and confess her utter devotion to you as long as you continue to fuck her like this. You love her so fucking much; She deserves to feel this good; to wake up to pleasure and put back to bed with it.

Ellie’s orgasm breaks her; her babbles slur and crack as they hit your lips: you make me cum so good, fuck me ‘til you cum, I love you so fuckin’ much; she’s all over the place but she begs for your pleasure, begs for you to release . The pace in your thrusts rebuilds; you’re moaning in her mouth, clit throbbing in your soaked underwear. You can practically taste your release where it sits on the edge of your tongue, completely unbound when you slur promises;

Gonna give you all my fucking cum. 

You take in how far her pretty eyes roll at your confession, how cravingly she begs for you stuff her with sticky white; it makes your clit jerk, once, twice, until your walls pull in tight—

Ellie’s orgasm triggers your own; the pleasure is so intense that it’s painful and your vision whites out, all while she coats your waist in love and desire and slick. You’re both so loud and can’t keep still, sultry bodies trembling against one another. You grow lightheaded when Ellie’s hips fuck down and onto you to prolong your orgasm, voice dripping in seduction in your ear as she encourages you to fill her up, to keep her good and dirty. 

It feels like minutes pass when the pleasure finally subsides; you can’t stop shaking and there’s no strength in your limbs, resting completely weightless on top of your girlfriend. Your head rests in Ellie’s palms as she pecks all over your face, thanking you, asking if you’ve found any inspiration. 

You’ve never been so excited to draw an O face in your fucking life. You need new pens!

“… Ellie?” 

“Mhm?” She sounds just as wrecked as you feel, and a smile settles on your face. 

“D-Did I earn that eight?” 

She exhales a laugh before kissing your sweaty forehead, “And that five star Yelp review.” You wheeze out a celebratory yaaay and Ellie’s body rocks with laughter beneath you. 

The sun is going to rise soon. Ellie’s not tired. 

She loves dawn. It’s her favorite time of day: the giant, boiling orb just barely cresting from behind mountains, birds flocking and framing the rays of light, clouds orange and pink and a misty blue. She’s taken hundreds of pictures of that gorgeous scenery alone; It’s funny how she feels like something’s missing from them now that you’re back in her life. 

She wants you in the center of every picture she takes. In all of her favorite places… In her car, in her room, in water. You’re a fucking star on camera. 

A freshly showered Ellie rests on her bed(with new sheets… her blue ones are forever ruined) as she rolls up, eyes glued to the back of your head. You’re sitting on the floor, right on her fluffy rug, the sound of pen scratching against paper surrounding you, secluded in a space of peace. Proud can’t describe what she feels. 

Ellie seals the blunt as she imagines what you’re creating. You told her she couldn’t see until it’s finished, but she’s becoming impatient. Ellie’s nosy; She thought giving you puppy-eyes would work like every other time, but you simply got up and moved somewhere private with a twinkle in your eye. 

Ellie reaches for her lighter on her nightstand and sparks, “Wanna hit?” You deny calmly, focused, entranced by your imagery, and Ellie sighs. She's happy you’re easing back into drawing, but she wants attention. She’s in love; Sue her. 

Ellie puffs in silence. The more she inhales, the fonder she grows. Why’re you so far away? She smokes half the blunt before stubbing out the end, placing it on the ashtray on her small desk. She tries to be sly and creep behind you slowly to get a peak of your creation, but the shuffling of blankets exposes her. You whip your head and shut your book with quickness, a smirk on your face. Her bottom lip traps between her face to hide a smile when you ask, 

“Can I help you?” 

She inches closer until her lips graze your ear, inhaling her cinnamon body wash on you, “Come to bed?” 

“In a minute, baby, promise.” You whisper back when she kisses underneath your earlobe. She hums in disapproval, “Now.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

Ellie says the first thing that comes to mind, doesn’t even bother to play into your frisky threat. It’s terrorized her mind for the past four years, kept her company when you were gone and she had to settle with her own hand. 

You’re a fucking star on camera. 

“… You ever made a tape?” The proposal is quiet and husky, and your eyes turn to globes, stunned and instantly filled with darkness. 

“… Are you serious?” Ellie nods, her tongue teasing the shell of your ear, lips inching down to your neck, sucking at your shoulder. 

“Oh, you’re crazy.” 

“Come to bed.” Much more stern, and you shudder, tossing your book to the side. 

“How do cam-couples do this shit, what the fuck.” 

Ellie’s attention gets pulled from her tripod and lands on you, back arched with her iPad in both hands that extend out to the bed frame. The camera’s on you, trying to get the perfect capture of your ass, constantly adjusting your form. 

“It’s truly a skill,” Ellie mumbles back, securing her camera. She ensures that the plate won’t wobble before carrying it by the stand and placing it beside the bed. “You look excited.” 

“Excited like yaaay or excited like horny?” Your ass wiggles teasingly and Ellie snorts. 

“Both.” 

“Y’know, for someone who’s never done this, you look like a professional—“

Ellie scoffs, “I am a professional. Degree and two licenses—“

Your jaw slacks around moans and your hips thrusts back, “Fuuuck, that’s hot. Rub it in my face some more, it’s getting me so wet—“

Ellie stares blankly and you burst into cackles, dropping her device on the freshly made mattress.

“Nerdy Spider-geek wrecks school slut’s pussy non-stop orgasms—“

Ellie sits next to you, adjusting the lense, “What the fuck are you talking about.” 

You snort, “Our vid title. Or — orrr, I gotta better one! Constellation station makes astrology-loser girlfriend see the Milky Way—“

“No one’s gonna click that.” 

“I would!” The bed dips behind Ellie, and goosebumps rise on her skin when your lips connect with the muscles in her back. Graze all the way up her neck, “And you would, too. Lil’ freak.” Ellie’s core gives a tight squeeze. What a change of fucking events: used to be bullied over being the school’s freak show, and now her body’s begging her girlfriend to throw it in her face one more time. 

“I’m not posting anything.” 

You tsk, “A shame. Could’ve used that OnlyFans bag.” A dreamy sigh from you, “You know you can do whatever you want to me, right?” 

“I’ve been told.” 

“And I meant it.” You’re a fucking siren, “Your time to shine, baby. Nothing’s off limits in my book.” 

Ellie’s stern, “I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

“Whatever you like, I like. Wanna feel how wet you make me, space ranger?” 

You and Ellie are polar opposites, and somehow share the singular fucking braincell when you’re horny. You have the same effect on her. She turns her head to meet your eyes, “Can I fix the camera first?” 

A gentle peck on her cheek gets her body thrumming, “Ay, ay, captain.” And you fall back onto the mattress, rolling until you reach the other side of the bed. You’re up and running to the bathroom… with the 9M Sex bag in your hand. 

… Ellie’s never been more afraid(wet) than she is right now. 

The set up is ready. One tripod simply wasn’t enough to capture all that you bring; Ellie found another thrown in the back of her closet and got it situated, angled and ready, at the foot of the bed where her phone and iPad lay. She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous like you didn’t just beat her walls down a few hours ago. This discarded blunt isn’t helping her, either. 

Ellie’s confident that she’ll faint mid-stroke—

“Smells like pussy in here.” 

Ellie blushes and turns at your call from the bathroom entryway. She’s engulfed in flames at the sight of you. 

… You’re cute. She’ll give you that. 

She scoffs a laugh around smoke at the alien antennas in your locs, and the green alien head on the triangle of your thong. Her eyes squint as she watches you pose in the doorway, bent over, squeezing your breasts. She scales your body as you prance over until you’re standing in front of her, staring down into her eyes. 

“Whatcha think, space ranger?” You seduce, pushing your tits into her face, “Wanna teach a clueless little alien about sexual healing?” 

“You’re… insane.” 

“You love it,” … She does. Fuck, she does. You leer at her, “Is she rollin’?”

… Weed? Always.

… Camera. Camera! 

Ellie drags her free hand up the back of your thigh while sticking her blunt between her lips, blindly reaching around to the camera. Her fingers feel around until a small beep slices through the weighted silence, the red light indicating the start of a recording. 

“She is now.” Ellie takes one last rip, and it chokes her a bit, smoke wafting up to your nostrils before she stubs it out, discarding her tray and lighter to the side. The scent gets you giddy. 

You hum, and Ellie falls back at your shove, and 

she’s pounced on in no time. Your finger locks around her Spider-Man charm to pull her closer. You’re slow at first, teasing her mouth with yours before pecking, licking over her lips like a kitten while she gets handfuls of your bare ass. Boldness sparks in her chest when she thinks about the camera directly behind you; her hands move mindlessly, pulling your asscheeks apart until the string is right above your stretched asshole, your pussy lips swallowing the tiny triangle. 

You moan into her mouth when the bunched fabric rubs against your clit; the fabric is already soaked through and sticky, and the kiss breaks with Ellie’s satisfied grin. 

Adrenaline jolts through her body when her mouth trails down your jaw, a tight hand clamped around your soft cheeks to force your head wherever she needs it. She drinks up every small noise you breathe into the muggy air, mouth tickling the shell of your ear like a feather, Ride my fucking face, she whispers — demands; it sounds like she’s begging, and you gasp. 

Do it, Ellie beckons, Show out, superstar. 

Your girlfriend is so fucking sexy… But, of course, your dark thoughts win. 

“S-Should I make, like… alien noises when I bust, or somethin’? E.T, phone home type shit?”

Ellie snaps with a glare, “Don’t kill my fucking vibe.” 

“Okay, damn! My fault! Just tryna be cute for the vlog.” 

“… It’s not a fucking vlog—“

“Day in the life of annoying artistic lesbians who are also gay—“

“I'm drying up.” Ellie’s palms dig into her eyes. 

“No you’re not,” you purr before climbing up her torso. She grabs your waist before you reach her chin. 

“Turn around. Want the cam to see your face.” 

Your antennas wiggle on your head when you switch positions, “… Beep bop beepboop—“

You fall over in hysterics at Ellie’s hollered laughter. “Oh my — PFFFT —“

“STOP FUCKING LAUGHING!” You scream back at her, wiping tears from your face, “I’m tryna be cute!” You huff and swing a leg over her waist, and Ellie silences. The length of your back is on display for her; You’re cracking jokes about fucking alien sex but she’s not listening. How could she when your ass rests pert on her chest, when the sight of your dripping cunt and tight asshole is right there? Practically on her chin—

C’mere. Back up a little. She whispers, but you’re shy, only inching up her chest with sparkly eyes. Ellie rolls hers before wrapping her arms around your thighs to yank you back. She snickers and eyes the wet alien over your clit. 

Her smile drops when a sly hand slides over your ass, index finger hitching into the string of your thong to pull it to the side. A moan leaves Ellie’s mouth when your pussy clenches from above, and you snort mockingly. 

You’re easy as fuck. Such a cutie pie—

Shut the fuck up, you only laugh harder, and Ellie’s hands twitch, irritation sizzling in her fingertips. You’re so fucking annoying and she’s soaking. She’d drink you for days. 

The next moments go by in a flash; your thong is shredded by icy hands, dangling limply from your waist as excited squeals leave your mouth. Ellie’s tongue is aggressive where it swipes all over your cunt, arms synched tight around the meat of your thighs to hold you still. Your smell intoxicates her, turns her mind lucid, makes her squirm and ache. Every second that passes, her excitement to re-watch your creation grows. She wishes she could see you. 

You love cameras, attention — limelight. You deserve every inkling of praise; mutters against your cunt how good you are, how soft your pussy is, how bad she wants to make you cry. Ellie growls into you when your hips start rocking on her face, testing the waters with your hands planted on her thighs. Her arms drop flat on the mattress, allowing you full access to use her. Ellie’s tongue lays over her bottom lip, and your movements bolden. Your hips curl, slick smearing all over her mouth to the tip of her nose. 

F—Fuck, baby, oh shit— 

Ellie moans like she’s urging you to drench her entire face. Her tongue slithers inside your cunt and you choke out her name, nails sinking into her thighs. The muscle moves inside you with purpose, swirling up against your walls as they squeeze down. The cries that leave are too much for her; she swears there’s a puddle left on the blankets beneath her. 

When you gasp, fuck, baby, cumming for you, Ellie whimpers and her thighs squeeze together. Her arms pull you as close as she can get you, slurping and sucking at your clit as it pulses through your orgasm. You beg her not to stop, thighs quaking around her head. Ellie alternates from flicking your clit to sucking cum from your slit, and she envisions your gorgeous eyes rolled back beneath her eyelids. 

Wanna make me cum again, baby? Yeah? Your sonics tremble alongside Ellie’s thighs. She knows you're smiling like an angel at the lens and she sobs for more of your cum, more of your taste. Your moans pick up with the snaps of your hips once more. 

F-Fuck me with your tongue, Ellie, You plead and she listens; Your walls melt around her, softness closing in around the wet muscle. Ellie’s whole body twitches when a soft hand rests above her boxers, right on her swollen bud and rubs. She's bucking up into your palm, desperate for friction, but you don't... give it. She groans against your lips and sucks you harder, and you squeal.

It doesn't take long for you to peak again; slick glides down Ellie's chin and drowns her, coats her throat in dreamy stickiness with her nails in the fat of your ass.

She slurps and eats you up until you're running up the mattress with her name melted on your tongue.

“How the fuck — oh my fuckin’ god, put your head down—“

Ellie snickers at you struggling to get her in the frame of the iPad camera. She comfortingly rubs over your ass, “There’s a camera right in front of you, babe—“

“Not good enough. I’m tryna watch you hit it.” 

More jerking around. More flipping of the device. More sighs of annoyance before you strike gold. 80% of Ellie’s face is in frame… alongside her pretty titties. Mission somewhat accomplished. You watch her smile through the lens before sending a thumbs up. The iPad gets adjusted before you throw her one behind your head. 

“Uhhh… So what now?” 

“What do you mean.” 

“I just… stick it in?” 

“Mhm. Touch anywhere. Fuck me however you want. Make love to me. I’ll love it. I love you.” 

Your voice turns her into the largest puddle of pink glitter. That deep, broken twinge gets her bones sizzling. “I love you more.” 

Your hips buck back on her so hard that she almost falls over, but she managed to catch what you’re throwing. Barely. Her heart’s in her throat. 

“Prove it…”

Ellie can see your smile and her teeth grit at your snicker. 

“Fucking bottom.” 

Your head gets pushed down into the sheet, and you smile, antennas standing tall. You grin so goddamn wide. Lottery. Lottery— 

Everything is silent… Minus the little alert of the started recording when Ellie whispers against the curve of your ear, 

“Don’t start that shit again. Don’t.” 

You whimper as audibly as you can with a smushed cheek. It seems to push her; she’s reaching between your legs and your clit leaps in appreciation. In infatuation. Her fingers slosh between a deep brown and pink as she messily kisses your sweaty back. 

“Behave.” Her rubs are deadly on your clit, 

“I-I know we were joking earlier—“

“What now—“

“You like being called daddy?” 

Everything stops. Your brain never fails to ruin your satisfaction. “No, what the fuck—“

“Damn… forreal?” 

“Dude—“

“Just asking! You may proceed.” 

When Ellie senses that you’ll finally shut the fuck up, she does, and you’re happy again. 

“If you call me mommy, I’ll strangle you.” Ellie slurs wetly against the end of your spine. She tsks when she catches your ass and cunt squeeze down at the threat, walls sucking hard on the finger she hadn’t registered slipped in. Fucking high-fiving each other. 

The curve in your spine deepens when a certain tip rubs up against your clit. Nestles right in between the plump of your lips. Slides back and forth slowly. 

You’re so loud already… You’re watching your own nut build right in front of your eyes; You can’t help it. In front of your sexy ass girlfriend. Mainly due to the mirroring of Ellie staring at where you two connect with such thirst. She’s ravenous for you and you fucking love her. 

“Fuck me, baby, please, please.“ 

“I like that.” She states plainly, so you get louder. 

“Please, Ellie, please? Ple—”

A recording alert and a flash appears in your lens. Ellie holds her phone up as she captures you from the back; all over your spine, your ass, your holes that desperately twitch and beg for her entry. 

“Shhh, gotchu, honey. Just playing with you.” She coos quietly. Your body wracks at her voice and she hides a smirk with teeth in her lip. “Wish you could see how much you’re leaking right now. So fucking sexy.”

No brain. Brainless. You’re brainless. Just Ellie and pleasure and happiness and love. Your blinks are lost. You may never go back to your dad’s again. 

You can’t see her guide herself in but you feel it. Feel that nudge inside and your mouth gapes. The iPad tremors with your shaky movements as she presses in. She takes her time, captures every pant and jerk of hips before she halts them with a stern hand. When she’s fully sat inside you, she locks eyes with you in the front frame. Drinks in your muted pleads of her to wreck you however she pleases. 

Ellie holds your gaze when she pulls out. She’s battling; conflicted between watching how your eyes welt and shine or memorizing the stretch of your cunt. Jade crystals flit back and forth. Anywhere they can reach. 

H-How ya doin’ back there? 

A harsh thrust from your girlfriend earns her a guttural noise from your lips before she mumbles, Think m’ good. 

You are, baby, fuck—

Praise gets her going. She stops her own recording and tosses her phone some fucking where before hands close around your hips — tightly, so tightly. Holds you steady and still before she takes. 

Ellie might not use this fucking iPad footage. The screen fucking rattles every time she hits and crests deep inside you, bruising you. All that’s caught in the frame is your lovedrunk eyes and your loud, slobbery mouth and glittery antennas bouncing on your head. Quick glimpses of Ellie’s tits jumping. 

There’s a constant change of pace and it gives you whiplash. Her fucking goes from brutal to passionate to leisure to just fucking grinding while she’s fully submerged in your wetness. She’s experimenting, as she should! You treasure every grab and scratch and tug at your skin. She’s yanking and pulling at you like a fucking rag doll and your body goes lax. 

So does your fucking tongue, apparently. 

“The fuck did you just say?” Ellie spits down at you. 

But she doesn’t stop. She fucks you faster, and you start sobbing. 

“Y-You fucking heard me. I know you wanna—“

“I’m not saying that shit.” Her hips snap with intent to punish and the device falls from your hands, face planted deep in her soft blankets and tugging at her sheets. 

“Just say it! Sayitsayit—“

Ellie groans like an animal from behind you. Grabs the back of your neck and shoves your face down into her sheets, muffling your shouts and begs to degrade the living shit outta you. Call you disgusting names that got the two of you in that complicated mess when you first met. The slapping of wet skin and your screams make her crazed and wound up so tight that she almost slips. 

Ellie’s trying to ignore the piercing, tearful pleads of callmeaslutcallmeaslutimyourwhore but she’s leaking like a fucking faucet. Knows she shouldn’t reopen that fucking Pandora’s box when you’re so vulnerable, but she’s fuckdrunk and so are you. 

“You gonna cum?” 

You nod. 

“You like when I’m mean to you?” 

You nod faster and Ellie’s tummy squeezes. She scoffs a disgusting laugh before her body melds against your back, your angled knees slipping down the mattress so she’s fully laid on you, viperid tongue right at your ear… 

It's just this once... You know she loves you... One little jumbled slur wouldn't do too much harm. You're begging her for it, aren't you?

Something in your mind breaks over the next minute and a half. The last memory you have is Ellie’s teeth nipping at your lobe before she whispered, 

I love turning you into my nasty little slut. 

And that was that. You entered another universe filled with white noise and colorful lights and Ellie and… a lotta wet. You could’ve been in the Atlantic with how drenched her mattress is right now. You owe her an apology. 

Top 2 best nuts of your life and it’s not 2. 

Your pussy’s still twitching around her even though she’s left you immobile. You hardly register her mumble against your back, 

“I didn’t get my pic.”

You make a questioned, weak noise. Your index finger twitches, so she grabs your wrist to kiss it. 

“I needa pic of your O face. I’m starting a collection. We gotta run it back again.” 

Another broken wheeze. A death sentence is what you have. What your girlfriend will give you. 

Ellie was a virgin when you met her… but was she really? 

You have no idea what time of day it is, what day it is, or where your fucking cat has ventured off in the house, but you’re about seven —maybe eight— nuts deep, and your girlfriend is still fucking you. 

You thought she was joking when she shoved her phone in your hand and instructed you to capture the moment right before you bust all over her, but she actually meant it… What the fuck does she think you are? Smart? Not in this fucking state. How do you even work this goddamn phone again? 

C’mon, baby. I just need a good one. Give it to me ‘n I’ll stop. 

Her pleading moan is a double-ended sword. Your legs are so sore from being held in air as she plowed you, but you’re also a deranged, sex-obsessed, girlfriend-obsessed lesbo. Do you really want her to stop or has the dopamine melted all your brain cells? The amount of mid-orgasm photos you’ve taken over the past hour could’ve filled a museum, but Ellie’s always dissatisfied, saying that she can barely see your face because you kept wiggling around. What does she expect! 

She’s digging for that picture, though. Right at your cervix. 

Been such a good little slut. Taking it so good. Just do this last little thing for me. 

You’re nodding but you’re not listening. Bells and whistles ring in your ears as your filled hand shakes. The tightness in your walls steals your breath for a second. 

Tell me when you're boutta cum. 

You somehow manage to get a squeak out, barely audible, but Ellie gets the point. Her hands find refuge underneath your knees and bring them up higher while she mouths at your neck. It happens all over again; that cresting feeling right before you crash. 

I love you. Make it good. 

Ellie’s ears split at your shouts of her name, but she grins madly at the sound of frantic camera clicks coming from above her. She plants a doting kiss on your cheek. 

You hope you did. You really hope you did.

taggiessssss thanks 4 waiting :3 @dyk3ang3l @ellieloml @inf3ct3dd @fromminaa @womenofarcane @sawaagyapong @mina-281 @aouiaa @bbglmfao @i00rii @sakiigami @starologist @southelroys @diddiqueen @trackinglessons @ellieswhorcrux @villainousbear @p4ison1vy @tohoko @yuckyfucky @dollyfleurs @elsbunny222 @sevsbimbo @amiorca @alittlextrahoney @gato-chino @topiatwin @r3wbeef @elliesatchel @muthafuckingstargirl @callmewhenyoukan @macaroni676 @draculurasblog @ellieaesp @@gravygranules @elsblunt

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x black!reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams angst #lesbian #tlou smut #in frame ✎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ #works 𖧧࣪

[thedirtygridd]

THE DAY YOU BECAME LANDO’s TOY… 😈

WARNINGS - 18+, strong sexual content

Summary - Full of hot and sweaty Lando Norris….you’re just gonna want to read this one ;)

You received a notification From your phone, which was placed at the other side of the room at the time. You paced over to check who was messaging you, when you realised it was an Instagram direct message request from Lando Norris…You laughed to yourself. “What is lando doing trying to message me?” The f1 was in Singapore this weekend, and you were at the race a couple of hours ago, watching Lando himself celebrating on the podium…but now he was messaging you?

You wondered how he had found your Instagram, and why….as he didn’t even follow your account, nor had you ever met him personally.

You keenly opened the direct message and saw that it read “hey, you free?” He then added “could do with some company if ur around?” You could tell he was flirting with you, which was a huge shock at first. You couldn’t believe lando wanted you…more still, it seemed he wanted only one thing…

He was a couple of years younger than you, but you quite enjoyed the idea of having a slightly younger man…it turned you on. “don’t you have a girlfriend?” You responded. You were still wondering to yourself why he was messaging and where he had found your account. He was quick to reply. “I used to, not anymore. Free to play ;)” he added.

Soon after responding with that comment, he proceeded to liking a couple of your bikini pictures that you had posted on your account…“Now his intentions are clear” you thought to yourself while wondering what he might want to do to you…

“Are you not tired after the race?” You asked him. It was about midnight at this point.

“Meh I’m always up for meeting girls like u…but just a warning, I still haven’t showered after the race, unless u count a champagne shower…I’m a bit….sweaty” he replied

You bit your lip with anticipation. You had seen how sweaty he was after the race…he looked delicious. You wondered what he might taste like…

Before you could reply again he had sent another message saying he has organised a taxi to pick you up, and to be ready for it. You decided to go for it. You left your friends that you were with at the night club, and waited outside for the taxi to arrive.

When you arrived at the hotel he was staying at for the weekend. You went up to room 200, where he said he would be waiting. Knocked on the door, and waited. You were very nervous, but you hoped he would like the look of you in your tightly fit dress that you had chosen to wear, with black heels. You wanted to impress him. A few seconds later he opened the door, he stood there topless, and wet…you presumed still with sweat.

“hello, come in” he responded while sheepishly looking around to see if anyone had seen you enter. He closed the door behind you while inspecting your body up and down with his eyes. “Thanks for coming” he said You laughed nervously. You couldn’t believe what was happening. “You look fucking good” he added. “Why do you look so tired?” You added, before you even appreciated what he had said to you.

He did in fact look like he was panting, his topless chest had sweat dribbling down and his shoulders were glistening in the dim lights from the hotel room. “I’ve just been doing a mini wrist workout looking at some of your Instagram bikini pictures. ” he responded to your question, while giggling. “ oh and still a bit sweaty from F1 this evening, I still haven’t showered because I wanted to get back to my hotel” while saying this, he lifted up his arm to smell under his armpit briefly. “Yeah I am still a bit sweaty” he added. “But I’ll have a shower in a minute, because I was hoping to start another workout soon….” he bit his lip while his eyes wondered to your tanned legs and arse.

“You look even better than on your Instagram” he added. You blushed , you didn’t know what to say but returned the compliment back to him “you look good too, I quite like the sweaty look as well so don’t worry”“Haha!” He laughed “well I won’t worry about sweating All over you then” he joked…He moved over to a counter which had a small black outfit on top. He picked it up and passed it to you. “Put this on” he said. You took it in your hands, wondering what it was, when you realised. He had passed you a tiny lingerie outfit. “You want me to wear this?” You responded. He nodded and said he did. So you went into the bathroom and quickly changed. You looked at yourself in the mirror and thought how sexy you looked, you could see why he wanted you wearing it. When you walked back into the main room, Lando was sitting on the large leather sofa, he now had no clothes on and had his legs apart while he slowly touched his dick at the sight of you walking towards him.

The first thing you noticed was how large he was, you initially thought you didn’t know if you could take him…or at least all of him.Now that you were standing closer to him he was jerking his dick harder. “Turn around” he said “and bend over in front of me”

You did as he asked, bending over with your arse up in the air in front of him. You heard him stand up and step towards you. His fingers slowly brushed down the crack of your arse as he followed the string of lingerie that was covering you. You felt him move the string to one side before feeling his tongue and finger enter you. He entered both holes at the same time. His finger in your pussy, his tongue in your ass. You let out a groan in shock for what he was doing to you. A guy had never done both at the same time, and the feeling was incredible. You could hear his tongue sloshing around with all the juices you were giving him.

You felt your wetness slowly drip down your legs, that and spit from lando as he licked you out. He was groaning to himself, you knew he was loving it, his tongue all over you, getting you even wetter. You loved the feeling of him, you loved his saliva smothering you, it made you feel like an animal.He then grabbed you by the waist and gently threw you onto the sofa. The leather was cold at this point, but you had a feeling it may get warmer very soon…

He leant over you and came in to kiss. You could see his mouth was covered with a mixture of his saliva and your juices as he leant in. His mouth was warm, and his tongue was not shy. “Mhm” he groaned as his tongue licked the inside of your mouth. You wrapped your hands around him, placing them both on his back. His back felt harder than you thought, you could feel the indentations of his muscles running across it. To add to that, his back was also dripping with sweat. You ran your palms over it, feeling all the sweat you could. It felt so slimy and warm…your fingers almost sticking to him as you did it.

You let out a groan yourself at this point because he felt so incredible. Your left hand slowly moved up his sweaty back, towards his thick next. By this point your hands were dripping , but it felt warm and safe to be feeling him. You noticed he was wearing a metal necklace, which created a small bump as your hand moved up to the back of his neck.

“You just reminded me baby…” he said in between sucking your tongue. He reached his arm to the back of his neck, exposing his armpit right in front of your face. It was sweaty, and it smelt it, it smelt good. So manly. Part of you really enjoyed the natural scent of him. He yanked on the necklace chain and threw it to the other side of the room. “That was from my ex” he added. “I won’t be needing that anymore”At this point he thrust his throbbing cock inside of you.

You let out a huge groan, he didn’t hold back. You felt it stretch your walls out. It was deep inside you, but the girth of it made you feel like he was going to split you apart. “Oh shit lando…shit….arghhh” He continued to thrust into you. The moans you gave him only served to determine him to fuck you even harder. You gripped onto his biceps while he fucked you. They contracted every time he thrust into you, you could tell he was using every muscle in his body to please you.

You enjoyed the feeling of his arm tense under your hand, you felt his rock hard muscle“You’re so sexy” he whispered to you while deep inside. He grabbed both of your legs and held them up in front of him as his dick dove even deeper inside of you. “Mhm” “ugh” he groaned as he fucked you. You could tell he was enjoying this, and you now understood why he hadn’t showered before you came round, it would’ve been pointless. He was dripping wet again, the sweat was slowly dripping off his chest onto your tits, and the sofa was starting to get slippery with the mixture of sweat from you both fucking each other.

Next, he noticed that you still had your heels on, the fuck was so intense you had forgotten as well. He keenly untied the strap and took them off. He placed his hands on your feet, you noticed how his huge hands made your feet look petite and tiny. He grabbed both your feet and placed them both on his the front of his face.

The arch of your feet placed directly in contact with his mouth, and his nose while he continued inside of you. He took his time to savour the feeling of your pretty feet on his face, you wondered if he enjoyed the smell of them, before he then placed your toes in his mouth. You noticed how much tongue he was using, how much he was licking in between your toes and savouring the taste of them.

He let out even more groans at this point, you continued to feel his tongue getting your well looked after feet even wetter. “You dirty fuck…” you told him as he had your toes in his mouth. You knew he was loving you, loving the taste of you, the feeling of you. And you loved it too. It felt so primal. So good.

At this point you could tell he was getting closer. His cock had tended up even more and felt like it was about to blow. He slid his cock out of you and started to position himself above you as he jerked it off. It made a sloshing noise because of how wet it was…He now had both his legs besides you as he straddled over the top of you lying below him. “Suck my balls” he demanded. He edged up closer to your face so you were almost directly below his balls. You angled your head up and started sucking on them. They also tasted salty, you could tell he was sweaty all over. The taste was good, and they felt so warm in your mouth.

He continued to jerk his cock while you licked up and down his full balls. “Fuck yeah” he added while you worshipped him. “Keep going you dirty girl”He then pulled away from your face and back down to near your tits. He gave his cock one last jerk before his eyes rolled back into his head and released his load. He showered you with his warm cum. It completely covered your tits and part of your face as he groaned and shook uncontrollably in the pleasure of his orgasm. When the cum stopped spewing out of him, he slowly collapsed on top of you. The cum spreading between his sweaty chest in contact with your tits. He continued to kiss you on the sweat soaked sofa, before adding “you’re a good girl, and I’m not done with you yet”

He slid his fingers through the cum he had just sprayed all over you. He pushed his fingers in your mouth for you to suck them clean.

Next he flipped u onto your front, pushed his still hard dick in you, and fucked you again. Even harder this time.

The sound of skin on skin slapping against each other. You screamed in pleasure, and in slight pain because he was going hard.

You could smell the mixture of his cum and sweaty body creating an aroma around the hotel room.

You didn’t even have the brain capacity to think at this point, he was fucking you so hard

He spanked you, you felt his mark leave a burn on your right cheek.

“I’m gonna fucking breed you” he grunted

He pulled you over, leant in over you again , and shoved your face into his armpit. The smell almost made you gag, the sweat, the body odour of a hot sweaty man. He made you take in his scent “deep breath” he reminded you.

After this, you could tell he wasn’t gonna last long, he slapped your face and licked all over. His tongue brushing over your mouth and your nose.

“Damn my pits taste good on u”

He shoved his cock in u again, no condom, and you felt him release yet another load inside you

You felt him fill you up.

“I’ve never fucked a dirty slut like you before…next time I message you, you’re gonna do exactly what I say and come over. You’re my fuck toy…now get out”

He pulled you up and pushed you out his hotel room door, still half naked, still with the smell of his sweat on your body…still with cum dripping down your chest and thighs…

You had become lando norris’ sex toy…

#formula one #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly #carlos sainz #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #sweaty men

[btsgotjams27]

things you didn't say | jjk

summary: with the recent interactions with jungkook, you try to downplay your feelings, but your friends encourage you to acknowledge your past and move forward.

✨ title: things you didn't say | tydk couple ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader ✨ genre/au: angst | ex-best friends to friends/lovers(?) ✨ rating: R/18+ | ✨ word count: 7.3k | ✨ playlist ✨ warnings: minor language, lana threatens oc with a fork, drinking, game of truth or dare, confessions, kissing ✨ a/n: hii--i'm sorry i've been a bit MIA in regards to writing. it's been such a struggle to get anything written. i've been thinking a lot about these two and i hope this last part gives us all some kind of resolution. enjoy. (and there's a small nod to something that'll happen in a different jk wip i'm working on hehe). and if you haven't read part one or two, please do so before reading this part.

✨ read part one | read part two ✨

The clock is nearly midnight, and you’re not ready for the magic to disappear.

All night, you’ve kept your heart at bay, questioning every move and word being spoken. Only you can see it, but a dark cloud is looming over you. Doubts linger like a predator waiting to pounce and take its prey. You want to avoid getting it wrong or being let down.

And your heart is the ultimate betrayer, but it doesn’t lie.

You’re caught up in sentimental memories from the past. His nose scrunches and boisterous cackles are reminiscent of the boy you remember. Hanging out and reliving past adventures felt like no time had passed, yet life updates from then to now made him feel like a stranger.

Giggles and claps, along with snorts and dribbles of wine, glide down the side of your mouth. The third wine bottle is on its way to being destroyed by the pair of you.

He’s careful to avoid the subject of Josie, for which you are grateful. If you could be honest, you would ask him why he was still with her and what he saw in her. But it’s not your place, nor are you in the position to pry.

Your eyes fall on the plants sitting on the corner shelf in the dining area—an array of pothos, snake, and rubber plants. They’re your typical plants, but it’s the planters that they’re sitting in that make you smile. The planters have stubby arms and legs with smiley faces.

Jungkook follows your gaze. “What are we looking at?”

You point to the planters. “Those little guys. They’re cute.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook says. “I made them.”

“The planters or the plants?”

He swirls his wine glass, letting out a small laugh. “The planters.”

“You made those planters?” You stand, walking over to them. 

“When I get bored, I try new creative outlets and ceramics was one of them,” he says, taking a sip of wine.

“Wow, you have a knack for things like that, huh?” You pick up a planter, inspecting it before setting it down. “You could open up your own Etsy shop or something. People would buy these in a heartbeat.”

“Eh, I suppose. I just like doing things with my hands. It makes me feel useful.” Jungkook shrugs. He watches your every move as you continue eyeing the different ceramic pieces he’s made: vases, candleholders, etc. “Do you think people would buy the things I make?”

You lift a coiled vase, turning to him. “Are you kidding me? People would eat this shit up. Once your pieces sell like hotcakes on Etsy, Urban Outfitters will slide in your DMs.” You’re not surprised Jungkook easily excelled at something like ceramics. He’s always been talented at anything he picks up.

“And you were good at anything creative when we were in school—art class, wood shop. I would’ve failed wood shop if you didn’t help me finish my project.”

“Yeah, your birdhouse was fucking terrible.”

You scoff, walking toward him, playfully shoving his shoulder. “It wasn’t that bad.”

He deadpans. “Even birds would avoid your birdhouse.”

“Shut up! I tried my hardest.”

“Didn’t try hard enough,” he teases, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a grin on his face.

The pair of you continue to bicker about nothing, but the constant buzzes of notifications from his phone are hard to ignore. You’d catch Jungkook peering, tapping his fingers, debating if he should reply.

You sip from the bottle of dessert wine, you find it sweet and refreshing on your lips. “If you need to get that, then don’t let me stop you.” 

Jungkook lifts his phone. “Nah—it’s nothing,” he protests before his phone vibrates in his hand. He glances at the illuminated screen and he finally picks it up. “Sorry, let me answer this. I’ll be right back.”

He hurries out of the kitchen and into the darkened living room. You can only hear Jungkook’s stern, hushed voice, but you can’t make anything out. His change in demeanor hints at one person, and it’s Josie. Which meant it was your cue to leave. You’ve overstayed your welcome.

You raise your wine glass, gulping the golden honey peach Moscato. Thank goodness they’re easy to guzzle. A drop runs down the side of your mouth, and you swipe it away as Jungkook walks back in.

“I’m so sorry about that.”

“Hmm? Oh—don’t worry about it. I, um, I’ve probably overstayed my welcome, so I should get going.”

“What? No, stay. We have to finish our Moscato.”

A nervous chuckle leaves your lips as you contemplate his proposition. There’s a tug in your heart, wanting to stay into the early hours of the morning, but there’s your brain telling you to take it slow and go home.

“I wish I could stay, but I should head home. I have a load of laundry to fold and sadly, it won’t fold itself.” You stand up from the bar chair, feeling a bit wobbly on your feet. Jungkook rushes to your side, gripping your waist, but you catch yourself by holding onto the counter.

“You can’t hold your liquor?” He asks with a wide grin, pulling you upright.

Clearing your throat and flattening down your jeans, you spit out, “Ha-ha. I can hold my liquor just fine. I merely tripped.”

Jungkook chuckles. “You’re a terrible liar—see, I still remember that.”

You gasp sharply, with a hand over your chest. “I’m surprised that big ‘ol head of yours can remember anything. I thought it was only filled with games and girls.” Sticking out your tongue, you conk him on the head with your knuckles.

“Ow.” He rubs the spot as if you had knocked him with a bat.

Taking out your phone from your pocket, you pull up Uber.

“Let me take you home, at least.”

You give him a look, slowly blinking your eyes at the devilishly handsome friend. Could you even call him a friend again? Maybe it was too early for that.

“Did you forget that we both had too much to drink tonight? So, you shouldn’t be driving me. It’s fine, Kook. I’ll get an Uber.”

Jungkook sighs, knowing he can’t convince you otherwise. “Fine. I’ll wait with you outside until it gets here.”

“Well, it’s not like I can stop you.”

The pair of you are sitting on his front steps, watching cars drive by and cats strolling through the neighborhood. His place is in a newer part of town, one that was built while you were away. It’s familiar and odd, just like you and Jungkook. As much as you want to forget the past and move on, there’s a part of you holding onto what the two of you had. Would you ever become best friends again? Would you even consider letting him be a part of your life? Those were questions for another time, but it felt like you had your best friend back, even if it was just for tonight.

As the alcohol in your system dwindles, the brain fog becomes clearer, along with your hearing. A nudge from Jungkook makes you come back to reality. “Hmm?”

“I asked, ‘Do you still go stargazing’?” He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I do, but the spot I went to during college isn’t as good as the one we used to go to.”

Jungkook hums, avoiding your gaze as he picks up a small pebble from the ground. “We should go there sometime,” he mumbles under his breath. He continues toying with the pebble before throwing it into the bushes.

You’re trying to suppress a smile and swat away the butterflies growing in your stomach. It’s dumb to think things could go back to the way they were. It’s unrealistic and you don’t want to get hurt again.

Turning toward him, you want to set the record straight. “Let’s um, take this whole friendship thing slow, Kook. Dinner was great. It was nice talking to you again, but you do understand where I’m coming from, right?”

He nibbles on his bottom lip and nods. “I’ll follow your lead.”

You check your phone again. The Uber is two minutes away. As you click it off, you turn and see Jungkook staring. Something is brewing behind those starry eyes. With a raised brow, you ask, “What?”

“Can I call or text you sometime?”

“Just don’t, uh, go texting me all day and night. Your girlfriend might get jealous. Might even put a bounty on my head,” you tease, reaching to pull his black CK cap over his face.

He takes his cap off, carding his hand through his hair before placing it back on his head. As you’re immersed in your phone and looking up at the street for your Uber, Jungkook silently observes you like has for the past few years. Some might say it’s a red flag, but how else was he supposed to know if you were happy? That’s all he’s ever wanted—for you to be happy, loved, and have all your dreams come true, even though he wasn’t there to cheer you on. For seven years, he has been tormented by what he did, and he didn't want to jeopardize any possibility of any kind of relationship with you. It doesn’t even have to be like before, just as long as the two of you are on speaking terms. He could live with that.

A dark sedan pulls up alongside the pair of you. You grab the door handle, pause for a moment, then turn back to Jungkook. “We’ll talk soon?” He raises both eyebrows and hums softly, giving a thin smile. “Bye, Kook.”

Two weeks passed, and there was no text or call from Jungkook. Plenty of thoughts ran through your mind, the number one being Josie had found out about your little dinner and locked him in a basement, cutting off all contact with the outside world—especially if it was with you.

But you’re a big girl. Why should you be waiting around to hear from him, anyway?

If there’s one thing you hate about adulting, it’s cooking. You missed the days when you were in your angsty teen phase, headphones in, and hating the world, then your parents would yell ‘Dinner’s ready’. And as much as you missed home-cooked meals, you loved that your parents were off gallivanting around the world, living their retirement dreams. One day that’ll be you, living off your retirement and eating out 24/7, but for now, there’s a decision to be made about what will go in your salad for the week.

Cucumbers.

Strolling in the veggie section, your eyes scan for the green vegetables before landing on them. You stood debating on which one to get. Why are there so many varieties? But according to Google, Persian cucumbers go great in salads.

As you grabbed a second cucumber, you looked up to see the man who betrayed your trust. And no—it wasn’t Jungkook. It was his roommate, Jimin, aka ‘the trickster’.

With a stomp in your step and a cucumber in your hand, you march over to him, striking him on the shoulder with it.

“Ow!” Jimin exclaims, rubbing his shoulder as he turns around. His brows furrowed, lips in a full pout when he finds you standing behind him. “What the hell?” He looks to see the weapon in your hand. “Did you just hit me with a cucumber?” You hum. “Why’d you do that?”

Tossing the cucumber in your basket and crossing your arms, you huff out, “Because you deserved it!”

“Deserve what?”

You roll your eyes at the not-so-innocent man. Was he trying to play Cupid or something with you and Jungkook?…Because his stupid plan kind of worked. You truly had a great time at dinner, and it was nostalgic, just like how things used to be.

“Mmhm. Count your days, Park,” you quip, turning around to head in the other direction. Jimin’s calling after you to wait for him, but you keep on walking.

As he catches up, standing beside you, he nudges your arm. “Oh, come on. I was just trying to help a friend out,” he finally admits.

“Well, don’t.”

Jimin strides in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey—” You attempt to go around him, but he’s unrelenting. “Just hear me out, okay?” You sigh, waving for him to continue. “I’m sorry I ambushed you, but it was the only way you’d hang out with Jungkook. I know the two of you had shit go down in the past, and I just wanted to help you both move on to being friends again.”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Because,” he pauses and straightens his back with his chin up. “I like you and I like Jungkook, and who wouldn’t want to see their friends be happy, hmm?”

Jungkook’s laughter echoed in your mind. You knew it was dumb to miss something as simple as a laugh, but you had heard it for so many years, and then it stopped for a long time. It felt nice to have a piece of an old friend back.

Jimin gives you a look and a grin sweeps across his face. There’s a satisfaction behind that grin and you wish you could wipe off.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Park Jimin,” you say, stepping off to the side as a customer rolls by with their cart through the two of you.

He laughs, showing off his pearly whites. “I should check out and head off—don’t want you to start getting any ideas and start a food fight here in the grocery store.”

“Yeah, you should run.” You pretend to grab the cucumber and watch him run off to self-checkout.

A buzz from your back pocket alerts you of a notification and, to your surprise, it’s a text from Jungkook. It looks like he hadn’t forgotten about you.

Jungkook 1:34 PM Hey. I’m throwing a small dinner for Jimin’s birthday on Friday at 7 pm. Say you’ll come.

You 1:35 PM Define small.

Incoming Call Jungkook

“If I come and it’s a big party like last time, then count me out.”

“Hello to you, too.”

“Right—hey. No, but seriously. I’m not a big crowd kinda gal.”

“Including me and you, there would only be six people. That’s not a lot, right?”

It’s not, but you’ll have to save your social battery for the dinner party.

“No, yeah, that’s fine.”

“And don’t worry, you know everyone—Lana’s going too.”

The big question is: will Josie be there?

A beat passes and you realize you’re standing in the middle of an aisle, probably blocking someone’s way.

Jungkook’s voice comes through your phone, calling your name a few times. “Hello? Hey. Are you still there?”

You turn to make sure no one’s around. “Yeah, sorry. I’m still here. Is, um, ‘who-shall-not-be-named’ coming?” You ask, nibbling on the inside of your cheek. It’s a name for fuck’s sake, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.

He chuckles at your subtle attempt to avoid the Josie topic. “I can promise you that she’s not coming. Is that why you’re hesitant to say yes?”

“Pfft–what! No!” you blurt out, lying through your teeth. Truth be told—yeah, it is. You don’t want a repeat of Jimin’s party.

You clear your throat, “Anyway, yeah, I’ll come. Count me in.”

“Cool! See you on Friday.”

“Can I bring anything?”

“Nope–just yourself. Oh, and it’s a surprise, so don’t say anything to Jimin.”

“‘Kay…sounds good. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Can’t wait to see you,” he said with enthusiasm before hanging up.

As you’re mixing the salad, you’re staring absent-mindedly at the abstract painting that’s framed on your wall because those five words rang in your ears on the drive home.

You mumbled those words in different tones, trying to make sense of the innocent expression. It’s completely normal for Jungkook to be excited. He hasn’t seen/hung out/talked to you in almost seven years. Yeah, that’s it—at least it’s what you’re telling yourself.

Lana waves her hand in your face. “Um, hello! I don’t think you can mix the salad anymore!”

Looking down, a few springs of leaves have been tossed out of the bowl and onto the counter. Oops. You pick them up, throwing them in the garbage bin. “Sorry—I was distracted.”

“Clearly.”

As you push the bowl aside, your focus is on the unopened bottle of wine.

“Are you going to tell me what’s distracting you, or should I wait until the wine settles in?”

“You can wait until the wine settles in. It’ll give me time to forget about it.”

Lana picks up a fork, threatening you with it. “I swear to god if you don’t tell me—”

“Okay, okay. The other day, Jungkook called to invite me to Jimin’s dinner party.” Lana narrows her eyes and hums, intently listening. “At the end of our conversation, he said, ‘Can’t wait to see you’, and he seemed excited.”

She nods her head, waiting for the rest of the story, but you don’t say anything else. “That’s it? God–that’s so boring. I thought you guys kissed or something.”

“Lana!” you cry out, almost knocking over the wine bottle.

“What? I thought he would’ve made his move by now.”

You roll your eyes. “There’s no move to make. He’s with Josie, remember?”

“Josie Schmosie—she’s old news, but you,” she points and grins, “You’re back and here to fuck things up,” she claps with a gleeful smile.

“Oh, will you stop it? I’m not back to do anything—and what the hell, Lana? You’re not helping!”

Lana chortles, covering her mouth. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m sure what Jungkook said to you is just a simple expression of how much he can’t wait to see you and get you underneath his sheets.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t even know why I bothered you with this.”

“Okay, I’ll stop. I promise—just kidding. Can I ask one more thing?” You wave your hand for her to continue. “You’re telling me you don’t even want to revel in the idea of the two of you being something more than just friends?”

The iciness of the tiled counter becomes apparent underneath your fingers, and you’re faced with a question you never wanted to answer—aloud, at least. Considering that he’s tried breaking up with Josie multiple times, but somehow is still with her, you’re unsure what will push Jungkook to cut off the head of the snake.

You hate that Jeon Jungkook has been—scratch that—is your Roman empire. He’s the one thing you’ve come back to even when you didn’t want to. It’s the same three questions you’ve had: Is he okay, is he happy, does he miss you too?

And if you’re completely honest, the answer is yes. Of course, you’ve reveled in the idea of you and him.

“I don’t know, Lana. I mean yes—the thought has crossed my mind. I’ve liked him since senior year, but it takes two to tango, and Jungkook can’t do that right now. Besides, I won’t wait around for him to come to his senses.”

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, that’s the expression, isn’t it?

You can’t imagine going through another heartbreak from the same boy.

Things happen in life that don’t make sense.

Especially for the price of a pair of earrings, you’re currently looking to purchase as Jimin’s birthday present. The sales associate senses your hesitation and brings out a similar pair that’s on sale.

“Ah—that’s more like it. I’ll take those and do you still provide gift wrapping?” you ask, looking at the sign you saw on the way in.

“Yes, we do. Let me go into the back and wrap it up for you.”

The associate disappears through the back door, probably to talk shit about you to their co-workers, but hey–a girl has to save money where she can. It’s a fragile economy.

You roam, looking through the display cases of bracelets, rings, and watches. A gold Casio watch catches your eye–it looks like one Jungkook used to wear. He treasured the vintage-looking watch because it was his father’s. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen him with it when you saw him. Maybe he lost it or replaced it with something else.

Either way, you continue eyeing pieces of jewelry you’ll never purchase for yourself, and it’s when you look up to catch a glimpse of a girl you recognize. But it’s the man marking her neck that isn’t your ex-best friend. You’ve locked eyes with which she-who-must-not-be-named, and maybe it’s not too late to pretend you didn’t see her.

The sales associate returns the wrapped gift along with your credit card. You quickly thank her, looping your arm through the gift bag. Your eyes scan everything in view to see if the coast is clear. There’s no sign of your enemy, so you dart out of the store only to find Josie and this mystery man looking at the window display at the neighboring boutique.

Fuck, just go on your way and don’t engage. Don’t engage! You say to yourself, swiftly walking past them.

You’re busy berating yourself to hear someone calling your name. Stopping in your tracks, you sigh, waiting for Josie to catch up.

“Hey!” Josie chirps like the two of you are friendly.

“Hi…” you say glumly, with furrowed eyebrows. She’s never been nice to you before, so why should you start now?

“Can you not tell Jungkook what you saw?”

You tut, blinking your eyes at her like you owe her a favor. “Look Josie—what you do doesn’t concern me, okay?” you say, walking past her. It’s been a few weeks since you last saw her and she’s cheating on Jungkook with some guy? God, if only you could smack him upside the head right now—Josie too!

You’re a few steps ahead before you stop in your tracks and turn, walking back to her. You huff, “Tell me one thing. If you’re off with some guy behind Jungkook’s back. Why are you still stringing him along, then?”

Josie looks at you, ready to answer, but you raise your hand, stopping her. “Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”

As you walk off again, there’s a revolting feeling in the pit of your stomach having to keep this to yourself. Jungkook deserves to know the kind of person Josie is, but it’s not your place to say anything. You’re not his best friend anymore. Honestly, you’re unsure what the two of you are and sometimes, there are some things you just shouldn’t say.

Whenever you think about seeing Josie and that mystery man, it makes you want to gag, and throw something at the wall, but mainly at her. Who knows how long she’s been cheating on Jungkook? You tossed and turned in bed, debating whether you should say something to him.

The dinner party is tonight, and if you happen to be alone with him and the Josie topic comes about, then you’ll mention it.

Another thought crosses your mind, what if he thinks you’re making this up because you’re jealous of Josie? Ah, fuck. Either way, you’ll turn out to be the bad guy, right? You’ll either break his heart or you’ll sound like a jealous person.

You don’t want to ruin whatever the two of you have, because you’ve missed the comfort of an old friend and you don’t want to lose it again.

Even though you know the code, you don’t press the four digits. Instead, you knock, waiting for someone to open the door.

“Hey!” Jungkook says, eyes dropping to your hands. “I said you didn’t have to bring anything.” He takes a step back, letting you through, and grabbing the box of Soju.

“I know, but Lana always says, ‘Don’t go anywhere empty-handed’,” you say, flashing a small smile.

“Ah, well, the Soju will go great with tonight’s menu.”

The aroma from Jungkook’s cooking is immaculate. You can almost taste the different dishes he’s prepared.

“Oh my god, it smells so good–like how your mom used to make food for us all the time.” You walk over to the dinner table, displayed with grilled meat, japchae, tteokbokki, buddaejjigae, and a plethora of banchan. “How is your mom? I miss her and her cooking.”

Jungkook chuckles softly. “She’s doing great. Her cooking, though? Not so much. It’s become too salty for my taste—Don’t tell her I told you that.”

You rub your hands together. “Oh, you bet that’s the first thing I’ll say after giving her a hug.”

“Don’t! She’ll disown me. She already hates that I’m a better cook than her,” Jungkook says, opening the box of Soju.

“You should become a private chef or something.”

He opens the refrigerator door, placing the Soju to chill. “Nah—I’ll just cook at home. I’m still learning, testing the waters, y’know?”

“I hate you.”

His eyes perk up with concern. “What did I do this time?”

“You’re good at everything you do—it’s unfair to the rest of us peasants.”

Jungkook relaxes at your answer, thinking he did something wrong again.

Placing the last Soju bottle in the fridge, he turns back, scanning you from head to toe. You’re dressed in an oversized Linkin Park band tee and jeans. He recognizes the shirt, the one you wore religiously during your emo teenage years.

“What? Is there something on my face?” you ask, touching your cheeks.

He shakes his head no and clears his throat. “I, um, wanted to talk to you...about something.”

“Oh?” Your eyes and ears perk up, but you’re interrupted by a commotion coming from the front door.

“The birthday boy is coming! Hide!” Lana says in a hushed tone. She rushes over to you, crouching down behind the counter, pulling you down with her. You chuckle, shaking your head.

With the front door open, Jungkook’s other roommate, Namjoon, walks in first–hand in hand with his girlfriend, and then following is the birthday boy.

Lana peers above the chairs to see if they’ve come in. “Surprise!” She cries out. Everyone’s ears must be ringing at this point.

Jimin gives a half-smile along with a chuckle. “Lana, you ran past us in the driveway.”

Her mouth turns into a cheesy smile. “You caught me. Sorry, I kind of ruined the surprise.”

“Happy birthday Jimin,” you say, walking over to him, arms out for a hug.

“I’m glad to see you and Kook have made up,” Jimin utters. “He needs someone like you around.” He pulls back, squeezing your arms before letting you go.

Namjoon and his girlfriend, Nora, greet you and Jungkook and then take a seat at the dinner table.

You look at Jungkook. “We’ll talk later?”

He hums in agreement. “Yeah, later.”

You’ve missed this—hanging out with old friends. It’s fun to be around people who you’ve known for a long time. You remember Namjoon being a senior when you were a freshman and the stories you’d hear about him—prom king, valedictorian; he did it all when he was in school. And Nora was the perfect woman for him. They’re both working toward their doctorate in philosophy. Their IQs were the equivalent of yours, Lana, Jimin, and Jungkook’s combined.

“Wow, I feel unqualified to be sitting at this table,” you say jokingly. Being an HR specialist was never the plan, but you’ve come to enjoy your job because you like to think you’re a good judge of character when it comes to hiring.

“Let’s stop talking about work, and have some fun! After all, it is Jimin’s birthday. How about a game of Truth or Dare?” Nora asks, looking around the dining table to get some confirmation. “I need verbal consent, please.”

Everyone glances at each other, awaiting answers. There are various responses, and everyone agrees to play.

Nora claps with a joyful squeal. “Okay, Jimin gets to ask first since it’s his birthday. Choose your victim, and anything’s fair game!”

There’s a groan from you and Jungkook. You have a feeling this night will become interesting.

Jimin rubs his hands together and then points to each person. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…” He continues the rhyme, and you know he’s itching to choose you or Jungkook, and his finger lands on Jungkook.

“Oh-ho-ho. Please pick dare, or I’ll make you answer something you don’t want to,” he says, playfully sticking out his tongue.

Jungkook narrows his eyes at his devilish roommate. “Don’t test me, Park. I can make your life a living hell, too.”

“Ah yes, I’d like to see you try.”

Your heart’s racing, and your hands are sweaty while gripping the chair’s armrest. Jimin has always been sneaky, and you’re sure he’ll make Jungkook kiss you.

Everyone’s waiting for Jungkook’s answer. He groans before replying, “Fine. Dare.”

Both Lana and Nora let out muffled squeals while you’re holding your breath.

“I dare you…to say something dirty to ____.” Jimin grins from ear to ear, staring at you.

You knew Jimin would be unrelenting when it came to you and Jungkook.

Turning to Jungkook, you say, “If you’re uncomfortable, don’t do it. It’s just a dumb game.”

“Hey! Nora said anything’s fair game and my dare is completely harmless. I could’ve asked you to do something else, but I didn’t,” Jimin refutes.

“It’s fine,” Jungkook says with a scowl. Turning to you, he leans over. His breath is warm against your ear, goosebumps are trickling on your skin, and your hair is standing on its end. He whispers, “You look so pretty—wish I could do this forever.”

“Hey, hey, hey! You’re supposed to say it aloud for everyone to hear,” Jimin protests.

You visibly gulp, returning to a straightened position in your chair. The ten words he said shouldn’t affect you, but it does. The room has grown warmer and you’re practically melting like butter in a hot pan. It’s just a silly game and you’re so over Jimin and his antics.

“Your dare was ‘to say something dirty to ___’. You didn’t specify if it was a whisper or if I had to shout it from the rooftop,” Jungkook chirps, quickly glancing in your direction to make sure you’re okay.

Jimin glares at Jungkook with a blaze of a thousand suns. “It’s implied that you say it out loud so everyone can hear.”

Lana elbows Jungkook. “What did you say? How dirty was it? Like, give us a rating, PG-13, R, NC-17?” He doesn’t answer her, but she looks at you, pointing her fingers to her eyes and then back to you, indicating that you’ll tell her later.

“I’ll let it go this time, but from now on, no whispering, and everyone has to hear what everyone says,” Jimin demands, awaiting confirmation from the group. “Okay, Jungkook, it’s your turn.”

He turns to Lana and bluntly asks, “Would you ever sleep with Jimin?” Jungkook peers at Jimin because he knows that Jimin’s had a crush on Lana since high school.

Lana’s mouth twists before answering, “Yeah, I guess.”

Jimin scoffs, offended by her response. “You guess? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know if you’re any good in bed!”

“And I don’t know if you’re any good in bed!” he chirps back.

“Please—I’ll be the best sex you’ll ever have,” she jeers, crossing her arms.

Jimin stands. “Oh yeah? Prove it.” He retorts, raising his chin in defense.

Everyone ‘oohs’, staring at the two like they’re in a stand-off.

“Prove it! Prove it!” Nora urges, pounding her fists on the table.

Namjoon fakes a laugh, muffling his girlfriend’s pounding. “I’m sorry. She’s had too much to drink. Don’t listen to her.”

Jimin leans forward, hands on the table. “Yeah…prove it.” He raises an eyebrow, wondering if Lana will back down or take on the challenge.

“Right now?” She tilts her head, scanning him from head to toe.

He shrugs. “Mm, what a shame. I guess you’ll never be able to prove it,” he says with a tut.

The chair legs squeak when Lana pushes herself to stand. “When’s the last time you got tested?”

“A month ago,” Jimin quickly replies like no one else is in the room. “I’m clean. You?”

“I’m clean too. You got condoms?”

You sink in your chair, wiping your face, watching these two go off on each other. Honestly, you can’t believe you’re witnessing this.

“Got a whole box ready for you.”

Lana marches over to Jimin, grabbing his hand. “Well, come on birthday boy.”

Your mouth drops, watching the two-run upstairs. “They’re not gonna fuck, are they?” Lana has been in a dry spell for the last year, so you don’t blame her for wanting to get laid.

“Yeah, I think they are,” Jungkook answers. “Yah—” he turns to yell toward Jimin’s room. “Keep it down, will ya?”

The rest of you continue the game, but they’re just questions to get to know each other.

“Jungkook, if there’s one thing you could take back. What would it be?”

He looks in your direction, then plays with his Soju glass, spinning it a few times. You’re biting the inside of your cheek, eyes bouncing from him and then to Nora and Namjoon.

“Um, I’d go back to the day I broke ___’s heart—take everything back.”

The couple looks at each other, forcing a fake laugh. “Well, I can sense the tension between our friends here,” Nora says. “Joonie, baby, didn’t you wanna show me that thing in your room?”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow. “What thing?”

Nora stands, tugging his hand, and drags him down the hallway to his room. You can hear the two bickering before the door closes.

You’re silent. Unsure of what to say. You want to move forward, but the past keeps haunting you. Will it always be like this with you and Jungkook? And certainly, there are things you didn’t say that you should say now, but what’s the point?

“We should clean up,” you say, picking up a few plates to stack them. Jungkook follows your lead, helps clear the table, and walks over to set them in the sink.

Turning on the faucet, you rinse off the plates. Jungkook leans back against the kitchen island, eyes scanning over you.

“I meant what I said earlier.”

You close your eyes, then breathe out a sigh. Looking at the boy who used to be your best friend. His eyes hold the galaxy and you get easily lost in them. You’re an explorer longing to find the next big discovery. It’s right in front of you, but at a moment’s notice, you might lose him like you did before.

“Kook…we were kids back then, and you can’t change the past.” You continue to wash the dishes, but it’s hard to focus when he’s near.

Jungkook reaches to turn off the water, gently squeezing your arm to look at him. “Yeah, I know, but I can try to fix it now, right?”

Your hands grip onto the sink, your eyes focused on the water dripping from the spout. You fixate on Jungkook’s words. How can he reconcile a friendship he tore apart? And for what? A girl?

He calls your name, breaking your focus. “Talk to me.”

There’s a tightness in your chest as you turn to him. “Fix it? I don’t want you to fix it.”

“O-kay…then tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

If it was only that easy.

You close the distance between you, looking at him. “What do I want?” He hums. “I want you to be broken. Wrecked—just like how I was. It took me years to get over you—our friendship. I hate it, Jungkook.”

“I hate what I did to you—”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t understand, Kook.” Your heart is aching—like someone reached in, squeezing it as hard as they can. 

“Then explain.”

Your eyes meet his. “You. Own. Me,” you say, your index finger pressing into his chest with each word. “These last few weeks have been excruciating. I don’t know who I am when I’m around you. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I’ve moved on. You’ll always be the one thing that I’ll never be over.”

Your heart is pounding, and every inch of your body is burning to the touch. You didn’t think anyone could ever make you this livid. But as much as you want to hate him, moving back home simply confirms everything you’ve been attempting to hide for the past seven years—you love him.

“I was hurt, too. You don’t think I was?” Jungkook says softly, lifting your chin so you can meet his gaze. “I was devastated, knowing how much I hurt you. I couldn’t eat or sleep for days. Seeing and talking to you every day and then it just stopped. My world was falling apart, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I watched you go off to live your life while I was stuck here with you, haunting me everywhere I went. Philz, the damn grocery store, the park–you were there. There was no escaping you. So yeah, I was wrecked and broken, just like you.”

The narrative you created in your head of Jungkook and Josie was something out of a fairytale. Boy meets girl, they fall in love and live happily ever after. But according to Jungkook, it was hardly the case. You haunted him as much as he haunted you throughout the years.

Chuckling to yourself, you think about how this could've been avoided if one of you had just spoken up. Stepping back from him, you take a breath to calm your nerves. You lean back against the sink, arms folded. “Can I ask you something?”

Jungkook’s eyes flick to you and his body mirrors yours. “I’m an open book, ___.”

“Why did you give up so easily? Why didn’t you fight for me? Our friendship?”

A beat passes, and he doesn’t respond. It’s foolish to think he’d have an answer for you.

Your lips thin, and you breathe out a sigh of frustration. “It’s fine, Kook. Don’t answer. We’ll just go back to the way things were. Have a good life.” You walk off toward the living room and he follows.

“You don’t get to walk away,” he says, shutting the front door when you try to open it.

“Yeah? Watch me!” You turn back to the door, attempting to open it, but Jungkook’s hand is holding it shut.

He grips your arm. “I was scared, okay? I was young and stupid, and scared.”

You turn around and push him back. “Scared? You’re still scared! That’s why you can’t even break up with Josie! She’s cheating on you, by the way! I saw her with some guy glued to her neck. I don’t understand why you can’t just let her go.”

“I’m not scared of breaking up with Josie. I just got comfortable with her being around and didn’t think I could do any better.” Jungkook steps back and reclines on the couch’s armrest.

“You don’t think you can do better than Josie? You’re Jeon Jungkook, of course, you can.”

He forces a laugh, shaking his head no. “I barely graduated high school, practically failed my college classes. I don’t have a steady job and I have no idea what I’m passionate about. So yeah, I didn’t think I could do any better than Josie, until…”

“Until…?”

“Until I saw you at the party. I know it sounds cheesy, but when I saw you standing in the living room. It was like a sign from the universe, waking me up from this auto-pilot life I was living in. Seeing you again really shook me up.”

You could say the same thing about seeing Jungkook again. The universe loved to toy with the two of you, didn’t it?

“And then after our dinner two weeks ago, I broke up with Josie–like officially. I gave all her stuff back. I’m not answering calls or anything. So, I guess when you saw her, she must’ve moved on to the next guy–that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, me breaking up with her.”

There was a sense of relief when he said that because you were ready to fight Josie.

“Oh,” you say softly, taking a step toward him. “I guess I was wrong about you—being scared, I mean.”

Jungkook’s toying with his necklace, circling it around his neck. “I’m still scared.” He steps toward you, waiting for you to look at him. “I’m scared I’m gonna mess this up,” he says.

“How are you going to mess this up? We’re just friends.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t want to be ‘just friends’.”

Your gaze flicks to him and then drops to his lips and back up again. You know what he’s alluding to, but you need to hear those words leave his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He knows you’re teasing him. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

“Because I love you, okay? I’m in love with you. Have always been in love with you, and I’m scared to lose you again.”

Your eyes are glossy, fighting back tears. You’ve longed to hear those words from Jungkook, and like him, you’re afraid of an unknown future, but right now, all that matters is him.

As a tear falls down your cheek, you’re ready to let love in. Let him in. Discover new things. Rediscover old things. You’re ready to be vulnerable, move forward from the past, and let go of the heartache and pain.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe.

Jungkook steps toward you, cupping your face. “No, no, no. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You shake your head. “No, I do. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for you–for our friendship. It’s my fault too.”

His thumbs caress your cheeks. “Hey, can we agree to let the past be in the past and just focus on us now, in the present?”

Your hands cover his, and you nod, flashing a soft smile. “Mhm. I’d like that.”

Jungkook wipes your tear-stained cheeks. “Now, can I do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time?”

“What’s that?”

His lips finally touch yours. It’s not fervent or haste. It’s soft, uncertain. But you kiss him back. You’re savoring each point of contact. His lips overlapping yours, capturing a hint of your cherry Chapstick. Your eyes are half-lidded and you pull back for air, but he leans in, bringing you back in for more. His nose bumps into yours as he turns his head, deepening the kiss. Your body presses against his, your fists balled up, tugging on his white t-shirt. There’s a glow of excitement and nervousness rushing throughout your body when one of his hands grips your waist and the other is on the small of your back, pushing you further into him.

A low whine leaves his lips when you withdraw. He reaches for another kiss, but you stop him.

“Kook—” you whisper as his forehead touches yours.

“I don’t want to stop kissing you,” he says, kissing your cheek and tracing your jawline. “Don’t think I can ever stop.”

You chuckle. “I don’t want to stop kissing you, either. Maybe we should take this to the bedroom?”

While lying in bed next to Jungkook, you simply enjoy each other’s presence. Your fingers trace stars across his chest and you love how he breathes–his chest rising and falling ever so softly. The sound of his voice vibrates through your fingers and into your body. With one arm wrapped around you and the other resting behind his head, Jungkook tells you about the dreams he had but never dared to pursue–you being one of them.

And as the clock strikes midnight, the magic of you and him didn’t dissipate. It’s here. It’s real.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #fic: things you didn't say

[huramuna]

lay all your love on me - oneshot.

modern aemond x wife reader 18+ minors DNI, you will be smited.

an early valentine's day piece.

word count: 2.2k

i don't do taglists any more unfortunately -- @huramuna-fics -- follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: smut with little plot (specifics under the cut), bdsm themes, allusions to infertility, established relationship, no use of y/n, no description of reader, aftercare

lay all your love on me - ABBA • gimmie! gimmie! gimmie! (a man after midnight) - ABBA

warnings: bondage, edging, ruined orgasms, orgasm control, deepthroating, face fucking, ball-gagged, p in v, creampie, breeding kink, bdsm dynamics, dom/sub, brat taming, use of sex toys, knifeplay

You shouldn’t have listened to Aegon’s advice. Aegon, the brainless older idiot brother of your husband, gave you advice to spice up your marriage and hopefully, to conceive a baby– as he apparently had a few children running around, and this somehow made him an expert.

And you took it. 

It started off innocently; more dirty-talk, heavier touches, bites that left small marks of ownership for both of you to admire. It began to move onto silken sashes loosely holding your wrists together, fingers gagging your mouth. 

Then, it shifted with the creation of your safeword. 

“Pomelo,” you said, a tad more confidently than you should’ve. 

“Pomelo? That’s what you’re choosing as a safe word?” Aemond chuckled, perking his brow. 

“Yep, so you won’t forget.”

The bindings became tighter then afterwards, but not uncomfortable, of course. Aemond was a gentle husband in most facets, and this extended to his bondage of you. He would have you reassure him that they weren’t too constricting, weren’t chafing and were comfortably snug.

 Once his work was done and you soothed his worry, it was like a switch flipped in his head. Gone was your gentle husband of two years, and out came something primal and feral. It's always been there, right under the surface— broiling and writhing to come free, his blood set aflame. 

You realize now what amazing control your husband has— over himself, over his environment and most importantly; over you. 

That is how you ended up in your current situation— a cocktail of taking Aegon’s advice and stoking the flame of Aemond’s inner depravities. Your current situation being tied to a chair in red, silken sashes, adorned like a present ready to be opened, legs spread slightly, arms tied back. A matching ball gag muffled your gentle whines as a red bullet vibrator was carefully nestled in your folds. 

This was your Valentine’s Day gift to Aemond; allowing him to tie you up and edge you for as long as he wished, watching you almost fall apart each time— before he snatched away your release. He even tied a lovely little bow across your breasts; a treat for him for later. 

Saliva dribbled down your chin as you watched him; he was still dressed from work that day, business casual with black slacks and a white button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair pinned in a neat bun at the nape of his neck. He had his phone in his hand, changing the frequency of the vibrations on the bullet expertly placed just grazing your clit, teasing you and circling you. You looked a mess already, drooling and whining against the gag, toes curling at every minute sensation— while Aemond looked groomed and tailored to perfection, just watching. Cheeky bastard. 

Your eyes roved his form as he pulled up a chair, finally, across from you. You swore you could see the distinct bulge of arousal tightening around his pelvic region, but he turned around before you could confirm it. Asshole. You wouldn’t be surprised, with the insane amount of control that he had over himself, if he was willing away a boner, just to tease you. 

While he was turned away, you rubbed your thighs together, eager to ease some of the ache you felt from being denied. 

“You know you aren’t supposed to do that,” he chastised, somehow knowing you were getting up to no good with his back turned. “You’re being bad, love.” 

You responded with a few indignant grumbles, more saliva slipping from your lips and sliding down your chest. 

“Back talking?” Aemond mused, finally turning around, chair in hand. He turned it so he was sitting with his chest against the back of it, arms propped on the wood as he held his phone in an almost lazy manner. “That won’t do. You know I hate when you’re bratty.” he hummed, adjusting the speed once more on his phone. His voice said one thing, but his eyes said another. He loved when you were bratty— it gave him a chance to tame you. 

This exchange had been going on for thirty minutes already and you felt tears in your eyes at your ruined orgasms. You were screaming silent pleas to him from a look alone, your lashes damp with welling tears. 

“Does my wife want to come? I thought you had more stamina,” Aemond tutted, his voice perfectly trained to feign disappointment.

 You wilted under his faux admonishments, shaking back and forth against the bindings, chasing the high that would never come. The legs of the chair squeaked slightly as you moved it. 

“Don’t,” Aemond said firmly, turning off the vibrations completely and putting his phone aside. His voice took a darker note now, not like the playful scolding before. “You’ll hurt yourself,” he got up, hand stilling the chair. “Do you want me to touch you?” 

Your chest heaved as you nodded profusely. Yesyesyes, pleaseplease! Your skin crawled delightfully as he reached between your legs and slowly, deliberately slowly, pulled the bullet from your folds. It was soaked and slick. He reached up then and untied the gag, as well, rasping a finger over your poor swollen lips. 

“My poor baby,” he cooed, before pulling back. He began to undo his belt and your mouth filled with saliva instantly— that had to be some sort of pavlovian response, how pathetic— your eyes were trained on his hands as they flexed, discarding his belt and shirt, then his pants without much ceremony. Your eyes hadn’t deceived you earlier, he was rock hard, to a point it almost looked painful. “You’ll get yours soon, I promise.” he said, running his palm down his length as he positioned himself— one leg up on the chair you were on, one hand behind your head. ‘Open’, he mouthed. 

Your swollen lips opened as he guided his cock into your mouth. The salty, musky taste and smell of him, so familiar and comforting that it caused your eyes to flutter, enveloped your senses. He slid his length across your tongue until he nestled nicely in, drawing you in at the hilt. Your nose brushed his mound of neatly groomed short and curlies. He was all consuming, so in control— all you could do was look up at him. 

“You don’t need to do the work, baby,” he murmured. “Just sit there and look pretty.” his now free hand caressed your face, thumb drawing circles over your cheek as he began to move. It was slow at first, to help you get used to it— you were very used to letting him fuck your face, but it was always nice to start slow. You felt his cock slide in and out, against your tongue, prodding at your throat. 

Usually, he would put music on, or have the T.V on as background noise— but that wasn’t the case tonight. It was silent, save for the sound of the rocking chair, his soft pants of pleasure, and the downright vulgar noise of you taking him in your throat. It was straight up pornographic and you hoped that soundproofing the room had actually worked. 

His fingers curled in your hair. “So… good for me,” he praised, voice tenuous as he edged himself now, wanting to make it last. “So good, letting your husband fuck your throat.” he clenched slightly, stopping his movements and clasping two fingers at the base of his cock— a close call, apparently. Times like these were where you could see the edges of Aemond’s control frayed, like threads of an old sweater. It delighted you greatly, and you wanted to see him let go completely and lose it. You hoped tonight would be that night.

You caught your breath as he showered you with compliments, wiping away your tears. “Such a good wife, my sweet girl,” Aemond said, absconding from you temporarily to fiddle with something in his discarded trousers. “Gonna open my present now, yeah?” he returned, clicking a small switchblade open— one he kept in his pocket for miscellaneous purposes. The two of you have indulged in knife play before, and it’s something that particularly excites him.

 The flat of the blade pressed to your skin, the cool sheen of it making your skin prickle. He dragged it up carefully, the edge away from your flesh until it met the sashes at your breasts. Aemond sliced through them like butter, followed by the ones on your arms and legs, effectively freeing you. You gave a gentle sigh of appreciation and approval— as he always required before the final act, just to make sure you were alright. 

Once receiving it, he swept you up from the chair, picking you up with ease. He wasted no time pressing his mouth to yours, tasting himself on your tongue. Your brain felt full of fuzz and bees, still numbed by how badly you wanted to come. Your clit was practically throbbing, warmth spreading through your core as he took you to the bed— not the bed you slept in, but one you both had bought especially for the play room. He laid you down so gently that you almost forgot where you were— until you looked in his eyes and saw the eclipsed pupil, his usually calm blue eyes (one less blue than the other from his childhood injury) was totally engulfed by blackness. He reminded you of a shark, besotted to the primal urges of their nature when they smelled blood. 

His cock sunk into you without any resistance, like slipping on a lubricated glove. The fit was still snug, but eased some of the ache you felt. 

“Aemond…” you sighed softly, body relaxing as he rested inside of you. It felt like laying in bed after a long day, your bones softening. “Need you to fuck me, husband,” you continued. “Please.” you added after, remembering your manners. 

He just stayed there, still, staring at you. He didn’t move.

“Please.”

No response.

“If I am not blissfully fucked out in about five minutes, I’m going to bite you.”

Nothing.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplea–,” 

Your whining was cut off as he set an unrelenting pace, right off the bat, hammering into you with reckless abandon, bullying your sweet spot like it owed him something. But he, in fact, owed you something. You reached behind and pulled his hair out of the bun, letting it fall between you like a curtain of snow. His blown out pupils, his hair a mess, his movements were erratic– he was losing control. 

His hand supplanted into the soft of your hip, clenching onto it for dear life as he drilled into you. You pinched his free wrist as a reminder– to which he dutifully remembered, his digits falling to the apex of your thighs and rasping over your clit in rhythmic ministrations. Your legs locked around him in an instant, pulling him in impossibly closer as you continued to beg, you were so close, so close–

“P-please– can I?” you asked through broken whimpers.

He couldn’t even respond through his exertions, evidently chasing his own high– he gave a growl in response, nodding. You didn’t just tip over the edge, you were fucking pushed, as your pleasure came to an all consuming, mind numbing climax. Your neurons fired off on all cylinders, electrifying through your body and coming to a conclusion: Holy fuck. You felt wetness squidge between your legs as you soaked Aemond, in turn, gripping him like a vice. 

The mask of power he had been wearing slipped and fell off completely, as he scooped you up from the bed (without slipping out even once) and gripped you by the ass, pistoning up into you with feverish, animalistic panting. His fingers left red indents on your soft bottom, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, a dragon tasting his meal. His knees almost buckled as he came, a long grunt indicating it– as well as the coupled feeling of him emptying his balls inside of you. He gripped the wooden bedpost, angling you in one arm as he caught his own breath. 

His hair was plaited to his forehead as the sheen of perspiration glazed his skin, all the strength had been sucked out of him temporarily, exiting through his cock and into you, apparently. Yet, even still, he placed you back on the bed, bottom towards the headboard. He propped up a pillow under you and angled your legs upward. You were still thoroughly fucked out, so you let him handle you like a ragdoll, you bones jelly. It was your routine to do this specifically– as you’d been trying for a baby for the past year or so. 

Aemond returned (when had he left?) with a bottle of water. “Drink, love,” he murmured softly, his disposition back to that of the gentle husband. “Here,” he fluffed another pillow, this time putting it under your head. “You alright?” he asked, uncapping the bottle of water and bringing it to your mouth. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed back, sipping the water. “Food?” you asked simply, a goofy grin coming to your face.

“Of course, of course– whatever you want.”

“Thai.”

“Consider it done.”

–

When you inevitably tested positive for pregnancy about two months later, you chalked it up to your Valentine’s Day surprise that did the job– Aemond agreed. Aegon was disgusted, but also took credit for the dubbed ‘miracle baby’. 

Aemond wacked him over the head each time he said it, to which Aegon would run away and shout. “I got your wife pregnant, I got your wife pregnant!”

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond fluff #aemond smut #modern aemond smut #modern aemond #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #my writing #lay all your love on me

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: The Sun

Aleister Crowley: and now as we approach the winter solstice Crowley: great god apollo, great master brain thinker guy thoth Crowley: all the little thelematic sprites and boggles Crowley: now is the time that the great beast says Crowley: DO AS THOU WILT!! Crowley: I'M THE GREAT BEAST!!!

Crowley: now that its the winter solstice Crowley: its time to pay tribute to the spirits of the season Victor Neuburg: how're we gonna do that boss? Crowley: we're gonna eat this big block of hashish and fuck Crowley: love to keep the holiday traditions alive

Crowley: great sun god ra, hear our prayers and Lauren M Davis: [appearing in a flash] who dares call upon my fiery majesty? Davis: whom the egyptians named ra, the greeks named apollo, the aztecs named Huitzilopochtli? Davis: as the duly noted owner of the sun, that is infringing on my intellectual property Crowley: your...? Crowley: oh man i am too high for this right now

Lauren M Davis: since the dawn of time, mankind has yearned to destroy the sun Davis: i do the next best thing Davis: i own it! Davis: as surely as disney owns day of the dead Davis: as surely as family guy owns double dribble Davis: as surely as snapesnogger owns nagas Davis: i will copyright the sun!

Davis: Gaze upon the fiery majesty of the sun ©!!! Davis: NO on second thought, don't! Davis: no one look at me! Davis: you! plants! Davis: you dare to photosynesize with my holy rays?? Davis: I hope you got a good lawyer

Crowley: you can't own the sun Crowley: the sun is Crowley: Crowley: its Crowley: its you know Crowley: it's Victor Neuburg: its a star isn't it? Crowley: SHUT UP NERDBURG I KNOW WHAT THE SUN IS Crowley: I WAS JUST Crowley: I WAS JUST PAUSING FOR EFFECT OR SOMETHING Crowley: I DON'T EVEN LIKE YOU AT ALL, JUST SHUT UP!

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #aleister crowley #victor neuburg #lauren m davis

[dirtyvulture]

Hey since New Years is close can you do one instead of partying with others Natasha and GP!Reader are fucking on the floor and Nat is edging R until the clock hits midnight and she finally allows R release? Only if you want to obviously

Just wrote something short for you all ❤️

While the rest of Avengers celebrating the coming new year with drinks and food, watching the ball drop in Time's Square from the top floor of the Avengers Tower, you and Natasha have excused yourselves from their party activities for a private one of your own.

"Oh fuck, Nat, I'm so close," you whimper, arching your hips up to push more of your length through Natasha's tightly-closed fist.

"It's not time yet," Natasha says, her eyes flitting to the alarm clock on your nightstand.

"I don't know if I'm gonna last," you reply, pumping your hips up and down. Your hands are underneath your butt, pinned to the floor in an effort to stop yourself from grabbing onto Natasha the longer she denies you release. You promised yourself you would never make that mistake again--Natasha had put a cock ring on you for two weeks and not allowed you to cum. And when she finally did, you came so hard you nearly passed out.

"You don't get to cum until I say you do," Natasha reminds you, removing her fist and you whine pathetically at the loss of contact.

"Okay, okay," you resign.

Natasha grabs the bottle of lube from the nightstand and squirts a big glob onto her hand. Your body tenses in anticipation as she reaches for your cock once more, sliding it effortlessly through her slicked-up hand. You moan and squirm at the stimulation, your cock throbbing stiffly and the tip darkening in color.

"Nat, please," you whimper again, not sure if you can hold back until midnight.

"Hold it," she demands, her focus turning to the clock.

"TEN! NINE!" you hear everyone outside your bedroom chanting along with the countdown. Natasha's hand moves faster on your cock, squeezing every time she gets to your tip.

"EIGHT! SEVEN!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you pant, closing your eyes as you will yourself to stay in control.

"Almost there," Natasha says, her hand slowing down. A little dribble of pre-cum leaks out of your cock. She can't wait to have your throbbing length inside of her when she finally lets you release.

"THREE! TWO!"

Natasha suddenly stops stroking you and swings one leg over your waist. She's so wet that she sinks onto your cock effortlessly, taking you all the way to the hilt just as the fireworks outside explode and your co-workers scream and cheer in celebration of the new year.

Your hips buck as you empty your load in hard pulses that have your entire body shaking. Your back arches off the floor and you free your hands to grab onto Natasha's waist, holding to keep her balanced as you pump into her. Her velvet walls milk your cock for every drop of cum you have to offer, and when you're finally down, you sink back onto the floor, sweaty and spent.

"Happy New Year, baby," Natasha leans over to whisper in your ear.

"Happy New Year, Nat."

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

AN: I hope everyone has a happy new year like these two. :)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more. 🥰

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader

[hellishjoel]

new year’s day

3.7k / pairing: francisco “frankie” “catfish” morales x f!reader

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist | hellishjoel masterlist | notifications blog

summary: You’ve found fulfillment in every aspect of life alongside your husband, Frankie. In the early hours of New Year’s Day, you and Frankie discuss your aspirations for the coming year. Among these, the possibility of embarking on the journey to parenthood, starting a family, and conceiving a child may be at the forefront.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), established marriage, discussion of alcohol consumption, cursing, discussions about starting a family/being pregnant/having a baby, a few pov switches, mommy issues go brrr, use of pet names (princess, momma (x3)), frankie’s hot dad bod, mix of sub!frankie and dom!frankie, pinch of daddy kink, unprotected PiV, breeding kink go hard, dirty talk, overstimulation, hickies, titty play, creampie

A/N: thank you for celebrating 12 Days of Pedro! come back to the masterlist every day from Dec. 11 - Dec. 22 to open a new present from the most amazing authors! special thanks to the breeding kink queen herself @thetriumphantpanda for beta reading this work! banners, per usual, from @saradika-graphics. enjoy!

There’s glitter on the floor after the party. Not to mention streamers, spare party hats, and dribbles of wine on the hardwood floor. Spare polaroids with goofy grins and blurry kisses at midnight. You hold one of you and Frankie to your chest, your heart swarming with a warm buzz caused by too much liquor and a lot of love. 

Your eyes lift to Frankie, his lopsided party hat holding on for dear life as he tosses empty beer bottles into a large black trash bag. 

Everyone’s left now, catching cabs or a ride home from their sober counterparts.  An annual Morales tradition; countdown to the New Year with your closest friends, the ones you’d consider family. 

You hope to remember these memories forever and that the memories hold on to you. The good and the bad. The friends you made, the friends you lost, remembering that people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. 

Cheers, kisses, and giggles at midnight. 

“You ready, my lady?” Frankie asks as he hands you your journal, his own leatherbound one in his hand as he settles down beside you on the floor, your backs against the front of the couch. 

Another Morales tradition; New Year’s Goals. It all started a few years ago, your and Frankie’s first New Year’s together. Both drunk and rolling around on the floor, you decided to write your goals for the New Year. You thought they had a lot of power, and it was good to have motivations, even if they didn’t last all year. 

The fire crackled as Frankie nudged a log with the poker, his face illuminated in a brilliant orange light. He was so handsome. You were so in love. You couldn’t think of anything else you needed, everything you wanted was right here in front of you. Well, almost everything. 

Frankie lifted a Pabst beer bottle to his lips, tilting his head back to finish it off. A wet smack leaves his lips. You smirk as you feel his eyes on your list, curiously leaning his head to the side to sneak a peek at what your pen was etching into blank paper. 

“Do you mind?” You tease, nudging your elbow playfully into his ribs. “You know we’re not supposed to share until we’re both done.” You whisper as you pen in another thought. You both agreed to list three to five goals every year, things you wanted to make happen, things you want to change. Whatever it took to better yourself and the small life you’ve created with your husband. 

Frankie radiates warmth beside you, he’s always been like that. Even in just a dark pair of jeans and a black Carhartt t-shirt, he was as warm as the fireplace wavers heat in front of you. You lay your head gently on his broad shoulder, humming softly as you close your eyes, the exhaustion of prepping and then celebrating your New Year’s party finally taking its toll. But you couldn’t help but be so full of joy, considering yourself lucky to be surrounded by so much love. 

Your eyes open just as you feel Frankie smack a period at the end of one of his goals making his arm lurch before he tips his head down to you. “M’ready. You wanna go first?” Frankie asks, reaching his hand up to pull the small party hat off his head, watching as he sits it down beside him very delicately. So precious. Your heart swells thinking about your list, slowly nodding and sitting up straight as you re-open your journal to review your goals list. 

“Okay, I only have three,” 

“Me too,” Frankie interjects. 

“Perfect, okay, so number one, I want to dedicate more time to be creative. Whether it’s writing, or painting, or… I don’t know, picking up crocheting, I want to set aside more time for that sort of stuff instead of brainlessly watching shows.” 

Frankie’s smile tilts, slowly nodding in understanding. “I’d love to hang up more of your paintings around the house. The walls could use a little color.” 

Your sweet boy. He was always so supportive. You sweetly cupped the underside of his chin and pecked his lips. Frankie playfully cleared his throat and states his first goal. 

“Number one. I want to eat out less.” He pauses as he assesses your pouting face. “Don’t look at me like that. We’ll still go out sometimes, I just feel like we should cook at home more.” 

You couldn’t blame him. All the takeaway Chinese and pizza deliveries were really tugging at the precious strings that was your joint bank account. 

“Fine. But I won’t be happy about it. And this sort of ruins my second goal, which is to try more restaurants.” 

You and Frankie both take a moment to throw back your heads in laughter, rolling closer to one another as he shakes his head at you slowly. “We’ll figure it out, we always do. And that’s my second goal, more communication whenever I feel like I’m stuck. I know I’m not always…” he pauses and fiddles with his hands, nervous ticks causing him to pop his knuckles, “M’not always the best with talking things out. So I wanna work on that.” 

Heat catches along your neck and chest, the way he looks at you with a twinkle in his eyes, as if you put the moon and stars in the sky. Your sweet boy. He’s not perfect, you both had worked so hard to get where you were, but it took a lot of time and trust. You built a solid foundation for your relationship, and now it felt like there wasn’t anything you couldn’t tackle together. 

“What’s your last goal for the new year?” 

Frankie watches as you purse your lips, eye contact straying as you stare down at your handwriting. Something hung in the air. Uncertainty? He reaches out and gently clasps your free hand in his, deep brown eyes searching your beautiful orbs in reassurance. There was that feeling again, of promise and future. More birthdays, more holidays, more anniversaries, and more New Year’s Days. 

After a moment, Frankie’s lips part as you set aside your journal, taking a deep breath. God what was it? 

“A baby,” you say in less than a whisper. 

A surprised little smile slowly crosses Frankie’s face, a glint of fondness and curiosity in his eyes. 

This wasn’t your first conversation about starting a family. 

It began in small places, like seeing children in line at the grocery store. All chubby-cheeked with big toothy grins, tugging on their parent's sleeve and asking them for a sweet from the checkout. 

Then, your mutual friends had their first baby. You were able to see them at the hospital. New momma laid back in bed. New dad sitting in the chair beside her. Tiredness in their eyes but their excitement overshadowed any doubt. You held their daughter, Elise, in your arms. So beautiful. And sleepy. 

But what really pulled at your heartstrings, and perhaps your womb, was when Frankie held his baby nephew for the first time. You both were in the hospital waiting room for hours, nervous but excited, hoping the delivery went well for his sister and for the new baby. 

“Come here, Frankie, hold him. Just don’t drop him.” She teased. 

Frankie took a step forward, then a step back. He had never held something so small, so precious, untouched by the outside world. What if he held him wrong? What if he cried and fussed? 

The warmth of your hand touched his shoulder, your small smile and nod encouraging him to be brave, to love the new addition to their family. With your vote of confidence, Frankie remembered to carefully support the baby’s head as his sister handed him over. Because, of course, she could trust Frankie. Uncle Frankie, now. 

His warm amber eyes glistened as he stared lovingly down at the bundle in his arms. He was beautiful, with dashing dark hair just like his sister had. A tiny little nose and sweet pouted lips. Frankie couldn’t understand why his eyes welled up with tears. He was just so proud to be an uncle, to see his younger sister now in charge of a tiny little newborn. He just couldn’t believe that such a beautiful life was born out of the love his sister and his brother-in-law shared. 

Then he looked at you. And he knew his heart was certain. He wanted this, and he wanted it with you. 

In all truthfulness, you weren’t as sure as Frankie was. You excused his excitement for baby fever. It was your job to remind him that you were still saving up for a new home, that your financials were a bit of a wreck, and that babies weren’t always soundly sleeping. There would be sleepless nights, messy food on their faces, and very full diapers. A big responsibility. 

You also didn’t come from a wonderful family like Frankie was raised in. You often wondered if you were to start a family, could you be different from your parents? Or would you fall into the same habits as they did? 

How would you be as a mother? 

You tried to remember that it was your mother’s first time on this Earth, too. And that she had it worse when she was little. But you were little too. What if you inherited your mother’s fleshy crimson anger? Or her blue-warped vision of sadness? 

What if something ever happened to Frankie, and you were left alone to care for your baby?  Could you do it alone? Could you even do it together? What ifs after what ifs. 

You cried out your insecurities to Frankie that night. Shaking and sobbing in his arms as he tried to calm your breathing. You had bared your soul to him, remarking about the childhood you wished you could have had. He kissed the top of your head and held you tight like a boa constrictor, promising that you didn’t have to figure it all out tonight. That he would drop the topic of family until you were truly ready. 

That was over two years ago now. Frankie still had that gleaming light in his eyes when he saw his nephew over holidays, birthdays, or little occasions of visiting with his sister. Soon, you started to have that gleam too. Because you realized it wasn’t only Frankie’s dream to have a family, but was yours too. Because Frankie would be the father of your children. And a brilliant one at that. 

The nerves had faded away with your husband’s endless love. And you were ready this New Year’s Day. 

“Say something,” you urged anxiously, but Frankie was just staring at you with so much love and hope. 

Finally, it hit him. 

He cups your cheeks, thumbing his way up your cheekbone and gently cupping your jawline. “You mean it? You’re ready? Don’t- please don’t do this for me, I could wait a lifetime for you, you hear me?”

You let out a wet little laugh and nod eagerly, holding your hands around his wrists as he came to rest his forehead against yours. “I don’t want to wait anymore, Frankie. I’m ready. We’re ready.” You assured, watching a large smile crash on his face. 

There’s an eagerness when he leans in to kiss you, lips crashing and his hold on you tightening as if you were going to slip out of his embrace. 

“Oh,” you whimper against his mouth, feeling him glide his tongue across your lower lip before he fully envelopes you. It’s needy, it’s desperate, and damn, is it overdue. 

Your fingers wind up into his messy curls, tugging him on top of you as you fell back onto the floor. The heat of the fireplace tickled warmth on your temple, and a certain heat in your belly set in. 

“Can we start now?” He muttered against your mouth, his strong hands palming at your hips as his center matched with your own. 

“Fuck, yes,” you gasp before pulling him in once more, your needy hands grappling at the hem of his shirt and tugging it upwards. 

Unable to help but glance in awe as Frankie sits up on his knees and tosses off his shirt. Holy mother of god, you didn’t realize how much of a perfect dad bod he already possessed. Jesus. 

“I-I don’t even know if I’m ovulating,” you stutter out as your hands messily reach forward, tugging his belt loose and popping the button on his jeans. 

“Don’t care,” Frankie mutters, voice drenched in deep lust as his hungry mouth found yours again. You couldn’t help but melt into his touch and his dirty mouth. 

The man was feral. It was like he was possessed. 

Something in Frankie had flipped. You had just confessed you wanted to start a family and allow him the opportunity to be a father to your children. You’d be their beautiful mother, kind, thoughtful, sweet, and smart. Fuck, he wanted to put this baby in you right now. 

He felt like he was burning for you, worshiping at the altar between your thighs. Saying you were ready with full confidence was something indescribable. And he was ready to show you he was taking this opportunity seriously. 

Frankie wastes no time in stripping you of your clothes, nearly tossing your top into the fireplace with how eager he is. He melts into your body, his half-hard cock sloppily bucking against your thigh in neediness. 

“Lemme put a baby in you, princess, wanna see you carry our child in your perfect body. Fuck,” he muttered as his hand slipped down between your thighs, watching your lips part and make an oh shape. 

Your slick coats his fingers, your thighs already shaking with desperation. 

“Frankie, don’t make me wait, want you to fill me up so fucking bad,” your wavering voice begs as you sit up on your elbows and begin to stoke over his cock. He easily swells in your grasp, growing heavier and heavier. His face clenches as his hips buck into your tight, squeezing hand once more. 

“Goddamit, you’re so fucking perfect,” he rasps as his own hand takes over pumping his cock, gathering it in your slick he had collected and letting out a heavenly moan at the feeling. Pre-cum leaks at his fleshy red tip, jaw tight as he holds his base, beginning to guide the head of his cock up and down your wet center. 

Frankie watches you flinch with a small smirk every time he flicks off your clit. He’s drunk off watching you be ready, watching you take this leap with him, putting your trust in him that he will be the best father to your children. And honestly, he can’t fucking wait any longer. 

Your sharp gasp fills the room, Frankie piercing your walls and filling you to the brim in one heavy thrust. Both of you swallow the other’s moans and groans, eyes tightly closed and mouths agape. 

“That’s it, momma, take me so well,” he hums, a new fantasy forming behind his eyes. 

He wants to see you dripping in his cum, just so he can gently push it all back in with his fingers. His eyes were gold with fire and greed, wanting you to be his in the best way imaginable. 

Ragged pants fill the distance between you both as he steadily rocks his hips into yours. Frankie watches as your hands scrabble for something to hold onto before you finally tug him down and wind your fingers into his dark chocolate curls. 

Sweet whimpers ring into his ear as his thrusts grow in power, caging you protectively in his arms. You weren’t going anywhere. 

“Fuck, Frankie, you’re filling me up,” you cry out, feeling Frankie hit the spot only he can reach, the one that tickles at your cervix and pushes you into another dimension of pleasure. The place where you’re breathless and cloudy, lost in how good he feels. 

Frankie digs his forehead into your temple, looking down at you as his hips repeatedly snap into you. He’s gone wild, a weak little smirk on his face as he thinks about you swollen with his babe inside you a few months down the road. 

“Keep sayin’ that,” Frankie mutters, feeling a rush course through his body like a new high he’s never encountered. He shifts his weight onto his forearm nestled beside your head, his opposite hand snaking delicately between your bodies and starting to create sweet circles around your throbbing clit. You’re soaking wet, feeling your slick splash against his balls every time you both fully connect. 

You’re unsure what he means at first, what to keep saying, your head in the stars as Frankie’s hips nail you to the floor with each heavy thrust. Plus, his finger on your clit is sending you to high heavens. Then it clicks. 

You gulp and refocus, needing to get him there because God, after years of waiting, you want to give him this so badly. 

“Frankie, baby,” you gather your breath and cradle his face, his desperate eyes meeting yours. “I want you t-to use me, fill me with your seed, I wanna feel it. Fuck, want you to be so deep inside me, your cum goes s-straight into my uterus,” you beg.  

Frankie’s thrusts snap methodically faster, a few loose bucks from his hips at first, but now he trying to control himself strategically. 

“Fuck, daddy,” you cry out, digging your head back into the floor as your chin tilts to the ceiling. “Use me as your little breeding whore, dump your cum inside me, want all of it, want all of it so fucking bad!” You whimper as Frankie’s sweet kisses on your jawline turn into nasty nips at your neck, the kind that will flush with dark pigments by tomorrow morning. 

Your hips ache, your body is trembling before him, but he looks so fucking sexy worked up like this. He’s promising with his body that he’s going to make you the mother of his children. 

“Want you so bad momma, m’gonna watch your tits get so fuckin’ big,” he murmurs before his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, slathering it with his spit and swirling around your nub with his perfect tongue. The oversensitivity is so much, you’re so full, he’s going to make you cum before he can even finish off his own load. 

“Fuck,” he moans lowly, a deep grunt releasing from the depths of his throat. “Gonna make such a perfect momma, gonna knock you up so hard, baby,” Frankie groans as he tugs gently at your nipple between his teeth. 

The spark in your stomach suddenly explodes, pushing you over the edge. You wrap your arms around his neck and press his forehead against your own. “Come with me,” you beg, just above a whisper as each thrust he makes is punching the air from your lungs. 

You pace yourself just for him. The faster he moves his fingers around your clit, the closer he is. Overstimulated tears well up in your eyes, your jaw dropping wide as you look at him like he is a God. Frankie’s thrusts were growing sloppy with need, losing their rhythm, your man was so close. Finally, like a dangerous volcano, he erupts inside of you as your walls pulse around him. Both of you come in unison, blasting you with a hot heat across your body. 

You cry out, and Frankie moans loudly into the living room, hearing your name echo along the walls as his hips still momentarily inside you. His warm cum spurts and paints your walls, shooting off multiple times. It’s the hardest he’s ever finished, he’s so deep and filling you to the brim with his white hot seed. 

Lost in a cloud of lust, you think you melt into the floor. His arms shake as he holds himself up by the forearms placed on either side of your head, your sweaty foreheads glistening. Your bodies feel like one. 

With a shaky hand, you reach up and gently brush the hair out of his eyes. Frankie weakly smiles and leans down to press a messy kiss on your lips. You hum softly and keep him there, whimpering as his hips twitch a few final times before he completely stills. You were seeing stars behind your vision as Frankie soothingly brought you back down to Earth. You were so happy. 

“I love you.” He whispers as he presses one last kiss to your mouth, watching your hazy eyes fill with love as he slowly sits up. 

Both of your sweaty bodies peel off of one another, and you hum lowly as he starts to pull himself out. 

Frankie watches in lust-filled amazement as your hole leaks dribbles of his cum. 

He shakes his head with a disapproving hum, parting your legs once more to see his mess, gently using his fingers to push his cum back into your hole. 

You nip at your lower lip, watching as Frankie stares at you like he’s hypnotized, making sure every little drop stays inside of you. 

“Such a good girl for me, momma, keepin’ all my good cum inside you, that’s it,” he hums, finally letting your legs go as he tumbles onto his back beside you on the floor. 

His hand holds yours as you stare at the ceiling in bliss. 

“We’re trying for a baby.” He whispers with an indescribable amount of happiness. 

You nod as you snuggle into his side, feeling his strong arm wrap around your shoulders to keep you close to him. “We’re trying for a baby.” You repeat back to him, your fingers gently weaving through his dense dark chest hair. 

“I have a name for the baby.” He murmurs, fantasizing about your future together already. 

“Yeah, what’s that?” 

“Frankie Jr.”

“No.” You quickly cut off. 

Both of your heads fall back in laughter, feeling so secure next to your best friend who has promised you a family and a future, all laced with love. And for that, you were hopeful for the New Year. 

#12 Days of Pedro #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #fuck yeah frankie #francisco morales #catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #pedro pascal

[authorhjk1]

Can you make smut about SANA getting fucked by the CEO of Graff in exchange making her ambassador and giving her jeweleries.

Sana couldn't stop thinking about that one necklace she saw last week. Nothing she did was able to distract her from it. It was weird for her to obsess over something simple like this, but she couldn't help it.

It's unbelievable expensive, which means she could never buy it herself, despite being so successful. And the company wouldn't buy it for her either. Since she isn't the ambassador for Graff, there was no reason for the company to fulfill her wish.

And when she asked to be the ambassador, the company only told her that Graff already has a Korean ambassador. So what could Sana do to get this necklace? And maybe even more?

Ten days later, Sana attended an event, to which the CEO of Graff was going to. That was her chance. She didn't need to put in a lot of effort, apart from being herself. No one could resist her anyways.

And how did she now become the ambassador of Graff? At exactly midnight. When the CEO came all over her face. Sana gasped in disbelief. She didn't expect him to coat her in so much cum. She couldn't even try to swallow half of it.

And now, Sana is lying on her back, getting fucked on one of the counters inside the large kitchen. The chefs all went home already and most of the guests too.

But Sana really wanted that necklace. That's why she is here after all.

"So deep!"

Sana moans loudly as the CEO bottoms out inside of her. Her hair, which her stylist took hours to do, is now sprawled out on the cold surface, partially glazed with a couple of drops of cum.

His hands squeeze her thighs, while Sana holds onto the edge of the counter. She has to force her eyes open, otherwise she wouldn't be able to open them again, once she closes them. His cum would glue them shut.

Sana hisses in pain as he keeps tightening his grip. The thought of giving her body up to be able to wear that necklace made her feel shame at first. But now, she is actually getting off on it.

Sana likes the way he uses her. Like a fleshlight for his pleasure. And she has to take everything, if she wants to be ambassador and wear that one piece of jewelry.

His fingers start to dig into her flesh, almost painfully. The grunts and moans both of them are producing echo through the empty kitchen.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum in you."

Sana lets out a gasp.

Not that she can do anything about it, he made that clear earlier.

Sana feels his warmth fill her body as he finally unloads inside of her. His cum stains her walls, painting them white. He came almost as much as before, now filling her to the brim.

As he pulls out, his cum starts to dribble out of Sana's used pussy. A thought enters her mind. And before she can actually think about it, she parts her cum stained lips.

"What would I need to do for one pair of these earrings your model wore earlier today?"

-----

Sorry for the long wait. I will be catching up with your requests now, which means they should come out one after another over the next weeks. The order on my masterlist is not the release order.

#ask #kpop #anon #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #twice #twice smut #sana twice #twice sana #sana minatozaki #sana smut #sana #authorhjk1shorts

[crybaby-bkg]

You try not to rustle the sheets too loudly when you sit up in bed. You rub at your eyes, frowning, as you tap at your phone screen to read the time. 3:26am, and you haven’t gotten the sleep you know you both need and deserve. you sigh quietly, sitting up against the headboard as you watch the dimmed colors pass on the tv.

“What’re you doing up?” A voice slurs to you from your left. You jump a little at the sudden gruff noise, before you deflate. You glance over to Bakugou, where he lays on his side, one crimson colored eye blinking up at you, before he yawns loud and wide, akin to a lion with his golden mane. You can’t help but rub gently at his cheek and jaw and neck, patting him once his eye flutters close at the warmth of your hands.

“Can’t sleep. You go back to bed, though.” You whisper to him, leaning down to peck at the corner of his mouth. You laugh under your breath when he frowns, hard and over dramatic. Silence passes on for a few minutes, with Bakugou’s frown slowly disappearing into a thin line, seemingly falling back asleep as your fingers continue to rub at his skin. Your quiet moment is interrupted though, when your stomach makes a whale-dying-classroom-interrupting-bomb-dropping noise. You don’t say anything, but blink down at Bakugou when he cracks his eye open again.

“You hungry?” He slurs once more, stretching a little in place as you run a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, but I don’t feel like getting up to fix anything, and we haven’t gone to the store yet to get some snacks, so,” you shrug to yourself, convincing yourself you’d fall asleep before the hunger pangs set in. It’s your turn to frown though, when Bakugou suddenly groans before rolling over and standing from the bed.

“Where are you going?" You ask him, afraid you and your loud stomach disturbed his rest too much. You watch how the muscle in his back ripple when he stretches again where he stands, guilty eyes tracking up his body when he looks at you from over his shoulder.

“To fix your hungry ass a midnight snack.” He tells you, finality lacing his voice as he starts stalking off to the kitchen in just his boxers before you can even answer.

“But it’s past midnight!” You call to him, scrambling up to put your slippers on as you try to keep up with his pace.

Bakugou doesn’t answer you by the time you make it to the kitchen, already boiling water, and dumping rice into the cooker. He’s pulling out different ingredients and knives and the cutting board, and it feels like too much to be so late, but you know if you try to speak up, he’ll only shoo you to bed until he’s finished. The only acknowledgment he gives you is when he turns, placing his hands on your underwear-clad hips and lifts you to sit on the counter behind him, pecking your lips once, twice, before he goes back over to the stove.

The next couple minutes go by gently, with quiet conversations about his most recent capture, about the paperwork you had to fill out, about Denki being an idiot, about Denki actually being a sweetheart, about eating all this damn food he’s cooking, about promising to clean your entire plate. The kitchens lights are low and dimmed, and it casts a soft glow on Bakugou’s high cheekbones and his pretty lashes and the sweet curve of his mouth when he grins at you.

And when the food finishes, you share a bowl, a respective fork for the each of you. Bakugou stands between your legs, chewing quietly and scolds for you to slow down when you eat too fast. He wipes away the rice from your mouth and you lick away the sauce from his chin. He grabs a water bottle from the fridge and lets you have the first sip, offers you the rest when you watch some of it dribble down his chin.

It’s a serene moment shared between the two of you, and when you’re both finished, he’s carrying you back to bed. Tells you that you better take your full ass to bed this time, and he doesn’t fall asleep until he hears your light snores first. Then, he can rest.

#this is directionless sorry #I’ve just been sad and really wanted to write a peaceful serene moment with him #I’m gonna go write the other draft I’ve had for a while and I might either upload it tonight too #or just wait until the morning idk #—new treat in the streets! 🍫 #bakugou treats! 🍬