#it’s the way you move and the little things you do//i can’t deny i’m falling for you
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contents: solomon x afab!reader, nsfw (+18), missionary, teasing (it’s sol, what did you expect), petnames (baby, darling apprentice)
whenever solomon has you in missionary, he always lays his length against your stomach first and makes you look, tracing with his hand to where his tip reaches.
he slaps his cock against your stomach a few times, smearing precum all over your skin as he grins at you.
“see that, baby? see how deep ‘m gonna go?” he asks, and you roll your eyes and wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer to you.
“please just stick it in already,” you complain, sick and tired of all his endless teasing. he huffs, yet he’s still grinning as he positions himself and purposely misses your entrance, instead running his length up and down your slick folds, before rubbing circles against your clit.
you whine and grip his arm, bucking your hips into him, unsatisfied with how empty you feel.
“please,” you say and pout, sending him the best pleading look you can muster and solomon coos at you, still running his dick up and down your folds.
“anything for my darling apprentice,” he finally says, and you melt into the sheets as he slips his tip in, shallowly thrusting in and out. the stretch is nice, but not nearly enough to send you reeling the way you know he can.
and you’re so fucking done with his teasing at this point that a frustrated whine leaves you as you glare daggers into him, brows furrowed, and a mean pout on your lips.
“i swear to god, sol, if you don’t properly fuck me within the next thirty seconds, then i’m going to lucif–“
you don’t even get to finish the demon's name before you gasp loudly and throw your head back against the sheets as solomon pushes his entire cock inside in one long thrust.
“oh!” you say as you’re stretched out around his hefty girth and solomon leans down to suck purple bruises into your skin.
“please, baby, you know no one fucks you like i do. not even your dear lucifer,” he says, and you grip his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin as you knit your brows and purse your lips. solomon rolls his eyes and shakes his head. he’s got one hand on your hip, the other finds your hand digging into his shoulder, and he slowly intertwines your fingers instead, pushing your hand down to the sheets. he looks down at the red marks on his skin and huffs at you.
“you’re so mean, baby,” he states, and you grind your hips up to meet his, desperately searching for some kind of friction.
“i’m sorry, sol, please,” you say, and a low whine leaves you when you feel his dick push deeper. he huffs and watches you struggle, a smile tugging on his lips.
“so desperate,” he murmurs. “tell me what you want, yeah?” he says, and you tug on his hand.
“please fuck me. i’m sorry, i only want you, please.”
and although solomon loves teasing you, loves having you underneath him like this, he can’t deny that he loves watching you fall apart on his cock more. his strokes are slow and hard. it's so intoxicating that you sometimes think he knows your body better than you do, always able to hit those spots you’re never able to reach yourself, making you see stars.
you’re arching your back as he repeatedly hits your g-spot in a way that makes you keen and cry out his name. he watches your every reaction with his hand on your hip, massaging your side.
the whole time he’s muttering praises to you, praising his darling apprentice for being able to take dick so well. such a perfect little thing you are, stretched so obscenely around his length. you whine at the praise, eyes rolling back, brain turning into mush, one hand tightly clutching his hand, the other moving up from his shoulder to his hair, pulling his sweaty bangs out of his eyes.
he flashes you a smile, and you return it with lidded eyes. “feels so good, sol, so good, oh, fuck me!” you choke out as his tip kisses your cervix and he huffs out a little laugh.
“baby, i am fucking you,” he teases, and he looks down to where you connected, groaning at the sight of a white ring forming around his base. the sound of your cunt gushing with arousal fills the room whenever he bottoms out, and he lets out a shaky breath.
“look at that, baby, your cunt practically speaks for itself," he laughs, and you whine, your hand in his hair moving to his chin, forcing him to look at your face instead.
"k– kiss me, please," you say, and he coos, immediately obliging to your request and kissing you softly. you moan into the kiss, and your legs begin to shake, feeling your high steadily approaching. solomon feels your walls clench around him and moves his hand from your hip to your clit, tracing little circles in the sensitive bud.
he swallows up your soft whines and moans before breaking the kiss and kissing along your jaw. “oh my– fuuuuck,” you whine when you cum, arching your back into him, and solomon’s pace stutters as you clench around him, practically choking his cock. your legs twitch and you dig your heels into his back in an attempt to keep them still.
solomon's not far behind you, feeling the pressure build in his gut, and he pushes your legs against your chest, practically folding you in half as he thrusts in and out, groaning at the way your slick cum gushes out around his shaft. you shake in his hold, crying out at the overstimulation, and he cums hard with the way your fluttering walls are milking him. he finishes inside, fucking his cum into you as he paints your walls white in long strings, before collapsing beside you, and allowing your legs to rest.
you both lay there for a while, catching your breaths, before solomon gets up. he looks at the way his cum flows out of you and teasingly pushes it in again with a finger. you gasp and grip his wrist, pulling him away from you.
"hey! 'm still sensitive don't do that!" you complain and he laughs, giving your cunt a final look, before saying goodbye to the godly sight and murmuring a small cleaning spell. both of your bodies, along with the sheets underneath you are instantly clean again and you sigh at the refreshing feeling.
he kisses your nose and lays down beside you, pulling the covers over the both of you as he spoons you. you melt into his arms, your body still slightly buzzing from your orgasm, before turning around and pressing your face into his bare chest. you kiss the various pact marks covering his body before moving up and kissing his face several times. his eyes are closed and he huffs, but he can't help but smile.
"go to sleep, please,"
"okay, old man,"
"old man who made your legs shake,"
"yeah, whatever."
#obey me#obey me smut#obey me shall we date#obey me solomon#obey me solomon smut#obey me swd#obey me x reader#obey me solomon x reader#obey me x mc#obey me solomon x mc#obey me x you#obey me solomon x you#obey me fanfic
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so like maybe white people don’t think i’m pretty beyond a fetish but at least i can listen to cree round dance songs and feel like the prettiest girl to ever exist
#louise.ndn#yeah it’s men singing about native women. but they think we’re pretty :3#UGH young spirit is so good. just found them and i loveeeeee their songs now#red rock woman makes me so happy and feel so pretty#falling for you :3#it’s the way you move and the little things you do//i can’t deny i’m falling for you#you been on my mind since i seen those pretty eyes//on that beautiful round dance night#ITS SO NATIVE#something about knowing that they’re talking about a native woman just makes me so happy. they mean beautiful brown eyes#and the way she moves during a round fance (can’t relate bc i’m the worlds worst round dancer)#and red skin girl by northern cree#beautiful smile/beautiful eyes/that’s a red skin girl/she’s so pretty/she’s so fine/red skin girl/i’ll love you all the time#IM A RED SKIN GIRL AND IM PRETTY ARGHFKGGG
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ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒
ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader x tommy miller
genre: smut, minors dni, no outbreak
word count: 2.7k
summary: joel knows you have a little thing for his younger brother so decides to indulge you for your birthday.
warnings: gonna state this very clearly: joel gets cucked by tommy and watches, everyone is consenting and it's discussed beforehand, piv, dirty talk, possessive!joel, daddy kink, size kink, established relationship between joel and reader, jealousy, some brotherly rivalry, facial, mild degradation kink, creampie
a/n: this work was commissioned through kofi by the lovely @losergurlsstuff, thank you so much for your support and thank you so much for this delicious idea, I had a blast! ❤️🔥
**gif made by the amazing @pedgito thank you so much dear!! dividers made my the talented @saradika-graphics 💜💜💜
Everything has been amazing since you and Joel started dating. To you, he was perfect. The perfect man. The perfect partner. The perfect person. You are forever grateful to whatever god made your roads cross. You have no idea what you’d be doing without him. You’ve never felt so cared for in your entire life. What he doesn’t say with words he shows with what he does and today is no exception.
“What do you want for your birthday?”
You smile and shake your head, his head is laying right above your stomach, his one hand under your shirt, caressing the warm skin. “I have everything I need.”
“Just tell me.”
“I really don’t want anything, Joel. Especially not from you.”
His hand on your skin stills, looking up, you giggle at the way he’s frowning. Shocked.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, you dork,” you lean and brush your lips against his forehead. “That you already give me everything. Being with you is enough.”
Joel’s eyes narrow. A pleasurable shudder rolls through your spine, you adore it when he looks at you like that. It reminds you of all the times you pushed his buttons, resulting in a delightful time.
“I have an idea what you might want.”
“And what’s that mister know-it-all?”
“Tommy.”
“W—What?” Your heart sinks to your stomach, your palms suddenly cold and sweaty. His younger brother’s name was the last thing you expected to hear. Joel spreads his fingers across your waist, gently, he squeezes.
“It’s a’right, sweetheart. I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot and well, I think it might be a good gift for your birthday.”
“I don’t understand.”
You genuinely don’t. Also, he’s been thinking about it? The inside of your stomach feels like lead. It’s true that once upon a time you thought how it would be with Tommy—but that was before Joel. And after you two started dating well. . . sure maybe your eyes did linger a bit, maybe you leaned a little too close when he whispered something in your ear during a party. . . You genuinely thought Joel wouldn’t notice.
“I haven’t asked him yet,” he says, thoughtful. “But I was thinkin’ of indulgin’ your curiosities.”
You‘re still not quite sure what he means by that. Your guilt gnaws at the walls of your stomach. Joel gives you everything, yet you make him feel like he doesn’t. Your eyes move away, falling to the corner of the wall. You can’t bear to look at him. He deserves better.
“Hey,” he says, hand cupping your jaw and pulling you back. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying.”
“You look like you’re about to,” he cracks a small smile. “I don’t mind, darlin’. It’s just a fantasy ain’t it? I know that you’re mine.”
“I am,” you say tearfully. “I am and always will be.”
“And I’m yours. I just want to spoil you as best as I can, sweetheart. And this seemed doable.”
“Why do you even think Tommy would agree to this?”
“Oh he will,” he says with a grin that makes your cheeks grow warm. “Don’t you worry that pretty head of yours.”
You nod but doubt still taints your expression. You don’t doubt Joel’s words, but no one can deny that this might be a bit odd. You’re not entirely sure Tommy will be on board. But you trust Joel, so you don’t question it.
Despite all the doubt, and tension in your muscles, excitement slowly brews deep within you.
“Joel, I’m not so sure about this.”
His head turns harshly to face his brother. There’s no way he’s backing out now, not when they were only inches away from the fucking bedroom door.
Then again, he does understand. He’s ain’t stupid. But Joel had seen the way Tommy looked at you, the way his eyes would do a subtle sweep and linger on your ass whenever you walked out of a room. “I ain’t gonna suddenly choke you out if that’s what got your feathers ruffled.”
Tommy shifts from one foot to the other. Joel’s not used to seeing his brother so deep in though. He fears that if he thinks a little harder he might break his brain. With a huff of breath escaping his lips, Joel throws a hand over Tommy’s shoulder and squeezes, drawing his attention.
“Look, I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told her, if at any point you decide you don’t wanna do this, just say so and we’ll stop. No one is gonna get offended.”
Tommy visibly relaxes at Joel’s words. He nods, lips a tight line. It reminds Joel when he taught him how to ride a bike when they were kids. He had the same expression.
“A’right then, now that that’s settled, let’s not keep her waitin’ anymore.”
Without warning he opens the door and pushes Tommy in. If it was any other situation Joel would’ve laughed at the way Tommy tripped over his own feet. But his attention is immediately dragged to the bed you’re perched on. His mouth waters. He knew you were going to get dressed, well undressed in this situation, but he hadn’t thought about what you would put on. Joel’s eyes briefly flicker to Tommy, he seems just as in shock. It’s hard not to be with what you’re wearing.
The fabric is a luxurious, deep blue, reminiscent of the darkest hours when the stars come out to play. The material is silky and smooth against the skin, offering a touch of elegance and comfort. And he would know. It’s his favorite damn set. Shimmering sparkles that adorn the fabric, mimic the stars scattered across the night sky. These sparkles catch the light of the scented candle you’ve lit, creating a subtle and enchanting glow.
Joel gradually meets your gaze. As soon as he does he knows you’ve done it on purpose. His lips quirk up, amusement growing in his eyes, you’d pay for this little stunt.
“Wow,” Tommy exhales and takes a step forward. “You look amazin’ sweetheart.”
You seem a little out of breath already, it’s going to be fun to watch you crumble. Though Joel isn’t quite sure how he feels about his brother being the one doing it.
“Thanks,” you answer, unsure.
There’s a lingering tension in the air and Joel almost rolls his eyes at them both. Almost.
“A’right then,” he pushes Tommy until he’s at the edge of the bed and takes a seat on the chair he brought in this morning. “Stop bein’ shy now. Tommy, you’re her gift, are you sure you want to be the person responsible for her havin’ a shit birthday?”
Tommy’s chest raises, “N-No.”
“Then what are you waitin’ for?”
“Jesus Joel, it’s not like I'm bringin’ her a new plant, give us a second.”
Joel grins at the way he snaps and Tommy only shakes his head, turning to you and finally focusing on the right thing. You.
Tommy tenderly presses both palms on each side of your face, thumbs moving in circles. Your nipples are already hard, he can see them like little diamonds showing up through the fabric. His fingers twitch. Patience isn’t something that he has, but he’ll try. For you.
Your lips part with a soft gasp as Tommy finally brings you in, their lips brushing before full-on pressing against one another. Joel doesn’t miss the way your chest heaves. Your hands fist his shirt and Tommy tilts his head in response, Joel hears your little moans, his own cock gradually hardening under his jeans.
Fuck, you look too good in that lingerie set. It’s hard just to sit and watch.
“Take off his shirt,” Joel grunts, sounding more cross than he intended. You nod, but not without giving him a wary look first. When Tommy’s shirt hits the floor, the younger Miller roughly grabs your chin and turns your head so you’re facing Joel. His spine straightens.
“You ain’t the one given’ orders,” Tommy says. “If you want me to make her feel good, you’re goin’ to shut up and watch, understood?”
Joel’s mouth goes dry but he nods anyway. His eyes narrow as Tommy’s smile grows, his hand slips between your legs and begins to stroke you through your panties. Joel’s breath hitches, his gaze landing where you grow wetter and wetter.
“Who’s in charge baby, tell him.”
Your hips grind down to his hand, “You are.”
“Well that wasn’t much of a challenge,” he chuckles, eyes finding Joel’s again. “Don’t you think you’re bad girl sayin’ that in front of your daddy?”
Heat rushes to Joel’s cheeks, crimson spreading from his chest to his face. He wasn’t expecting Tommy to know that. A tingle he hasn’t felt before spreads from the base of his spine. His jealousy is starting to brew, but at the same time, it feels oddly nice to be helpless, even though he knows he isn’t.
“Answer my question,” Tommy commands, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Are you a bad girl?”
“Y–Yes.”
Your eyes roll when Tommy presses your clit, drawing rough circles, he smiles. “Tell your boyfriend who’s your daddy now?”
Joel holds his breath. Beads of sweat coating his back. “You are,” he hears you say to Tommy. There’s a slight quiver to your bottom lip and every part of him wants to soothe you.
But instead, his brother does.
Tommy sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and kisses your deeply, his hands caressing the contour of your body.
“Don’t worry,” Tommy says. “Daddy is goin’ to take care of you.”
You’re about to lose your mind. Your body is a flame and with each devastating snap of Tommy’s hips, your mouth drops open with a guttural moan. You’ve always assumed he’d be a gentle lover. Though you have a sneaking suspicion that Joel’s presence might be a solid reason why he’s tearing you and building you up over and over again.
He positioned you so you’re staring at nothing else but Joel, you see how hard he is under his pants, the outline of his cock visible and making you gush all over Tommy’s cock. You want him in your mouth so bad but you know this isn’t that kind of game. Joel’s eyes follow the sway of your breasts, your bra ripped from you a while ago. You were completely naked except for your panties—Joel’s favorite and now Tommy is fucking you in it.
Tommy reaches forward and grabs your throat, pulling you up so more of your chest is exposed. His cock is bigger than you imagined, nearly big as Joel. He pounds into you mercilessly, his length stretching you every day, reminding you whose cock is tearing you apart.
“Does it turn you on that he’s watchin’ how wet you’re gettin’ my dick sweetheart?” With his question another fresh wave of slick drips out of you, tears build in your eyes, your insides left throbbing. His hips stutter, going balls deep, breath catching in his throat. “Fuck. Joel, she’s soaked— does she ever get this wet for you?”
“‘Course she does,” he grunts, crossing his arms. You can’t tell if he’s upset or not, but the fact that Tommy doesn't have a broken nose already must be a good sign.
Tommy leans into your ear, loud enough for Joel to hear. “Bet the old man can’t fuck you as well as I do.”
You don’t answer. You can’t. Both of them are so good at this, and your head is in shambles.
Tommy suddenly stops, and you’re a brink away from breaking down. A whine tears away from your lips. He releases your neck, you fall forward, only upright thanks to his hands holding your arms. “Answer me.”
“You’re making me feel so good,” you say instead and thankfully, he doesn’t try to gauge a different response. His cock pulses, making you believe that was all he wanted to hear. Joel observes the two of you carefully.
“Say it again baby, tell him how well daddy’s taking care of you.”
“Daddy’s taking care of me,” you slur as his pace begins to pick up again. Each thrust makes you squeeze his cock like a vice. Liquid heat drops down your spine, your stomach clenching as he edges you closer and closer to your downfall. “J–Joel,” you call out without much thought and his dark gaze meets your own. “He feels so good.”
“Oh fuck—” Tommy chokes and swiftly pulls out, prompting you to let out a disappointed whine. “Shit, baby, I’m gonna— fuck— bring your face here—”
The back of Tommy’s head falls against the headboard and you quickly hurry towards him, your glistening cunt now in perfect view. You hear Joel taking in a sharp exhale. You part your lips, dipping down to take Tommy into your mouth but he stops it, holding you by the nape. “I’m gonna ruin that pretty face of yours,” he groans, forcing you down so your cheek would be pressed right below his pelvis. He starts stroking himself, fucking into his fist, and the sight is so beautiful that you lick one of his balls into your mouth, his back arches.
Suddenly, he grips you even tighter and starts moaning loudly in harsh gasps, his hips thrusting uncontrollably against your face. He closes his eyes, losing himself in the sensation of you. You can feel him pulsing against your skin. You moan in response, feeling the rush of excitement as you open your mouth wider to take it all in.
“Tommy, please,” you breathe out, your eyes locked with his as he releases a stream on your face, covering your cheeks and lips with his release. You can feel yourself growing even more aroused as he continues to stroke himself, coating your face with his warm come. You whimper, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine as he lets out a final raspy breath.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathes out, his chest rising and falling heavily as he stares at you, your face damp and covered in his release. “You look so beautiful like this.”
You can feel your cheeks heating up, the intimate moment causing your heart to race in your chest. Tommy reaches out, gently wiping some of the come off of your face with his thumb before bringing it to your lips, letting you taste yourself.
“Fuck,” Tommy murmurs, his breaths coming out in short pants. He pulls you up to him, his lips crashing onto yours in a fierce kiss. However, while you’re lost in his mouth, you don’t realize the bed dipping with an added weight. You hear a clink of a belt and suddenly Joel is buried deep between your legs, his fingers rubbing tight circles around your clit. You gasp against Tommy’s mouth, the sensations becoming almost too much to handle.
“You didn’t make her come, idiot,” he groans, fucking himself into your deeper and deeper. Your eyes roll, your lips parting an inch away from Tommy’s face. Joel sinks his teeth into your neck, hips rutting into you without leaving you. His other hand playing with the elastic of your panties, you break down around him, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. “Mine,” he growls, acting as if the two of you are alone. “Mine, mine, mine—”
Joel spills into you with a deep and visceral groan. There’s so much, his cock twitching and pulsing as he forces himself even deeper, claiming you as his. Doing something Tommy isn’t allowed to do. You shiver all over, your body weak with pleasure.
He trickles down the inside of your thighs as he pulls out, falling back to his knees. You collapse onto Tommy’s chest and you’re surprised when you feel his hand on your neck, rubbing soothingly over your warm skin.
Joel leaves a trail of kisses down your spine, “You were amazin’, honey.”
“Such a good girl,” Tommy murmurs, though both of their voices feel as if it’s coming from a distance. Your eyes flutter closed, exhaustion taking hold of you. “Let’s get her cleaned up and tuck her in.”
Joel presses his mouth against you one last time before heading to the bathroom.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x f!reader#tommy miller x reader#tommy miller x fem!reader#tommy miller x f!reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfic#tommy miller smut#joel miller x reader x tommy miller#hbo the last us fanfic#tlou fanfic#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal characters fanfiction
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Whipped for their tutor II: A Reward
Mattheo, Theo and Enzo
Tutoring the Slytherin boys isn’t easy, so you use the fact that they’re absolutely whipped as a way to motivate them.
Find part one here, but you don’t have to read it. There’s not that much plot.
Warning: suggestive and a little bit of smut
This took longer than necessary just because it took me a week to come up with something for Enzo. Also, little announcement, I'm gonna mix requests instead of work chronological because I'm struggling with inspiration and I wanna write things I can instead of stay stuck on the things I can't, because I'm short on time atm, but I should get to all of them eventually. Happy readings! Have a lovely weekend!
“Mate, quidditch practice, remember?” Blaise’s face appears by the door as he looks at his friend.
Mattheo
He looks up from his book and nods at Blaise. “Right, I gotta go.” Mattheo says, turning to face you as he slams his book shut.
“Your work isn’t finished yet.” You state and meet his eyes, a small smile tugging on your lips as you play to win this situation. Mattheo looks at Blaise and back to you, he smiles at your silly comment, quidditch was way more important than studying. “I can’t miss quidditch training.” Mattheo argues.
You pout and your teasing eyes lock with his. Blaise notices Mattheo’s face going red, but what Blaise doesn’t know is that it’s because your hand is resting on Mattheo’s crotch. Softly your hand moves and you feel his member twitch. Such a sensitive boy. “On second thought,” Mattheo’s voice comes out almost squeaky and he forces a cough to regain compose “I’m not allowed to play the game if I don’t pass tomorrow’s test so I better study.”
Blaise knows better than to ask questions and simply nods before leaving. “Such a good student.” The words drip off your lips as Mattheo’s eyes land on your lips. “If you put in a few more hours of studying then you’ll nail tomorrow’s test. And Matty, if you get an A I’ll give you a little reward.” Your words are a seductive whisper and you know you’re doing it right when you feel Mattheo get harder. Your hand moves over the bulge in his pants and like the good student Mattheo is, his eyes fall from you to the pages of his summary.
You notice his blush and his hard swallow. He was trying his best to focus, but struggling with hardness in his pants and your hand. Seeing him like this, you couldn’t deny it, it turned you on a little as well. He was so fun to play with. “Maybe it’s best I let you study alone for today.” You whisper close to his ear and his puppy eyes meet yours. He doesn’t want you to leave. “I feel you’re … a little distracted.” You say lips almost brush his ear as your hand strokes him member one last time before moving away. “Good luck.” You say and you kiss his cheek, staining his face with your lipstick. Maybe she didn’t notice… Mattheo stares down at his crotch. Who am I kidding! Why am I so sensitive to her? Salazar, she drives me crazy!
***
Mattheo was really excited when the professor returned his test a few days later. When he spotted you talking to your friend in the hallway that same day he wanted to offer you his test but worried he would look like a fool he decided against it, cursing himself for being so needy for you. He needed your praise, he thought about it almost every night, but his ego kept him from begging for it.
So he eagerly waited for the next tutoring session and his eagerness was obvious to you since he was early. You walk into the classroom and are surprised to find Mattheo seated with his books out on the table. When he sees you walk in he gets up and smiles at you and you can’t help but smile at how whipped he is. “I got an A.” He blurs out before you even get the chance to sit down. You lick your lips and Mattheo feels his face heat up. Salazar, I sound desperate. I can’t even think with her around. You take a step closer to him and you lean suggestively close. Mattheo tries to meet your lips but you teasingly avoid the kiss. You chuckle softly, making him flustered, moving to whisper in his ear. “What did you think your reward would be?”
Mattheo swallows and his eyes lock with yours. “You.” He breathes, not hiding his desire for you. While waiting for you in this classroom filled with sexual tension Mattheo’s mind and body had gone wild with anticipation for what his reward could be. Every possible fantasy of the past weeks had shot through his mind as he had waited for you, for his reward. “You think that you can have me because you had one good test?” You raise an eyebrow. “An A+.” He specifies and he immediately feels embarrassed by how pathetic he must sound, trying to impress you with his grades. However, he manages to snap out of his embarrassment and regains some of his composure. With a slight teasing tone to his voice he speaks up. “You said I would get a reward.” He does his best to sound confident and you’re almost impressed by how good he sells it.
Your hand moves over his chest and lower, pressing your chest against his. “Well, as a reward you don’t have to pretend like you’re not rock hard, you can take care of yourself.” He’s baffled. His mouth opens to say something but nothing comes out. “Sit.” You command and he does so without thinking. You sit down as well and slowly unbuckle his belt, knowing that you’ll find his cock hard once again. “Now, there, treat yourself.” You say almost mocking him. His eyes stay focused on yours as his hand slowly and hesitantly moves towards his member. Your eyes meet his and you feel yourself drawn to his pretty eyes. You lean in and Mattheo’s eyes fall to your lips as his hand slowly strokes his dick. He was so turned on by you, but he barely dared to make a move, afraid that you would reject him if he didn’t play it right.
Almost brushing his lips you halt and let your eyes fall down to his hand jerking his rather large size. You let your hand rest on his thigh, making him bite his lip. “You’re quite impressive.” You whisper and Mattheo grips his cock a little hard. You loved how needy he was for your praise, for you, but he hated how much control you had over him.
Theodore
You sit opposite of Theo and don’t see Blaise, but still roll your eyes. How dare he interrupt your tutoring session. Obviously your tutoring was more important than quidditch. Theo gathers his papers and you tilt your head, when he looks up at Blaise to say something you quickly move your leg. Theodore’s eyes widen as your elegant heels move between his thighs. Your tongue slowly wets your lips as the slytherin’s eyes meet yours. You notice how his chest heaves and you have to keep yourself from smirking, but you play it professional and look at him through your lashes. Blaise coughs as he waits for a response from his friend. “I can’t.” Theodore finally answers, but there’s a hint of reluctance in his voice. He hated giving into you, but he just could not help himself. He needed to stay and see if he had a chance with you.
Blaise nods and disappears, making you smile proudly at Theodore. You don’t say anything and remove your high heels from between Theo’s legs, making him relax a bit. When he doesn’t return his attention to his pages but rather continues to stare at you, you get up from your seat and walk over to him. Your hands rest on his shoulder, massaging them gently before letting your hands slip down under his loosened shirt to his chest. “You really need to pass that transfiguration test so you better focus.” Your taunting whisper makes Theo lick his lip as his mind wanders to all the things he would rather do than focus.
When you still don’t get the right response you lean down so your lips brush his ear. “Be a good student. I like good students. If you work through all chapters by tonight you might earn yourself a reward.” You let a hand rest just above his belt as your other hand grabs his chin, making him face you. “Can you do that for me?” You're toying with him and he knows it, but he wants to be your toy so badly. The last bit of protest within Theo disappears and he nods. You let go of his pretty face and he returns to his summary.
“If you’ve finished your summary, come find me so I can check it for you.” You say and quickly grab your stuff. “You’re leaving?” Theodore blurs and he gets flustered by how desperate he sounded. You chuckle. “Yes, I do things outside of tutoring, but you can come and find me in my dorm when your summary is done.” You turn on your heels and he watches your beautiful figure disappear, but as soon as you’re out of sight he starts working on his summary, eager to have it finished and see you again.
***
A knock on the door has you turn your head. Before you can say anything the door slowly opens to reveal Theodore and you smile when he shows you a small bundle of papers. “My summary.” He states still not entering your room, but rather leaning against the doorframe waiting for permission to enter. Theodore knew better than to go into a girl’s room without her invitation. He learned that from Pansy, the hard way. You're amused by his good behaviour and get up from your seat to take his summary. You flip through the pages and Theo watches you with anticipation. Your hair fell perfectly, your eyes were engaged with his sloppy handwriting and ever so gently you bit your plush bottom lip. He was about to adore the rest of your body, but you speak up and meet his eyes. “This is actually really thorough. I’m impressed.” A smug smile forms on Theodore lips, but as smug as he tries to act he’s blushing as well, touched by your compliment on his work.
“If you put your mind to it, Theodore, you can get much better grades.” You continue and Theo chuckles. “I’m just rarely motivated, but you changed that.” You're surprised by his confidence, but you can’t deny that you like it. “Someone’s after his reward.” You quip and Theodore feels himself heat up. It was obvious there was no need to deny it, he wanted you and you both knew it. “You promised.” Theo says as he leans his head back a little in an attempt to look nonchalant about the whole situation.
You lay the papers down on your desk and side eye him before nodding as a silent invitation to enter, which he quickly does. He closes the door by pressing his back against his, eyes never leaving your body. His hungry eyes make you chuckle. “Just out of curiosity, what do you think you’re going to get for doing something as basic as writing a summary?” You elegantly walk over to him and seductively trace a finger over his chest. “I want a chance to dig my face between your legs.” Theo’s determined voice in combination with that phrase has your eyes widen. There’s a moment of silent tension as you stare deep into his eyes. “Don’t disappoint.” You tell him as you move your hand to his shoulder to guide him down to his knees.
Enzo
Your eyes slowly move from Blaise to Enzo who smiles bright at his friend, but shakes his head no. “Can’t, mate, I really gotta finish this or I won’t play at all.” Your eyes get all shiny when the slytherin’s eyes fall back to the books in front of him. When Blaise is far enough not to hear anything going on you scoot a little closer to Enzo. “I must say, I’m impressed at how dedicated you are to our tutoring sessions.” Enzo looks up to see your sweet smile focussed on him and he has to keep himself from drooling as his mouth parts a little. You purse your lips to keep yourself from laughing at how lost he is, staring at you. Eventually a soft laugh does escape your lips. “You know, if you keep studying like this you might get a reward.” Now Enzo’s jaw drops a little more and you can’t resist putting a finger under his chin to close his mouth.
You hadn’t said anything about what this reward would be, but he sure as hell wasn’t thinking about cookies, then again neither were you. “If you work hard like the good boy you are, I’ll treat you to something sweet.” Lorenzo was unsure if it was your honey voice or the way you softly bit your lip, but his pants suddenly felt a little tighter and his heart was racing at an unhealthy pace.
***
For weeks Enzo Berkshire had been the perfect student. Always on time for his tutoring lessons, working from start to finish, engaged with his work and his grades showed it. Yet the praise from the teachers or even the girls in his class, it all left him cold because he was only after one thing and that was the sweet reward you had promised him. Striptease, lapdance, blowjob, sex… just a piece of lingerie would be fine. Next lesson, probably… However, you had kept him waiting. Since there was never an exact agreement on when he would receive his reward, Enzo was left to guess and hope every week that this would be it. You on the other hand benefited from waiting for two reasons: Lorenzo was incredibly motivated and Lorenzo was insanely cute when he tried hinting at his reward, not really daring to ask for it.
You were surprised by how long he had played along, but he really couldn’t keep it to himself any longer. He was exploding of desire for you and the thought of getting anything from you as reward drove him mad. So he had to ask. Though the question didn’t come as a surprise, the timing was.
You were explaining the importance of distance when using certain conjurations, when Enzo suddenly spook up. “I work hard. I’m a good student. I deserve my reward. I deserve you.” Your eyes move from the page you were pointing at to see a blushing Enzo stare at you. You sit a little straighter and Enzo swallows, terrified that his impatience had caused him to screw up with the prettiest witch to ever walk the earth. “What do you mean with that last bit, ‘I deserve you’?” A nervous chuckle leaves Lorenzo’s lips and he even starts fidgeting with his fingers, making you raise an eyebrow. He went from demanding daddy to whipped mamma’s boy real fast. “What I meant to say was… uhm… I deserve whatever you give me. I just forgot a few words there.” You smile at his nonsensical answer and react with a serious tone. “Exactly.”
With a flick of your wrist the door slams shut and Enzo’s eyes stick to the classroom door as he realises he’s now completely alone in a room with you. While his face heats up, his blood rushes down. “You were cute trying to be all demanding.” You say as you move from your seat, Enzo watching you carefully. “I didn’t mean to come off too strong. I was just really excited for this-.” The teasing smile tugging on your lips when he said the word ‘exciting’ has Enzo falling silent. With another flick of your wrist Enzo’s chair turns towards you and he stares at you like a deer caught in headlights. “No doubt you’re excited.” You whisper, referring to the bulge in his pants. He feels like he’s about to lose consciousness when you slowly go down on your knees in front of him. He doesn’t move and he almost forgets to breathe as your perfect hands unbuckle his belt.
Him moving up to help you lower his pants was instinct, because you had turned his mind to mush, his eyes drowning in yours. As soon as you start jerking his dick his moans fill the room, making you wonder what sounds he’ll make once you have him in your mouth.
Whimpers, is what filled the room when your tongue teased his tip, and cries when you finally move to take his member deep. You had him begging in a matter of seconds and you loved the control as much as you were starting to love Enzo.
#slytherin#slytherin boys#theodore nott#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x reader#enzo berkshire#enzo berkshire imagine#enzo berkshire x reader#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#papercorgiworldwritings
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one — the aftermath
mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader
⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to.
when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.
masterlist — next
word count. 1.9k
content. profanity, talks of sex
Breakups suck, there’s no denying that. Especially when the breakup in question is with someone you thought was the love of your life. Someone you thought felt the same way about you.
When the breakup turns into some big revelation that you are in fact a fool for even believing in love in the first place—well, it’s safe to say that it doesn’t feel good.
But you know what makes a breakup even worse? Hearing that the person you broke up with has started dating someone new. Two weeks after your split.
“He doesn’t deserve you,” Nobara declares as she stabs a slice of meat with her fork and shoves it in her mouth. Through a mouthful of food, she tells you, “I know friends aren’t supposed to say that kind of shit immediately after a breakup, but it’s true! He sucked!”
“He did not suck,” you tell her, and you know this is true. You remember just six months ago, Nobara was singing his praises, so glad that you were finally being “treated like the princess you are,” so you don’t really believe her sudden shift in perspective. “It just didn’t work out. It’s no big deal.”
Maki frowns at you, pointing her fork in your direction as she speaks. “Any guy who starts dating someone new two weeks after a breakup doesn’t deserve to be respected,” she says. “Slander him, babe. He deserves it.”
You can’t help but laugh as your two friends agree with one another, pointing out all the little things about your ex that they found “slightly off,” and how you’re so strong, how you’ll get through this like it’s nothing. You’re sure that when you met them in freshman year, you didn’t expect your friendship to turn into this, but you’re glad it has.
“So who’s the girl?” you ask as the conversation lulls.
“I don’t know,” they both answer in unison.
You roll your eyes. “You’re terrible liars.”
They look at each other for a moment. Nobara raises a brow, Maki shakes her head. Maki raises a brow, Nobara shrugs. They both sigh.
“It’s Kimi,” Maki tells you.
“The cheerleader?”
“Yeah.”
You prod a stray grain of rice on your plate then nod. “Okay,” you say. “Figured he’d go for someone like her.”
“He doesn’t deserve you,” Nobara says again.
You chuckle. “So I’ve heard.”
“Does it bother you?” Maki asks. Her tone is careful. She’s probably worried you’ll burst into tears or throw a fit.
“No,” you tell her simply. “It’s fine. He can do whatever he wants.”
You notice how they seem to breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe they’ve finally convinced themselves that you’re fine. You’re okay.
The three of you finish with your lunch and clear up the table. It’s become tradition for the two of them to show up at your apartment on Saturdays to eat together, mainly because you actually have a table to eat at. You also often have more than enough food to spare, what with your mother constantly sending care packages and your neighbor being an old woman who likes cooking enough food for an army.
It’s nice, these days you get to spend with your friends, and you’ve found that it’s been a real comfort these last two weeks. You’d never admit it out loud, but the breakup has been hard on you. More than it probably should be. Aside from the fact that you find yourself alone more often now, you’re also constantly reminded of his absence. And, boy, is it a terrifying thing to remember.
“Are you heading to training?” Maki asks, drying her hands on a towel. “I can drop you off if you don’t wanna drive.”
You shake your head. “It’s fine,” you tell her. “Someone’s picking me up.”
“One of the girls?”
“Nah,” you say. “Sukuna.”
Nobara snorts as she places the last dish on the drying rack. “You sure his driver’s license isn’t suspended?”
You whack her shoulder with the dish towel in your hands. She yelps exaggeratedly and you laugh, apologizing as you rub her arm. “He’s really a good guy though,” you say. “You’re just way too hard on him.”
“Uh-huh,” Maki says, unconvinced as she crosses her arms and leans against the counter. “So the fact that he’s fucked half of the girls on campus is just a thing he does on the side.”
“Since when were you such a prude?” you ask, lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Just last week, you were all ‘everyone deserves the right to fuck.’”
Maki wags her finger at you. “This isn’t about being a prude,” she tells you. “The guy uses girls for his own pleasure. I just don’t see how you can be friends with him.”
“Well, I’ve known ‘the guy’ since high school. He really isn’t that bad,” you say. “And he only ever fucks people who want to be fucked, so I don’t see what the problem is.”
You’ve got a point there, Maki realizes, so she bounces on her toes and says, “Okay.” Then, “I’m still judging him though, but out of respect for you, I will do so in secret.”
You nudge her with your shoulder and chuckle. “I hear you though,” you tell her. “But trust me. He’s not a bad guy.”
“Where’s my kiss?”
“I will rip your balls off.”
Sukuna smirks at you as you hop into the passenger seat. His car is a mess, like it usually is, with old, disintegrating Slurpee cups and Monster cans littering the dashboard, receipts scattered on the floor, and what you suspect is a midterm with a big red C- stuffed into the open glove compartment.
You pick a half-empty bag of popcorn from your seat before sitting down. “This thing is gross, ‘Kuna,” you tell him, grimacing. “You should really get rid of all your trash at least.”
He sticks his tongue out at you and puts the car in gear. “What was that?” he says as he backs out of the parking slot. “‘Thank you for driving me, Kuna! I owe you a big favor!’ Oh, yeah, definitely, tiger.”
“You owe me,” you point out, pulling your seatbelt on. “Need I remind you how many times I’ve had to drive you home from a party because you were wasted? Do I need to show you the pictures to jog your memory?”
“You are so mean,” he tells you. “How are you gonna get a husband with a mouth like that?”
You scoff. “Please,” you say. “My mouth is exactly why they’d marry me in the first place.”
Sukuna gags, pretending to vomit into his mouth. “Aren’t girls supposed to be all shy and quiet about that sort of thing?” he says. Then, his eyes light up in faux realization. “Oh, right! You’re not a girl. You’re some sort of monster that ate the real you.”
You reach over and flick his forehead before slumping back in your seat. When the car stops at a red light, his face charges towards yours, attempting to lick your cheek. You manage to push him away with the palm of your hand before he does.
“Eyes on the road, fuckhead,” you tell him, giggling as his face twists in disappointment. “You got plans later?”
“Yeah,” he says, smirking. “A blonde and a brunette. You know. The usual.”
You make a face. “You’re such a pig, you know that, right?”
“I prefer to think of myself as a connoisseur of sexual deviancy.”
“I feel so bad for the girls who fall for that.”
He beams. “Oh, I wouldn’t be. They like it just as much as I do.”
You shake your head in amusement and fold your arms over your chest, leaning your head against the window. You’re a few minutes away from the gym, the car already passing through the familiar grounds of the campus.
You pass by the steps of the science building. The place where it happened.
“We broke up,” you find yourself telling Sukuna quietly. “Two weeks ago.”
He’s silent for a moment. You can already tell he’s contemplating either listening to you and letting you vent or, well, murder.
“I figured,” he says eventually.
You peel your head away from the window and raise a brow at him. “How?”
He glances at you, as if to check that you’re okay. When he’s sure that you’re not upset or anything, he nods and says, “For one, you’re hanging out with me. If I remember correctly, Mr. Perfect doesn’t exactly like me.”
You scrunch your nose up. “That’s not true,” you tell him. And when he gives you a look like, Riiiiiight, you relent and say, “Fine. But that never stopped me from spending time with you.”
“Sure it did.”
You furrow your brows. “Don’t tell me you were jealous.”
“Sure I was.” He grins at you. “But enough about my feelings—because, ew, gross, feelings, yuck. What happened? Why’d you break up?”
You open your mouth to explain, but you realize you don’t exactly have the words to talk about it just yet. Whenever Maki and Nobara asked, you just gave them some vague reason and they knew not to press. If you said the same thing to Sukuna, you know he’d call you on your bullshit, and you don’t think you’re ready to confront “the truth” just yet.
He probably notices your hesitation, so he says, “You don’t have to tell me. I’m just curious.”
You smile at him. “Thanks.”
“‘Course, tiger,” he says. The car pulls up in front of the gym and he turns to look at you. As much as you two tease each other, you know that you can always count on each other when things aren’t exactly good. “I do have one question though that you’re required to answer.”
“What?”
“If I see him, do I punch him or run him over with my car?”
You groan and swat his arm. “Don’t you dare do anything,” you say, reaching over to grab your tennis bag from the backseat. “I mean it, ‘Kuna.”
“Hey, no one breaks up with my best friend and gets away with it,” he says. “So what will it be? Vehicular manslaughter or straight up murder?”
You frown at him. He matches your frown. You smile. “You know, a grown man probably shouldn’t be calling anyone his best friend,” you say, opening the car door. You get out and lean your head in through the window. “Thanks for driving me.”
He waves it off. “You can thank me by buying me dinner,” he tells you. “Text me when you’re done with training. I’ll pick you up.”
“I thought you had plans tonight,” you say, tilting your head to the side as you step away from the car.
“Text me when you’re done,” he repeats, and he drives away before you can say another word.
You watch as his car turns a corner and disappears. He might not be a bad guy, but he sure is strange.
Sliding your tennis bag over your shoulders, you start your trek to the court. You haven’t been to training in a while, only dragged here by your coach reminding you of your scholarship. You’re a little nervous to be back, but it’s really—
And that’s when you see him.
There, standing outside the doors to the gym, just as you remember him.
Satoru, the love of your life, kissing another girl.
Maybe you really aren’t fine at all.
notes. trying to contain my excitement for this series but it's not working!!!!! hope you guys enjoy it as much as i do <3
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the last days of judas iscariot — luke castellan + reader : betrayal hurts the saints the most.
tags : mdni, dark!luke, angry kissing, religious imagery & symbolism, body worship, angst and smut, love confessions, p in v sex, corruption kinks, implied blood kink, hints of cannibalism
there was something off about luke castellan.
he used to be caring, sweet and selfless— he did everything for the people around them, offered them smiles even if it was difficult on his lips, did anything to ease their pain, built himself up into a saint. but eventually, saints will fall, whether it be their own doing, or a martyrdom.
this was no martyrdom, he was not crucified, strung up on an olive tree, nor stoned.
this was a conscious decision that nobody else, besides his own self, would understand. it was so, so unlike him, luke was never one to betray the people around him, well, at least he didn’t portray himself that way. if you really knew luke, you’d know how much he hated the gods, he felt as though he was a despicable creation of theirs, and he’ll return the same despising looks.
but the story starts days before that, luke was as he always was. he offered you a smile from across the training field, and you returned it full - heartedly, waving at him. he moves to approach you, ignoring his sparring partner, “hey, do you need a partner?”
you glance around for a second, “don’t you already have one?”
his lips curve to a smirk, “i’d rather be with you.”
luke castellan had a thing for flirting with you, even if he was just being a tease, and didn’t entirely mean what he said— sometimes you thought he didn’t, or he never did, but in all honesty, he meant everything.
he admired you beyond proper comprehension, and you did the same with him. having been friends for years, it was no shock when your gazes would linger on each other for longer than they should, when he would do anything to make you smile even if it costs him his reputation.
on the first day, luke was as he always was, confident, grinning and sweet.
then the second day came, and luke’s smiles began to fade faster, he looked more tired, there was a certain mournful air that clung to his skin and radiated off of him. you picked up on it immediately, frowning at him and pulling him off to the side even when he was busy, “are you okay?”
“what?” his saliva feels thick in his mouth, like globs of nectar that feel poisonous underneath their sweet skin.
“i said— luke, what’s going on?“ you can’t deny how he seems to be out of order on everything, he was even fighting angrier, too, with a revengeful glint in his eye.
“i really, really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“yes, you do.”
and it only got weirder from there, on the third day, he looked straight up exhausted, like he hadn’t slept the past two nights, and now he was being told to take a break from sword fighting because of how rough he was being. smiles were common from him now but cut off quick, and laughs became rare. he wasn’t trying to make anyone else around him smile or laugh, and he always just looked angry, guilty angry.
when you waved at him, he didn’t wave back, nor approach you.
he didn’t want to speak to anyone, so he just didn’t talk.
he’s suffering from something, you just don’t know what, and whenever you asked him, he shrugged it off with, “i’m just tired.”
“i know, you look really tired, luke, do you need melatonin?”
his teeth grit together, and the taste of nectar in his mouth had disappeared, now it was all just bitter poison, “i need to be left alone.”
“luke—“
“please leave me be.”
if anyone were to ask you now, they’d know you regret leaving that night, not forcing him to speak about it with you. the next night, another camper told you about what luke had done, and you hate the way you don’t feel entirely shocked, not even a little bit, not even at all.
luke castellan had a fig tree branching out in front of him, so many possibilities, so many stories to be told, and yet his fingers wrapped around the only rotten fruit on the whole ripe tree. two thousand years ago, there was a man exactly like luke, one who went by the name judas, and in luke’s complete distaste of the bible and anything to do with it— he found himself undeniably following the same path of the man who betrayed jesus.
“ i desire the things
that will destroy me
in the end ”
— sylvia plath.
it was a bad idea to seek out luke that night, you knew it well, and luke knew it too when he frowned at you almost immediately after seeing you. he was still in the woods, only alone now, closer to the shore, closer to the riper fig that called his name— the one labeled captain.
“why are you here?“ his tone is sharper, harsher, but you don’t shy away.
“why’d you do it?” you watch him visibly swallow at the question, as if he doesn’t want to answer it, even when it’s on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason it would hurt to say out loud.
he bites the bullet, “you know— the gods, they’re awful, don’t you think they deserve this?“
“is that where your heart lies?” the question seems to scorch his skin more than the last, because it’s just a continuous waking to what he’s truly done, how the prophecy haunts him even in his desperate attempts to evade it.
“i’ve suffered enough, because of them, because of him— so yes, that is where it lies.”
“you think your suffering is just a one way street?” you pester, anger bubbling in your veins— this was selfish, entirely selfish, he was never the selfless man you once knew, this wasn’t the luke you knew, “it’s not, it wasn’t— you had the chance, luke, to deprive yourself from it.”
“are you just here to lecture me?” luke’s jaw locks.
“why are you being like this?”
luke’s eyebrow twitches, as if he’s mentally debating saying it out loud, but albeit all odds, his lips part, “why don’t you ask that guy you’ve been hanging out with?”
“what?” it’s hard to realize certain things when you’ve been so focused on one person, you were so caught up on your fears for luke you didn’t even realize that the whole time you were thinking of him, you were blatantly speaking with another man in front of his eyes.
to the trained eye, they’d know you never had any real feelings for the man you spoke with, but luke was too blinded by his own guilt and resentment that he didn’t realize it himself. it was a wild string of miscommunications formed into a single spider’s web, exactly like judas’ betrayal of jesus.
INTERLUDE : JUDAS ISCARIOT ( A STUDY )
judas iscariot is often portrayed as the traitor in the story, fueled by greed and his resentment that jesus has something he never will. in the original story, judas is put in the narrative as satan’s pawn, judas’ fate is already written down, and he has no way of pushing it back. satan selects him from a group as he is weak, easily moved, and satan had possessed him body and soul and lived out his personal purpose through the vessel.
the son of perdition : the one doomed to destruction.
god personally protected all of his other saints from satan, so why not judas? why was judas never enough? was he never righteous enough to be saved? jesus loved him, jesus held his face in his holy hands, and yet he never shielded him.
judas is a pawn, a thief, a coward, and a denier of the lord.
judas, in all fairness, is the spitting image of luke castellan.
“is it ever anybody else, luke?”
as if arrow met skin, luke’s brows furrow together like you’ve hit him.
there’s a pause, a deafening silence.
“i miss you,” you speak again.
luke’s nose crinkles, “uh-huh.”
“i miss you, luke.”
luke castellan is going to hell tonight, he’s going to be scorched in the underworld, so he bites his tongue and he moves in. the kiss is angry, teeth clashing, tongues twisting, lips bruising, but luke wouldn’t want it any other way. he wonders that if, in this kiss, do you forgive him? having been someone praised by the gods, the favored one, did you forgive the one who seemingly betrayed them to most?
the kiss says how could you? and i’m sorry at the exact same time.
his hands are quick to grip on your skin like you were his lifeline, tugging you in closer, and smiling against your lips when you melt into his touch so easily. you knew how cruel of a man he was, all the things he did wrong, all the people he had hurt— and yet you’re easing against him like he’s a saint.
his teeth show his hunger well, nipping at your lip until you hiss and pull away with blood bubbling from a fresh wound. at first, he wants to smile, but he finds some mercy, moving his hand to hold your chin, thumb smudging the blood, “‘m sorry, didn’t mean to, swear.”
you knew he was lying, you knew he wanted to see you bleed, he liked the way your skin trembled under his touch, the way that even when shock dilates your pupils— you don’t want to pull away from him. in fact, something about it is oddly attractive to you, how sick is that.
his other hand grips your waist, fingers curling cruelly, “could i..”
undress you? touch you? luke isn’t sure of the proper words, they sit on the tip of his tongue, but something has him too afraid to say it so bluntly. that’s ironic, considering he didn’t hesitate to steal and lie. luke was still the loser he’s always been, deep down, he’s never known how to actually speak to women.
you knew this well, it was something you always made fun of him for, but now you only smile sweetly at him. “of course, luke.”
luke’s hands are desperate when they move to take off your clothes, quick and ruthless, but still so caring at the same time. it was confusing with luke, everything he did had two different sides that would merge together in an unlikely unison. harsh and gentle, bitter and sweet, mean and kind.
his brows furrow when he dips in, pressing his lips to the skin of your neck, pushing you back into the scratching bark of the tree behind you. adam and eve, right after the bites of the apple offered to them. luke wants to sink his teeth into you, to bite until he draws blood, to devour you whole and call you his.
that’s… normal, right?
he doesn’t care, he’s only focused on the shallow breaths that pass by your lips with every scrape of his teeth on the skin being pulled between his lips. his fingers lead themselves further, dipping below the waistband of your underwear and further until you’re gasping and gripping at his wrist.
“luke.. luke,” you plead, whimpering out for his fingers to have some mercy on your clit— luke ignores you, focused on the pleasure that’s coursing underneath your skin. he memorizes the thump of your pulse against his lips on your neck, the way it speeds up when his fingers dare to graze your entrance. you want it so bad, and it’s taking everything in luke to not be a cocky asshole about it.
he eventually pulls away from your neck to admire his work, “have you always wanted me to touch you like this?”
there’s something so poetic about someone who has betrayed the gods you love the most, ruining you. you truly could be awarded for how much you worshiped them, so unlike to everyone around you. they thought their parents were like anybody else, albeit just a little cooler, but you— you felt like a prophet.
maybe you were, maybe luke was.
maybe when the oracle whispered the prophecy she mentioned the fall of a saint, and the way he tugged another down with him.
you look at him fondly, lips parted and puffy from biting, “always.. please.”
please ; a simple plea, but it makes luke grin like a devil. his eyes follow your hands when you move to undo his belt, tugging at his jeans as if his fingers aren’t making your knees buckle. luke licks his lips, and finally allows you some mercy when his fingers leave your underwear, although you frown from the loss of friction. “i’ll make it up to you, yeah?”
luke’s boxers and jeans are falling to the floor in seconds, he stifles a chuckle at your shocked expression to his size, only growing cockier and cockier with each second of this ordeal. it reaches it’s peak when he’s pushing into you, hand on your thigh holding up your leg with ease.
his nose brushes against your cheek, whispering sweet nothings in between faint grunts with each thrust. you’re so pretty, always dreamed of this, better pray the gods aren’t watching. the last comment should piss you off, but it doesn’t, not at all— in fact, it only makes you wetter, the idea that the people you have given everything for are watching you being fucked by someone who despises them.
his free hand moves up to your neck, wrapping around the bruised skin there, and gripping it enough to barely constrict your air flow.
due to the choking, and the force of his thrusts, along with all his taunting words, it doesn’t take long for you to cum on his dick— and he doesn’t last long either.
he finds himself panting against you, slowly pushing out.
“you really should pray for forgiveness.”
#luke castellan x you#luke castellan blurb#luke castellan smut#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan pjo#luke castellan oneshot#pjo luke#luke castellan#luke castellan come home to me pls#charlie bushnell x you#charlie bushnell imagine#charlie bushnell x reader#charlie bushnell
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Sweat for Me
Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader
Rating: EXPLICIT (18+)
Summary: You think this might be your favorite thing in the entire world. Law beneath you, whining and whimpering through his third orgasm. (A/N: I was going to post this for kinktober but fuck it, needed to get this out of my system)
Warnings: SMUT, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms (mentioned), Praise Kink, Submissive Law, Law is kind of a brat (which is canon to meeee), Begging, Creampie
You think this might be your favorite thing in the entire world.
Law beneath you, whining and whimpering through his third orgasm.
You watch intently, rocking your hips slowly, continuing to ride him despite the way his whole body twitches as he comes down from his high. Law is so pretty—so hauntingly beautiful like this, tan skin flushed, lips parted, and dark lashes caressing his cheeks as he battles to keep his eyes open—this is beyond compare.
Usually he’s the one in control, caging you in with his lithe body as he fucks you into the mattress with that smug smile playing at his lips. His goatee brushes against your skin while he whispers pure filth into your ear. Fuuuck, sweet girl, you’re squeezing me so tight. Want me to go deeper? Hmm? You think you can take it all?
You love those moments, but this is so much sweeter. You work the tension of a particularly harrowing day out of him, allow him to lounge while you do the work, give him anything—everything he needs—maybe even more, but he deserves it. Your captain, who plots and worries—rarely ever thinking about himself.
"Too much—fuck, sweetheart, I—" Law chokes on a soft whine when your needy cunt squeezes him. He’s barely comprehendible, his mind stuck in a pleasant haze where the art of language eludes him. You feel your lips curl into a prideful smile, knowing that you’ve reduced this brilliant man into a babbling mess.
"I’m takin’ care of you, Captain," you whisper softly, dipping down to gently kiss the corner of his mouth. Law turns his head, tries to capture your plush lips, but you pull away before he can. He’s too spent—too fucking boneless—to chase you.
Law actually pouts. You don’t know whether to blame it on the sex-induced delirium or if he’s genuinely disappointed to be denied a kiss, and it takes everything in you not to laugh at how damn cute he is, though you’re certain doing so would only earn you a fiercer pout, maybe even censure.
"Just one more handsome," you sigh, tracing the curve of his sharp jaw, brushing your fingertips against his soft sideburns and stubble. "You can do that for me, can’t you?"
Law trembles under your touch—leans into it while his tired eyes gaze up at you. He swallows thickly before finally answering with a weak nod, dark, damp tresses nearly falling over his eyes.
"Y-yea."
God, you want to burn the image of him like this in your mind forever. Recall it every moment of every waking day until you turn to dust.
You smile down at him and begin to move your hips once more. Law jolts as soon as you do and grits his teeth to stop from crying out. You feel his tortured dick pulse inside of you, so needy and spent and ready to pour everything he has to give into you again.
You grind down on him in slow, tantalizing circles—more taunting than pleasing—and you know you’ll be repaid in kind soon. Law will work you just as hard, make you come twice as much the next time he has you bent over his desk or trapped between his body and the cold metal walls of the Polar Tang.
You don’t mean to be cruel, but the low groans and soft curses that pass his lips are so delicious. A part of you never wants this to end—wants to have him trapped inside you forever while you coax another sweet release out of him. And another. And another.
Law places a trembling hand on your hip as you continue to rock shallowly. "Fuu—FUCK, baby, p-please—"
Neither of you are certain of what he’s asking for, but when he bucks his hips to push himself just a little deeper inside of your soaking heat, you decide to be merciful.
You lift slightly, just enough to see the base of his glazed dick, before slamming back down. A desperate cry rips from his throat as you ride him. It hurts—hurts so good he can’t bite back the strings of curses that pass his lips, or the shameless whimpers that spur you on, make your movements rushed and sloppy, even as your legs begin to burn again.
"T-that’s it…" You place your hands on either side of his thighs, taking Law deeper—making him hit that sweet, spongey spot inside of you. You feel the heat in your core building, and you know he’s close—ready to burst inside of you one last time.
"You ready?"
Law nods and mumbles something you can’t make out over the squelch of your hungry cunt, swallowing him over and over and over again. You think of the mess you two are making—the evidence of your desires staining the sheets. You wonder if Law will use his devil fruit powers to clean them, switching out Shachi or Penguin’s laundry with two simple words and the flourish of his hand, much to the disdain of your fellow crewmates.
You’re ripped from your ruminations as his slender fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your hips, nearly bruising. He weakly thrusts up into your heat, chasing his release.
"You—hngg—s-said this was your pussy, right?" Your voice is airy as you rub your delicate nub, nearly there. "Then come in it."
Law swears he sees fucking spots in the corners of his vision, but he isn’t in the state of mind to be even a little concerned. He chokes out your names, practically folds into himself while he comes, long and agonizingly hard. It’s a beautiful sight, watching him gasp and blink through his orgasm until your sopping pussy is filled to the brim.
You follow after him, your walls fucking seize him, and a wave of aftershock hits Law violently, making him clench his jaw so hard it hurts. Tender praise falls from your lips—shiiit Law, you came so much, did s-so good. You lean forward, crying into his tattooed chest as ecstasy rips through you, making your ears ring and your heart beat madly in your chest.
You sigh contentedly when it passes, shaking slightly against Law’s powerful body.
He cracks open a tired eye as you lift your head slowly. You kiss his jaw and mutter more praise against his sweaty skin.
You know you’re pushing your luck with the favor you’re about to ask.
"What is it?"
You don’t know whether you’re incredibly easy to read or if Law is just that perceptive. Fatigue causes his voice to come out deeper. If you weren’t running on the final reserves of your energy, you might have attempted another round.
"Can you do…the thing?" you ask sweetly, lifting your hand and outstretching your fingers in explanation. "Gotta get cleaned up."
You look up at Law with pleading eyes, attempting to look as cute and innocent as Bepo, though you’re almost certain you’re too disheveled and fucked out to even come close.
He sighs, lifting his tattooed hand. "This is the last time…"
You smile, mumbling your thanks.
“Room. Shambles.”
#sunny.fic#trafalgar law smut#trafalgar law x reader#trafalgar law x y/n#trafalgar law x you#law x reader#x reader#I believe in tan Law supremacy
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𝟏𝟖+ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐱 “𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭” 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
Three light taps on your window pull you out of the reverie of your favorite romance novel. You can’t help but to clutch your pink nightie closer to your icy skin as you tiptoe across your room and slowly with shaky hands move your curtain to the side to get a good look at who the silhouette belongs to. It’s none other than Steve Harrington, the king of Hawkins high and your bully.
It started about a week ago, you were lucky to get through most of high school with your head down and completely unscathed by the bitchy hierarchy of teenage popularity. That was until Steve who sat behind you in English, noticed that you aced the mid semester test; which cost half your grade.
Since then you’ve been doing all of his book reports for him, you couldn’t deny you didn’t like the attention, even if he did make fun of you for being a prude nerd. So, this last book report you had devised a plan. Steve was always threatening to punish you and you wanted to see if he’d follow through with said threats, which left you to purposely bomb it.
You slowly lift your window, letting the cool air and the chirps from the crickets fill your room. “Hurry up!” Steve pressed, before climbing through rather clumsily. After he fully stood and dusted off his knees, he took a folded paper out of the back of his jean pocket. “What the fuck is this? Huh?” You can’t help the excited chill that runs through your body from his tone.
“What’s what?” You say, feigning innocence as you blink up at him with your biggest doe eyes. You were so close, you could practically feel the anger radiating off of him. “Don’t play stupid, me and you both know you’re not.” Steve chides, as his brows furrow down at you. “Why’d you purposely fail my book report, huh? Didn’t I tell you there’d be consequences if you don’t do what I say?” He grits and his jaw tenses before his eyes fall to your tits that are now peaked from the cold, the thin fabric of the nightie isn’t doing the best job at concealing them from the jock.
“I fucking meant it, okay? I’m gonna have to punish you.” His harsh tone doesn’t match the soft touch of his fingers that slide over your clothed nipples. “What do you want me to do, Steve?” You purr up at him as you bat your lashes. “You know how I’m always calling you a prude, baby? Well today’s your lucky day. I’m gonna show you how to suck a cock. Get down on your knees.” Steve demands.
Little did the king of Hawkins high know, you knew how to suck cock; you were experienced in pretty much everything sexual. Thanks to your fuck buddy and drug dealer, Eddie.
But you indulge his delusions by keeping up the innocent virgin act, just for a bit longer.
You quickly pop the button of his jeans and slide the zipper down its track, being met with a pair of tighty whiteys that you assume by the deep flush of his cheeks; he was just remembering he had on. “Cute.” You giggle, making him fist a hand in your hair and pull until a stinging sensation has you whimpering as tears sting your eyes. He finally removes himself from his confines—
His cock is huge, but you show no traces of even acknowledging that fact, last thing king Steve needed was an even bigger ego.
“Open up you fucking brat.” He hisses while his hand still tugs at your tresses. The soft tugs cause you to soak through your panties and leave you eager to rub your needy clit on anything for some relief. “That’s it, good girl.” Steve praises as he rubs his leaking tip across your wet tongue. Your lips finally close around it, before inching down and taking him expertly into the back of your throat. “Holy shit!” He jerks at the unexpected pleasure, as you continue to bob and gag on him. It’s almost too much considering he thought not even two minutes ago that he was going to have to guide you and talk you through it. No fucking way were you a prude virgin like he suspected, he’s been with plenty virgins. Nah, you were a little cock slut and fuck did he love the thought of his own personal whore who milked his cock and did his school work so he could stay the captain of the basketball team.
A deep groan falls from his lips when you begin to fondle his balls while you continue to suck him for all he’s worth. Spit falls onto the carpet below and you’re canting your hips as if a bitch in heat. You take two hands and twist around his shaft as you suck the tip, working him like a fucking pro. You look up at him with tears running down your soft cheeks and hunger in your eyes, and that absolutely does the jock in. You quickly notice the way his thighs shake and his moans grow louder, leaving you to lull your tongue out as you lick at his frenulum and continue twisting your hands around his spit soaked cock, ready to catch all of his warm creamy spend. Steve watches as his come shoots onto your tongue and down your throat, you swallow it all before sticking the pink muscle back out to show him how good of a girl you’d been by swallowing everything he’d so graciously given you.
“You’re a slut.” Steve states, with a blissed out look on his face. “I thought you were a virgin, why didn’t you tell me you weren’t a fucking prude?” He can’t help but smile from just receiving the best blow job of his life. Something about the little innocent girl who he makes do his work, but is actually a secret slut has him feeling possessive and as if he now has to assert some kind of claim over you.
“You didn’t ask.” You shrug as you wipe your chin. “Now can we move this along? The guy that taught me how to give that dynamite blow job will be here soon and I don’t wanna screw up my chances of getting fucked because he finds King Steve in my room.” You hand him his paper and push him back towards your window. “Your- wait what?” He asks in disbelief.
“This was fun, but you have to go. See ya later, Stevie.” Steve moves down your trellis in shock at what had just transpired. There was no way he was letting you go that fast, so when he made it to his car he decided to sit for a few, in order to catch a glimpse of who you were talking about. Just as Steve got comfortable against his leather seat, a beat up van was pulling up to the side of your house. But it wasn’t just any van, no it was Eddie Munsons van.
Well that just won’t do, come tomorrow morning you’re gonna know exactly who you belong to, no matter what Steve has to do in the process.
#— 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒#steve harrington moodboard#steve harrington smut#steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve stranger things#steve x reader
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hi! maybe logan getting worried/protective over u after u get injured during a mission? 🥺🩷
Canon level (based on the comic books mostly) wounds and violence (it’s nothing too gory besides the wound description)
“Move out of my fucking way Scott,” you hear him before you see him which isn’t really a good sign.
You’d gone on a mission the same time he was out on one too, and though it had just been a simple recon mission, things got heated quick.
Zeitgeist was a bitch like usual, and you weren’t as fast as you might’ve been had there not been a falling child to save.
So now, your entire right side is rippled under the acid of his spit and you can’t deny the agony you’re in.
“She’s fine,” Scott says but you know your boyfriend.
He pushes past him and is at your side almost instantly. Your eyes take a moment to adjust to him being so close but when they settle on his face, the clear panic and worry is clear to see.
“I’m fine, Lo.” You say, teeth gritted through each word as Charles asses the wound.
You’re no longer in your suit, just in a pair of pants and a sports bra, your hair is drenched and Logan can only guess they just hosed you down to get rid of the majority of the acid.
It still burns like a bitch and you can’t hide that from the man who knows you so well.
“Bullshit,” he grumbles, hands brushing back the hair from your face. “Can’t you all do something instead of just fucking staring at it?”
The question is packed with worry that none of them are accustomed to seeing on Logan, but you swear you see Ororo smirk.
She’d been the only one to notice his soft underbelly- well beside you.
“We’re waiting for Hank to bring the antidote Logan,” you say gently, stroking his tense forearm. “I’m fine baby.”
It’s the ‘baby’ that softens him, that gets him to take a deep breath and press his forehead into yours.
“Fucking scared me,” he murmurs and the others all find themselves busy- besides Scott, he wants something to tease the man about as per the rules of their friendship. “Don’t do that shit again.” His hands are on your neck, thumbs under your chin so you can’t look away.
“I didn’t really have a choice, I had to save the kid.” He nods, pressing his lips to your temple. Hank saves him from blowing up again when you wince and the green acid bubbles a little more.
“Fucking finally, what took you so long?” He grunts, Hank only shaking his head as he pours the blue liquid over your wound.
“Fuck,” you cry out, hand itching to press against your side or slap Hank’s hands away but Logan stops you.
“Fucking say something next time, yeah big guy?” He growls but then you hiss again and he’s all focused on you again.
“You’re good, you’re okay bub.” It’s whispered straight into your hairline and if you were a little more cognizant you’d notice that Logan can’t stop glaring at the wound.
“We caught it in time, the antidote won’t reverse the burn completely, but it will be soothing it and fixing the majority of it.” Hank pulls on gloves, the snap of it on his wrist filling the room. “There’s a salve you need to put on it for the healing process.”
“Thanks Hank,” you whisper, much too tired for much else. “Can I go now?” Logan notices then how utterly exhausted you look and sets aside his anger and worry for a moment to dote on you.
“Yes, but Logan monitor the wound and how it heals over the next few weeks. The skin should be back to normal when the salve is done.” The professor says and Logan nods dutifully before picking you up off the med and taking the salve from Hank.
“C’mon, pretty girl.” He takes you back to your room and is smearing the salve on your side. “You’re not doing that shit again, I swear to whatever there is.”
You give him a small smile, “Getting hurt is part of it Logan, I can’t avoid that completely.”
He frowns and then presses a kiss right above your wounded side. “You don’t get how scary it is to hear, ‘she’s in the infirmary, an acid wound’, I nearly ripped Bobby in half.”
You stretch a hand to bury in his hair. “I know baby, but this was just a one time thing. Zeitgeist isn’t exactly unscathed either.”
Logan smiles, his lips pressing into your unblemished skin again. “Fire burns Logan, what can I say.”
“You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” You giggle a little, more so when he holds your cheeks and stamps a kiss to your lips. “Get some shut eye, m’gonna get one of the kids to make you soup.”
#loganhowlett#logan howlett#logan howlett one shot#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett blurb#logan howlett fluff#logan howlett drabble#logan howlett fic#logan howlett x black!reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x yn#wolverine x mutant!reader#wolverine x you#wolverine fluff#wolverine🤭#wolverine one shot#wolverine imagine#wolverine
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ppl don't talk abt the hook in hazels nose enough for me .. esp in the scenes at the huntingdon game.. u picking up what i'm putting down?! 🪑🪑🪑
…have you been reading my mind???? (that little bump is the only thing rattling inside my brain)
something about that bump in her nose, so perfectly arched, simply begging for someone to sit on it. and who are you to deny yourself of that?
neither could Hazel, which is how you ended up on her bed, class work long since forgotten beside you both. her lips move quickly against yours, warm hands holding your face closer to her. she’s straddling your hips, while you lay underneath her, propped up on your elbows.
suddenly your hands dig into her hips, pushing her so she’s laying down comfortably on her pillows, and your hips are now pinning hers down. she grins against your lips, never one to dispute you being on top of her.
you disconnect your lips for a brief moment, allowing you and Hazel to catch your breaths, smiles adorned both of your mouths. she notices the way your gaze falls down to her perfect nose, and when your eyes flash up to her blue ones, she knows exactly what she needs you to do.
“fuck-sit your pussy on my face babe, i need it…” Hazel lets out shyly.
your jaw drops slightly at her words, never expecting her to have been so forward about asking you what to do. and fuck, was it making you wet.
a grin forms on your lips, and Hazels chest begins to rise and fall faster at this look on your face. you lean back down to reconnect your lips to hers, hands reaching up to harshly grab her face, pushing her lips to work against yours.
“i’m gonna cum all over your face Hazel, absolutely suffocate you,” you’re both giggling into each others mouths at your words, her hands grabbing at your thighs to undo the button of your jeans. her nimble hands are so soft and gentle as she helps you take them off, leaving you in your damp panties and a tank top. you’re not wearing a bra, a d your nipples are piercing the thin material, showing Hazel how eager you are for her.
“god you’re a sight for sore eyes,” her own eyes are dilated, watching as you move your panty-covered cunt over her stomach.
“yeah? talking about yourself?” you tease, sending her a small wink, settling down so you’re resting on her toned body.
you let out a small moan when you feel her abs flex under your covered clit, and gasp out suddenly. she’s thrusting her hips up slightly, both jolting your clit, and pushing you higher up her chest, leading you right where she needs you.
you tear your tank top and panties off of you, leaving you completely naked for Hazel, pussy dripping just for her. she licks her lips, eyeing your cunt that’s so wet and messy, just the way she likes it. you look her in the eye when you hover your pussy over her nose, asking for her permission one last time.
you can’t even let a word out, before her arms wrap around your thighs, forcing you onto her face, letting out a loud moan when she tastes your slick on her tongue.
Hazel sees you throw your head back when her tongue circles your clit, and grins against your pussy that’s almost crying for her from how wet you are. your hands paw at your own tits, pulling softly on your nipples.
her eyes close, breathing in your scent and taste when your hips beging circling on their own as you ride her tongue. your clit is bumping against her nose, sliding up at down it, that damn bump stimulating you in a way that has your thighs clenching around her head.
“god Hazel, keep going,” you let out, sentence nearly ruined by a moan when her tongue dips into your hole for a second.
“don’t plan on stopping baby,” she smiles up at you from between your thighs, nose bumping against your clit.
your hands reach down to grip onto her brown locks, pulling her face closer to where you’re soaking. Hazel lets out more moans than you at the feeling of her hair being tugged, another sign that she’s making you feel good.
you can’t help your hips from bucking upwards when her tongue circles your hole, starting to thrust in and out while you pull her hair to keep her head steady so you can ride her face. your poor clit is jutting against her nose, giving you that much needed push you closer to your orgasm.
“Hazel..i’m gonna cum, i can’t hold on just -uhhhh- keep going,” you whimper out, head thrown back again when you clench around her tongue.
her head moves in synch with your hips, trying to bring you to your first orgasm of the night. your thighs are closing in so firmly around her face, and you’d almost be scared for your girlfriend’s lack of oxygen, but you look down and see her dazed eyes solely focused on her tongue inside your pussy, which has been dripping down her face the whole time.
her hips are bucking into the air, her own pussy clothed and neglected, her only goal is making you cum as many times as she can on her face. because god, never did she think someone would want to actually sit on her nose.
with a final lick on your pussy, and a bumping of her nose on your clit, you cum with a shout of Hazel’s name, and a harsh tug of her hair. your cum drips from your pussy, onto Hazels tongue, which hasn’t stopped its movements to ride you through your orgasm.
your hips still, breaths coming out slower as you finish coming down from your high, looking down at Hazel. her normally alert eyes are hazy, definitely pussy drunk as they flicker between your fucked out face above her, or your pussy that’s still fluttering, now empty and missing her tongue.
“that’s it baby, you did so good,” she praises, closing her eyes momentarily.
you slowly climb off her, slightly embarrassed when you notice how wet you made her face. her nose, mouth, chin, and even neck are dripping with your cum and slick, but all you can really pay attention to is the smile she wears on her lips.
you settle for sitting back on her abs, slightly grinding your overstimulated clit on her muscles. your hands are still carding through her soft hair, running your hands through the strands to soothe any pain caused when you were pulling.
“if you ever wanted to do something like that again…just know i’d totally be into that,” she’s already back to joking, eyes sliding shut at your soft fingers massaging her head.
“mmm, i’m definitely taking that suggestion, but for now baby, i think it’s time i pay you back. hmm?” your hand slides down her chest and stomach, muscles flexing underneath them, until your hands reach the waistband of her pants, fingers reaching down until they’re toying with her panties.
“maybe this time, you can sit on my face.”
god bless Hazel Callahan, and her fucking sexy nose.
#subbypeterparker#bottoms movie#hazel callahan#hazel callahan smut#hazel callahan x reader#ruby cruz#wlw#hazel callahan x reader smut#hazel callahan x you#lesbian#hazel callahan fluff
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Falling Slowly
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader
Summary: You are Tim's newest rookie, and his favorite. He treats you differently, able to see that your past affects you, and the little things build up until you can't deny your feelings.
Warnings: so much fluff, brief angst, domestic violence (Tim and reader respond to a call & allusions to past dv against reader), one scene is inspired by "The Switch" (1x4)
Word Count: 4.0k+ words
A/N: This doesn't really fit in any specific season, so I put characters in the roles I wanted them to have and just made up some names to fill in the gaps. Hopefully everything makes sense. Please let me know what you think!
Picture from Pinterest
“What are you doing here?” Angela asks, surprised to see Tim.
Furrowing his brows, Tim answers, “I’m here for the TO meeting.”
Angela tilts her head back and groans, passing Nyla a 10-dollar bill.
“She thought you’d give up your position for Metro,” Nyla explains.
“I’d like to, someday, but not today,” Tim replies.
“20 bucks this is his last one,” Angela says to Nyla. “He still has the open invite to Metro and his patience can’t take many more boots.”
Nyla reaches to shake Angela’s hand as Tim rolls his eyes and walks away.
“Let me see his rookie first, then we’ll talk,” Nyla decides. “I’ve got a feeling a lot is going to change around here.”
“Like what?” Angela asks. “Nyla! Like what?”
✯✯✯✯✯
Walking into the Mid-Wilshire station on your first day as a rookie is both nerve-wracking and exciting. You’ve heard stories about boots making it through the academy to fail once they reach this level, but you’re determined. When you were a kid, you were in bad situations more often than any child should be, but kind police officers changed your life, and you’d like to do the same.
Waving to one of your police academy friends, you sit in the bullpen, waiting impatiently to learn which officer behind you will be your training officer. Getting the perfect training officer is up to fate, based on what you’ve heard, and your TO can make or break your career.
“Good morning, boots! I am Watch Commander Wade Grey. You have made it through the police academy, but don’t expect a pat on the back, your work is just beginning. This is the time to prove yourself, to show your TO, me, and this city why you deserve to be a police officer.” He pauses, moving around the podium to add, “If you should be a police officer.”
As you listen intently, striving to remember every word Sergeant Grey says, two detectives stand at the back of the room and evaluate the rookies.
“He’s only got one shot,” Angela mutters.
“If he gets the pretty one in the front, I’m not taking the bet,” Nyla says.
Angela looks up a row, her brows raising when she sees you. “If he ends up with her, we’re starting a station-wide pool and getting rich,” she adds.
“Now, it’s time to be assigned to your judge, jury, and executioner,” Wade says with a smile. “Or, as we call them, TOs. Our former rookie turned TO, Nolan: you’ve got Edward Henderson.
Officer Nolan nods at Henderson, and you remember his story: a late-life rookie who got a golden ticket. Part of you wants to work with him and learn why he decided on law enforcement, but you only nod at Henderson before turning back around.
“Lance Vincent, you are with our newest TO, Eliza Reagan.”
Wade says your name with a smile that seems a bit more genuine than before. “Officer Bradford, last but not least,” he says as he assigns you your new TO.
You look over your shoulder, a small smile on your face as he nods at you. He is undeniably attractive, and you hope it doesn’t cause any problems.
“Oh, he’s a goner,” Nyla whispers under her breath when you smile at Tim.
“Should we tell him?” Angela replies.
“I think we’ll have to.”
✯✯✯✯✯
Something about you bothers Tim. Not in the usual, grumpy-with-a-new-boot way, but he has a sense that you’re different.
“Nice to meet you,” you say, walking to Tim at the back of the bullpen.
He stands, offering a calloused hand to shake.
“I’m not going to pretend this is going to be easy or fun,” he tells you. “Being a rookie is the hardest part of your career, but if you’re a good cop under the uniform, you’ll be fine.”
Nodding, you promise to do your best and express your willingness to learn everything you can from him.
“Good,” he says. “Meet me outside the war room. We’re not wasting any time, understood?”
“Yes, sir,” you answer.
Tim watches you walk away, and when you stop to let someone carrying a large box cross in front of you, Tim realizes that you’re hurting, or were hurting not long ago. The underlying need to help people is something he recognizes.
“She’s pretty,” Angela muses, walking to Tim’s side.
“Though you know that,” Nyla adds, smiling on his other side.
“She’s a boot. No different than the other rookies,” Tim argues, though his gaze is still on your back as you sign for your bags and weapons.
“Sure, she is. Why don’t you go put her through a Tim test?” Angela suggests.
Tim rolls his eyes as he leaves, wondering what hurt you bad enough to make you want to be a cop. He became a cop despite his hurt, but you’re young and bright – and too good for him – so there must be something in you that makes you worthy of this. More worthy (and more beautiful) than any rookie before you.
✯✯✯✯✯
Several officers wish you luck, with one or two warning you about so-called “Tim Tests” while you wait for Tim behind the shop.
“Don’t tell me you have a checklist,” Tim begins, drawing your attention away from the shop tires.
“No, sir,” you answer. “Just being vigilant, I suppose. I’d hate to start my first day with a flat tire.”
Tim nods, asking where the war bags are. You tell him how you checked the contents and loaded them into the trunk, and he appreciates your brief explanation.
“Good work. The easy part is over,” Tim says. He seems to weigh his options before deciding, “You drive. Show me what you’ve got.”
He follows you to the driver’s side door, opening it as he reminds you of standard shop procedures. As Tim closes the door, you wonder if he’s a gentleman or if he followed you because he doesn’t trust you to drive correctly. Either way, you know what you’re doing, and you won’t let the man in the passenger seat distract you… too much.
Driving toward Wilshire Boulevard for patrol, Tim looks out the window.
“Blue Camaro has an expired plate,” you alert.
“Call it in.”
You do so, hitting the sirens as you engage the traffic stop. Tim raises a hand to stop you from getting out.
“Remember your training. Don’t let the situation get away from you.”
His words linger in your mind, and you complete the stop with no problem, issuing a ticket and returning to the shop.
“I’m driving,” Tim alerts you, spreading his hand across the small of your back as he directs you to the sidewalk.
“Did I do something wrong?” you ask when he starts the car.
“No,” he answers bluntly.
You lick your lips nervously, turning your attention to your surroundings. Suddenly, Tim pulls over and hits the brakes.
“I’ve been shot, boot. Where are we?” Tim demands.
Furrowing your brows in surprise at his actions, you answer, “Intersection of 12th and Meadowbrook, west of Redondo. There are several hospitals in a five-mile radius, but only one has a trauma center.”
Tim pulls out wordlessly, continuing his patrol route. Tim doesn't say much else throughout the few hours between his first test and lunch. He lets you point things out, answers your questions about the area and procedures, and glances at you out of the corner of his eye. When he pulls up to a small circle of food trucks where several police officers are waiting, he turns toward you.
“You’re doing well. I’m not neglecting to give you good feedback for any reason other than once you start riding alone, you won’t get it. My role here is to prepare you for your solo career, not hold your hand until you get there.”
“I understand, sir. Thank you for answering my questions,” you reply as you open the door.
Tim’s hand finds your upper back as he leads you to his favorite of the food trucks, a light touch that disappears nearly as quickly as it happened. You thank him quietly for the suggestion before sitting with your fellow rookies.
“Hi, Tim,” Angela says.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, his annoyance breaking through his growing fondness for you.
“Just came to get some food. Your boot seems to be in a good mood.”
“Strange, I thought Tim’s thing was ‘break their spirits in the first hour,’” Nyla adds as she joins Angela.
“You two not have work to do or something?” Tim inquires.
“Something like that. How’s she doing?” Angela tips her chin toward you as she asks.
“She’s got good instincts, knows protocols.”
“But?”
Tim shrugs, turning away before Angela can dig deeper.
“I give it a week,” Nyla announces.
“Before what?”
“He can’t take it anymore.”
✯✯✯✯✯
“Domestic disturbance in your area,” dispatch alerts.
Tim grabs the radio, accepting the call as he hits the sirens and turns into a residential area. You chew the inside of your bottom lip; domestic calls are your least favorite, especially when kids are involved. Unwilling to show discomfort, you put on your best brave cop face and follow Tim to the door.
A young girl with a bloody nose and teary eyes opens it, and you glance at Tim before kneeling and asking her to come outside. She listens without question, her lower lip wobbling as you smile.
“He’s hurting my mom,” she whimpers.
Tim nods at you before tilting his head toward the shop. You direct the girl to stand at the edge of the porch and wait for you as you follow Tim inside.
“LAPD, put your hands up!” Tim yells as he steps into a bedroom.
Your eyes widen when you see the large man towering over the girl’s mother. He smiles as he reaches for something.
“Don’t move unless you want to give me a reason,” Tim says lowly. “Step away.”
The man looks toward the nightstand before taking a deep breath and giving up.
“I got it,” Tim tells you before radioing a code 4.
You wait until Tim has the handcuffs secured to walk outside. The girl runs into your arms, and you pop the shop's trunk, setting her down as you retrieve a small first aid kit. She lets you clean her bloody nose, gripping your wrist when it stings.
“Where’s my mom?” she asks.
“She’s talking to my partner right now, she’ll be out in a few minutes,” you explain.
“Is he nice?”
“The nicest,” you answer.
“Mom!” she yells, letting you set her on the ground before she runs to her mom’s side.
“Get in the shop,” Tim commands as he walks past, his hand brushing your arm as he closes the trunk.
You obey, climbing into the passenger seat and waiting as he talks to the EMTs. When he joins you, he drives to a quiet, empty street before switching off his body cam and gesturing for you to do the same.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice softer than you’ve heard.
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t say what I want to hear. Domestic calls are tough but that wasn’t your first one, was it?”
You shake your head, looking out the windshield instead of at Tim.
“We all have reasons for becoming a cop, and some calls are harder than others. As long as your past doesn’t get in the way and put you in danger, it’s okay to be human,” he continues. “TOs are notoriously hard on you, but we’re also here for you.”
“Thank you,” you whisper.
Tim shrugs, one corner of his lips upturned. “No more sappy stuff, we have work to do.”
“Oh, if you think that was sappy, I’ve got a lot to show you before I graduate to short sleeves.”
The comment catches Tim off guard and makes him feel something he didn’t expect.
✯✯✯✯✯
By the end of the first week, you feel like you know Tim well. His hand spread across your back or shoulder when you’re in front of him, his little reminders that you’re not alone, that you can show emotion when the time allows, and every other little thing he does makes you wonder why there are so many horror stories around his teaching style.
Likewise, Tim thinks he has you down. You ask him questions, ask for his opinions, listen and apply what he says, and send him small smiles when he compliments your work.
But, it only takes a shift to realize that people are multi-faceted, and cops and rookies are no different.
“Good morning,” you greet, passing Tim a small box.
“What is this? A bribe?” he asks.
You smile as you reply, “Nope. Just something I found, and I thought you’d like.”
Tim opens the box, his eyes widening at the 2000 Super Bowl tickets, the Rams’ first win. “I can’t accept these.”
“They were under a bookshelf in my apartment, it’s not like I spent a million dollars on them, Officer Bradford.”
Tucking them into his pocket, Tim opens your door. “Thank you.”
You smile, and Tim thinks your joy is the better gift.
✯✯✯✯✯
During your first call of that day, you show Tim that you don’t just value his opinions.
“Shots fired!” you radio as you duck behind the car.
“Are you hit?” Tim asks.
Shaking your head, you move closer, trusting him to direct you and keep you safe. The men in the house you were called to have automatic weapons, and though you’re a good shot, you’re not a match for their guns alone.
“Backup is on the way, but I need you to do something for me. You trust me?” Tim adds.
“I do.”
“Reach around the back and open the trunk; just far enough to reach the latch. I’ll cover you.”
He stands above you, firing into the shattered window of the house as you slip your arm and back around the end of the shop and open the trunk.
“Good, perfect,” Tim praises as he ducks beside you. His knuckles graze yours as he leans past you. “Can you reach the shotguns?”
Glancing in the window above you, you locate them quickly. “I can.”
“Do it. I got you.”
Once the shotguns are in your hands, you pass one to Tim as you ready your own. Timing your shots, you take out two shooters just as your backup arrives.
“You’re bleeding,” Tim says, his adrenaline dropping as a tactical team takes over.
You look at your arm, just noticing your ripped sleeve and bloody skin. Tim lays his hands on your arm as he turns it toward him.
“I think it was just glass from the windshield,” you say quietly, pointing to the car behind you, riddled with bullet holes and broken glass.
“Either way, we need to get it checked out.”
“Officer Bradford?” you interject. “Thank you. For making sure I trust you.”
“Thanks for trusting me,” he mutters, so soft you can barely hear it.
He taps the Super Bowl tickets in his pocket as he rises to get a paramedic to check on you, and you smile, wondering how bad it would be if you fell in love with your TO.
✯✯✯✯✯
“You’re quieter than usual,” Tim points out. “I need to know that whatever is bothering you won’t impair your ability to work with me.”
“It won’t,” you promise. “Sorry.”
Tim considers pressing, but he trusts you. “I’m here. If you decide you want to talk about it.”
He exits the shop and opens your door before you can reach for the handle.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Did you see that?” Nyla gushes, elbowing Angela.
“Ow. See what?”
Nyla points to Tim, closing your door and laying a hand on your shoulder as he ducks his head to talk to you.
“That’s not a reprimand,” Angela deduces.
When you smile, a tiny upturning of your lips, Nyla laughs.
“Oh, that boy… The door, the touches, listening to her? He’s gone.”
“Not just him,” Angela adds. “She asks him questions, smiles at him, trusts him more than anyone… and the Super Bowl tickets? They’re adorable.”
“Should we do something?”
“Not yet. I think they’re close to realizing.”
✯✯✯✯✯
After your longest, and worst, day yet, you find yourself in a hospital waiting room beside Tim. He hasn't said anything since a speeding driver ran into your side of the shop, though you've apologized countless times (even though there's nothing you could have done).
Tim’s jaw is clenched so tight you’re worried it will snap. You’re sitting close to him, a bandage around your wrist and an ice pack pressed to your cheek.
“Sorry,” you whisper.
“Stop- stop apologizing, it’s not your fault,” Tim sighs.
His arm is on the armrest between you, and you move your hand toward his. When he doesn’t back away, you turn your arm to allow your knuckles to brush against his.
“It’s not your fault,” you tell him kindly. “He ran a red light.”
“And you could’ve been killed,” Tim replies, standing abruptly and walking away.
You slump in your seat, dejected and curious about what you could say to make him stop blaming himself for someone running into you.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Tim and his rookie sitting in a tree,” Nyla sings under her breath.
“I don’t have time for this right now,” Tim replies.
“Right, because you’re too busy being mad that she got hurt. Cops get hurt Tim,” Angela reminds him.
“Not with me,” he begins, pausing to take a deep breath. “Despite what you think, I’m upset that she got hurt, not because I’m in love with her.”
“Whatever you got to hear, buddy,” Nyla replies. “But tell me this. If it was Nolan when he was a boot, would you have felt this bad? Even if I believed you didn’t have feelings for her, which I don’t, you’re different with her and you know it.”
Tim sighs, looking out the door at you. He knows it’s true; despite his constant denial, he does treat you differently because you are different, and you’re like a magnet, incapable of being ignored or forgotten. Finally confessing it to himself, Tim knows that his feelings for you will get one or both of you in trouble unless something changes.
✯✯✯✯✯
“It is time for The Switch,” Wade says as he walks into the bullpen. “The day you ride with a new TO.”
You glance at Tim, who gives you an encouraging nod. He tells you that you’re a great rookie, but he also tells you that you’re pretty sometimes, which doesn’t seem pertinent (or always true, in your eyes). Wade says your name, and you look up.
“You’re with Nolan,” he tells you.
Smiling at Nolan, you cross your fingers under the desk that it’s a good day.
“Henderson,” you call as he stands up, “what’s Nolan like?”
“He’s great. Really understanding and knowledgeable. A little talkative, but fairly easy going. Just stick to protocol and listen to his directions; you’ll be fine.”
“What about Bradford?” Vincent asks you. “Everyone says he’s the toughest. Anything I should be aware of?”
“I don’t think so. He’s quiet sometimes, but he’s great.”
You collect your war bag with the expectation of a good day. You will miss Tim, but learning how another TO teaches and his views can be invaluable. As you slide into the driver’s seat beside Nolan, you realize something: you like Tim as more than your TO. He means more to you than just being your teacher, your mentor, and a trustworthy officer. The thought hits you so suddenly you're not sure where it came from.
With each passing moment, you find yourself remembering something Tim said or wanting to tell him something, but he isn’t there. Nolan is kind and laughs at your muttered comments, but it is nothing like riding with Tim. As you think about all the little things Tim does, everything begins to make sense.
Someone yells your name when you step out of the shop to get lunch. Turning, you’re surprised to see Vincent storming up to you.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands.
“Tell you what?”
“That Bradford has ‘Tim Tests’ and nothing pleases him!”
You glance over his shoulder, finding Tim and Nolan talking. Tim glances over at you, and the tension in his shoulders seems to ease until Nolan says something else.
“His Tim Tests aren’t that bad; he’s just teaching you awareness and safety.”
“He wants to end my career,” Vincent exclaims before muttering something about you not understanding as he walks away.
✯✯✯✯✯
“How’s Vincent doing?” Nolan asks.
“That kid has no situational awareness,” Tim answers. “I stopped at a street sign, and he couldn’t figure out where we were.”
“He’s probably scared of you,” Nyla interjects. “And, no, Bradford, I don’t have anywhere else to be.”
“My rookie can tell me where I am, no matter what,” Tim adds.
“Your rookie is very good, I’ll give you that,” Nolan replies. “But Vincent has potential. Besides, your boot has people problems.”
Tim glances over at you, locking eyes with you while Vincent talks to you dramatically.
“So do I, but I’m still a good cop.”
Nyla watches as both you and Tim sigh before abandoning the conversations you’re in. She shakes her head, calculating her winnings if the betting pool goes her way.
✯✯✯✯✯
Walking out of the locker room at the end of the day, you’re surprised to be called into Sergeant Grey’s office. You sit across from him, fiddling with the hem of your shirt to spend your nervous energy.
“You are being assigned to a new TO. Officer Bradford has decided to hand you off to someone better equipped to teach you,” Grey informs. “But you’re not in trouble.”
You still your hands in your lap. “Okay. Effective when?”
“Monday morning. So, rest up.”
As you stand, Grey says your name, smiling as he repeats, “You’re not in trouble. This was Bradford’s decision, nothing to do with you. Well, nothing to do with you as a rookie.”
You purse your lips at his phrasing, and he chuckles before sending you out. Walking through the parking lot, you see Tim’s truck is still there and decide to ask him what happened. Standing by the tailgate, you chew your bottom lip as you wait, nervous that you did something, though Wade assured you differently.
Tim walks up unnoticed, saying your name to get your attention.
“What did I do wrong?” you ask, jumping straight to your questions. “I can fix it; there has to be a way to fix it.”
“You didn’t do anything,” Tim promises. “I just can’t be your TO anymore.”
“Why not?”
Tim shifts his backpack on his shoulder. “It’s not appropriate.”
Your heart drops. Tim knows you have feelings for him, and it makes him uncomfortable; that’s the only explanation. Nodding slowly, you accept your fate.
“And I can’t do this,” Tim adds.
His hands slide onto your jaw, his palms against your cheeks as his fingers settle behind your ears, pulling you into a quick kiss. You only begin to respond when he pulls back.
“You’re the best boot I’ve ever had,” he whispers, brushing his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks.
“I’m not your boot anymore,” you remind him.
“That’s your fault. Those little gifts, and soft smiles, and how well you listen… You make it impossible not to fall for you.”
You laugh, leaning against his hands as you reply, “You do too. How do you think I felt when you called me pretty or touched my back? Then you kept comforting me and inviting me to talk. It was too easy.”
“Go to dinner with me?” he asks.
You nod, smiling against his hands before he moves to touch your back again, opening the passenger door as he helps you in. Tim slips his hand into yours, kissing your knuckles as he keeps you close.
✯✯✯✯✯
When the rest of the rookies leave the station, noticing that your car is still there, they ask each other if anyone has seen you.
“Bradford’s truck is gone,” Nyla notices as she walks out.
“Looks like we won,” Angela cheers.
“Where’s Bradford?” Vincent asks.
“On a date,” Nyla answers. “With his former boot.”
The rookies’ jaws drop, wondering how you managed to pull Mid-Wilshire’s resident grump.
“Don’t expect the same to happen to you,” Angela says as she passes the rookies. “We all worked for this one.”
#tim bradford x reader#tim bradford fluff#tim bradford imagine#tim bradford the rookie#tim bradford#the rookie#requests#fem!reader
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♡ 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕎𝕖𝕣𝕖 "ℝ𝕠𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤" ♡
♡ Mature Content! Minors DNI! Warnings below the break ♡
♡ Pairing: ot8!boyfriend!ateez x chubby!fem!reader
♡ Summary: A nice, calm, wholesome movie night with your boyfriends except I lied and nothing but absolute filth happens.
♡ Genre: smut with a sprinkle, a smidge, a barely visible flake of plot
♡ Word Count: 3.6k-ish
♡ Warnings: (issa lot happening so pls lmk if I miss anything) masturbation (f), use of toys (f receiving), oral (f & m receiving), anal penetration & eating (f receiving), unprotected sex (ya'll know not to do that irl!), creampies, edging, double vaginal penetration, things get rough, scratching, gagging, pet names (good girl, bad girl, slut, le usual)
♡ A/N: I wrote this with the intention of writing this soft, romantic piece but my mind got lost in the gutter and built a home there so here we are. Thanks to @anyamaris for supporting me in my nonsense as she always does.
Even with the air conditioner on, a wave of heat washes over you. Two fingers---your fingers---press firmly against your clit. You know your body better than anyone in this room. Every flick of your wrist makes your walls clench around the vibrator Hongjoong’s fucking you with. The ultra-soft silicone curves to rest its flat tip directly on your g spot. He keeps it at medium speed, the low hum of the toy a hypnotizing instrumental to the weakened moans leaving your lips. “You’re so beautiful” he whispers, delicately kissing your thigh. And you are.
Lying in the middle of your living room floor on a pile of the fluffiest pillows, you’re the prettiest thing any of them have ever seen. The plan had been to watch a movie. Horror---comedy---who cares? How could they watch anything but you? Legs spread wide. Pussy weeping, begging you to keep going just like that. Your panties, moist beyond measure, are looped around your ankle. The tight plaid mini skirt you wear is pushed up, not denying them a bit of your plush belly. Your nipples are two, tightly beaded indentations in your black crop top. They brush against the cotton each time your chest rises, turning you on even more.
It’s getting harder to play with your clit. Your muscles are tensing like a rubber band stretched near its breaking point. Your wrists are going limp. Your legs are shaking, causing your thighs to jiggle so deliciously that Hongjoong can’t resist nibbling at them. What he loves, what gets him off the most, is simply to watch you make a mess of yourself. “Mmm, Joongie. I’m gonna cum---” you gasp, arching against the pillows. Hongjoong’s laugh is nearly undetectable but you hear it, oozing lust. He’s happy with himself and with you. Pulling the soaked vibrator from your core, he pushes three fingers into you.
“Cum for me, princess. Cum around my fingers.” Hongjoong moves your hand away from your clit, wrapping his lips around it in a small O shape. Your arms fall above your head, your head turning to catch Yunho staring at you from the couch. Yunho looks spaced out. It’s as if his mind is off somewhere far away but that couldn’t be further from the truth. His mind is on you and no one else. It's fixated on the way your eyelids flutter when Hongjoong suckles at your clit. It’s committing to memory that sweet little smile you shoot him right before you lose control of your body.
Hongjoong’s been edging you for an hour all for this moment when he can finger you hard and fast, tonguing your clit as pleasure rips through your body. You’re grabbing at nothing---at anything---to ground yourself but it’s no use. “Hongjoong. Fuck” you whine, struggling to find your breath, “I can’t. Too much. Too---fuck.” Wooyoung rises from his spot on the recliner to kneel above your head. “Let me help” he coos, kissing you on the forehead. His fragrant sable locks dance around your cheeks like curtains, shutting out the rest of the world.
Smooth hands massage their way up your arms, loosening your muscles as they tighten. Fingers press into your shoulders---tickle your collarbone---traverse the arches of your breasts to circle your nipples. Woo slips your shirt up, laying his hands flat on your breasts. He kneads them, pinching your nipples in his palms. “Woo---” you moan, “Joongie---ah.” You mindlessly writhe beneath them. Hongjoong’s knuckles are grinding against your slit. His fingers---they’re so deep---spreading you open even wider.
Woo smiles down at you and there’s something so genuine about it because it is. “He’s right---” he says, “You’re so beautiful.” Woo drags his tongue across your lips just as Hongjoong’s tongue swirls between your pussy lips. There’s an audible squelching sound when his fingers pop out of you, the suction of your walls holding onto him for dear life too relentless to let him go quietly. Hongjoong gets up on his knees, sucking at his fingers, and admires the way you’re still clenching for him. He’d edge you more---keep you like this all night---but he knows he has to share.
With one last kiss which he plants on your lower belly, he leaves you in Woo’s capable hands. Woo reaches over you to run a finger across your slit and you giggle at how much it tickles. When he leans forward you get a clear view of how hard he is and catch yourself salivating. You bring a hand up to rub against his bulge. A groan emerges from somewhere deep within him, “Bad girl.” Still a tad loopy from your orgasm, you fumble your way up onto your knees. “But you love it, don’t you?” you tease, your hand reaching down to rub against him again.
Woo nibbles at his bottom lip, pulling you closer to him. You run your fingers through his hair, tucking a rogue strand behind his ear, “Up.” One word spoken in the singsong voice of an angel such as yourself has him up on his feet without question. Just as you reach for Woo’s zipper, strong arms grab you from behind, locking you in their embrace. “Choi San!” you gasp, admiring that dimpled grin of his, “I’m kinda trying to focus here---” San kisses down your neck, dipping one hand between your thighs.
His other hand cradles your chin, fingers pinching into your cheeks, and turns your head back towards Woo where a throbbing cock, arousal moistening the tip, waits for you. “Then focus---” San says, lightly squeezing your cheeks. You let your tongue fall free, resting it on the underside of Woo’s cock. Rolling it around his sensitive tip, you collect the warm salty liquid on your tongue. San lets go of your cheeks, giving you the room to bring your hand up and grip Woo’s base. You glance up at him and he’s already fixed on you. They stay that way as your fingertips trace the veins traveling up his shaft, stroking back to his base and starting all over again.
San raises your ass enough to slip his cock between your thighs. Somehow he’s even harder than Woo and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You wanna fuck me, Sannie?” “Hmm, is that how we ask?” he growls into your neck, grinding against you. Poking your ass out, you lay your head back onto his shoulder, “I want you to fuck my tight little cunt, Sannie. Please.” San grips you by the hips, sinking into you with zero patience. A vibrator has nothing on San’s cock. Woo tangles his fingers in your hair, sliding his thickness between your lips.
Bobbing your head back and forth, you suck your cheeks in---fan them out---mimicking the exact thing your pussy’s doing to San’s cock. It’s a flawlessly choreographed dance between the three of you. San bucking his hips, feeding you every inch. You rolling back against him, taking him like a--- “Pretty little slut---” San’s panting, the slobber dripping down your chin from sucking Woo off making you look like exactly that. Woo holding your head steady while you pump his glistening length, your hand and mouth working together to put his stomach in knots.
With Woo stuffing your cheeks, your screams are muffled when San picks up his pace. “Is this what you wanted, baby?” he says, slapping you on the ass. “Mmpphh” is all you can manage, Woo’s cock hitting the back of your throat. Woo and San bounce you back and forth, whispering praises that have you back on the edge in no time. Your hips stutter, cluing San in that you’re close, and his pace becomes unforgiving. Woo scoops up one of your breasts, pinching your nipples, feeling their weight in his hand. “Don’t stop---shit---y/n. So good. Don’t---” Woo twitches between your lips, pumping his seed directly down your throat.
Never one to be wasteful you drink him down, massaging his balls with your free hand. “Fuck---pussy’s so good y/n---gonna cum” San hisses and you’re cumming again. He cums with you, ropes of white painting your insides from the other end. Woo leans forward, kissing your puffy lips, “I’ll get you some water.” “And a popsicle please.” Woo and San look at each other---back at you---at each other---back at you. San straightens out your skirt, “What for?” Your gaze dances over to Seonghwa and the two of you immediately begin to blush. “We---uh---” Seonghwa stutters, “Don’t worry about it.”
Yeosang politely moves Woo and San away from you. “Excuse me. Sorry” he apologizes, moving between them to sweep you up into his arms, “We’ll get the water.” It’s not that you don’t know Yeosang can pick you up but every time he does you melt. Yeosang carries you toward the kitchen and Seonghwa’s right behind him. “And the uh---yeah.” Jongho hops up to follow them, pushing through San and Woo with zero of the politeness Yeosang offered. “Thanks though” he grins, patting Woo on the shoulder, “But not really.”
“Oh my---that’s---that” you gasp, pleasantly surprised at how much you enjoy the sensation. Seonghwa bending you over your dresser and swirling a popsicle in your asshole wasn’t on your 2023 bingo board but he has you wondering why it never was. The chill of the popsicle is calming in a way. You were overheating for a bit there but now? You feel tingly all over. With the popsicle melted and your thighs coated in drips of sticky, strawberry syrup, Seonghwa goes to work licking it off of you. His long tongue trails up your left thigh---down your right thigh. It comes back up to your ass, nibbling at the plush cheeks and making you squeal. He stays there for a second kissing them, massaging them, tickling them with the tip of his tongue.
“Hwa---mmph” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he tongues your candy-coated asshole. Imagine having an itch. Not just any itch. One of those itches that makes it difficult to focus on anything else. One of those itches that refuse to be ignored. But you can’t reach it. No matter how hard you try, your arms just aren’t reaching until---oh god---you finally do. You scratch it and it’s so good that your legs could give out. Nothing, not a single thing, compares to how uniquely amazing that feels. That’s what it feels like to have Seonghwa making figure eights in your ass like his tongue's a professional figure skater.
While you’re bent over seeing stars, he maintains a shaky hold on his cock. Each stroke is slow and deliberate, in sync with yours. “Fuck, you taste so good” he mumbles, fully prepared to smother himself if it means tasting as much of you as possible. You hear a moan you’ve heard a dozen times before. Seonghwa tries to suppress them when he cums even though you wish he wouldn’t. Usually, he hates being messy but his cum has already glazed over his hand and the afterglow is heaven. “Fuck it,” he says to himself, falling across the bed. Spinning around you come face to face with Jongho. “Hey ya cutie” you beam, poking his cheeks.
Sometimes people say that he’s scary, mean even, but when you look at him all you see is your cuddly bear. You drape your arms over his shoulders for support, “Your turn?” Jongho effortlessly lifts you onto the dresser, kissing you like he’s been waiting forever to do it. And he has. “My turn.” He presses the head of his cock against your clit and there they are again. The hot flashes. That thin layer of perspiration on your skin. Jongho grabs your arms, pinning them behind you, and drives into you. “You’re still so wet.” “Not still” you whisper, “This is just for you.” Jongho thrusts into you and you’re full again, his cock much thicker than you remember.
Your exhausted muscles can hardly hold up to being fucked this hard but you don’t have to worry about that. In his arms, you don’t have to worry about anything besides feeling good. He could keep you steady all night if Yeosang weren’t snatching you away, tossing you on the bed. “Yeosang!” you shout, sliding back on the bed, “You can’t just throw people around like that!” Yeosang climbs on top of you, pushing your shirt up, “I can’t?” He brushes a thumb across one of your nipples, lapping at the other as his fingers massage your breast. “You can---shit---do it again” you surrender between shallow breaths.
Yeosang slips into you, his cock pulsing in time with each rise of his hips. His defined arms slip beneath your body, hands locking just behind your back. When he flips you over on top of him, it’s like your whole world’s been turned on its side. He bounces you up and down in his lap, the tremors traveling far behind your core. Just as he picks up a rhythm Jongho tears you away from him, propping you up against the wall. You’d make some smartass comment about Jongho not being good at sharing. If only there were time enough for that.
His arms are already tucked behind your knees, supporting your weight as he fucks you against the wall. “You’re such an addictive little slut, you know that?” he says, and your heart flutters. You just love when he sweet-talks you. The angle he has you at is perfect for stimulating your g spot. He’s bumping right up against it and you’re clamped down around him, as addicted to him as he is to you. “Can I borrow this?” Yeosang asks, peeling you away from Jongho and tossing you back onto the bed.
This time you’re on your knees. All fours is simply out of the question with how completely destroyed you are. “Are you just gonna toss me around all night?” you whine, burying your face in the blankets. Seonghwa lays his head beside yours, nuzzling up to you. “Of course not” he assures you, his voice warm and comforting, “I won’t throw you around when I have you. A light roll maybe---”
“Pirates! Cowboys! Biker gangs!” you mumble incoherently, jolting awake. Shaking off those incredibly strange dreams, you realize that you’re still in bed. Judging from how dark it is in your room, it’s well past midnight. You must’ve fallen asleep after what your aching muscles are telling you was a wrestling match with a bear. A barely awake Yunho tightens his arm around you from behind, “Cowboys? I’ll do anything for you but I am not putting on a cowboy costume.” “I will,” Mingi yawns, cuddling up closer to you from the other side, “I get nice boots. Probably a cool jacket. Ooh, some guns---”
“There are no guns!” you interrupt, “When did you two even get in here?” Yunho shrugs, “A few hours ago. You never came downstairs and we missed you.” The “we” he’s referring to is obvious when you notice how hard he is against your back. “You fell asleep on us” Mingi pouts, a hand running up your thigh to squeeze your ass. You drape a leg around his waist, smooching him on the nose, “Don’t do that.” “Don’t do what?” Mingi pouts even more, knowing how soft you go for him when he does this. “That! You guys are both being so---” “So?” Yunho asks, his long fingers reaching between your legs to stroke your pussy.
You shiver at the contact. Having Yunho behind you, his cock pressing into the small of your back, his fingers teasing you, makes your heart race. Mingi spreads your thighs, giving Yunho more than enough room to curl his fingers into you. “Finish what you were saying.” “I---uh---” “Uh---uh” Mingi mocks, petting your cheek. You move to playfully slap him but he grabs you by the wrist, kissing you before you can even consider trying anything else. Yunho eases a third finger into your core, “You like it when I play with your little cunt, don’t you?” “Mm-hmm” you hum, lidded eyes glossing over.
Yunho stays focused on tapping your sweet spot while Mingi hypnotizes you with his lips. Mingi has you so drugged, so completely entranced, that you don’t even notice when one of Yunho’s fingers is replaced with his. It’s not until there are four of them inside of you, two of Mingi’s and two of Yunho’s that you feel the difference. Feel the intensity of the stretch. “I think she likes it” Mingi grins, rubbing his thumb against your clit. Yunho follows suit, slipping a thumb into your ass. “Fuck---yes---Yunie---Mingi---mmm!” you cry out, so overstimulated that your eyes begin to water.
They grind into you harder, forcing out screams louder than any you’ve made tonight. “Please---inside of me---wanna feel you. Both of you” you whine, so lost in how badly you want them that you don’t realize what you’re asking. Mingi slides his hand out, smearing your juices between your folds, “Aah, she’s adventurous tonight. You sure you can handle that?” “I-I can. Ah, shit. I need it.” Yunho spreads his fingers in a V, rolling them around inside of you, stretching you from every angle. Mingi brings the head of his cock to splash in the juices leaking from your needy core and Yunho pulls out of you, focusing instead on freeing himself from his pants.
For a fleeting moment, it occurs to you how fucking insane you are. Mingi and Yunho at the same time? It’s not only the thickness, it’s the length. You wonder if you have a death wish. Mingi guides himself into you, only the first inch, sending shockwaves through your system. If this is how you die, you figure, at least you’ll die happy. Yunho spits into his palm, moistening his length before he brings it to meet your already occupied slit. Mingi slides in another inch or two, keeping his cock flush against the roof of your walls. Yunho raises himself into you, taking his time to watch for any signs that you’re uncomfortable, “Let us know if it’s too much, okay?” You make a little squeak to acknowledge how nice it feels to be protected, even when he’s in the process of tearing you in half.
He begins to slide up into you, pausing to let Mingi push in a little more, then taking his turn again. It’s a toe-curling, lip-biting back and forth to get them both inside of you. Once they are, you're falling apart, screaming, digging your nails into Mingi’s arm. Pulling his shirt up over his head, he gathers the material and shoves it in your mouth. “We don’t want them to think we’re killing you.” You’re so full, stretched beyond your limit, that only one of them can fuck into you at once. There’s no room for anything---or anyone---else. You belong to them. “You’re always worth waiting for but shit” Mingi grunts, his length throbbing, as much as it can given the space.
There’s moisture on your cheeks. You’re crying. Not from pain. No. That initial sting gave way to pleasure once they were both finally inside of you. You’re crying, drenched in your own tears, because parts of you are shifting that you didn’t even know could. Every stroke has your ears ringing, your heart in your stomach. You feel heavy and weightless all at once. The darkness of the room swallows you while somehow managing to be blindingly bright. There’s an explosion somewhere inside, releasing the building pressure. You’re at your peak again, legs kicking like you’re dangling high up. It hits you hard. So hard that you’re not breathing. Breathe, girl, breathe!
Just as you catch your breath and think that you’re maybe---maybe---coming down, Yunho's filling you up like a donut. Mingi pulls out, tapping his head against your clit as warm cum sprays against you. Correction: Filling you up like a glazed donut. The three of you collapse, unable to do much else besides make a series of broken noises. “Hmph mmm mm hmph,” you say? Scream? Mumble? Mingi throws his arm across his chest, understanding your incoherent huffs, and takes the shirt out of your mouth. You pat him lovingly on the head, “Thanks.”
Readjusting yourself on the toilet, you rub the partially melted popsicle between your legs. This is nowhere near sexual in nature. You’re just in desperate need of relief from how sore you are after the day’s events. “Aah, yup, that’s the spot” you sigh, “Seonghwa really was onto something.” “Was I?” Seonghwa asks, rubbing his eyes. You jump a bit, startled by his sudden appearance in the doorway. Seonghwa stretches, dragging his feet into the bathroom.
As adorable as he is in his pajamas, his hair a complete mess, seeing him right now isn’t ideal. He shakes off the sleep, taking his time to process what’s going on. “Is that a---” “Ssh, if you tell anyone---” Seonghwa’s cheeks turn rosy, a smile spreading across his face. He takes you by the hand, bringing you to your feet, “Come on.” “Hwa, hold on, do you think? I wasn’t--no. No!” You reach back to drop the popsicle in the sink but Hwa pulls you along. “Hold onto that.”
#ateez smut#ateez x you#ateez x chubby reader#ateez x y/n#ateez x reader#ateez ot8#ateez oneshot#hongjoong x y/n#mingi x y/n#jongho x y/n#yeosang x y/n#yunho x y/n#seonghwa x y/n#san x y/n#wooyoung x y/n#chubby reader
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𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓: 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒, 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍.
All these sentences were found on pinterests about romance, longing, pinning, sweet whispering, dirty talk and intimacy. Those that are intimate and smutty are label as such so please beware. Change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.
For former lovers, separation and the longing:
I wish we never met, you are too hard to forget.
You don’t even know how beautiful you are.
You broke my heart. You killed me.
I just miss you all the time.
There is only one heart in this body. Have mercy on me.
For you it’s all just a game, isn’t it?
We all have our seasons, my issue is that all remind me of you.
I’m jealous of everyone who can see you everyday.
We will meet again in our dreams.
Perhaps in another life. . .we would’ve worked.
I don’t care how complicated this gets.
I wish you loved me like I love you.
Am I not good enough for you?
I wish it was easier to hate you.
Just because I let you go doesn't mean I wanted to.
Please stop making me think you are in love with me.
What is this? Whatever we have, it’s not longer simple.
You knew I loved you and you broke my heart anyways.
You left. I woke up one day and you were gone. Not even a goodbye.
I love you and it’s killing me.
Come back alive and I’ll say it. Come back to me and I’ll say anything you want.
I’ll wait for you, but don’t take forever.
I wish I had met you a long time ago.
You are putting words in my mouth.
I might be heartless but you are naive.
You’re right I don’t want to feel anything.
You are scared of the way I make you feel.
I have loved you since we were children.
Stop denying what happened between us.
You keep saying it was just an affair. But it wasn’t.
Who hurt you?
I’ll always find you.
Wherever you are, if you need me, I will find you. If you need me.
You don't need to say a word. I never expected you to feel the same.
You are still searching for me in every woman.
Intimacy between lovers, nsft:
You can control what I eat, what I wear, who I talk to.
Good girl, you are taking it so well.
You are making me proud.
This is just for you.
You're taking it so good.
Eyes on me while I fuck you, baby.
You like that, uh?
Lift your hips for me, love.
Mine. Only fucking mine.
If you can still walk, then we are not finished.
You say we are friends, but friends don’t know the way you taste.
Dirty and loyal, that’s my girl.
You deserve to be fucked until you can’t stand up.
Shh, just a bit more. That’s it.
There you go, that’s a good girl.
We have to be careful, we can’t fall in love.
I’m going to eat you up.
I’ll do things you never forget.
We are lovers, we can’t stop loving.
You little aristocrat, I want to fuck you. Teach you things, humiliate you.
I never stopped wanted you. I want you now so bad.
Maybe I should get on my knees and worship you.
Lift up your dress.
You don’t need pleasure, you need shivers.
I want you in my mouth.
Tie me up, tell me I’m yours, take control.
You got to be quiet or someone will hear you.
Does it get you wet? That someone might walk in?
Bend over, hands on the bed.
Brace yourself on the wall.
Are you going to come for me?
Come inside me, please.
You like a gentleman who knows how not to be gentle.
I can’t hate you. Not like this. Not now.
The taste of you is so addictive.
Do you want me to turn over? Take me from behind?
Oh, I thought you were mad at me.
Wet my fingers for me, sweetheart.
Use that mouth of yours.
Move with me, grind on it.
Did he ever touched you like this?
Don’t let a single drop go to waste.
Strip for me.
Do you let all your enemies fuck you like this?
Open up for me.
Don’t come until I give you permission.
Have I not been a good girl?
I learn fast. Does that feel good?
You deserve the best, because you are my good girl.
I'm going to ruin you.
#meme#roleplay memes#sentence meme#( cali meme. )#rp memes#rp prompt#rp musings#roleplay prompt#◟ ⋆ memes › roleplay sources.
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a/n: min told me that he had nightmares so i had to write about making him feel better
it takes you longer than you want to admit to notice it - the fact that minho doesn’t sleep in front of you.
you don’t get it at first. you’ve slept together, in the same bed, and yet as you comb through your mind for any memory of a sleeping minho you can’t find any.
he’s always awake when you wake up. either he’s propped up on one elbow, watching the planes of your face as you slowly rise from whatever dream you were having of him, or he’s up in the kitchen making breakfast. sometimes you catch him playing a game on his phone next to you, but he denies it and says he was reading the news. i can’t be seen getting addicted to candy crush again, he would claim, locking his phone so fast that you couldn’t catch more than a glimpse.
but it stands - you haven’t seen him sleep. even with the amount of times you’ve laid over him and fallen asleep pressed against him, he’s never done the same. and you’re only realizing this now because his head is on your lap and he’s drowsy from the way you’re scratching gently at his scalp with your fingers and all you can think about is that it’s happening.
his brown eyes are hidden by his rapidly lowering lids, the slivers of white getting smaller and smaller until they’re completely covered. his breath evens out and he slumps that much further into your lap and you don’t even want to move just in case. you keep your breathing even, you don't let your legs twitch even when they begin to fall asleep under his weight. you don’t want to ruin this blatant display of trust that he’s showing you.
but as it turns out, you don’t have to. it happens on his own, starting with a hitch of his breath and the frantic movements of his eyes under his lids. it’s when he lets out a heartbreakingly small whimper that you realize - he’s having a nightmare.
you tentatively move your hand back to his hair, hoping that the action that comforted him before would do it again. he relaxes almost immediately at your touch and you sigh, both in relief and worry.
he wakes not long after, wide eyes opening and pink lips parted in a yawn that is so cute that you can’t help but coo at him. he scrunches up his nose in distaste, but his pink ears betray how much he likes it when you find him cute.
“is that why you don’t let me see you sleep?” you ask, keeping your voice soft as if he’s a cornered kitten that you don’t want to spook. “you don’t want me to see that you’re having nightmares?”
“yes,” he says, surprising you with how readily he provided an answer. he never stops surprising you like that, you really don’t know what to expect from him until he acts. you love that about him.
“baby,” you smile down at him to where he’s still curled up in your lap. “you know you don’t have to hide these things from me. i want to know everything about you, i’m selfish like that. let me.”
“i didn’t want to worry you,” he starts, trailing off a bit. “but you. being here. it helps.”
“then i’ll never stop being here.”
and so it happens again. and again. until it becomes kind of a routine - he’ll curl up on your lap like the cat you know he wishes he was and will blink up at you until your hand moves to his head. at some point it becomes second nature for you, your fingers gravitating towards his hair before you even have to think.
and every time your fingers still, he whimpers a little in his sleep, stirring just enough for you to realize and start your ministrations again. every time he wakes up it’s with a smile, and he mumbles a thank you and presses a kiss to your fingers.
you don’t know how to tell him he doesn’t need to thank you. you don’t know how to show him that you’re not doing something for him, you’re doing it for both of you. you don’t know how to reveal to him that the way he trusts you with his vulnerability makes your heart catch fire.
so, you just keep up your routine. he’ll learn, eventually, what it means to you.
#stray kids imagines#stray kids fluff#skz fluff#stray kids drabbles#stray kids soft thoughts#stray kids soft hours#lee know fluff#lee know imagines#lee know x reader#soft
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The One I Want: Part 3
Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Plus size!reader
Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.
Notes/Warnings: cursing, maybe. I don't think anything else. Sorry if there are typos.
Words: 1720
The One I Want Masterlist
---
Jake Seresin is a wizard. Or a mind-reader. Or some creature with wildly sensitive hearing. You’re sure of it.
In the month since you moved into the apartment, your only moments alone come when you lock yourself in your bedroom. Otherwise, Jake is near you—sitting next to you, looking at you, talking to you. If your door opens, he follows not five seconds later. If you sit down at the island with your breakfast of bland cereal, he enters the kitchen within two minutes to prepare his own meal; the same meal every morning. Eggs, Canadian bacon, and a protein shake. If you dare to switch the television on, turns out he’s been meaning to watch that show for weeks. You had no idea he was into movie special effects competitions.
It isn’t irritating, exactly—though, it wouldn’t shock you if others experiencing similar treatment would feel that way. You just can’t figure him out. He’s unfigure-outable. You’re pretty sure that’s a thing. If not, Jake Seresin just brought it into existence. And here you thought you were the mystery.
“So I was thinking,” he says.
You close your book without a second thought, having barely read and retained a line in the last fifteen minutes anyway. From the moment he came out of his room and plopped down on the couch—his leg bouncing and eyes trained ahead on nothing—you’ve been waiting for him to snap the tense band of silence between you.
His fingers clasp together, thumbs subtly twiddling when he finally looks over to you. “Maybe you could meet my friends. They’ve asked about you, and you’ve already met Nat so it’s really only the guys.”
That was perhaps one of the last things you imagined he would say. You’ve heard very little of his friends. They’re also pilots. His team. They all have weird nicknames. Half of those nicknames are animals.
There are other tidbits Jake casually mentioned as well. Coyote is his closest friend. There’s a Rooster who recently found himself a chick. A Bob and a Phoenix—who you learned is Nat—are particularly attached.
But every bit of that information you figured he was simply spilling to fill moments where you were in the same room but not speaking. Or perhaps it’s some method to draw out feelings of trust so you might participate in his little game of show and tell. In his eyes is always the hope that you’ll share something of your own, but you have yet to find the courage or need to do so.
“Oh,” you reply, trying to gather the correct words to turn him down. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not really up to meeting a group of people today.”
You hate the way his face falls. Like a puppy denied a treat. But it lasts only a second as another thought brightens the green hue of his irises.
“What if we went somewhere? You and me.”
“What?”
His body shifts on the couch, more of him now facing you. He’s wearing a shirt today. He’s been wearing shirts around you since you made the request weeks ago, but they’re weak at disguising the body underneath. Thin fabric pulled tight like a second skin.
“You said no bars,” he continues. “How do you feel about diners?”
—
It’s an odd image—Jake framed in this setting. He’s all lean muscle and neatly styled hair with a clean-shaven jawline surrounded by greasy food and booths so old their plastic seats are cracking. As others watch him—particularly the hostess who cannot for her life keep from glancing his way every thirty seconds—he watches you. Says nothing; just watches until the waitress returns to set a few plates and mugs in front of you both.
“There you go, kids,” she says. She’s older, and her hair is done up in a style that hasn’t followed the turning of the decades, but you like that it suits her; that she hasn’t paid attention to the change around her, or simply doesn’t care. With her hands on her hips, she says, “Now Jake, if I knew you were bringing a girlfriend I would’ve set aside some of that pie you like.”
Your eyes bug so much they could’ve fallen right onto the table, but Jake chuckles, smiling at you before directing it to the waitress. “Don’t spook her, Mags,” he teases. Then, “This is my new roommate.”
Her lips form an ‘O’ that holds for a few seconds too long before she blinks and tilts her head to the side. “Didn’t work out with the other one, honey?”
“Not so much, no.”
“Well, that’s just fine. I wasn’t a fan.” Mags takes a breath and straightens out her little apron; a costume element you’d rather die than wear, but much like her hair, Mags seems to take pride in it. You can’t fault her for that. You wish you could find a job you enjoy. Or a job at all. She shoots you a grin; nothing like the rehearsed smiles from someone in a customer service job, but a genuine curve of the lips that creates a warm little ball in your chest. “You, on the other hand, look like such a sweetheart. So be good to my Jake here.”
You don’t have the opportunity to disappoint her because she doesn’t wait for a response. Be good to her Jake. Not an ask. A demand. An unspoken ‘or else’ hanging in the air. And though she’s got at least forty years on you, you’re pretty sure she’s spry enough to follow through on her sneaky threats.
Mags squeezes Jake’s shoulder and departs, leaving you in a confused state of mixed energies. Shock and discomfort radiate off of you like heat waves, meeting the cool calmness emanating from a beaming Jake.
“Will you tell me more about yourself now?” he asks.
Shaking off the questionable tone of the older woman, you reconnect yourself to the man in front of you. His words soak in; another unexpected curveball Jake has thrown you within one day. His friends want to meet you, and now your personal details are on his mind. What would come next? Does he want to know the last time you were thoroughly kissed? Your high school GPA? Height and weight? If so, he’s going to be terribly disappointed.
Steaming, wispy tendrils invade your vision, and you finally register the blueberry hint hitting your nostrils. Jake had whispered the order to Mags with the explanation that he already knew what you wanted. And being the mind-reading wizard you’re convinced he is, on a menu of nearly one hundred items he magically happened to pick something you enjoy.
You hold yourself back from digging in, instead meeting his eyes as you cross your arms over your chest. “You think free pancakes are a good trade for my life story?”
He slowly slides a mug closer to you. “I got you coffee as well.”
When you raise an unenthused brow, Jake sighs.
“Fine. You’re leaving me no other choice than to guess,” he says. “But if I get it right, will you be honest?”
With a snort, you pick up your fork and take your first bite of the sweet fluffy cake. It’s undeniably delicious. Fucking wizard. “Sure,” you say, and akin to a child, Jake’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree.
He ignores his own food and drink to once again watch you. Observing. Your eyes to your lips to your neck and back again. When he comes to a conclusion, he leans back in the booth. “You are a fan of the beach and before you die you intend to live in every beach town this country has to offer for at least two months each.”
Your fork pauses halfway to your mouth. “Are you kidding?”
“Well, since it appears that I am wrong, I’m going to say yes I am kidding because I’m very funny like that.” He stares some more, eyes narrowing. “You’re searching for a long-lost family member.”
“No.”
“You are only attracted to Navy men and thought you’d travel to a hub.”
Again, as he likes to do, he leaves you lacking words for a moment. “That better be another one of your ‘I’m very funny like that’ attempts,” you eventually manage to say. “And you know I wasn’t aware this was a Navy town.”
Jake nods and then leans forward in his seat, arms overlapping on the linoleum tabletop. You can sense the sudden shift; a new energy. The glint in his eye doesn't quite go with the steady seriousness of his voice. Like mismatched puzzle pieces. “So you’re not attracted to Navy men?” he asks.
Your head jerks back to regain the distance he lessened. “Not exclusively.”
“Damn,” he replies, full playful tone back in place. “I wanted to at least get that part right.”
There’s another bright smile from him. A wink. You look to your right to find Mags' watchful gaze; motherly and hopeful.
After another swallow of pancake, you say, “Alright, you’re done for the day.”
“Oh, come on,” he whines.
When you shake your head, he picks up his fork and begins to poke at the eggs on his plate, and you bask in the silence of his disappointment. Peace and quiet, with the exception of the diners surrounding you. No questions. No attempted agonizing small talk. You have a moment to breathe.
It’s not until you’re halfway through your food and the coffee is nearly drained that Jake lifts his head.
“I’m going to figure you out,” he says with an unwelcome note of determination.
Your eyes snap up.
The feeling behind his statement is hard to nail down. You would’ve said delving into your history was something fun for him to do. Something to pass the time with the new person in his home. But now it comes off more like a need. A little prick in his side that he can’t shake.
You so badly want to be wrong in your interpretation. You want him to give up; to surrender to your stubbornness. Ideally, sooner rather than later.
“You really don’t have to,” you say.
Jake doesn’t miss a beat. Nothing about him—not his breath, not his stare—stutters at your response. Instead, he returns with, “But I want to.”
---
A/N: Sorry it's a little short. Next chapter will be labeled 3.5 and will be from Jake's POV.
tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath @coldmuffinbanditshoe
#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin#top gun maverick#jake seresin fic#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin fic#top gun hangman#top gun#jake hangman seresin x y/n#tgm#tgm fic#jake seresin fluff#jake seresin x plus size!reader#jake seresin angst
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begging for leah x it's a bad idea by olivia rodrigo. smut cause why not. boyfriend leah at its finest. and teammate references cause i love me some worried friends.
seeing her tonight, it’s a bad idea right?
leah williamson x reader
lighter smut, lots of fluff, little bit of angst, chelsea wfc x reader, admissions of love minors dni
When I’d heard my phone buzzing the last thing I would have expected was a missed call from her and a flurry of texts.
Leah
Come over? 10.15pm
Please, I miss you, I’m lonely. 10.16pm
Let’s have some fun 😉? 10.18pm
Here’s the new address if you didn’t already have it. Unit two Lower end Road Buckinghamshire. 10.21pm
I hadn’t heard from her in months, not since England beat Australia in the World Cup. I looked around the bar that I was sitting at with my friends and teammates, it was Friday night and we’d taken it upon ourselves to get our weekend started on a goodnote, the Chelsea girls knew how to party. I’m gradually getting myself fucked up and now I can’t get her out of my head, everything about it feels shameful. All I can think about is her, I thought we were done, thought we were through but I can’t help myself from looking down at the texts, she’s calling my phone and she’s all alone and I can’t even hear my own thoughts with the music thrumming through the space and the adrenaline rush that’s getting to my head as I think about her.
Seeing her tonight, it’s a bad idea right?
Fuck it.
I collect my things quite quickly, giving my friends all goodbyes, telling them that I’m not feeling well and I’m just going to get a uber home. Millie, Sam and Guro are all disappointed, Madga insists she’ll drive me home but I deny her immediately, telling her I’ll just catch a uber and that I don’t want to ruin the night for any of them. They all seemed slightly worried by my answer but had accepted it nonetheless, Sam insisting that she’d call the uber for me, which was slightly annoying but also a battle I knew I wouldn’t win, I was just going to have to direct the driver to Leah’s instead of mine.
She walked me out to the car, in typical older sister fashion, she’d adopted me as soon as I’d joined her at Chelsea and it was sometimes funny to me how overprotective she got. She walked me all the way to the car, checking that I had the right driver and making sure I had my seatbelt fastened before saying her goodbyes. The whole time I couldn’t stop thinking about Leah, my brain clouded over with the thoughts of her. Sure she might be my ex but can’t two people reconnect? We just saw each other as friends, right?
As soon as the driver starts to move the car in the direction of my apartment I redirect him to Leah’s apartment, she only lives five minutes away so I just decide I’ll tip him generously.
I can’t believe that I’m wrecking all my plans for her, I know I should stop, but I can’t. I told my friends that I was feeling sick and I was heading to bed but I never said who’s.
Before I know it ‘m showing up at your place, climbing out of the car and looking up at your apartment. Should I? Probably not. All that I can hear in my head is you though, we’re just friends is all I can tell myself but I also know that it’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told myself.
I’m walking up the stairs, to the second floor and before I know what I’m doing I’m knocking on your door and you're standing, smiling at the door.
Before I know she’s pulling me into the apartment and before I can even say anything because her lips are on my own. I don’t even put up a fight, letting her devour me just as I’d been dreaming about the whole way here. It’s just two people reconnecting, right?
Her hands are all over me, snaking up and down my waist and legs as she devours my mouth and neck with ease.
“Bedroom baby, not in the hallway.”
Leah nods eagerly, smirking as she pulls be with one hand down the entrance and quickly into her room, forcing me to trip and fall into her bed.
“Missed you.”
It was murmured against my neck as she continued her assault of the skin all over my body, I swore she was touching every single nerve ending in my body, it was like I was on fire, in all of the best ways. She always made me feel that way, I think that was why I always came crawling back to her even if I was just another one of her things for her to play with when she was bored and alone, at least it was the best sex of my life, every single time.
She took her time as well, tending to every single part of my body before she even dipped below my underwear, taking her time to stirp every layer of my clothes and to worship every part of skin that was revealed to her with another layer gone, I felt like a babushka doll, slowly being stripped down until I was just me. She knew she was good as well, knew just how well she knew my body. She was smug about it, in the disgusting boyfriend way that made me so giddy on the insides.
When she did eventually work her way down I was a trembling, moaning mess. My coherency was gone and all I could do was mutter Leah’s name and a trail of profanities that only she could ever make me produce.
Leah had stamina, an insane amount, she could go all night, she’d proven that to me in the past. I could sense that wasn’t going to be tonight though, something about tonight seemed softer, more delicate, less fucking out our feelings. It was poetic in a way that I’d never experienced with Leah and it sort of weirded me out, not enough to not enjoy the feeling of her tongue slowly descending down on my pussy, licking it’s way through my folds like she was fucking cat. My body reacted almost immediately, letting out more strings of profanities and moans, embarrassingly sinful groans that I was sure Leah’s neighbours could probably hear.
She didn’t stop until I was an incoherent mess, giving me orgasm after orgasm until I couldn’t even talk anymore. Using her tongue, fingers and my facourite vibrator of hers to have me at her mercy. Once I think I’d gotten to my fifth she decided I was done, I was floating on a endorphin cloud, and didn’t even really notice as Leah helped me into her covers and into her blankets and sheets. By the time she had gotten me under them though I’d managed to awaken enough that I was thinking straight and seeing. Leah was lying down next to me, still mostly clothed and as far as I was aware, untouched.
“Let me look after you?”
Leah was never a receiver, told me she found pleasure in seeing me in pleasure, which I loved but I also loved seeing Leah enjoying herself.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
With that answer Leah had nodded at me, her bottom lip between her teeth as my hand snaked under the covers and down her body, gently unclipping her bra and letting my hand snake further down and inbetween her own legs. She was soaked, dripping straight through her panties and it was pretty easy for me to make her come down with just my hand, pinching her clit and watching her face as she shook and squirted all over my fingers. By the time she’d come down we were both well and truly spent. It didn’t take long for Leah’s hands to wrap their way around my waist, twisting us up in her sheets into a pile of sweat and limbs.
“Missed you.”
Leah’s hands were busying themselves in my hair, massaging my scalp and tugging at my roots.
“Missed you too, Lee.”
My voice was murmured against her bicep, which my head was resting against, giving her easier access to my scalp. I could still feel the faint effects of the alcohol that I had consumed earlier, making me sort of giddy and warm on the inside. Nothing though could compare to the pure warmth of feeling Leah’s breath against my neck, brushing air up and down the sensitive skin.
“What were you doing, before I texted?”
“I was out with the team, getting drinks at the bar on James street.”
I knew that she knew the one I was talking about, I was fairly sure we’d been there together before, but I wasn’t completely certain.
“You left the team for me?”
There was a lot of insecurity in her voice. We were both extremely tied into our clubs, only having played for them and being die hard supporters of our clubs. I bled blue and her blood was Arsenal red, it was just how we were.
“I guess, what did you think I was doing?”
Leah’s hands continued their gentle rub of my head, she practically had me mewling in her arms.
“I guess I thought you were home or something, didn’t really think about it, figured if you were doing something that you would just ignore me.”
“You know that I would never ignore you right. I physically can’t.”
Leah’s hands stopped for a split second when the words left my mouth, not long enough for it to be highly noticeable though.
“I’m sorry I ghosted you.”
“You didn’t ghost me, ghosting is implying that I reached out to you and you have actively ignored me, we mutually discommunicated. It’s not like we’re dating or anything, you're under no obligation to text me.”
Leah’s hands began to slow, a clear sign she was thinking.
“Did you want to text me?”
It was a dopey question, so Leah like.
“Of course I wanted to text you Leah, I just didn’t know what we were and I didn’t want to make assumptions.”
“What do you think we are?”
I let the question hand in the air for a few minutes, contentedly relaxing into Leah’s fingers and thinking about the question.
“I mean Leah, it’s no secret that you make your way around. I always thought I was just another one of your girls that you call when you're feeling horny, I’m fine with that, but I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t wanted more at some stage.”
I heard Leah exhale from above me, we’d always had a friends with benefits relationship, that’s always how I’d classified it.
“I love you, y/n.”
I froze up at those words, they’d been the very last thing I’d been expecting to leave Leah’s mouth.
“No you don’t, shut up, the endorphins are getting to your head.”
It was my defence mechanism, denial and refusal.
“Uh, I’ve got bad news for you, I think I do.”
Before I knew it she was tilting my head back fully, so I was looking at her in the eye and just one look at those brown orbs showed me the amount of sincerity that was held in them.
“What?”
I was so fucking confused, surely it was the alcohol, the scotch that I’d had getting to my head.
“I mean, I know that most of our relationship has been sex, but the mronigns and nights we’ve spent together have been amazing and I know everyone thinks that I work my way around but as soon as I started seeing you I stopped, because you were enough, but it’s not enough for me anymore seeing you once a month or whenever we can, I want you everyday. I want to wake up beside you, I want to have sleepy morning sex and breakfast in bed. I want you all the time, not when we can make it work.”
The sentence was ended with a peck to my forehead, it took everything in my power to not laugh at Leah because even though I knew she was being genuine there was something so funny about this whole predicament to me.
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean am I sure, of course I am, I wouldn’t have laid my heart out like that if I wasn’t.”
Leah’s voice was full of exasperation, I knew it was taking a lot for her to make these admissions because whether or not she wanted to admit it she was a very guarded person and it took a lot for her to say something like that.
“That’s nice.”
Leah let out a snort, a big, loud snort that just make me smile.
“That’s nice? That’s all I get after laying my heart out?”
“I love you too?”
My words were muttered out between a litter of laughs and breaths as I watched Leah’s face contort into something of annoyance and adoration.
“Can you say it without it being a question?”
I licked my lips and smiled at her.
“What do I get if I do?”
“Will a kiss suffice?”
I bit my lip and smirked at her.
“I love you.”
I put as much into the words as I could, being rewarded with a soft kiss to my lips, both of our eyes were growing heavy and you could tell by the softness in the actions.
“Say it again.”
I rolled my eyes at Leah, reaching up and pressing my lips to hers between every word.
“I,” kiss “Love,” kiss “You,” kiss “Leah,” kiss “Williamson.”
I could feel her smirking against my lips and everything about it was right.
“Now that I’ve made it clear, I’m actually feeling quite tired so how about you give me some hugs and we go to sleep and maybe have that sleepy morning sex you mentioned when we wake up?”
Leah smirked at me, smugly, how she did when anyone talked about sex around her.
“I think I can do that.”
I’d moved onto my side and Leah’s arms had woven her way around my waist, essentially spooning me. It was so wholesome, so unlike anything that had ever occurred between us and before I knew it I was drifting off in Leah’s arms.
I was awoken unhappily by the sound of my phone ringing madly from beside us. I picked it up quickly, before I could get a look at the caller ID, too worried that the sound would awaken Leah. I was lucky she was a deep sleeper. I very hastily pressed the phone to my ear, to be met with the voice of my adoptive sister/mother.
“Where the fuck are you?”
I probably should have expected this call.
“What do you mean?”
“I just got home, you’re not here.”
Fuck.
“I’m with a friend.”
I heard Sam’s growl from the other side of the line.
“You said you were sick, why the fuck are you with a friend?”
I didn’t really have an answer to that question.
“I’m safe, I’m fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I hung up the phone quickly, placing it back down on the bedside table and sliding myself back into Leah, tangling our limbs back together and slotting myself back in next to her.
“Who was it?”
Leah’s voice was full of sleep and I was sure she hadn’t even opened her eyes.
“Sam.”
Leah nodded against me, clearly content with my answer.
“What did she want?”
“Wanted to know where I was, I told her I was sick when I left the bar and I guess she got home and wondered where I was. She sounded like she’d had a few drinks, she probably won’t even remember by the time morning rolls around.”
Leah nodded again, I could tell she wasn’t fully awake and didn’t intend on becoming fully awake.
“Go back to sleep, we’ll sort it out in the morning.”
I let myself relax back into Leah’s body, relaxing into her warmth and the safety she offered and letting myself fall back to sleep in her arms.
I would have loved to have said that I awoke to sleepy, morning kisses and sex. I didn’t. I woke up to the sound of somebody pounding on Leah’s door. Both Leah and I shot up in the bed, her jumping up quickly and finding a discarded pair of boxer shorts and an oversized shirt very quickly and me locating my pants and shirt from the night before and throwing them on quick enough to see Leah sliding out of her room and down the hall. I managed to duck my head out just in time to see her open the door and see who was waiting behind it, silently shitting myself when I saw the four women pushing past a very shell shocked Leah.
Millie, Magda, Pernille and Sam were the four last people I wanted to see in this circumstance and place.
“Sure, just let yourselves in, no worries guys.”
There was insecurity hidden behind her words, as much as she tried to make them sound confident.
“What the fuck are you all doing here?”
My voice was close to a shriek, it was 6.30 in the morning for fucks sakes and yet they were all here, looking as bright as daisies in Leah’s apartment.
“You told us you were sick, Sam got an ominous call from you, we looked at your location, it said you were here, so we came to check up on you, see how that sickness was going. Seems like you’ve found yourself a carer in our absence though. I wasn’t aware you two were acquainted, good morning Leah, good to see you getting out of your shell.”
Leah and I both looked at each other and then back at Millie, she could be down right scary when she was mad or annoyed.
“I’m feeling much better.”
There was sass behind my words that I knew wouldn’t slide with the group.
“I think you’d both better get to explaining, fairly quickly, before we all start to make assumptions.”
I smirked at Sam, it was all going to happen in due time I supposed, and there was no way of trying to worm out of this situation so what was the harm in telling a few people. I looked at Leah for assurance and when I saw her nod at me I started talking,
“Leah and I have been in a situation for a few months now, on and off since around the olympics I think. Nothing commitment, just friends with benefits. She texted me last night and I decided I wanted to go see her, so I told you all I felt sick and I headed over to her house. I’m sure you can piece together with your own heads what happened between then and now.”
I waved my hand nonchalantly at the group that was congregated in Leah’s kitchen, they were my family, Magda and Pernille were Millie, Sam and I’s parents and we were all sisters. Magda was the bad cop, because she never let anything slide and was always onto us about anything. Pernille the good cop, always sending us smiles and little graces that we loved her for. We loved the both equally, for the different things they both provided. I knew Leah had a similar relationship with Kim Little, who was like her Arsenal mom, she was probably going to be the next person we would have to face about this.
“What the actual fuck?”
Sam’s voice piping up didn’t surprise me, out of all of them she was the most protective of mek being my National captain as well we spent a lot of time together, she was my best friend in the entire world.
“Samantha, watch that language.”
Sam gave Magda and eyeroll before turning back to Leah and I, Leah who was now standing beside me in the doorway of her room, the room we had previously been sleeping in, something I missed quite largely.
“You’re telling me that you two fucking rabbits kept this a secret for like three years and now you’re telling people, what the actual flying fuck.”
Magda’s hand was squeezing Sam’s bicep and I was a little bit scared for Leah’s safety if that hand Magda had secured slipped.
“Well the circumstances between us have changed, slightly.”
Leah nodded in agreement with my statement, clearly she was trying to help present a united front.
“Leah and I are dating?”
The words felt weird leaving my mouth, but Leah’s nod from beside me gave me the impression that they were the right words and it made me sort of warm on the inside, like drinking a cup of hot cocoa in the middle of winter and feeling it seep into your bones.
“Well, I’m glad we’ve sorted this all out, we’ll leave you both to it, although don’t think we won’t be having words about this y/n, we will be. Besides that I think it’s time we leave, sorry for disturbing you both, sorry for breaking into your apartment Williamson, I’m sure we’ll see you around now. We’ll see you later y/n/n.”
Magda’s voice was strong, it was an order for the rest of the group to leave and for some reason, they did, the four of them blushing, speechless messes as they filed out of Leah’s apartment without any words besides some hushed goodbyes. As soon as the door closed both Leah and I were erupting in laughter.
Seeing her last night maybe wasn’t that bad of an idea? right?
#woso#woso community#lionesses#leah williamson#sam kerr#arsenal wfc#chelsea wfc x reader#chelsea wfc#marry me rn#magdalena eriksson#millie bright#pernille harder
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