#his chin fits in my palm and if i cup his face he’ll lean into my touch or forward towards me

[1111-sunset-circle]

this post got me thinking about bodies and the way that we fit together with our f/os. do your fingers interlock perfectly? does their palm seem to rest perfectly on the small of your back? how do you match up with each other when you’re cuddling or hugging?

[glossysoap]

price is a thigh man (no i’m not projecting again) and loves using your thighs as a stress ball. will squeeze and knead and poke and kiss and bite your thighs mindlessly.

sitting on his lap, he’s kneading your thighs. laying with your legs across him, he’s running his hands up and down just enjoying the smooth skin. sitting in bed with your legs out, he’s flopped beside your legs so he can nip and kiss your thighs. they’re his favourite pillows and he can’t keep himself away from your thighs.

touchy ; john price | o’ captain challenge

OH HE SOOOO FUCKING IS. he cannot keep his hands off you. inspired by both my convos with you and my convos with @loveyhoneydovey <3

note: 18+, afab, some use of fem pet names, face sitting, oral (f receiving and m receiving), 69, this kinda got away from me and became not limited to just thigh worship LMAO it became price being down bad for you in every way possible <3 also my first entry for @glitterypirateduck’s price challenge! using the prompts:

word count: 3k

69. 69ing happens (it’s my first time writing that, so pls be gentle lol. also keep in mind that that isn’t the focus of the piece, so that particular scene isn’t super long.)

83. Face sitting

93. Breast worship

It’s like a magnetic force, honestly. He sees you and he has to touch you. He sees your breasts and his arms are itching to snake around your chest. He sees your hips and the meat of your thighs and he can’t help but reach for them.

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, he will be touching you.

If you’re in the kitchen, standing at the hot stove, he’ll come up behind you and press himself up against you.

His body flush against yours, warm chest pressed against your back and his face nestled in the crook of your neck. His beard scratching at your skin as he leaves open mouthed kisses along the span of your neck, moving down your shoulder. You can feel him grinning against your skin as he hears your breath hitch and gasp. The wooden spoon fell from your hand onto the stove with a clatter.

“Shhh, I got you.”

He even leans down a bit so he’s face level with your back, making it even easier for him to grope and grab at your thighs. Squeezing at the plush flesh that’s so fucking soft, so fucking warm against his rough and calloused hands.

“Love these fuckin’ thighs. Just wanna grab ‘em all day long. Wanna mark em up.”

More often than not, if there were no pressing matters, he would reach around you to turn the stove off. Then he would turn you around so you were facing him, his gaze burning into your face. He used one hand to cup your chin and tilt it up, making you look up at him. He was so close to you, you could feel his breath fanning against your skin. You feel your cheeks burn as you see his mouth quirked up into a grin, his eyes crinkling at the edges. His stormy blues were filled with mirth and mischief as his hands moved to trail down your back.

“Pretty girl.” He murmurs, voice sending shivers down your spine, only intensified by his warm hands on the small of your back. Your hands instinctively found their home on his abdomen, resting against the hard muscle covered in a layer of fat. All warm and soft against your palms.

His eyes flit from your eyes down to your lips, watching as you bite your lip between your teeth. Before you know it, he brings one big hand to cup your cheek as he presses his lips against yours. He holds your face, keeping you close and using his thumb to caress small circles on your skin. While he’s busy kissing you breathless, his other hand has slid under your shirt.

His hand is warm and comforting against your skin as he holds you close to him, so secure. So safe.

Your mouths slot together perfectly, as if they were molded to the other. The way his rough, slightly chapped lips fit perfectly against your soft, plump lips as his tongue dipped inside your mouth. The way your tongues mingled as he tasted every bit of you that he could.

He pours every ounce of love into the kiss, every nip and lick and peck. He wanted, needed you to feel how much he loved you. How determined he is to come back to you every day. How he would crawl back to you if that’s what it took.

As you slipped even further into the kiss, your hands slid up past his abdomen, stopping at his chest. You nipped playfully at his lip, moaning into his mouth as you felt the hand on your back pulling you in further. As you nipped his lip, you felt his heart race even quicker under your hand - a telltale show of how his body was affected by you.

He smiled against your mouth, eyes peeking open briefly to glance at your blissed out expression, before he reluctantly moves his hand from your cheek and down to join his other hand at your back. You gasp into his mouth as his hands trail lower, lower and lower, until his big hands are cupping your ass.

Before you knew it, you’re yelping as he’s lifting you up and setting you on the counter. You lay back on your propped up elbows and watch as he lowers himself down until he’s face level with your legs. You watch as his expression transforms from one of passion to one of pure hunger, his lips curling into a smile smirk. His stormy eyes darting up to your face before darting back between your legs, and with just that single look you felt your legs spread apart on their own.

He laughed at that, a rumble from deep in his chest. With nimble fingers, he tugs on the band of your panties and pulls them down your legs, all the way off of you. He absentmindedly flings the pair of panties to the floor. He gently takes your calf in his hand, hiking it over his broad shoulder. His eyes darken at the sight of your wet cunt all exposed for him, all soaked and begging for his attention.

“So fuckin’ good for me. Y’ don’t even have to think about it, huh? Being obedient just comes naturally, hm?” He murmurs against your calf, his beard scratching your skin. He presses a kiss against your leg while keeping his eyes on you, drinking in your blissed out expression. He loves seeing your brows knit together and your pupils blown wide with lust. Your chest heaved as you panted in anticipation.

“Mm-hmm! Wanna be good for you.” You whine, absentmindedly bucking your hips, desperate for him to touch you.

He chuckles, his other hand finding your other leg and hiking it over his other shoulder.

“Oh, you have,” He croons praise into the crook of your knee, pressing another kiss to your skin. His big hand squeezing the plush skin of your thigh so gently, enjoying how soft it is beneath his calloused skin. His eyes bore into yours as he continued kissing up your knee, slowly trailing to your thigh. He leaves wet, open mouthed kisses on your inner thigh, paying special attention to your stretch marks. His tongue left wet stripes of saliva along those stripes, before sucking the skin with a moan. The closer he got to your cunt, the more you could feel his breath fanning hot against your pussy with every kiss, lick and bite.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’ll take care of you,” Is all he says before devouring you.

His mouth is gentle and slow on your cunt, all languid and planned strokes of his tongue along your folds. Lapping up your juices as his strong hands grip your thighs, holding you impossibly closer to his mouth. He moans into your cunt at your taste, sending vibrations straight to your core.

“Fuck, John,” He hears you moan out his name, and he smiles against your cunt.

He flattens his tongue and leaves wide licks over your entrance, before pressing open mouthed kisses on your slit. He’s teasing in his ministrations, never fully dipping his tongue inside you, just licking along the entrance. You don’t know how long he spent cruelly teasing you with his methodical licking, it could’ve been two minutes or ten — but either way, it was driving you mad.

You whine and buck your hips into his mouth, desperate for him to stop teasing you. Those little licks and kisses made that heat grow in your core but it wasn’t near enough to make that knot come undone.

He grins as he hears moans and whimpers fall from your mouth with every lick and kiss, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needed to feel you absolutely fall apart on mouth, he needed you to drench his tongue and soak his beard. He needed to hear you wail and scream his name.

So he didn’t hesitate to dive in, dipping his tongue inside your hole and lapping at your juices. “Fuck, fuck—,” He heard you cry out. He licked along your warm walls, moaning with every lap of his tongue. He savored your taste with fervor, eating you out sloppily with no care for how loud he was being or how many wet sounds he was making.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He moans into your pussy, wrapping his arms around your thighs and holding you still. “Want you to soak me, c’mon.”

The wind was knocked out of you as he began paying special attention to your swollen clit. He heard you mewl as he began giving delicate licks to the sensitive bundle of nerves, feeling your hand bury in his hair and hold him between your thighs.

Your hips bucked against his face as you chased your high, feeling that bundle of warmth and tightness in your stomach grow with every passing second. What he did next pushed you even closer to the edge, leaving your legs twitching and your hips jolting. He let his tongue trail around your bud, circling it with a satisfied hum.

“Fuck! That’s it, that’s it—,” You all but shout, feeling yourself teetering just on the edge, so fucking close to gushing all over his tongue.

“Yeah? Like that?” He teases, his voice muffled against your heat. Not even waiting for an answer (as if you could give a coherent response) before he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked.

He watched with a grin as your back arched and your face contorted in pleasure, a wail falling from your lips as your pussy spasmed against his tongue. He growled against your sensitive flesh as you gushed all over his tongue, your delicious juices soaking him.

“Attagirl.”

If you’re just relaxing in bed, you’ll find him laying his head on or between your thighs with a content grin. Most of the time, that cuddling will escalate to skin slapping against skin, moans and panting echoing throughout the room.

Only a few hours after you were devoured in the kitchen, you were laying on your spacious bed (where he would soon have his way with you again).

He started out by climbing into bed and crawling on top of you, nudging your legs apart with his knee so he would have space to lay between. He wastes no time in laying on top of you, nuzzling his face in your stomach and laying his arms next to you. He was all warm and heavy on top of you, a welcome grounding force against you.

You think it’s innocent cuddling, but you’re proven wrong when his hands slide under your thin top and move to cup your tits. He grins into your stomach as he hears you gasp, his thumbs working to tweak your sensitive nipples. He enjoys hearing you whine and feeling your chest heave as he rubs the hardened nubs with his calloused fingers. Every once in a while, he’ll give your breasts a good squeeze, humming against your stomach in approval.

In one hand, he keeps teasing the sensitive bud and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, while the other hand is working on pushing your shirt all the way up, fully exposing your tits to him.

Before you know it, he’s moved up your body so he was face level with those same breasts he was busy teasing.

“Mmm, there you go.” Is all he murmurs before wrapping his lips around your nipple, staring up at you all the while. Your breath hitches as you feel his tongue lap at your sensitive bud, his lips suckling and teasing at the flesh. You watch with lust blown eyes as he licks and sucks at your skin, all while still teasing your other nipple with his hand.

He leaves your nipple alone for a minute in favor of littering bites along your breast, sucking the soft flesh into his mouth with a moan before releasing it. Every bite is followed by his tongue laving over the teeth marks, his beard scratching your skin.

With every bite and lick and suck, you feel yourself grow more aroused and hungry for his touch. He grins against your nipple as he feels you buck against him.

“Y’ needy? Hm?” He asks, all muffled against your breast but you understand him all the same, nodding with furrowed brows.

He takes his time, he doesn’t rush to make you come.

He keeps sucking and pawing at your tits, as if he had all the time in the world. Moaning into your flesh, licking at your skin and savoring the taste. Biting and nibbling at your skin, leaving teeth marks with every suck and nip. Your hand flew up to clutch at his head, tugging at his hair as you held him close. He hummed against your nipple at the slight tingle that he felt as you pulled his hair.

Slowly, you feel a ghosting touch of his free hand (the one that wasn’t busy teasing your other nipple) trailing down past your waistband and into your panties. Your eyes flutter shut and your hips buck into his hand as you feel his fingers trace over your entrance, gathering your juices and spreading it along your folds.

“So fuckin’ wet, doll.”

His mouth goes back to work on your hardened bud, flattening his tongue to lick wide stripes on the sensitive skin. While his tongue is lapping at your flesh and sucking and biting, he’s using two fingers to dip into your folds.

“Oh, look at that. Just.. slides right in for me.” He murmurs muffled praise against your nipple, tongue laving over the hardened bud.

He tries to go slow but they slide right in on their own because of how wet you were, and he can’t help but chuckle. They easily slide in all the way to the knuckle, soaking his digits in your juices and making wet noises every time he pumped his fingers in and out.

“Mmm, fuck,” You whimper at the combined feeling of his fingers pumping in and out, and his mouth worshipping your breast. Your shaky hand fell from his head as he moved to worship your other breast.

His tongue immediately started licking the soft skin of your breast, grazing the flesh and leaving kisses in his wake. As his tongue savored the sweat on your skin, his fingers were savoring the warmth of your cunt, pumping in and out of your tight hole. He smiled against your skin as he heard you moan out his name like a prayer, dripping off your lips like honey.

“Please, please, John. Need more—,” You whined, voice cracking from pure desperation and anticipation. You needed to be full. Full with more fingers, full with his cock. Preferably the latter.

He let go of your nipple with a pop, grinning up at you with his eyes crinkled at the edges.

“Be patient, love.” Is all he croons before he’s reluctantly pulling his fingers out of your pussy, and sitting up from your chest. Your pleading eyes follow him as he moves off of you, lips even pouting a bit as it seems like he’s going to leave you hanging.

You quickly realize that he’s going to do anything but leave you hanging.

He wastes no time in laying down beside you, his head resting comfortably on his pillow.

“Up.” He nods over to himself, gesturing for you to get up with two slick fingers (the same fingers that were just buried in your cunt). “C’mon, get up. On my face. Now, love.”

You crawl out of bed before booking your fingers around the waistband of your panties, then pulling them down until they’re pooling around your ankles. Your legs feel like jelly as you step out of your panties, before turning back to climb into bed once more. You crawled over to him on your hands and knees, still hearing your heartbeat pounding in your ears from how aroused you were.

You gulp once you’ve crawled over to his chest, suddenly feeling antsy to sit on his face with your full weight. He notices your slight hesitation and sits himself up on his elbows to look at you.

“You’re in your head again, doll. Come over here so your Captain can fuck those thoughts right out of your head.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, his promise to fuck those bad thoughts right out of your head. Before you knew it, you were closing that last bit of distance and crawling next to his head.

He beckoned you onto his face with those same two fingers once more, looking up at you with an eager expression.

You swallow as you carefully swing your leg over him so you’re straddling his face. Not yet putting your full weight on him, just barely hovering over his face. You place your hands on his abdomen to hold you steady, enjoying the warmth and hard muscle under your palms.

Almost immediately, John’s big hands are groping at your thighs and squeezing the plush flesh in his calloused grip. His thumbs rub hot circles into your soft skin as he lifts his head up, so he’s able to press soft kisses against your thighs. He wants you to feel every bit of love and appreciation as he leaves wet, open mouthed kisses on your inner thighs, littering small bites every now and then.

He moaned into your skin when he left a particularly hard bite, lapping at your skin afterwards as a balm. He especially focused on your stretch marks, tracing them with his tongue and peppering them with kisses.

Every bit of attention and praise he paid to your thighs and stretch marks slowly helped build your courage to fully sit your weight on him.

But he wasn’t a patient man. You were hovering above his face, keeping your his cunt just out of his reach and he didn’t like that at all. He didn’t like that he couldn’t lick up every drop of wetness that he could see soaking your cunt. He didn’t like that you weren’t letting him suck on your clit, or stick his tongue inside your heat. He wanted you sitting on his fucking face, smothering him with your soaking cunt, and he wanted it now.

“I didn’t say hover, I said fucking sit.” Is all he growls before his arms wrapped around your thighs and pulled you down to sit on his face.

He was so fucking sloppy and messy and passionate that you couldn’t help but immediately let a moan fall from your lips. Your hips started rocking against his mouth, any inhibitions completely melted away as his tongue absolutely devoured you.

He flattens his tongue against your entrance before taking wide, greedy licks of your juices. He moans in approval against your entrance as he savors how fucking perfect you taste.

“Taste so fuckin’ good. Can’t get enough of you.” You hear him all but growl into your cunt, his husky muffled voice sending vibrations to your core.

“Oh, fuck!” You cry out, feeling that bundle of warmth build back up in your stomach. You were already close to your release when John had withdrawn his fingers from your cunt, so it wouldn’t take you long at all to return back to that peak.

As you leaned forward on your hands that were planted on his abdomen, you saw his hips bucking into the air. It seemed like he was doing it unconsciously, like his body was chasing its’ own high as he was determined to yank yours out of you.

Before you knew it, you were leaning forward so your tits were pressed up against his stomach. Then your hands moved on autopilot to slide under the waistband of his boxers and pull out his throbbing cock.

The moment you did, his hips jerked and bucked, and you felt his tongue start worshipping your swollen clit. You moan brokenly, voice cracking as his name falls from your lips. Your hips keep grinding down onto his face as you take his cock in your hands. It’s angry and throbbing, with pearlescent liquid dribbling from the bulbous tip. You were practically drooling at the sight.

You didn’t waste any time in taking him in your mouth, starting with sucking the head of his cock and leaving small licks on the tip. You felt him gasp against you, before his tongue dips and curls into your pussy. You moaned at both the feeling of his tongue penetrating you and the taste of his pre, sending vibrations to his core. Those vibrations made him moan into your cunt and him buck his hips into your mouth.

“Mm-hmm,” You moaned praise around his cock, wanting him to feel just as good as he’s made you feel the entire day.

You wanted him to just let go. You wanted to hear him moan your name unabashedly while his hips bucked into your mouth. You wanted to taste his warm spend and feel him filling your mouth, you wanted everything he could give you.

You started bobbing your head, stroking his cock at the base while your mouth works on the head of his cock. You suckle the head of his cock to focus the stimulation on where he’s most sensitive. If the way he groans and clutches your thighs to pull you impossibly closer was any indication, it worked.

Minutes passed with you laying on top of him, your cunt soaking his beard as he devoured you, and his cock sitting in your throat. It could’ve been five minutes or fifty. (Neither of you would complain if it was even longer.)

With every moan that one of you let out, it pushed the other even closer to their orgasm. It was a never ending cycle, until it wasn’t.

Until his lips wrapped around your swollen clit and sucked, and his tongue curled inside your cunt at the same time. Until you took his cock all the way to the base, where you could feel the tip hitting the back of your throat, and swallowed.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

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[muffindaddystyles]

Someone hurts Y/N at work; and Harry’s owner of the company.

Angry young man CEO!H very protective of his lovie :)))))))))))))

It was Tuesday. Tiring Tuesday is what Y/N calls them to be because they lurk in the middle of week and drags you after a Monday. Today, it’s the worst fucking Tuesday since the day she started working at this company.

Harry offered her. More to say tried to convince her with his sweet puppy tactics, tried to lure her in with his seductive begging and would mumble the same thing in her sweaty neck while balls deep in her, “Please sweet toots ... promise I wouldn’t be there to take ye' interview, please work in my company.” He squished her sides in desperation. Y/N whined, mind too occupied in the way he’s leaking into her, the head of his cock angled to rub at her spongy wall making her hug herself into him.

“I could be a very hard boss in my office, ‘s all ‘m saying.” He wiggled his brows at her playfully, hissing when his double joke earned him a tight fit around his prick and he was soon forgetting all of it when she canted her hips to let him slick deeper inside her.

It’s not that; Y/N doesn’t wants to work at his company. When her boyfriend asked her so sweetly and stout-heartedly. Call him a sap but he actually wants to be closer to her in every possible chance he gets – she gives him an unyielding amount of comfort and happiness when she’s with him.

There’s this silver of pride he wants to take (since he’s the biggest narcissists) in being a power couple, because in the end everything will be theirs.

But she doesn’t want to seem like she took advantage of him. She didn’t study and worked hard many years to be called dependent on her boyfriend. She wanted to find her first proper job herself – feel all the odds and jitters of her firsts after UNI.

Harry called the battles off knowing his little stubborn baby’s too much a wiggler and he believes in her and he’s very proud of her previous achievements, he just wants to see her happy working with him or not.

She indeed got it. She was finally a design editor at a grand magazine company, excited to meet her boss who’s one of her absolute favourite graphic designers in the industry.

Harry and her celebrated her baby step towards her success by going out at this cafe which had cats you can pet and love on.

He was blissed to see her this happy, considering it a win win situation. But she doesn’t need to know? Does she? And Harry didn’t do anything suspicious? Did he? Nobody even know who she's! And if Y/N wants that, he’ll have it that way.

Soon her enthusiasm deflated like a sorrowful balloon whirling in the air for seconds before falling on the ground and getting it’s existence neglected, because, her boss was the meanest bitch alive.

At the moment, Y/N forced the pertinacious lump of pathetic tears down her throat, not blinking to dry out the moisture threatening to fall from her waterline feeling humiliation creep up her skin and making her want to shrink into herself and never show her face.

She listens patiently and optimistically as her boss practically screams at her for not liking the designs Y/N worked to modify for damn 62 hours and the Karen still had an audacity to degrade, Y/N.

Y/N gasped, stumbling back in fright shock when the file that had her precious designs composed in it flew and hit Y/N, the ragged corner of it scratching Y/N’s delicate skin and her boss was spinning away from her to stare coldly at the bustling city outside through the window drowning into fumes and anger.

Y/N opened her mouth, guppy like. Wanting to say something back and call her out on her act but she felt like her voice got strangled into her chest.

ShitShitShitShit.

Hammering in her brain when she felt something warm oozing from her skin and she’s panicking, wiping a vicious streak of blood from her jaw with her trembly fingers and scuttled straight to the washroom before anyone was able to see her in such vulnerable condition.

She had enough of it and left out of there without a word to anyone, not even to her cubby mate. She bottled all the emotions that were rattling against her bones to flood out of her each pore, until she could reach her home and once she did she was having a humongous and ominously scary breakdown, glad that Harry was stuck in meetings and the house was all of hers to cry ugly.

Once she was all blue lips, puffy and swelled up cheeks and eyes, nest of a hairstyle and all burned up lungs she was calming herself down with deep breaths just Harry taught her.

Scrubbing and cleaning herself off then going to bed without waiting for Harry, something very rare and the right hit in the nail for him to know she isn’t feeling well.

He was welcomed by silence. No dinner, just leftovers in fridge and his insides became all crummy and not very pleasant when he tailed to the living room and wasn’t met by his lovebug; either cramming her head to sketch down designs with an ipad in her lap while a buzz of random Netflix show accompanies her, dossing off cutely with hundreds of her study journals and magazines messed around her on the floor, or her in sleeping pyjamas with food already set up on the coffee table and brightening the whole room with her squeals when Harry announces his presence.

None of that instead he finds her in their bedroom, drowned under layers of blankies and her stuffies with room lit dark.

He coos softly, mattress dipping down from his weight and his heart expands and melts all around his other organs at how adorable she looks sleeping in his hoodie. He chuckles shaking his head at the way she has the strings of the hoodie squeezed around her head, not sure how she’s able to breath at how tight it seems around her neck.

Doing his own routine he was slipping into the bed, sighing from the warmth and how toasty she has made the bed already.

He bunched her against his chest and kissed her head then spooned her up in his arms, lips fluttering into a smile when she hummed and sniffed basking into his scent.

“Oi sleepy.” He whispers down at her cupping her neck and giggles softly when she whines mushing her cheek against his chest only to grunt sleepily and muffle her yelps into his sweatshirt.

Harry’s brows shoots up into slight bafflement then dips down into a frown when he slipped his calloused palm under her hoodie to cradle her jaw and felt something graze against his thumb that was about to press into her soft skin to bring her for a night kiss.

“Hey...” He perches himself on elbows, switching on the lamps and ignores her groans grasping the blanket she was about to pull over herself, huffing at him to let her sleep but Harry’s more stubborn than her if it involves assuring himself she’s okay and right now she’s not and Harry was already feeling it in his bones.

“Lemme see.” He persists gently, peeling the blankets and the hoodie off her head while she’s still stirring into sleep not able to open her eyes how much she tries because of the exhaustion dumped on her from whole day.

He stares at the wound she did a shit effort to cover with a gauze messily over her jaw and tiny bit area of her neck, a long bandage reaching to her ear and Harry tries to think rationally and not freak out as he touches it with cautious fingertips.

“What ... the –- fuck, Y/N what is...is this?” His mouth falls slack. His ears buzzing for a moment and he wraps his arm around her shoulder to bring her up as he leans them against the bedhead.

He feels bad when she knuckles at her eyes warily and mumbles something that’s barely audible.

“What happened, baby? Talk t’me? How did y'hurt yourself so bad?” Worried and fearful. He bombs her with questions not waiting for her to be fully awake and his heart breaks miserly upon focusing his gaze on her face, her angelic face that’s now soaked with sadness –- she’s been crying.

His loves been crying and he wasn’t there for her.

“Who did this to you?” Y/N's eyes widens abruptly. The alertness in them vivid for Harry to see under the lamp glow and she gasps, nose twitching and lip wobbling as Harry grabbed her chin and ducked to her eyelevel to ask her tenderly with a layer of strictness under his tone, “’M asking, Who did this to you, Y/N?” Her fragile heart could already take so much and she strangled out a sob lowering her head down in embarrassment.

“’M.. I’m —-.. no –..not telli –-..telling you,” She hiccups breathlessly, shaky fingers fisting onto the blanket thrown over Harry’s lap and he holds her hands kissing them gently, “I’ll know it one way or another baby. Don’t force me to get outta my way to find —–“ His soul stabbing glare was enough for Y/N to ramble and at first he thought he didn’t heard her right, that she was mumbling too much but when the reality seeped in gradually Harry almost froze in his spot.

“I know it’s very shameful —..” Y/N stammers barely able to get in a breather and Harry’s head snapped at her words, removing his nails away from making little graves in his palms and his jaw which almost felt like breaking from the hinges from how painfully furious he had it set relaxes as he tries to calm himself down and not to grab his keys and drive to that bitch's house to trash her place.

Because how fucking dare she treat anyone like that in his own fucking company.

“Hey, hey. Now none of that toots. Look at me darling, oh my sweet moppet ... shh.” It slices his heart in pain to see Y/N like this -- so small and disheartened. How dare she hurt his such delicate, sweet, loving girl like that? How!?

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of yourself moppet. She should be, fo’ being such a heartless prick.” He spat, his guts full of bitter and hatred. His skin hot, his grip on her tightening protectively and his chin quivers trying to lock all his anger inside and not to burst out like a pressure cooker.

“I’ll deal with her tomorrow.” He nods curtly to himself, poking his tongue to wet his grimacing lips and Y/N was too woolly to get what’s he’s saying.

His gaze flitters back on her. His demeanour turned incredibly soft and gentle for her smooching a big generous kiss to her salty lips and then to both of her cheeks cared in both of his palms, “Are y'okay? D'you want me to take you to hospital?” She shakes her head mewling and melting and caressing herself into his wrist.

“Why didn’t you call me baby?” He asks her doing anything in his power to mask the hurt in his tone and sighs touching his forehead to her's when Y/N sniffled, “Didn’t wan’ you to worry.” He slid his forearm under her bum and scooched her atop of him, patching tiny careful pecks to her jaw.

“But, that’s love moppet. Worryin’ bout you, takin’ care of ye' and beating anyone raw who even dares to have evil intentions towards you,”

“Remember the time y'snubbed that one guy’s oh so expensive shoes who was very rude to me at one of your graduations party?” His simper turning into a proper ironic grin when she giggled hoarsely nodding along and the tension in his muscles released watching her getting better.

“Proper broke his big toe with your heel darling.” He giggles with her and then Y/N realised how sad and awful Harry’s feeling, how it’s hurting him the same way it hurt her an year ago.

“How about we have a glass of milk .... it’ll help us sleep less grumpy y'know.” He murmurs in the crook of her neck, elbow cocooned safely around her shoulder blade as he kisses the side of her head again and again nose buried in her hair to smell her treacly smell.

.

In the morning he was tragic to hear Y/N sound so heartbroken and dejected as she told him, “I’m going to resign and accept your offer.” Her smile small and sad, hugging him looping her limbs around his torso lazily.

“’kay baby, but first eat your brekkie.” He kissed her hair and squished her pout when he moved away to make some calls to his assistant.

Y/N had no-idea what he was upto. Glad that he was driving her to the company and that he was immensely supportive of her decision, her insides pooled with warmth and giddiness when he tried to cheer her up with his silly jokes and singing along the radio murmuring rubbish whenever he forgot the lyrics.

She was utterly confused when upon reaching he was giving the keys to valet boy to park his car and interviewing their fingers in a strong grip before leading her inside, even though she should be the one to do so.

She sputters a, “Huh?” when instead of telling her he’d wait for her in the lobby he’s rounding the corner towards the elevators and turns his wrist to push her infront of him to keep her closer to himself all the time.

When the doors are sliding apart the people scurrying outside halts for a moment, not looking Harry in eyes and keeping their heads low.

Phones were already rung in the building that Mr. Styles will be coming un-announced and everyone should be prepared to face the consequences if they stumble upon him – because well he isn’t in such a nice mood to start with.

“Harry.” She pokes him in ribs feebly, stepping away from him feeling timid due to few pair of eyes in elevator watching her awkwardly and maybe judgingly.

The tension in space could be cut through knife, as if everyone’s holding their breaths and she pouts taking a good look at Harry who’s smirking smugly confident in his element.

Do they all think her boyfriend’s way too intimidating and out of reach for them? They should know he’s such a sweetie!

Y/N huffs. Folding her arms over chest when Harry paws at her hips and pulls her back against his chest resting his chin atop of her head with a shit eating grin.

In all seriousness. Showing them that’s she’s his's and belongs under his wings, which will keep her safe and protected till his death.

“How did you know my boss's office’s on tenth floor?” She squints up at him suspiciously.

“Hmm. Dunno, moppet. Magical powers or summat?” He teases her, putting a hand at the small of her back to nudge her forward making her blush pink and ducks down to whisper in her ear, “You got this toots.” Biting her earlobe playfully to stroke down her anxiety upon sensing her hesitancy to step in the hallway that has cubicles lined up.

He already got this. He ordered his assistant to get the resign letter ready and showing her who’s the boss here’s not much of hurdle for him.

It’s weird. Bloody weird. Y/N wants to turn back and run away because the moment they step inside the whole damn hallway falls eerily pin drop silent and everyone’s peeking up from the short walls of their cubicles and then diverting their eyes immediately in embarrassment and apology seeing Harry behind her.

The ones who’re standing bows their heads lightly in respect for him and scurrying away to give him a way and that’s insanely surprising and weird.

Harry on the other hand was no stranger to those bogey looks. Of curiosity, uneasiness and dread when he passes through the crowd of his employs. Y/N is.

Slowly perhaps. It starts to sink in— jumbled and disoriented when she looks back at Harry. He’s keeping his head held high and shoulders tilted back with poise and conceitedness, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants and because though it makes him look like a proper snob— he is their boss and the owner of this company, he should act like one.

“Mr. Styles.” Y/N’s boss assistant Marina who’s usually very chirpy (and undeserving of all the yelling she gets from her boss) turns pale at Harry’s presence. She’s the only person Y/N's very keen of, now she’s fretting towards them with her head lowered and tries to stammer something but Harry’s walking past her with his lips pursued as he goes inside without knocking.

“Harry...” Y/N tattles behind him, lunging to clutch onto the hem of his suits coat, to scold him to stop babying her and let her handle it herself, too late since she’s already meeting with the sight of her overly stressed and upset boss.

Her knees almost gives in when Harry snaps his fingers for the employees that were inside to give them privacy and takes in the most relaxing breath of oxygen, feeling a gag of bitterness in his mouth from even looking at her.

Y/N gasped. Her boss (which she’s not sure is her boss anymore) gasped. The sweet assistant Marina gasped. When Harry told her in the most composing way– though his blood’s boiling absolutely sheathing through his veins.

“You’re fired.” His demeanour cold and voice monotone not giving a fuck how much she shakes and cries for his forgiveness.

“Mr. Styles. I..I can explain–-" She stammers rushing from the back of her desk and stops obediently when Harry gestures her to not to take another step forward.

“There’s no excuse for abuse. I don’t want your lame explanations, I can’t have an abusive asshole running my company for me ... we might be strict on our employees but we aren’t monsters.” He grits, his eyes flaring piercingly with rage and showing no empathy towards her as she pleads him to forgive her mistake– those bricks of money makes you work baby.

“You hurt someone so dearly to me ‘n think I’ll forgive ye'?” The assistance eye’s blows away at newfound information, Harry Styles love of life’s none other than Y/N. The girl she used to have smoked sandwiches and milkshakes with in their lunch breaks.

“I didn’t know ...” He chuckles ironically at her hypocrisy and that’s the last straw for him before he’s threatening her to call the security and she’s getting out of there cursing him under her breath but Harry grabs her from elbow roughly, conceding his brow at her dauntingly.

"Apologise to her right fuckin' now."

"Sorry, Mrs Styles. I'm very ashamed of what I did." She says nervously and Y/N nods not able to speak from the butterflies that are flapping around her stomach, which sure didn't go unnoticed at Harry's side and he smirks at Y/N.

When they’re left alone. Jovial cackles are bouncing against the walls and he’s pressing his hip to the desk, securing his hands around his triceps as he folds his arms infront of his chest entertaining himself to the cute and fuzzy reactions of his girl at what just happened.

“See. Told ya, nobody could defy my bossiness at work.” He grins at her, jerking his hand towards his chest to usher her closer to him and boops her nose smacking an obnoxiously loud kiss to her mouth when she toddles in his arms.

“The offers still there,” He looks down at her cheekily and she shakes her head, a small smile kicking up her lips at his determination and devotion.

“Couldn’t say no to you, could I? What will you be owning secretly next time?” She nips at him, planting her palms firmly against his midriff feeling the crispiness of his shirt underneath his jacket.

“A bakery shop ....?” He muses in the most pondering voice and she scoffs at him through pattering of giggles, “Suck it up Mr. Styles.”

“Hey! I know my prick’s huge but not tha’ much for me to suck it myself.”

Y/N chokes onto her own spit. Shaking her head at him.

“Your innocent employees knows how vulgar you’re?”

“Uhmm. Infact, She gets very hot hearin’ me like tha'.” He bobs his head grinning at her wickedly and she smacks his shoulder, “Harry!”

“Yeahhh! Tell everyone how good I make you feel babbbyy—....” Y/N clamps her hand around his mouth to muffle his lewd fake moaning.

“You’re so embarrassing.” She grumbles wiping his spit sticking to her palm down her skirt and spins around to head for the door expecting him to follow her.

“You don’t talk to boss like that!” He trails behind her, “Boss my ass!” She quips out a squeal looking around to make sure that nobody saw it when Harry slapped her bum.

“Boss someone’s ‘bout to get a pink ass.”

[duskholland]

Ritual || Boxer!Tom Smut

boxer!tom x reader — smut.

summary ↠ with the championship fight less than two weeks away, tom adopts a series of frustrating pre-match rituals.... based off the request ↠ ‘boxer!tom refuses to have sex for two weeks before a big match then he wins a belt and becomes the top boxer and his s/o patches him up like she does after every match, but it quickly turns into really intense victory sex with dom!tom’ I changed a couple bits but this is pretty much the same :)) warnings ↠ this gets very, very smutty. for that reason, 18+ pls !! extended nsfw warnings are beneath the cut but this spirals into v intense smut. so just. watch out pls. word count ↠ 8k a/n ↠ I almost died when I wrote this. truly. I felt a piece of my soul leave my body. sheeeesh. anyway uh... this was a lot of fun to write! I found out so many fun facts about sports psychology whilst researching this, so thanks boxer!tom for enlightening me on the fun world of pre-match-rituals. enjoy!

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

extended nsfw warnings: fem masturbation, oral (fem and male receiving), mentions of vibrating egg, edging and denial, dirty talk, reader definitely has a pain kink (...): biting, spanking + hair pulling, face-fucking, dom!tom, rough sex™️, shower shenanigans, doggy-style, unprotected sex — please wrap before you tap if you do this irl thank you very very much !!

*:·ﾟ✧Ritual ✧·ﾟ:*

Thump. Smack. Thump.

Tom’s fists rain down over the punching bag, and there’s a metallic clicking sound as the object goes spinning in the air. You watch as he pirouettes around the bag, dodging its movements between swings, getting in hit after hit after hit. He slowly works his way around the object, his face screwed into an expression of empowered determination as he alternates which bright red glove he uses to pound against the fabric.

You sigh, loudly, the sound dying in the near-empty gym. There’s just something about Tom in the days preceding a fight that makes you squirm.

He’s different. Still the man you know and love so effortlessly, but heightened in the most attractive ways. His senses pull sharper, his jaw carrying a firm line to it, his eyes like roaring fires. As Tom pounds his fists against the bag, his sweaty brown curls stick to the top of his forehead, contrasting the bright pink tones staining his cheeks. You watch the muscles in his arms tense and flex, pale skin on display due to the tight black vest that clings tightly to his torso. You know if he turned around properly, you’d be able to make out the sunken lines of his abs, packed rigidly with muscle.

You bite your lower lip, stifling a moan. You find Tom attractive enough under normal conditions, let alone when he’s like this: eyes glowing with determination, body burning with passion as he takes swing after swing at the punching bag like he’s got a personal vendetta against it.

“Having fun?”

You startle, clutching at your chest as you turn around to look at Harrison Osterfield, Tom’s sports psychologist. A frown instantly springs out across your mouth, and you reach up to begrudgingly take the bottle of water he offers you.

“I hate you,” you grunt. You sit up a little straighter before leaning back against the wall. You’re waiting for Tom to finish his workout, sitting on one of the benches in the gym. You’d started out the session sparring together, but you’d called quits after twenty minutes against him. Unlike Tom, you don’t have the biggest fight of your career in two weeks—and, honestly, you enjoy watching him like this more than you enjoy trying to keep up with him in the ring.

Harrison frowns as he drops to sit beside you, nudging your shoulder.

“I’m wounded, love,” he says, smirking at you. “What have I done this time?”

You roll your eyes. “You know exactly what you’ve done, Haz.”

Harrison raises an eyebrow, tutting. “You know this is for the best, Y/N.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Fuck the best.”

When Harrison had joined Tom’s team at the start of the season, he’d come boasting all the new sciences of a young university graduate. He’d suggested Tom adopt a series of rituals to help him focus before a big match—small things, initially, like taking cold showers and limiting the time he spends on his phone. Yet, as the competition has progressed and Tom has risen further and further up the ranks, the rituals have grown more intense, more focused. It’s reached the point that now, two weeks before the big match, Tom has reached his final form. As instructed, he visits the sauna every other day, receives daily massages from the most esteemed sports therapists in Europe, drinks multiple cups of pure, fresh herbal tea a day. There are no distractions—his phone is permanently on silent, he’s cut out naps, he’s eliminated music. No distractions, no impurities, no sex.

No sex, because according to Harrison, nothing gets adrenaline rushing and frustration festering like an extended period of denial. No sex, which is a problem, for you, because Tom has never looked as fit as he does now, launching himself at the punching bag, sweat dripping down his forehead. His biceps flex and bulge and you have to cross your legs as you tighten your grip on the water bottle.

“He’ll win,” Harrison mutters, lowly. You glance towards him, taking in the sight of the older man with his face doused in the harsh fluorescent lights of the gym. “He’s good. Got the best form I’ve ever seen.” He lowers his voice, glancing at you shrewdly. “Don’t distract him, alright? He’s on fire.”

You grumble something incoherent beneath your breath before sighing and sitting up straighter.

“It’s fucked that you get to decide when I get laid, Haz. You know that, right?”

He raises an eyebrow, cheeks blushing a light pink. “Uh, well, I didn’t actually know that he’d go through with that part of it,” Harrison admits. “But if it works, don’t knock it. He wants to win.”

You sit back, resting your shoulders against the wall as you groan. “I want him to win, too,” you say. You look down at your fingers, playing with some of the rings sitting behind your knuckles. “I think it’ll kill him if he doesn’t.”

Both of you look back at Tom, who’s ditched the gloves. You watch him talk with his coach, running a hand through his sweaty hair as he nods, looking focused as he listens to the pointers and tips. You release a relieved sigh as Tom’s coach pats him on the back and walks off, leaving Tom to pick up his towel and his bottle before sauntering over to you and Harrison.

“Hi.” Tom tosses his stuff onto the bench before reaching for your hands. He pulls you up easily and quickly, causing you to squeal as you find yourself in his arms. He’s hot, his entire body flushed with the sweaty, adrenaline-filled afterglow of a good, long workout, and you laugh as he dives down to kiss your neck, soft curls tickling you. “Missed you, darling.”

He works his way up your neck, nibbling softly at your skin before pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your chin, and then, finally, your mouth. It’s light, but then you push against him eagerly and wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him deeper. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you moan happily as you enjoy the feeling of Tom, his skin warm and flushed, his pulse vibrating against you, and his mouth, coming over yours again and again.

“I’m right here,” Harrison mutters, speaking up from behind you. You groan, give Tom a final kiss, and then begrudgingly pull back.

“Sorry,” you call out, stepping closer to Tom as you turn your head to look at Harrison. Tom’s arms come around your waist, and he holds you nearer, humming as he presses his face into your shoulder. “You can always leave.”

Harrison rolls his eyes as he flips you off, causing Tom to chuckle.

“Y/N,” Tom mumbles, voice fond. “Harrison can stay if he wants to stay. I was thinking we could all go get dinner or something.”

To your relief, Harrison is quick to shake his head. He pulls on his jacket as he looks between you and Tom, his eyes lingering on you for a moment as they twinkle with amusement.

“It’s fine. I’ll leave you both alone. I think Y/N’s had enough of me, anyway.” He’s teasing, and you all know it, but you still throw out an easing pout as you shrug.

“Night, Haz,” you say, leaning further into Tom, who echoes your sentiments. As soon as Harrison’s gone, Tom spins you in his arms, his brown eyes bright and glowing with adoration. He kisses you again, and you sigh as you melt further into him, the spark in the pit of your stomach roaring back to life as Tom’s tongue teases your lower lip.

“Come shower with me,” Tom murmurs, hands roaming your back. He pecks the side of your mouth a few times as you hum.

“I can’t,” you find yourself saying, though it pains you considerably. Tom abruptly stops his kisses.

“Why not?” He pouts, pulling back to stare at you. He looks a little bit like an injured puppy, eyes wide with hurt. He squeezes your waist for emphasis.

“We’re in the two-week window, Tom,” you remind him. You reach up, lightly cupping his very hot, very sweaty face, in your palm. “You know we can’t.”

He groans, then dramatically lets his forehead fall to rest on your shoulder. You chuckle, rolling your eyes as you let him pout and rub his back.

“I love you,” he says, after a moment. He pulls back, kissing your neck briefly before sighing. “Thanks for putting up with this.”

“It’s okay.” You bite your lip, tilting your head to the side as you examine him carefully. “It’s kind of hot. You get so frustrated.”

Tom just narrows his eyes, staring at you with an expression mixed between amusement and frustration.

“Go on, champ,” you say, pushing his shoulder gently. “Go shower so we can go home, yeah?”

Tom begrudgingly steps back, opening and closing his mouth a few times as if he’s going to try and change your mind again, but he doesn’t. As much as you know he wants to drag you into a steamy cubicle, his desire to win his match is stronger.

“Be back soon, darling,” he says. “Don’t miss me too much.”

———

The days burn by slowly.

About a week in, you find yourself snapping. You always try to adopt pseudo-chastity with Tom, feeling a little guilty every time you sneak your hand between your legs and chase the highs he can only dream about finding. Yet, you end up reaching breaking point and giving in to temptation one evening, alone in your flat. Tom’s out late at the gym, at the point in the regime where he’s spending most of his days hauled up in the large building, and you just can’t help yourself: you’re so horny.

If you asked him to get you off, you know he’d agree, never wanting to deny you anything. Tom loves you, loves watching you fall apart for him, loves the power trip that comes with knowing your pleasure is in his hands, but you’d just feel too mean. His refusal to have sex in the lead up is as much psychological as it is anything else—you know he finds energy in the ritual, finds aggressive, fiery hormones in the fourteen days of denial. You’d never want to put him in the position where he got tempted to break, no matter how badly you want to cum.

So, you decide to take care of your ache yourself. Or, at least, you try to.

You start off strong. Teasing yourself over your panties, drawing your fingers over the front of your covered sex. You let your eyes flutter shut as you think about Tom, recounting some of the last few sessions you’ve witnessed at the gym. You think about him, his biceps flexing and curling, the subtle curves of his long, slender fingers, his mouth. His features blur, and you find yourself moaning as you dip your fingers beneath the soft cotton and start to stroke your folds. You circle your clit for a while before dipping down to your entrance, touching the pool of your arousal and groaning as you wet your fingers. As your arousal starts to build, you tease your clit, accompanying the action with your other hand after a while. It feels good—so, so good—as you tease your g-spot with your fingers, keeping your thumb on your clit, edging, and edging, and edging, and—

You can’t cum.

A frown settles on your face as you start to grow frustrated. You try to change things up, slowing your movements, letting the high ebb away before trying again. Instead of reaching climax like you crave, you find yourself resting on the edge instead. You’re aroused, your cunt throbbing, your clit tingling, but you can’t quite get there. It’s frustrating.

You’re so caught up in your irritation that you miss the loud slam of the front door, too absorbed in the sounds of your wetness to hear Tom’s yell of greeting. Your eyes are shut as your boyfriend enters the bedroom. You’re not aware he’s home until you hear him tutting, his voice stacked full of amusement and lust. Your eyelids flutter open, and you find yourself looking at him, wide-eyed like a deer stuck in the headlight.

“T-Tom,” you whimper, your movements stilling. You have your legs spread wide open, two fingers buried in your heat, your other hand draped over your bud. A shy smile finds its way across your lips as you batter your eyelashes at him, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of your boyfriend, drowning in a black hoodie and tight blue denim jeans. His hair lies in fresh, air-dried curls, his eyes dark pools of lust. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Tom repeats, imitating your tone. He pushes himself away from the bedroom wall, walking towards you like a lion stalking his prey. You whimper when he reaches down to touch your leg, sliding his hand over your shin teasingly. His eyes glint as he hears you, gaze fixed on the spot between your legs where your hands have stilled. “Oh, please don’t stop on my account, darling,” he teases, smirking. “Keep going. Just because I can’t have fun, doesn’t mean you should have to suffer too.”

You bite your lip, recognising all too well the teasing glint in his eye.

“I can’t,” you admit, shifting around on the mattress as Tom kneels on the end of the bed. Both of his hands are on your legs now, slowly, teasingly, dragging his touch up your shins. Your breath hitches as he slowly works his way up, dipping his head so he’s able to kiss each of your knees, his lips warm and tender.

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

He’s lying down, settled between your legs, slowly kissing up the inside of one of your thighs. It’s hard to concentrate with him so close to your centre.

“Can’t get there,” you mutter, slowly pulling both of your hands away from your mound, leaving you exposed. Tom leans up, raising his eyebrows until you offer him the fingers you’d had buried inside your entrance. He hums as he sucks on your fingers, the sight of him making you moan softly. “I get so close, but I can’t get over the edge.”

Tom licks at the tips of your fingers before releasing them, smirking slowly. “What a shame,” he drawls, sounding the opposite. Both of his hands go to the soft sides of your thighs, and you let him pry your legs apart. He’s so close to your cunt that you can feel his warm breath fanning out across your bud, your folds, your entrance. “Looks like neither of us can cum this week, hmm?”

Before you can reply, Tom drops his head and buries it between your legs. You cry out, sensitive from your edging, your clit throbbing as you feel his tongue, warm and wet, circling the bud. His hands push your hips back down, holding you firmly in place as he moans, drawing his mouth all over your sex.

“Stay still, darling,” he murmurs, voice thick. He glances up at you, a wild look in his eyes. “Be a good girl and let me have a little taste.”  

Your eyes roll back, and you try to lie as still as possible. Tom’s fingers slip into your cunt, exploring your passage, curling up against your g-spot as you whimper.

“So good,” you moan, already feeling your climax twitching in the pit of your stomach. One of your hands goes down to grab at his hair, digging into his curls and keeping his face exactly where you need it, and the other fists the sheets. Your chest rises and falls, your heavy pants mixing with the sounds of Tom’s fingers, fucking your wet heat, and his tongue, teasing the life out of your tender clit. “Please, please.”

“Hmm, you don’t want to cum, do you?” Tom’s words are coupled with a gradual slow in his pace, and you feel your orgasm drifting away as he stills his fingers. He laps over your clit a final time before sitting up a little straighter, looking at you straight on as his chin glistens. “If I don’t get to cum, it doesn't seem fair that you do either, does it?”

His voice is hypnotising, and when his free hand goes to rub warm circles on your inner thigh, you find yourself nodding, transfixed.

“I- I guess.”

Tom smirks, dropping his lips so he can kiss your clit, lightly.

“Are you going to wait for me, sweetheart?” He asks, pink lips puffy and inflamed.

You bite your lip. “Tom,” you whimper, frowning when he lets his fingers pull away from your heat. You watch as he licks his digits clean, still with that wide, confident smirk on his face.

“Hm?” Tom kisses your thigh. “I can make you cum, if you really want to, darling. Just thought it might be nice to do this together.” He rolls both of his hands over your legs, battering his eyelashes at you. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while. Just think about how good it’ll be to wait until next Saturday.” He pushes himself up your body, anchoring himself with a strong arm either side of your head as he suspends himself above you. Tom kisses you, roughly, but only for a moment, letting your lips pull apart when he feels you trying to slip your tongue into his mouth. “Let’s do this together, yeah?”

You hum, thinking on it for a moment, but the scent of his cologne and his fresh shampoo scramble your mind. You find yourself nodding, distracted by the glint in his eyes.

“Okay,” you agree, rolling your eyes when he grins. “We’ll do it together.”

“Good girl.” Tom kisses you, grinning against your lips. “This is going to be fun.”

———

If you’d thought the sex ban was difficult to cope with in the first week, it only gets harder in the second. After giving Tom the green light to have his way with you, he seems to channel all his frustration into you—or, more specifically, into making you as frustrated as possible. He teases you, makes you squirm, beg, cry, letting his mouth wander over your sex or his fingers explore you, any time, any place he feels like it. He never allows you to roll over your edge, just watches, usually smirking, as you try to convince him to let you climax, only to kiss you, softly, and pull away each time.

It happens in the locker room—he pushes you up against the metallic lockers and slips his fingers into you, whispering gentle words with sinful intent.

“Gonna stay quiet for me, darling? Cunt feels so desperate... So tight, so hot. Fucking snug around my fingers, aren’t you? Shh… I know, I know. Feels good for you too, doesn’t it?”

In the showers, when you’re both hot and steamy—Tom drops to his knees and slings one of your thighs over his shoulder, nuzzling his face into your heat.

“Wish I could taste this pussy for the rest of my life, love. Tastes like paradise.”

It even happens in the gym, when he pushes a vibrating egg into you and enjoys teasing you, never warning you before he ups the pace of the bullet, watching with that signature mischievousness on his face.

“Don’t get all shy now, love… I can see the way you’re squirming for me. Bet you’re making a mess in those panties, hmm? Yeah… You can’t hide from me.”

It drives you crazy—beyond crazy. If you thought you’d been mad at Harrison before, you’re practically incandescent with rage by the time fight night comes around.

As your frayed arousal combines with the nerves of the big night, you find yourself alone with Tom, half an hour before the most important match of his career. Your priorities have shifted, your mood sobered by the situation.

“Visualise it,” you murmur, voice soft. You roll your hands over Tom’s shoulders. “Think about how good it’ll feel to hold that belt in your hands.”

Tom hums. He’s sitting on one of the hard wooden benches in the locker room. You’re kneeling behind him, occasionally dropping your lips to kiss the top of his head. After months of supporting him before a fight, you know exactly what he needs: you, touching him, grounding him. He doesn’t like distractions so near to the fight, which is why he has his eyes closed. Whenever he opens them, it’s only to look at the bright red gloves settled in his lap. You know that he appreciates you, even when he’s unable to vocalise it, too lost in his thoughts.

“You’ve trained your whole life for this moment, Tom. You deserve it.”

It’s a mantra. Harrison had taught it to you. Small words of affirmation, repeated softly over the lead-up, speaking them into existence. Tom hums, listening intently.

“You’re going to win,” you speak, your own eyes shut. You focus on the feeling of his shoulders, packed firm with muscles between your hands. “You’re going to win, and then you’re going to fuck me.”

Tom shifts, his posture straightening a little, and your eyes widen as you realise you’ve let your inner thoughts interrupt the ritual.

“I don’t think that’s on Harrison’s script, darling,” he mutters, voice amused.

You reach forward, drawing one of your hands over his forehead. Your fingers play with his hair, and you scrunch up your nose as you chastise yourself for your deviation.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “Just fucking horny. Your fault.”

“Mm, sorry.” Tom grunts when you pull on his hair a little harder, and you repeat the action. “Fuck, love.” He groans louder and tilts his head to the side, exposing the pale column of his neck. “Give me a hickey?”

You oblige, dipping your head so you can rest your lips on his neck. “Where?” You ghost your lips over varying points on his skin, teasing him with light nibbles.

“There,” Tom mutters. One glance at his face confirms he’s still got his eyes shut. When you give in to his desire and start to suck a deep hickey to his skin, he grunts and reaches up to grab at your hands, squeezing your fingers roughly. “Shit.”

“There you go,” you say, voice soft as you pull back.

“Thanks, love,” Tom mutters. “Want to wear it in the ring. Good luck charm.”

You bite your lip, your centre throbbing as you listen to him. You kiss the mark, stained dark against his skin.

“You’ve got this, Tom,” you whisper, redirecting your lips to his ear. His neck prickles with goosebumps when you kiss his earlobe, softly. “You’re going to win, then you’re going to come back, and we’ll celebrate together. Okay?”

Tom’s still holding your hands, firm and eager, and you smile against his neck when he squeezes them.

“Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll win. I’ll do it for you.”

You kiss the back of his head, his soft curls gentle against your cheeks.

“Love you, champ.”

He coaxes one of your hands to his face and kisses the back of your palm.

“Love you too, darling.”

———

The atmosphere sharpens when Tom gets out to the ring.

It’s a big match. The press is here, the fight streamed live to thousands of people across the world. As Tom strides into the ring to take on his opponent, you settle at the side of it, looking up through the ropes with Harrison by your side.

Tom starts off strong—a few hard jabs here, some quick punches there. He dodges and rolls, his bright red gloves raining down over his opponent. Yet, both Tom and his rival are the best of their class, so it’s a nail-biting half-hour spent with your fingers crossed, eyes trained on your boyfriend as he throws everything he has into the ring.

When they break halfway through the match for a few minutes of respite, you’re quick to slip up into the ring and assist Tom’s trainer as they patch up his injured hand. Tom doesn’t say anything, his teeth frozen in the hard white mouth guard, but he squeezes your hand before you step out again, and you know he’s still in there.

The second half only gets more intense—both of them knowing how close the match is, and adjusting accordingly. Tom and his opponent are more reckless, more brutal, and you watch your boyfriend take risks he’d promised to never try to take. It leaves you an anxious mess, but you can’t help but watch him in awe.

Tom’s time in the ring is a performance, beautifully violent, elegantly composed. Spit sprays, sweat drips, blood rolls. He’s loud—very vocal, his sounds almost brutish. His eyes glint black, brown curls stiff with sweat, face on fire. You find it incredibly attractive to watch him in his element, not just because he physically looks incredible, but also because he’s so utterly committed to his trade that everything else fades away. His passion burns, scorches the ground, ripples over his opponent, and in the end, Tom rises, and his rival sinks.

It’s close, and though you have the suspicion that your boyfriend might have snagged it, you hold your breath until it’s confirmed. Your grip on Harrison’s hand is so tight that he curses, but you don’t release it until the MC yells Tom’s name as champion and thrusts his arm triumphantly into the air.

The arena explodes. Your ears ring as you clap and cheer, tears of pride pooling in your eyes. The first thing Tom does is turn around, looking at you with an expression of elated shock on his face. Then, after accepting the belt and speaking a few hurried words of thanks into the microphone of the leading journalist, he comes straight to you.

“Tom!” You exclaim, shaking from emotion. It’s a blend of adrenaline, pride and nerves, cooling your body, making you quiver. Tom reaches down from the ring and grabs both of your hands, jerking you up to him. You dodge past the ropes, almost tripping in his haste, but he grabs you.

Still with the bright stage lights blinding the ring, Tom sweeps you into a deep, passionate kiss, his hot hands burning into your waist. You release a loud noise of surprise, taken entirely off-guard but rolling with the punches. Tom pushes you back against the ropes of the ring as your hands curl into his sweaty hair, and your brief hope that they’ve stopped broadcasting live is set aside as Tom comes closer, caging you in with his buff arms. It’s messy and dirty, his tongue twisting against yours, lips firm, intense, but it’s everything. As you let go of the tension you’d been harbouring all evening, another very prominent emotion burns to the surface: arousal.

“I fucking did it,” Tom breathes finally, forehead pushed to yours. He sounds so proud of himself that it makes you smile, tears reappearing in your eyes as you nod.

“You did,” you confirm. You pull on his hair and push him back so you’re able to see his eyes, dark and hungry. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

He stares into your eyes for a moment, and then kisses you again, with so much intensity it knocks your breath from your lungs. When he pulls back, he uses one very hot hand to cup your cheek, holding you tightly.

“I have to do some interview shit,” Tom says, grimacing. He tilts his head at the championship belt, which now lies on the floor of the ring, discarded. He’s smirking as he brings his gaze back to you. “Meet me in the locker room? Ten minutes.”

You nod.

“Don’t be late.”

———

You wait for Tom in the team’s locker room, taking the time to lock all of the side doors that lead out from the room. His team has been around the two of you for long enough to know that it’s best to give you a wide berth in the few hours after Tom’s won a match, but you can never be too sure. Once you’re finished with that, you go to the liberty of pulling off your shoes, your jumper, and all the jewellery you’d put on for the night.

Then, you wait.

You wait, and you think about how magnificent Tom had looked as he’d fought, arms flexing, jaw set firm in a focused grimace. You rewatch the scenes of him thrusting the belt into the air, yelling elatedly. You think about how fucking mad he’s made you feel over the last two weeks, edging you and denying you, over and over again. It feels as though you’ve been permanently aroused for seven days straight, and now is no exception: just from spending all evening ogling him, you can feel your arousal wetting the front of your panties.

“Fuck,” Tom exclaims, suddenly bursting into the locker room. You turn around to watch him sling the championship belt over his shoulder as he hurries to flick the lock on the main door, knowing the routine as well as you. When he gets it, he turns and stalks over to you, picking up into a jog. “That took so fucking long,” he groans. He throws the belt away and pulls you from the bench, pushing you until your back bumps up against one of the metal lockers. Tom grins, his nose pressing to yours as he smothers you, hands back on your hips, forehead to yours, breath spreading over your face. “Couldn’t wait to get back here and see you.”

You draw your hands over his back, feeling his muscles tense and flex.

“Just see me?” You ask, ghosting your lips over his.

Tom tightens his grip on your waist. “No,” he mutters darkly. He kisses you, only for a second, but very hard. “Couldn’t wait to get back here, rip your clothes off, and finally give you everything you deserve.”

“Everything I deserve?” You raise your eyebrows, running your hands lower. “I think you deserve more, baby.” You smirk against his lips. “You just won the biggest fight of your life.”

“That’s true…” Tom steps back, only for a moment, and you watch as he reaches beneath the waistband of his gym shorts and grunts. A second later, he pulls out the hard protective cup that shields his lower half from injury in the ring, and he groans, loudly, his forehead pressing to yours. “I’m so fucking hard, darling,” he whines. He steps closer, and you feel him, stiff as a rod, pressing into your thigh. “Need to get it out of me.”

You nod, your head moving back as Tom runs a hand over your throat and tilts it to the side. His lips attack your neck, biting hard kisses to the side of your throat that make you moan, your pulse feeling strong between your legs.

“Shit,” you curse. “Get in the shower.”

Tom sucks a harsh hickey just below your ear before pulling back to wiggle his eyebrows. “The shower, eh?”

“Yeah.” You step out of his hold and start to tear off your clothes, your skin rippling with heat. “Gonna suck you off.” You fling your t-shirt to the ground and roll down your jeans, watching as Tom does the same. “Then… Then, you can fuck me… Shit, I’m definitely going to need you to fuck me.” You throw your bra aside and then push down your panties, the waistband rolling in on itself due to your speed. “I’m so wet, Tom.”

“You don’t need to convince me,” Tom says, eyes taking in your bare form. “Been dreaming about feeling you again, love.” He finally pulls down his boxers, and his hard cock springs out. “Two weeks is far too long. Get over here.”

Tom grabs your hand and tugs you into one of the wide shower cubicles. Both of you curse as he turns the valve and the water comes out freezing cold, but the stark contrast to the raging fire burning up your insides is nice.

You kiss him for a while, as the two of you get soapy and Tom washes away the grime. His skin is soft beneath your hands and the noises he makes as you massage his dodgy shoulder would be erotic enough without the presence of his cock, hard and leaking precum, resting between your thighs. You make out for a while, savouring every moment and enjoying the fact you’re now able to kiss him for longer than two seconds without worrying about exciting him too much. It’s still just as intense as before, but less hurried, and more passionate—Tom’s fingers pushing your damp hair out of your face, water droplets rolling down your figures. To be so bare in front of him and have him so ravenous for you makes you want him more than anything.

“Get back,” you murmur, pushing his shoulders. Tom obeys, his body pressing against the yellow tiled wall. You run a trail of kisses down his torso, paying attention to both of his pecs before his abs, then his v-line. Your knees bend, and you kneel on the floor, kissing up his thighs briefly before finally taking him in hand.

“Fuck-” Tom yells. His hands wind into your hair, flat palms grasping at your skull when you drag your tongue over his tip. “Been so long, love, I won’t last long at all.”

You hum as you tenderly lick over his head, absorbing his salty precum and moaning at the taste. “I know,” you say, your hand slowly tugging his length. You give his tip a chaste kiss as you blink up at him, smiling innocently. “I don’t want you to last long. I want you to cum down my throat.” Very slowly, you envelop his tip in your mouth, bobbing your head gently. You pull back after only a few moments, needing to add, “Want you to fuck my face, Tom.”

Your boyfriend moves one of his hands to your cheek, his voice strained from the way your hand is pumping his lower shaft. “Are you sure? Might not be gentle.”

“Yeah.” You nod your head too. “Want it rough. ‘M so fucking horny, and so are you. Want you to make my throat ache tomorrow.”

Tom curses, his eyes fluttering shut. “You’re so sexy,” he whines, slapping your cheek gently. “Thank you.”

You consider telling him that it’s almost as much for you as it is for him, but then you decide that the sight of his cock, flushed red, leaking precum, is your number one priority. So, you loosen your hand on his member and remove it completely, then soften your jaw and start to take him in your mouth, deep-throating him like you’ve ached to do for two weeks.

Tom’s fast to use his leverage on your head, guiding you with shaking hands. Both of you know that all you have to do to tap out is press his thigh, so you let him use you however he needs. Tears pool in your eyes as he fucks your mouth hard, his tip hitting the end of your throat until you gag. The lewd sounds mix with the pounding of the shower against the tiles and Tom’s grumbled groans that spiral up into the air.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he says, voice raspy and light. “So good, sweetheart, fuck. Such a pretty mouth. Feels so bloody good.” He breaks off for a moment, and you feel him shifting around on the wall, indicating he’s near his peak. “So messy too, fuck. Missed this. Watching you on your knees, gagging on my cock.” He tightens his grip on your hair and pushes you deeper, groaning loudly as he does so. “Fuck, I’m gonna blow. Gonna cum all down your throat. Shit, shit-”

Tom stops moving your head as he yelps, one of his hands curling into a fist and hitting back against the wall as he cums suddenly. You swallow around him, pulling up until your lips are at his tip, and your hand goes up to pump the rest of him through his orgasm. His entire body shakes, releasing the pent-up frustration that comes with so long in denial, and you take joy in the light whimpers he deposits into the air as you suck on his tip, cleaning him up.

“Holy…” Tom grabs your hair and pulls you back up, slumping against you instead of the wall as he pants. After taking a moment to gather himself, he pulls back to look at you, his thumb coming up to play with the beads of his cum that stain the corner of your mouth. “Made a mess,” he coos, pushing his seed onto your tongue. You grin as you suck his thumb further into your mouth, delighting as he curses. “You’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart. You really are.”

You release his finger with a pop, shrugging. “How was that?”

Tom groans again, the sound almost orgasmic. “So good,” he mumbles. “Been so long, darling. So, so long.” He kisses your face, dusting your cheeks in light, loving kisses. When he pulls back, his eyes are a little darker. “Bet you’d like to chase that high too, wouldn’t you?” He accompanies his words with a sly hand, slipping down between your legs. When he feels your slick, so pronounced it’s coating your inner thighs, he tuts, smirking. “All this for me?”

You nod, whining breathlessly as he slips two fingers up to toy with your bud. You feel like a livewire—strung out and pulsing, white-hot. Unlike him, you’ve had some stimulation over the last two weeks. Just, you’ve also been cruelly pulled away from the edge, every single time.

“Just for you,” you agree. Your face drops forward, and you find yourself biting Tom’s broad shoulder as he curls two fingers into you with ease.

“You’re so hot in here,” he mutters, “and so wet, too. Fuck, love. You’re dripping down my hand.” When he angles his digits up to caress your g-spot, he strikes it immediately, and you moan noisily. “There you go, baby. Shh. It’s okay.” Tom fucks your tight heat, gradually unravelling you. “I’ve got you.”

Your moans come out strangled, and you feel yourself clenching around his fingers as your high builds quickly. It won’t take much to push you over the edge, and as much as it pains you—

“I don’t want to cum on your hand, Tom,” you manage, your voice betraying you by splitting into a whimper. “Want to cum on your cock.”

Tom slows his fingers, but he keeps thrusting them into you, just too slowly for you to peak. You groan, your centre pulsing as he keeps you burning near the edge, his lips on your neck again. He gently kisses up to your ear, mouth feather-light.

“Are you sure?” He coos, nibbling at your earlobe. “Feels like you want to cum.” When Tom adds his other hand, two fingers gently stroking your tender bud, your knees almost give out. “Can feel you clenching around me, Y/N, naughty girl.” He kisses just below your ear. “If you want something, you know how you need to ask for it.”

You’re all over the place, your eyes squeezed shut, sweat breaking out over your forehead, your cunt clenching and releasing every other second. You’re so close you can almost taste it, but you try to exercise self-control.

“Please, Tom.” It takes everything in you, but you manage to stand up straighter again, looking at him straight-on. His eyes dance dark with power and lust, his smirk unmoving as he thrusts his fingers a little faster. “W-Want you to fuck me. Been waiting so long, don’t want to fall apart if it isn’t with you behind me. Please, please, please, please-”

He cuts you off with a hard kiss, and finally, Tom pulls his hands away. He runs them both through the stream of water before reaching back to clumsily turn off the valve.

“I fucking love you,” he tells you. “Couldn’t deny you anything. Not really.” Tom takes your hand. “C’mere.”

Tom carefully pulls you over to one of the wooden benches. After draping a towel over the wooden slats, he pushes you down onto your hands and knees, his fingers spreading your legs. You whimper as you feel his cock, hard again, refracted in the interlude he’d constructed with his hands working you into insanity. Your knuckles clench around the slabs of wood, and despite already feeling the ache in your knees, it only spurs you on. You love the pain, love the visible, throbbing reminders of Tom, and he knows it just as much as you do.

“Look so pretty like this, darling,” Tom says, voice drifting through the air. Both of his hands go to your ass, roughly massaging your skin until his right hand slaps down across you, stinging bright hot. He repeats the action when you moan loudly, the slapping sound ringing out through the air. Each time his hand falls over you, you only grow hotter. It doesn’t matter that you’re still covered in water from the shower, you’re burning up. “G’nna let me take you like this, eh? Fuck this tight little pussy, like I know you’ve been dreaming of.”

When Tom lines his tip up with your entrance, you find yourself clinging to the edge of the bench with your fingers.

“Yes,” you beg, backing up against him. You feel like you might dissolve into a mess of arousal, tears, and desperation if he doesn’t satisfy you soon. “Please.”

Tom runs a hand up your back, fingers drifting over the line of your spine. He drops his lips and kisses the lower part of your back, so delicately it makes you quiver.

“Okay,” he says. “G’nna give it to you good.”

He enters you quickly and easily, and you almost lose it from the first thrust alone. You’re so slick that Tom’s swift in pulling back and then slamming back into you, his hands holding your hips back and in place as your arms wobble and your figure loses control. You drop your head between your arms, the blood rushing to your skull and making you feel light-headed as he rocks into you, over and over again, giving you everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

“Tom,” you gasp, your breaths heavy and inconsistent. It feels indescribable—the final denouement of your time apart. Each drag of his cock through your heat has you reeling, your walls quivering and clenching and trying desperately to keep him in, keep him nudging your g-spot, stimulating your passage. You’re moaning louder than you’ve ever moaned before, the coil in your stomach building and building without warning or direction.

Behind you, Tom seems to be enjoying it just as much as you. His libido strong and healthy and his body pumped full of pre-match adrenaline that it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest that he’s being so hard and purposeful in his movements. His groans are like music to your ears, small grunts of affirmation that he too has missed the paradise that unfolds when you join together.

“So fucking tight, angel,” he rasps, again letting his hand fall over your ass. He soothes the skin with his palm, and then he repeats the action two more times. “Feel you clenching me every time I do that.” He pinches your hip with his other hand, and you find yourself biting your forearm, embarrassed by how loud you think you’d moan if you were able to. “You love it rough like this, don’t you, darling? Mm… I know you do.”

It’s a dizzying blur of skin on skin for a while, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge on multiple occasions. It’s as if your body is holding back though, waiting on Tom to near it too before you’re able to fully let go. Almost sensing this, he reaches down and shoves his fingers in your hair, roughly tugging you up until your back is pressed against his front. The angle pushes him deeper, and your eyes flood with tears as you find yourself unable to comprehend just how good it feels.

“Y’like that?” He rasps. Tom drags a hand down to your clit, able to access it better now that he’s holding you so much closer. His pace is slower, but he’s going forcefully, his head hitting your g-spot every time. “Fuck, darling, I’m gonna cum if you keep clenching like that.”

You whimper, your chest heaving.

“Yeah,” you moan. His name pours from your lips like a prayer, rising in desperation as you slip back down, hands grabbing at the slats of the bench as you hold on for dear life. “Fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

“Come on,” Tom urges. “Do it. I want to feel you squeezing my cock so tight, like you always do. Always makes me lose it, doesn’t it, love? Shit, you’re so perfect. Go on. I’ve got you. Get my cock nice and wet, and I’ll fill you up. You’d like that, eh? Feeling me cumming inside this pretty pussy? Come on. You know what you have to do.”

It slams into you, pouring down over you in waves that submerge you entirely. You feel boneless but also rigid at the same time, your jaw slack as your vision blurs. Pleasure ripples out from your centre, dousing your aching cunt in relief that feels so sweet, only growing richer and more fulfilling when you hear Tom grunt and feel his cock pulse in you. You come together, bodies moving in sync, perfectly, despite the time apart, and it’s so good that it takes you out of it completely.

You’re so absorbed in your climax that you end up drifting, opening your eyes a few moments later only to find yourself lying on your back, staring up at the bright white lines of the locker room ceiling. Your eyes blur with tears, but just for a moment, because then Tom’s palm swims into vision, drifting above your head until he finds the right angle that blocks out the light.

“Hey, darling,” he coos. He brings one of your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. “Are you okay? Lost you for a second.”

A very lazy, content smile finds your lips.

“Yeah,” you say sluggishly. You ache all over, but it feels incredible. You’re buzzing with the kind of energy that only comes after a session like this—after you’ve let him dismantle you completely. “Are you okay?”

Tom nods, his wet hair flying everywhere. “Fantastic,” he confirms. He glances down your figure, then offers you a soft smile. “I’m going to take you home, run you a really, really nice bath, and then we’re going to cuddle.” He drops your hand and instead cups your face in his palm. You nuzzle into it. His eyes are so soft as he gazes at you tenderly. “You’re so lovely, Y/N. I love you.”

You smile softly. “Love you too.”

Tom leans over you and kisses your lips, very gently, before shifting his mouth all over the rest of your face. He goes from one cheek, over to your forehead, down your nose, to the other, before circling back to your mouth. By the time he reaches there, your smile has grown to a grin, and you feel grounded enough to reach up and loop your fingers into his hair.

“Thank you,” he says, speaking earnestly, “for always being here for me. For supporting me, and putting up with all my crazy ideas, and being incredible, always. You are my inspiration, and I love you more than anything.”

You feel your heart throb in your chest, and you have to focus really hard on stopping the swell of emotion from leaving through your tired eyes.

“Any time,” you say, nodding to emphasise your point. “I love you, and I’m here for you. Whatever you might need, I’ll do it.”

Tom’s warm brown eyes meet with yours, and the smile on his face shows no sign of leaving.

“All I need is you,” he says. His lips come down to yours, softly, just resting there. “All I’ll ever need is you.”

—

———

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[just-here-for-the-moment]

Javier Peña x petite female reader size kink fic, Part 2

By popular demand, here’s Javier Peña’s size kink Part 2!

Part 1

Word Count: 2800+

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (petite cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: mature and vulgar language; a smattering of cop/suspect role play; some dom/sub elements and powerplay; SIZE KINK; praise kink (“good girl”); one instance of a ripped dress; vaginal fingering; oral sex/M receiving plus deepthroating/gagging but it’s not rough; oral sex/F receiving; protected P/V sex; Javier has a FILTHY mouth and he’s a little bit mean but then turns soft; some diminutive nicknames for Reader (“little lady”/”little girl”); Javier picking Reader up and carrying her; this is Part 2 of Javier talking dirty about his huge penis and how tiny you are (sorry/not sorry)

You kiss Javier deeply as he carries you down the hall, your legs wrapped tight around his waist. You’re dying to get him to take off his shirt, his jeans, to finish what he promised you. You wonder if you really will be able to fit all of him into your mouth. You’ve tried several times over the past few weeks, but you haven’t managed to take him all the way.

Javier tosses you onto his bed and before you can even lay back he’s reaching again to rip the rest of your buttons, more tiny pearl projectiles hitting the floor, the dress now torn all the way open. You don’t really care, the dress was inexpensive and it’ll be easy to replace, but you decide to throw it back in his face as part of your game.

You scowl up at him and set your jaw. “You owe me a new dress, Agent.”

Javier steps back, looking at you spread out on his bed as he rubs one big hand over his chin. His eyes scan you from your face down your body, drinking in the sight of your lacy bra and panties before trailing back up to meet your gaze. He looks like he’s trying to decide what to do with you, and it makes you want to rub your thighs together, quell the sudden ache and throbbing in your clit.

Javi suddenly leans down over you, crowding into your space as he braces himself above you. The scent of his cologne and most recent cigarette send your head reeling, desire spinning in your chest and making it hard to breathe. He squints at you and then murmurs low, his gravelly voice making more butterflies appear in your gut.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to demand things, little lady. I think you ought to be a bit nicer to me, and we’ll see what happens.” He dips his head low and nudges your chin up with his nose, laying kisses to your hot skin.

You gasp and keen, “I’ll be good.”

“Will you?” He keeps kissing you, down to your collarbone.

“Or are you going to be trouble?” ...down to your breasts.

“Because if you’re going to cause problems...” He kisses down your stomach and your hips.

“We can just stop right here,” He bites your mound gently through the lace of your panties.

“...and you can walk home in your ruined dress. And if you look like that? Like a little package of trouble? I bet some big, mean man will come and carry you off.”

You pant heavily and even though you know the threat is just part of the game, he’s got your heart racing. Javier is filthy and he’s playing you so well.

He licks at your clit through the lace. “Are you gonna cause me any trouble, little girl?”

You whisper, high and anxious, “No, I’ll be good for you. I promise.”

Javier leans back over you and kisses you tenderly. “I know you will. You’re always so good for me, trying to fit my cock into that pretty little mouth of yours. You try so hard, baby.”

You pout and nod at him with big eyes. “I’ll be good.”

Javier nods at you. “Good girl.”

He stands up and pulls you to a sitting position, then unzips his jeans to pull his erection out. You bite your lip and feel more slick settle into the crotch of your undies. Javier cups your chin and you open eagerly to lick around his head, wetting him as you bring your hands up to work the base of his cock. The sight of your petite hand barely wrapping all the way around gets you even wetter.

Javier leans into it, putting both hands on his hips and watching you intently as you work him from the tip as far down as you can, your eyes closed as you feel him heavy on your tongue, filling your whole mouth with his thickness. You savor the way his skin tastes, the little hint of salt and the smell of his detergent. His breathing gets heavier.

“That’s my good girl.” His voice is low and raspy. “God, your lips look so good wrapped around my cock. Can’t believe you can take me like this.”

You moan around him and flutter your eyes open to try to gaze up at him. He’s looking at you and clenching his jaw. Aroused. Intense. Focused only on you.

You tighten your lips around him, making your mouth look even smaller, like it’s some kind of effort to take him like this instead of your favorite thing to do. He puffs his chest at the sight of that and then cups your face, running his thumb over your cheek to feel his bulk under the skin.

“You’re so good at that, little girl. Look at how you're sucking me off with your wet little mouth. You want to try taking me down your throat? You can do it, can’t you… for me?”

You moan at that and suck a bit harder, fighting the urge to sneak your fingers down into your panties, to rub yourself raw from Javi’s torturous words. That’s off-limits in your game. You know that if you chase your own pleasure, he’ll delay serving it up to you on a platter. And what Javier gives you is always ten times better than what you can give yourself.

Instead, you grip the root of his dick a little harder and moan again, before you slurp off and smile up at him sweetly. “Yes, Javi. I want to try taking your huge cock down my throat. I can do it.”

“Good girl,” he growls and grabs your wrists, hauling you up against him as he pushes your tattered dress down and off your shoulders. “Strip.”

You curl your arm behind you and unclasp your bra, dropping it to the floor. Your panties follow, and Javier gives you an appraising look, followed by a long sigh. His voice drops another note lower and he gives you one of your favorite commands: “Now me.”

You bite your lip to stifle a grin, and reach up for Javier’s shirt buttons, flicking them open as rapidly as you can. You toss it on the bed, then unbutton his jeans, grazing his cock slowly with your hand. You push his jeans down, down, down his strong legs, sinking to your knees as they drop.

You look up at Javi with wide eyes, palms flattened on the front of his thighs, patiently waiting for him to lead you where he wants you. Javier gives you that look again, like he’s trying to decide exactly what to do with you, and it makes anticipation build up behind your navel like nothing else. His cock is level with your forehead, and you incline your chin up to take a long lick of the underside, watching it bob there in front of you.

Javier sucks in a sharp breath and you try it again, dragging your tongue from his soft sac to the frenulum, finishing with a flourish at the tip. You look up at him and you can almost feel your eyes sparkling with eagerness. Javier toes off his shoes and steps out of his jeans, then he tilts his head toward the soft armchair next to the dresser. You get up and follow him there.

Javier sits down in the chair, legs spread wide and you kneel again in front of your man. This is where you’re going to prove to yourself that you can do it. You can swallow him all the way down and nuzzle your nose into his soft curls. You want to take him apart and make him shatter with lust at the sight of you. You want to win at this game that you love to play with him.

You open wide and take him in as far as the back of your tongue. You’re determined. Last time you did this you made it down to the last inch before you couldn’t take any more. Today will be different. You revel in Javier’s filthy praises as you relax your jaw and try to pace your breathing along with the bobbing of your head.

“Fuck,” he spits out with a huff. “Look at you go, taking me so deep.” You feel him hit the top of your mouth, just behind the ridge where your hard palate ends and the soft palate begins. You pause for a moment, afraid of gagging. Nothing happens so you breathe in through your nose and push gently, feeling him slide back until the head of his cock hits your throat.

“Oh fuck!” Javier’s hands grip the sides of your face and you pause. His coarse curls are just out of reach, a few centimeters from your nose. You pull back slightly to exhale, twisting your tongue around the underside of his penis and then angling your head just right to slide back down over his length.

Javier lets you set the pace, his hands are just holding you, not pushing, although you wouldn’t mind him getting a little rougher. You remember your breathing and repeat the steps, sliding his head past your soft palate until it hits the back of your throat. You do an experimental swallow, feeling your throat muscles contract around him.

“Shit!” Javier pulls you off, then drags you up to his face to give you a messy kiss. His tongue feels swollen, licking frantically inside your mouth in a gesture of gratitude for doing this for him, doing this to him.

“You look so good sucking me off. You want to see what a good girl looks like?” Javier reaches to the dresser just beside him and grabs a little hand mirror. He holds it near his chest, angled so you can see yourself. Your eyes are bright with a few tears and your lips are puffy and glossy, saliva running down your chin. You look wrecked but you feel powerful.

“Watch yourself go down on me, gorgeous. Your little mouth looks so good when you swallow me down like that.”

“Yes, Javi.” You wink up at Javier and watch yourself in the mirror as his fat head slips past your lips.

You’ve never seen yourself like this, and the sight of your petite mouth cinched around Javier’s broad penis makes you moan. You watch yourself slide slowly down his length, determined to get your lips around him all the way to the root where it meets his body. You feel his tip hit the back of your throat again, and you swallow, then push gently past the last little bit of discomfort to find that your nose is buried deep in his pubic hair, your lower lip and chin touching his balls.

Javier throws his head back and lets out a low moan, and you can feel the vibration of it in your core. You close your eyes and just sit with the feeling, letting drool slip out of the sides of your mouth. You exhale and then swallow twice more, and when you pull off you taste the tang of Javi’s salty pre-cum at the tip.

You grin up at him. “I did it, now you have to make me come again.”

Javier opens his eyes and puts the mirror back on the dresser before fixing his deep brown eyes on yours.

“No.” He shakes his head, and you feel your eyebrows draw into a scowl.

Javier laughs at your distress. “You were such a good girl that I’m going to make you come two more times.”

You squeal and playfully swat his leg, and Javier reaches down to grab you under your arms. He hauls you up on his lap to straddle him, and pulls a condom off the dresser. When he’s covered he wraps his big hands around your hips and helps lift you onto his cock. You moan and sink down onto him, and a chill wracks your whole body, stiffening your nipples into buds and raising goosebumps on your shoulders.

You grip Javier’s shoulders and throw your head back in ecstasy. You let Javier guide your hips, rolling you up and down as his breathing quickens. From this angle he punches deep, hitting something over and over that half tickles and half hurts. You angle your hips so that he hits it deeper and you wail. Javier brings one broad thumb down to your clit and gyrates the pad of it over and over and over. The circular rubbing motions make you gush, and you feel electric knowing that he’s doing whatever he can to make you feel good.

Javier presses harder and your climax washes over you. He pulls his thumb away as you throb and squeeze around him. You bury your head in the crook of his neck and let him hold you close while your orgasm burns itself out. Your head spins.

“That’s my girl. Good girl.” Javier cups one hand around your ass and strokes your spine languidly with his other fingers. “You came so hard around me, I could feel you.”

He shifts underneath you, and then stands up without pulling out. You wrap your arms around his neck and let him carry you to the bed, his huge hands wrapped under your thighs for support. He lays you down on your back and you pull your knees up toward your chest, opening your legs wide. Javier leans down to kiss you and then starts thrusting into you hard. You lift your head to look down to where your bodies are joined, watching his dick spear into you over and over.

“You like that? You like seeing how small you look when I’ve got you spread open like this? How’s it feel to have a big man fucking you into the mattress?” He leans down again and starts biting kisses off from you, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth with gentle suction and the blunt edges of his front teeth.

“Yes, Javi. Yes, I love it. I’m your good girl.”

“You are my good girl. You’re my girl. Look at you taking my fat- fucking- cock in your tight little cunt.” He punctuates his words with harder thrusts. “You’re my cute- tiny- fucking girl. I love your sweet- little- pussy.”

His hips start to falter, the rhythm getting sloppier with each thrust. You know he’s getting close and you wrap your legs around his hips, then you tighten and clench your pelvic muscles around him. He gasps and falls over you, filling the condom as you feel his cock spasm inside you.

When he’s recovered he grabs the base of the condom and pulls out of you, tying it off and discarding it into the wastebasket next to the dresser. He kneels back over you and peppers your face and neck with kisses.

“You got one more in you, pretty girl?” Javier sucks a hot, wet kiss to the hollow of your throat and you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Yes, Javi. Will you eat me out?” You kiss him and nudge his nose with yours, making wide eyes at him. “Please?”

“Oh, fuck yes.” Javier sits down on the edge of the bed and lies back, smirking at you. “C’mere and get a mustache ride, little lady.”

You giggle and leap up to straddle his face, lowering your cunt to his mouth as he grasps both of your buttocks in his big hands. Javier starts to lick your slick folds with enthusiasm, flicking the stiffened tip of his tongue across your swollen bud. He shifts his hands to wrap up and over the tops of your thighs, pulling you closer to his face until your clit is grinding over his nose, his tongue buried deep in your channel.

“Oh fuck, Javi!” You don’t have anywhere to put your hands for leverage, so you cross your arms behind your head and try to stay upright. Javier works his lips and tongue harder, shaking his head side to side in a rapid rhythm to make his nose brush your clit. You feel your third climax building quickly. You worry for a moment that Javier is unable to breathe, but then he tips his chin up and sucks your sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips, and you go careening off the edge into bliss.

You shake and fall forward over the bedspread, fully exhausted from the inside out. You feel Javier slide out from between your legs and then he drapes his form over you, sucking kisses into your shoulder blade while his hand wanders down to your ass. He dips his fingers between your thighs and you feel him lazily stroke between your puffy folds.

“Was that good for you? Did you get what you needed?” Javier sucks on your earlobe and you can only groan your assent. You nod, hoping he can see from the back of your head that you’re happy and spent.

Javier leans to nuzzle the side of your neck and then squeezes your asscheek with his big hand. “That’s my good girl.”

--- Javier Peña character masterlist

JHFTM Main Masterlist

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc @coreychick @astoryisaloveaffair @fan-of-encouragement @nolanell

Plus some other troublemakers who seemed to like the first installment LOL: @kmorales1 @missredherring @sixshooter665 @axshadows @littlemissoblivious @taylorxargentina @oceanablue

[weaselbrownie]

Draco getting a headjob or handjob? Literally, anything as long as he's whimpering under yn!!

warning : smut

MASTERLIST

You flicked through your thick potions textbook, eyes following the long and complicated instructions of brewing felix felicis as the soft tune hums through the air from the record player placed in the corner of the room. The ticking sound of the clock hanging from the wall only adds to the atmosphere.

You glanced up from the book to see the clock strike 8, it was late and you were waiting for a certain blond boy to appear through the big dark oak door of your dorm. Sighing, you went back to your book hoping he'll come soon. As if he read your mind, Draco came knocking on the door– waiting for you to open it.

You moved to close your book and slipped down your bed, waddling down the cold room to welcome him in after a long day. Your warm hand gripped the cold surface of the doorknob, slowly twisting it to open the door.

Draco stood on the other side of the door, bags heavy under his eyes as his uniform was untucked. He looked tired, but again after the day he had, who wouldn't be? Right after dinner he had to sort something out involving an irresponsible bunch of third years, being head boy comes with great expectations and it definitely isn't easy.

"You look tired" You smiled up at him, lifting your hand to place on his defined bicep, gliding your hand down to grip his before pulling him into the room. He slouched as he moved across the room, kicking his shoes off in the process before crashing face down onto the soft comforter of your bed. "You wanna talk about it?" You asked, bringing your fingers to the side of his head, tucking the longer strands of hair back.

"Assholes..." Draco mumbled into the sheets, "...they were absolute ass-fucking-holes" He turned his head, resting the side of his face on the comforter so he could look up at you. "They didn't listen to a single thing I said and made me chase em down on my broom... if it weren't for Snape intervening, I might have tossed em down the stairs myself" He scoffed, turning his body to lay on his back, grumpily crossing his arms on his chest and pushing his bottom lip slightly forward– pouting.

You smiled at him, watching him throw his little fit as your hand went to rub his biceps slowly, releasing the tensions his muscles hold under the grey sweater. "You know what you need?" You asked, inching your face towards his. He lifted his gaze to meet yours, grey eyes shining in the darkroom, "A massage... and a kiss from your girlfriend" You closed the space in between, closing your eyes to plant a small kiss on his lips. Your lips moved in sync with his as the corner of his lips tugs into a smile.

You slowly parted, drawing your lips away from his as he chases after you. "You'll get more later" You smiled, slowly getting up and walking into the bathroom of your dorm, rummaging through the drawers under the sink for Draco's favorite oils.  When you get back into the room he already got rid of his sweater, unbuttoning his white shirt as he sat on the corner of your bed, his back facing you.

You slipped behind him, folding your legs so your bum was resting on your heel. You opened the cap before angling it on your palm to let the warm oils fall. Not too much, you closed the cap again and tossed it next to you before closing both your palms to tub together. Draco's head hung low as he waited for you, looking tired and achy after the day. Before you began to rub the oils onto him your lips latched themselves on his shoulder, fluttering a few kisses which you know he appreciates.

"Just relax m'kay" You mumbled, continuing to kiss him higher up the nape of his neck, sending vibrations through his body. As you pulled away you could feel that he didn't want you to let go, so as quickly as possible, you pressed your oil-covered palm onto his back. Your hand glided through his bareback, soothing the aching muscles holding him up for the day.

It took everything in him to keep still and quiet, his body fidgeting underneath your tender touch. You continued rubbing your hand down his back, pressing into the tension knots to relieve them. You eventually got up on your knees to bend over his shoulder, your lips lingering the shell of his ear, "Just let it out, love" You whispered before sitting back onto your original position.

Right after you picked up where you left off Draco slightly threw his head back, a groan coming out of that pink lips of his. You smiled to yourself seeing as you are making him feel so good, but it was about to get better.

Your slippery hand glided down to each side of his body and eventually resting them on his lower abdomen. You shuffled in your spot to sit better, pressing your chest onto his exposed back and resting your chin on his broad shoulder. "Y/N..." He called out, his head slightly twisting to the side to meet yours.

Your fingers were dancing dangerously close to his crotch, toying with the button of his dark trousers before undoing them. "Do you want this?" Your voice, barely above a whisper as your lips lingered on the shell of his ear. "We can stop now...I won't be mad I promise" Your lips began leaving kisses on the side of his face as your hand comes to a halt.

"No, p-please don't stop" You felt his hand grabbed onto yours, his warm palms closing around yours to guide them lower and lower. He guided your movements as you began stroking him through his boxer briefs, tracing the veins on his cock as his member was rock hard under your balmy touch. "You did that to me...so now you're gonna help me with it yeah?" His lips latched onto yours for a brief moment, showing that you even in his most vulnerable state he still cherishes you with everything he has.

Your hand slipped into his boxer briefs easily, gliding in between skin and elastic as you took him in your hand, giving his hard member a few pumps before pulling them up. His cock sat heavy, the tip red as it overflows with precum. You started off at his base, giving it slow strokes as your lips lingered on his neck once again, suckling bold purple hues onto his lower neckline, just for your eyes to see.

It wasn't like Draco to whimper under you, with him usually taking the lead when it comes to the bedroom, but it was times like this you value. The oil on your palm made it easier to glide and pump his cock, making your way up until you eventually reach the top, giving his most sensitive part the attention it craves as it drives him crazy under your gentle touch.

You wrap one hand around the upper part of his member as your thumb brushes over his slit, pressing into it slightly to add more pleasure– circling around to pave the pre cum leaking out of him.

Your other hand proceeded to slither their way up his exposed body, raking your nails on his torso as your hand made their way up to the base of his jugular, wrapping around it with slight pressure before letting go, moving onto his tight jaw. You cupped his face, pushing it upwards to give your lips more room to linger.

Draco parted his lips as he lets the deep groan from the bottom of his throat go. His posture stiffens as he leaned back onto you. You hand began to speed up, pumping his cock from the bottom to the top. "Merlin...F-Fuck Y/N" He groaned once more, the warmth of the oil provided the tingling feeling on his cock, something he never thought he liked.

"It's okay, you've gotta let me take care of you sometimes...hm," You left kisses trailing down to his broad shoulder, your hand gliding all over the front of his body, spreading the oil that's left on your slippery palm "You're always so good to me Draco," He was close and he wasn't shy to show you. His back slightly arched as he bucked his hips into your hand, meeting your closed palm half way.

The groans slipping from his lips grew louder, he grunted your name as he searched for the heat radiating from your free hand, holding onto it as his climax grew more intense on the pit of his stomach. "Let it go Draco... I've got you" You mumbled on his neck as he thrusted into your palm, shooting white ropes of cum into the empty space in front of him. You kept pumping him, helping him ride out his high.

Draco slumped back onto you, his pale chest heaving up and down as you gave his cock lazy strokes, helping him cool down. You can't help yourself to leave him more kisses on his face, delicately gliding your hand down to tuck him back into his boxer briefs. "Y'wanna go take a shower?" You asked him, your arm extending to wrap themselves around his torso– rocking the both of you slowly from side to side.

Draco smiled as his slender fingers traced yours. He began sitting up, turning around to cup your face in his palm. He slowly brought your face closer to his, giving your lips a tender kiss before lightly nodding, pulling you up with him to go to the bathroom. Draco reached for his wand, quickly cleaning up the mess he made before dragging you in the shower with him for a possible second round.

TAGLIST : @microwavedhampster @whenuwereyoung @o-rion-sta-r @willowmores @youreso-golden @mzmalice3 @desiredmalfoy @hyuckiesgf @yiamalfoy

[angry-geese]

Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Warnings: nsfw/mdni. oral (fem recieving), face riding, fingering, pet names, thinly veiled praise kink, biting/marking, body worship (???), tender sex. not the healthiest relationship dynamic. toji kinda needs his own warning. afab reader, fem pronouns.

Word Count: 2.3k

The last little beam of goldening sunlight fills the room as the sun sets. The movie—which you’ve long since stopped paying attention to—has turned to credits. Toji lays with his head in your lap, hands folded on his chest. The scarred corner of his mouth twitches as you card your fingers through his hair.

He’s not sure why he keeps coming back. But he keeps doing so. Toji doesn't quite know how to put it in words. It's not love—or so he’d say—because there's only two things he loves in life; gambling, and killing. If there was a third, it would be you, so you take this with a grain of salt. He looks forward to coming around, even if he groans and complains when you call him over. He sees something in you, even if he can't put it into words. In the beginning you were just a quick fling. A warm mouth, and a wet cunt. Sometimes you’d cook too. Which was nice. He’d kill someone just for the gyoza you make.

When he fell for you, he fell hard.

It was obvious to seemingly everyone but him. His gaze lingered a little longer than normal, he found his thoughts turning to you more often, he’d mention you even without provocation. He’ll never say it out loud, but he likes spending time with you. You know that, even if it would be nice to have him say it. The man is a mess, there’s only so much shit you can give him for it.

You let out a squeak as he hauls you into his arms, letting your body hover just over his chest. His gaze drifts down your figure, studying every dip and curve of your barely-clothed body.

“Stop! Wait!” You playfully claw at his chest, but there's some sense of urgency behind it. “I'm too heavy!”

He notices you trying to scramble away and sits up, pulling you into his lap. He doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands; they ghost up your sides, coming to rest on your hips.

“What do you mean you’re too heavy?” He asks. “Sweetheart, I could lift you with one arm.”

He’s not lying. He can—and has—thrown you around. He’s not the best with words, but it’s oddly comforting. Being so open with his affection is a foreign feeling to him. Love in a traditional sense is a bit new to him. Toji deserves more credit than he’s given. You’re so many things to him: strong, sturdy, beautiful.

He tilts your chin up, your gaze meeting his. There’s a look in his eyes that you can't quite read.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks.

You don't.

His fingers ghost across your skin; there but barely. You’d be lying if you said you hadn't tried to recreate the way he touches you; the way his long, skilled fingers make you writhe. Every past lover of yours pales in comparison to him. Your hands don't feel the same. It almost makes up for his fleeting nature. Almost.

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, the scarred side of his mouth twitching. His calloused hands cup your face. The warmth of his skin is inviting, and makes you lean in even closer. You feel yourself slowly giving in to him.

He leans back. You wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the evil sounding chuckle that leaves him. He watches as your eyes widen. Your brows knit in frustration.

“You stopped breathing there,” he says, “did you want me to kiss you?”

“No teasing,” you say, your voice weak.

Toji presses a quick peck to your forehead. Then your nose. Then the curve of your jaw.

“It’s my job to tease you,” he says, giving your thigh a squeeze, “I like watching you writhe.”

Toji smooths a hand over your hair, brushing it back from your eyes. The gentle touch makes goosebumps raise along your shoulders. You visibly sulk when he pulls his hand away.

“Please,” you say.

The kiss he pulls you into is rough and needy. Toji nibbles at your bottom lip until you allow his tongue to explore the wet cavern of your mouth. He tastes faintly of alcohol. He doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands. They wander up your sides, kneading the soft flesh of your hips and breasts, tugging your skirt up your hips to reveal your already wet pussy.

When he pulls away, an audible smack echoes through the room.

One of his hands slips between your legs, his large, calloused fingers tracing circles around your clit. You practically melt against his touch. You fit so perfectly against him, your chest pressed against his, your knees planted on either side of his thighs. Each moan and gasp that threatens to spill past your lips, choked by his tongue, spurs him on further. Your face buries in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. He doesn't smell like much of anything; laundry soap and shampoo he stole from you.

You whine as he pulls his hand away, aching for his touch. So close yet so far from your own release. He offers his hand to you. Obediently, you take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digits.

“Strip.” He orders. You comply.

Your—his—shirt comes off first. Slowly you pull it over your head, tossing it aside. The corner of his lip twitches when he realizes you have no bra on underneath. His hands come up to palm at your breasts, gently tugging and pinching at the sensitive flesh of your nipples. Calloused hands squeeze eagerly at them, admiring their roundness.

Next goes your skirt. Momentarily you have to shift off his lap to slide it down your legs. One of his hands gropes appreciatively at your ass. He lands a quick slap, admiring the way your ass jiggles, chuckling at the soft gasp that leaves you. It stings, but you wouldn't consider it painful. His hand smooths over the red mark he’s left.

"Look at you," he says, "my good girl.” His laugh comes from low in his chest. The heat that rises to your face is undeniable. Out of embarrassment your hands raise to cover your face. Instinctively your arms cross over your chest. It’s not like he hasn't seen you like this before.

“Don't hide yourself,” he gently tugs your arms down, admiring the way the moonlight reflects off your skin, “I want to see you.”

You straddle his thigh. The way you grind down against him is far from subtle. He notices the way your face contorts with need- and the small wet patch your cunt leaves on his thigh.

He’s ready to show his affections with his tongue. Rather unceremoniously he lays back, guiding your hips to settle over his chest. His dark hair pools around his head.

“Be a good girl and ride my face,” he says.

There's no hiding the way you blush. From chest to forehead you’re bright red. Even the tips of your ears take on a pink color. His hands trail down your sides, squeezing your ass and hips. You settle over his face, thighs on either side of his head. The warmth of your skin spreads to him.

His tongue dips in your folds, swirling around your clit. He presses kitten licks to your clit. Toji’s touches are always achingly close to where you need them, but not quite. His touch is fleeting in nature; just like him. Your fingers bury in his hair, guiding him to where you want him most.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t tease!” You whine.

His grip on your thighs tightens, pulling you down against his face. Your needy clit is lavished with affections from a hot tongue. His skilled tongue traces circles around your clit, gently sucking and nipping at the sensitive bud. Aside from your own moans are the sounds of a man very content with what he’s doing. He could die happy with his head between your thighs.

You grind down against his face, content to chase your own release. Heat pools low in your stomach, building with each skilled flick of his tongue. You’re reduced to a moaning, babbling mess, crying out his name like it’s a prayer.

The knot in your stomach snaps.

Toji lets you ride out your orgasm on his face, holding your hips down. It takes a moment for the overstimulation to register in your lust-addled mind. His tongue still works eager circles around your clit, seemingly unaware of your writhing form. The lower half of Toji’s face glints in the dim light. His hair is a mess, sticking out in all sorts of directions from your desperate grip. A sleepy, mischievous grin spreads across his face. It's not often you see him so relaxed.

Your post-orgasm haze leaves you sensitive, and shaky. His hands run over your flushed skin, his eyes hungrily taking in your form. Though he’s not the most verbal with his affections, his eyes can’t hide what goes on in his head. He takes you in all at once, yet piece by piece too. His eyes say what his mouth won't.

“Did you think you could get away that easily?” He asks.

You swallow hard.

He guides you to sit in his lap. You straddle one of his large thighs, palming his growing erection. With the change of position, his bulge grinds right against your leg. Toji’s eyes darken in warning. He lifts his hips just enough to shove his pants down. His cock springs free from his boxers, the tip glistening with precum. It's built like the rest of him, long and thick, the hairs towards the base are dark and a bit unruly. The head takes on an angry red color. His size is a bit intimidating, but he always makes sure you’re prepared enough to take him.

You lower yourself onto him slowly. You fit around him like a glove; the warm, velvety walls of your cunt clenching around him. He watches your face for any sign of discomfort, though you show none.

“You can take more than that, can't you?” He asks.

You nod.

He still gives you a moment to get used to his size. His hands find your hips, giving them a tender squeeze. Your arms wrap around his neck, your breath hot against his skin. The intimacy of the situation doesn't go over his head. He leans to nip at your earlobe, cooing in your ear how good you’re doing, how well you fit around him. Toji trails wet, open mouth kisses down your neck. The gasps and moans that leave you as you shift to get more comfortable makes his cock twitch.

“My good girl,” he coos, “taking all of me like this.”

He guides your hips as you bounce on his cock, his nails digging into your plush thighs. Toji can't pry his eyes away from the way your breasts bounce with each thrust. Greedy, calloused hands palm at your breasts, working your nipples into stiff peaks. Sweat beads in his hairline. You don't think you’ve ever seen him so focused.

One of his hands moves down to toy with your clit, working circles against the bundle of nerves. He notices how your breath hitches, how your lips have been bitten pink, how your pupils have shrunk down to pinpricks. You don't.

His hands find your hips, momentarily lifting you off his lap, laying you down on your back. He fucks into you with rough, unforgiving thrusts. His pace is brutal.

Toji grunts as your nails rake across his back, leaving angry red marks. His lips latch onto the fleshy part of your neck, sucking and nipping in a way that makes you whimper. A collar of dark marks nearly circles your neck. It brings him an odd joy seeing you marked up in such a way. People know you’re his.

There’s not one specific thing that sends you over the edge, but a mixture of everything. From the way his skilled fingers toy with your clit to the way his cock leaves none of your sweet spots unstroked.

Your legs clamp around his waist as you cum, crying out his name. With the way you clench around him, pulling him back in, he isn't far behind.

His thrusts grow sloppier as he nears his own release. Toji’s praise turns to broken sentence fragments about how good you’re doing, and how beautiful your body is underneath him. For just this moment his stoic nature fails, and he lets his affections pour fourth.

“You’re gonna take all of it.” He says. “You’re gonna take all of my cum.”

And you do.

Hot, thick ropes of his cum spill into your unprotected womb, spilling out and running down your thighs in streams. To stifle his grunt, he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. A small, pained whimper escapes you.

As he pulls out, he’s hit with a pang of regret for not using a condom. Aside from the mess, he doesn't want to knock you up. That doesn't stop him from shamelessly leaning back and admiring the mess he’s made. Any bit of worry he has is quickly forgotten.The sight of your fucked-out form leaking his cum lights a whole new need within him.

He pulls you to lay on his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you flush to him. Your bed would probably be more comfortable, but he doesn't want to risk moving you. A sleepy, content smile spreads across your face. His quiet heartbeat acts as a lullaby. You find yourself nuzzling into his chest,

“You better stop that, sweetheart,” he says, “unless you want a round two.”

[voltagesmutter]

Obey Me x Heat

Obey Me - Mammon and Asmodeus Head-canons

Prompt: ‘I’m in heat’

Warning: NSFW, Female MC.

Mammon:

Mammon's heat causes him to be an even bigger idiot than normal, believing he can try gamble or spend all his money away to satisfy the need. But nothing solves, no amount of times he swipes ‘goldie’ that aching between his groin just doesn’t go away.

He becomes a lot more possessive over you, if that’s possible, especially once he finds out it’s you who gives him that sweet release of satisfying his heat.

“More baby, take more,”.... “fuck yeah, that’s perfect,” head thrown back, one palm pushing the back of your head down until you gagged of his lengthy cock, “My perfect human you,”. Leaning back against the wall, thrusting into your mouth as he continued to push you down, breath hitching and snarling everytime you gagged over him. Both hands holding the side of his thighs for leverage, preparing yourself for the release was meer moments away as he throbbed into your mouth. A string of “fucks”, “that's it baby” and “I’m gonna come all over your pretty little face,” is followed by him pulling himself out your mouth with a wet pop. One, two, jerks of his hand and he’s shooting his release across your lips, open mouthed tongue and chin, purposefully using the tip to spread it across you. “Such a pretty picture baby, almost a shame to see you lick it off,” A smirk on his face, a flash of his phone, “Don’t worry baby, this will keep me busy until you're finished with your next class, best hurry along now, I’ll be waiting in my room,” smearing his release off your face with his thumb and watching you quickly lap it up.

When the great mammon needs you, he needs you and nothing under the sun will stop him. 

“Tch hush now human, or I’ll make you be quiet,” He grunted from behind. Bent over the sofa of the new set Mammon was supposed to be modeling on in under 15 minutes was the pair of you, Mammon raising your hips so you stood on your tiptoes whilst his thrusts gained force. You bit on into your hand to muffle the moans but it was no good, he knew exactly where to hit inside you to make you cry out. “Fuckin’” he huffed, leaning over to shove your face into a pillow with one hand against the back of your neck, pave never slowing. “This is all your fault little human,” pulling your hips back as he felt you tighten over him, “Knowing I’m in heat and you just have to come to the stupid shoot in this,” in reference to the the short flowy dress you was wearing now pushes up over your hips, “You drive me wild,”. “Fuck, yeah that’s it baby girl,” He groaned finally feeling you pulse over him, a few more thrusts send him hurtling after you. “Maybe The Great Mammon has met his match after all,” He winks to you after pulling you back up straight and cupping your face in his palm.

Obsessed with your underwear. When in heat Mammon refuses to go to R.A.D and instead sits pouting at home waiting for you to return, often jacking off into the hoard of your underwear he’s collected.

 “You were gone forever,” He huffed pulling you into his arms, showering your face and neck with kisses causing a giggle to fall from you. “Oh Mammon, you're so adorable,” You squeal, picking his cheeks and watching his face fluster. “Adorable?! The Great Mammon is far from adorable!” Picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder, kicking open his bedroom door before throwing you onto his bed. “Show me then, oh Great Mammon,” You whisper, sitting up on his bed and spreading your legs, your skirt rising high up your thighs to show the lace of your underwear beneath. In the next breath he was down between your thighs, pushing them apart as his nose inhaled above the lace, “You wore my favourite,”. “I did...sir” You sigh, feeling his tongue run against your slit still blocked by your underwear. “My good girl,” Fingers sinking over the edge but stopped by your wrist atop of his. “Do you think… you could fuck me in them this time,” You bashfully ask. When silence follows you quickly add, “Shit, no I’m sorry I shouldn’t have asked, I just since you liked them so much, maybe finishing in them might be a bit more dirty when you use them,”. A growl unrecognisable as anything human, a pure lustful growl from within a demon rings through your ears. Hairs stand on edge to watch Mammon appear in demon form before you, chest rising and lowering quickly, hunger in his eyes. “I’m going to fuck you in these panties until your begging for me to take them off so you can feel my skin against you,” He groans, sharp nips pressed to your inner thighs as he devoured your core atop of the thin material. Your panties ruined from the multiple releases of you, extra ruined by Mammon’s plentiful release the following day whilst you were in class.

Asmodeus:

In terms of his brothers, Asmo is one who is least visually and verbally affected by heat. Whilst the others might screw you into submission, Asmo is more gentle although if you ask he’ll really lose control. 

“You smell…so… delicious,” Two of Asmo’s slender fingers, painted vibrant green and pink, curl a piece of your hair around them as his face peers closer, “I could just eat you up cutie,”. Fingers drop your hair to trace across your jawline, down the curve of your neck and into the crook of your shoulder. His lips find the other side of your neck, sucking softly as his hand continues into your shirt, pushing beneath your bra to tease your hardening nipples. “You won’t deny your beloved Asmo his favourite treat now would you?” Light red eyes brimmed with nothing but love search for the answer to his question in yours. A soft mewl escapades from your parted lips as he pinches a nipple before refusing his marks upon your neck. 

Most likely to be involved with toys, he doesn’t want to use them to scare you or frighten you, but to bring a next level of intimacy and trust to your relationship.

“Y-you want that to go where?!” Face red, questioning the large hunk on plastic in his hand. A cock-ring fitted with a dildo at the base with a pair of vibrating rabbit ears to the top of it. You was no stranger to anal with Asmo but never had you had to tried double penetration. Heat made his sexual fantasies far more vivid, lust seeping from him every pore. “If you don’t want to sweetie it’s fine, it will just be a different experience but a good one, I promise,”. It took some adjusting, Asmo patiently as ever as he pushed himself and the toy into you, letting you adjust until he could move without fear of hurting you. The vibrating rabbit ears when turned on made you clenched tightly, it took a sheer matter of 30 seconds before you were crying his name and coming over his cock, squeezing him to the point he almost came as well. “This is much better than my fantasy’s, so much better,” He cooed reassuringly before beginning to trust in your two tight holes once more.

The biggest tease of the brothers, edging himself and you until he’s able to fill you to the brim with his release, not letting a single drop be wasted.

“Asmo… Asmo please!” You whimper, heels digging into the mattress followed by a heavy cry. The two finger pumping inside you causing the build of pleasure quickly removed and tapped your wet essence on your thigh. “Not yet sweetie, soon I promise,” A devilish grin on his face as he traced shapes on your inner thigh with his wet fingers. The fourth time he did proved to be your breaking port, clenching over nothing as he once again removed his fingers. The noise that left you was a half groan, half whimper of frustration and definitely not human. “My my little dove, and you have the audacity to call me a beast when your making noises like that,”... “Tell me,” He looms over you, his face inches away from yours, “Which one of us is the real demon hmm?”. He captures your lips before you can respond, his freed erection that had been pressed against your thigh now thrusted fully to the hilt inside you. You came instantly, walls fluttering over his length as he swallowed your moans, smiling to feel you so undone for him.

Lucifer and Beel - Heat

Satan and Leviathan - Heat

Belphegor -Heat

Diavolo - Heat

Obey Me - Masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hi! Can I possibly get the promps, 145, 130, 85, and 238 with Bucky please! 😊

I didn't get 85 in there, sorry, but did my best.

Glory Days

Warnings: humiliation, mention of bullying, thigh riding, nonconsent.

🍸

You remember the laughter, the vicious snickers as you ran out of the house in tears, bass pumping in the early fall cool. Several other girls follow in a similar state but you hardly notice as your feet hammer on the pavement. The noise echoes still in your mind, ten years later as you stare at the man just ahead of you.

Bucky Barnes was the most popular guy in his frat a decade before, he seemed like the star of campus. Now he stands just a few feet away at a tall table, giving cheers to the blond across from him with one other man. You recognise the one with the blonde hair, Steve Rogers, ever his stalwart companion, but the other is unfamiliar.

You think at first it isn’t them. You don’t want it to be. You don’t want your rare night out to be ruined by bad memories. You blink and carry on past their table, certain to keep your head straight ahead. You dip into the washroom and to a stall. When you emerge from the small cubicle, you have to take a moment to catch your breath.

It was one night, ten year ago, eleven, maybe. What's worse was he probably doesn’t even remember it. To him, it was just another night, another party.

You go back out and your eyes meet his blue ones as you try to sweep quickly by. He tilts his head and smirks, a little wink as he sips his sparkling pint. You look away quickly and skirt by, heading back to the table with your coworkers, Jessica and Tegan. You sit and lift your empty glass and mope.

“About time for another round,” Tegan offers, “jeez, what a week.”

“God, don’t get me started,” Jessica drains the last of appletini, “it’s not even over.”

“You know the great thing about not fucking your boss is that your day ends at six o’clock,” Tegan teases but it’s well known she had a crush on Karim before Jessica hooked up with him.

“Mmm, it’s really not work,” Tegan giggles as the waitress approaches. You order another round and wait for her to clear the table.

“This place isn’t bad,” Jessica says, “maybe you’ll find a cute guy.”

“Speaking of,” Tegan preens as she flips her curls, “I think he’s heading over right now.”

“Hmm?” you follow Jessica’s gaze as Tegan gives a subtle nod.

You hold in a wince and turn back, hoping he isn’t heading over your way. Bucky Barnes could not be coming to your table. He just couldn’t.

“Hey, ladies,” his deep voice cuts through your prayers, “how are we doing tonight?”

He has the same snakish tone as he did all those years ago. The one that made you think you were the diamond in the rough plucked out by him alone. That you really were beautiful. Well, you changed since then, you weren’t the bookish girl with her goggly glasses and flaky complexion.

“Good,” Tegan smirks, “and you?”

“Well, you know, pretty good,” his hand rests behind your shoulder on the back of the booth, “me and my friends were just celebrating another Friday and we saw you three lovely ladies and there’s three of us, so naturally…”

“Naturally,” Jessica says, “I mean, who can resist a perfect balance?”

“Jess,” you hiss under your breath, “Karim?”

“We’re not exclusive,” she waves you off, “we would love to join you,” she says over your head, “but we did just order another round to the table.”

“I think there might be enough room for us,” he suggests, “we can make it work, huh?”

“Oh I think we can fit you in,” Tegan arches a brow and you hide your face.

“Great,” Bucky hits the seat and you glance at his thick fingers, “be right back.”

“We should let you choose the place more often,” Jessica trills at you and the waitress appears with her tray.

You accept your tropical cocktail and stir it with the little umbrella, “oh, so you didn’t notice the ring?”

“Ring? I don’t know it means anything,” Tegan shrugs, “not my problem.”

“Wow,” you squint at her and her eyes flick past you.

“Pardon us,” Bucky approaches with the two other men, beer glasses in hand, “I didn’t even get your names. I’m Bucky, this is Steve,” he points to the blonde, “and Sam.”

Tegan offers your name as she stands to let Sam sit between her and Jessica and gestures you curtly to shimmy over. You find yourself crowded between Bucky and Jessica on the curved seat. You take a gulp of your drink and try to think of a way out.

“So, you ladies work together?” Steve asks.

“Sure do,” Tegan chimes.

The conversation quickly splits off into pairs but you sit quietly next to Bucky and wish you had more to sip. You didn’t mean to drink that fast, this night is supposed to be stress free. He clears his throat and angles slightly to face you as he rests his elbow on the table, his sleeve rolled just above as it hugs his thick bicep.

“And what do you do in the office?” he asks as he looks you over, “you’re quiet, like a secretary.”

“I’m an accountant, actually, senior,” you purse your lips derisively and wave your fingers above his head for the waitress, you need more alcohol.

“Ah, I’m just another corporate shill,” he says as the waitress approaches, the whole table takes your lead and orders.

“Oh, and a loving husband?” you look at his finger as you return to the stunted conversation.

“Not, actually, divorced,” he spins the ring, “why so shy?”

“Not shy,” you answer bluntly, “the ring kinda puts women off, you know?”

“Bad habit,” he says, “you know, it costs a lot so why not?”

“I guess,” you sigh.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive,” he sits back as the waitress sets down your drink and then his. The sentence takes you back, the keg, the smell of beer, the jeers of drunken frats, and cruel laughter. You come back and shake your head.

“Sensitive? No, but I think it’s a valid concern,” you take a drink.

“Hmm,” he considers you as he tastes the head of his beer, “you’re sharp. I like it. And damn hot, if I do say so. You wear the hell out of that skirt.”

“Ah,” you put your drink down, “it’s not my favourite.”

“I see,” he leans his chin in his hand, “you like to play hard-to-get.”

You wrinkle your nose and glance over at Tegan. She laughs as she rubs Steve’s arm and leans into him and Jessica is almost halfway in Sam’s lap already. You hide your discomfort and grab your glass again.

“Maybe that will loosen you up,” he taps the bottom of your cup.

“Maybe I’m not interested,” you hiss.

“Oh, no?” he slides closer and his hand goes to your thigh, “you’re shaking.”

You feel the anger spike and you spill your drink down your front. You curse and stand up awkwardly between the seat and the table. You put the glass down and the others look at you in concern. You wave Bucky over as you snap out a blunt ‘excuse me’.

He stands and let you out but says he’ll “help” and follows. You stomp back to the bathrooms as you try to outpace him. You reach the ladies’ room door and spin to face him.

“I don’t need your help,” you snarl, “alright? Can’t you take a hint?”

“Is that an oink I hear?” he mocks as he lifts his hand to cup his ear, “you don’t look like a pig anymore but you sure sound like one.”

Your lips part and you scowl at him. You shake your head and shove his chest as you turn and storm into the bathroom. He remembers. He knows it’s you and he’s all smug because he can see it so plainly. You grab a wad of paper towel and start daubing your blouse.

The stall behind you opens and the only other woman in the room goes to the sink beside you and washes her hand. She smiles tipsily at you in the mirror and you give an awkward grin back. You toss the towel as the door swing behind her only for the hinges to squeak again.

You hear the lock and glance in the mirror. You see the dark hair and the broad shoulders. Bucky turns to you as he leans on the door with one hand, his other on his belt. He bites the tip of his tongue as he eyes you.

“You always were a dramatic bitch,” he sneers as he pushes himself straight,

“Fuck off,” you try to brush past him as he nears and he catches your wrists. He backs you up between the sinks and crushes you against the wall, eyes boring into yours.

“You know, you left so early you missed out on all the fun, can’t have that happen again,” he purrs, “you know, you don’t win at a pig party unless you get the swine’s panties.”

“You’re disgusting,” you try to twist free but he pulls your hands above you and presses his body to yours.

“You’re a fucking prude,” he growls as he pushes his knees between your legs, your skirt rising as he plants his thick thigh there, “can’t just let go of the past and have a little fun.”

“Let me go,” you huff as you bare your teeth.

“Now, little piggy, don’t squeal too loud,” his thigh meets your panties and you flinch, “you just need to relax, let loose. That’s what you girls came for, isn’t it?”

“Get off,” you snap, “I’ll--”

Before you can promise a scream, his hands over your mouth and his other falls to your hip. He tuts and shakes his head. He holds you against the wall as a knock comes at the door and he waits until the heels clack away from the other side. He lifts his legs higher and slowly guides your hips so your cunt rubs against his thigh.

“You need to get some of that tension out,” he hums as his eyes wander down and he watches the way he rocks you. You try to stop him but can’t plant your feet as he has you on your toes, “the only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

You try to shake your head as you latch onto his wrist and hit his chest with your other hand. He doesn’t even flinch as he keeps you moving, his gaze clinging to the motion as he tilts you against him.

“Look at you, piggy,” he taunts, “your legs are shaking… you gonna cum on my leg like a slut, huh?”

You mumble into his palm as your breath flows from your nose and glosses over his hand. You wriggle between his strength and the wall. The tingle flurrying in your core makes your eyes water and your heart race.

You grab onto his tie and yank desperately, trying to get him to stop. He chuckles as it tightens and lets go of your hip. He grabs your hand and pulls the silk tighter until his neck tenses and his face reddens.

“You know what I like, piggy,” he says in a strained voice, “now finish.”

You whimper as he keeps your hand around his tie and his other clamps tighter around your mouth. You close your eyes and move your hips. You just want it to be over with. You want to leave and you can’t see any other way past him. He rasps and groans as he senses the urgency that guides you.

“That’s it,” he breathes, “fuck my leg like a good little piggy. Fuck it.”

You whine into his hand and squeeze his tie as your muscles tighten. Your release swells and spills over as your eyes shoot open and he stares at you as he watches you cum. You feel it soaking through your panties and onto his slacks. You slow as you quiver and he lets your hand fall from his neck.

He reaches down as he slides his leg out and touches the wet spot on his leg. You see the darker patch streaked there as he drops his hand from your mouth and tisks. He snickers as you try to stand straight and he pushes you back.

“Can’t forget these,” you brace the wall as he reaches under your skirt and rips your panties down your legs. He tugs until you step out of them and he folds them before he slips them into his pocket, “I’ll just tell them you spilled some on me, huh?” he rubbed the streak again, “you think they’ll buy it?”

“Get away from me,” you fix your skirt and stand straight on your wobbly legs, “get away--”

“Shhhh,” he puts his finger to your lips, “you keep oinking and I’ll have to really make you squeal.”

[bokuroskitten]

121 with BOKUTO PLZ AND THX 🥵

121. C’mere, you can sit on my lap until I’m done working.

It’s funny you ask this one of me anon, because I have a full Fanfiction based on this concept. So please, take it here.❦ 

Office Shenanigans 

⤞Genre: NSFW 18+, Yakuza (Mafia) AU  ⤞warnings: Poly Relationship, DDLG dynamics (Papa & Daddy title used), thigh riding, praise kink, throat grabbing, slight overstimulation, rough sex, begging. ⤞Word Count: 2.2k ⤞Character(s): Dom!Bokuto Koutarou x Dom!Kuroo Tetsuro x Fem Reader ⤞Summary: Bokuto is attempting to get paperwork done, but you have other plans for him. 

Bokuto was in his office, humming softly to himself as a cigarette dangled from his lips, his eyes scanning over bills as he counted and recounted them. Things were business as usual, his boyfriend, Kuroo, was out running the errands for the Yakuza in person while he stayed home for the evening, cleaning up loose ends and dealing with a bit of paperwork.

He thought their girlfriend was napping, as he left you in their shared bedroom very sleepy and curled up in the sheets until he heard a soft little whine come from the doorway.

He glanced up instantly, amber eyes meeting yours with a bit of worry, that is before he noticed your expression. Your eyes were glassed over, cheeks flushed as you bit along your swollen lower lip. You clutched the hem of the oversized sweater you wore, the one that belonged to Kuroo.

“Papa...” You breathed out gently, the voice almost enough to have Bokuto losing his mind, but he kept his cool, a little smirk curling on his lips as he looked back down at his task, slowly removed the cigarette from his lips.

“What is it? What does my birdy need hm?” He asked expectantly, eyes flicking back up to you to see the way your thighs pressed together, the way you slowly entered the room. It took you a couple seconds to ask, voice a bit shaky. “I-I need you, Papa...” Your voice was so whiny, so soft and pretty Bokuto wanted to bend you over the desk and take you right then and there.

But instead, he leaned back in the large leather chair, brows furrowed as he patted one of his thighs. “C’mon baby, you know papa will only help you if you use your big girl words. C’mere, you can sit on my lap until I’m done working.”

You quickly took the opportunity he gave you and found a spot perched on his thighs, very subtly rubbing yourself along his toned muscle in an attempt to find friction for your currently pulsing core. Bokuto caught on right away and held firm to your hip, thumb pressing right up against your hip bone as he hummed in disapproval. “Words birdy, don’t be bad for Papa now.”

Your little whines were music to his ears, the way your fingers curled into his black button-up, the way you squeezed your thighs around his, you were so cute when you got like this. But you also knew better— so with your cheeks puffed out and in a very soft voice, you spoke to him.

“Papa... I need you in my cunny— “You paused a second, breath catching in your throat as he looked at you with a smirk. “P-Please Papa needa be played with please— “

“Good girl baby, such good words.” He praised, one palm moving up to gently rack through your hair before he looked back down at the desk, his own desire shining through his gaze now. “Papa has to finish his work, you take what you need to, like a big girl okay?”

You were a bit reluctant at first, whining at him and attempting to make a little scene, until he easily slipped himself free from the zipper of the slacks he wore, your mouth opening in a small little gasp as his length bobbed against his abdomen, stood straight and ready for you. “Papa has to work and so does baby.” He reaffirmed, the hand on your hip easily slipping beneath the oversized sweater to press you closer to his freed cock.

With a shaky breath, you gripped tighter at Bokuto’s shirt, biting your lip in concentration as you rose yourself up, slowly fitted yourself along his length. He groaned ever so softly as you bottomed out on him, your face crimson and your lips hung in a little moan as you squeezed lovingly along his cock.

He gave your rear a pat with one large palm, a signal for you to get to work as he placed the cigarette back between his lips, kept his eyes glued to the paperwork. And you did just that, bouncing yourself along his length as pretty little moans of delight left your lips.

“Ah—ah~ Papa” You whined, your hips rotating in sloppy circles as you pressed your face into his shoulder, pressed your chest flush to his. He hummed, smoke puffing from his lips as his palm continued to massage your rear. “Keep going baba... you’re doing so good” he reassured you, his eyes fluttering a bit as you began your little bouncing again. How badly he wanted to fuck into you, make you sob out his name.

But it was so cute watching you desperately get off. Now he knew why Kuroo loved to tease you so much.

“G-Gunna come Papa— can I come please?” Your words were broken between moans, fingers balling into fists as your hips continued to bounce up in sloppy circles with mixes of grinds. He unhooked his chin from your shoulder to lean back once again, removing his smoke so he could grin again. “Mhm baby bird, make a mess of Papa’s slacks.”

The mischief in his tone had you blushing like mad, your face digging into the side of his neck as your moan vibrated against his skin. Once you got permission it was only a few more sloppy bounces and you were coming until, drool forming a little pool on his shoulder as you press your hips desperately into his pelvis. Your cunt squeezed him so perfectly, a grunt of his own escaping at the feeling of your slick soaking his length.

You panted against the now dampened fabric of his button-up, your hips twitching as Bokuto looked down, smirked at the pretty little mess you left all over his pants. In one quick movement, he was gripping your ass, sitting you right on top of the paperwork as he stayed within your walls. You gasped softly at the sudden change, arms attempting to grab at his shoulders, so you didn’t fall back.

But Bokuto was quick to grip your throat within a palm, a small growl leaving him as his cigarette dangled from his lips. “Lay back baby girl, it’s Papa’s turn.” And you were compliant despite your whines, arms spread above your head and hips jutting forward to press his cock against your sweet spot.

He had to chuckle, watching (Y/N)  sprawl out over his work, his palm looking so big around your pretty throat, watching the way your desperate cunt swallowed his cock.

“Can’t wait to paint this little cunny white.” He barely growled out before he began pounding within you, shaking the desk with his powerful thrusts. After removing his cigarette, he easily gripped your thighs, bringing your trembling legs over his large shoulders to get a better angel, slam into you further. You sobbed out loud, back arching and fingers gripping the wood above your head as Bokuto’s cock continuously kissed your cervix, dragged along all your sweet spots.

Bokuto’s pupils were blown wide as he watched his baby come undone by his cock, roughly grabbing your jaw and jerking your face so he could see the pleasurable tears that built up in your gaze. “Tell Papa you love his cock, nice and pretty birdy.”

“I love—ah~! I l-love Papa’s cock~!” You managed to squeal, causing Bokuto to rut into you harder, faster. His fingers were leaving bruised along your thighs at this point as they trembled on his shoulders, one thumb smudging along your bottom lip to pick up the drool that bubbled from your moaning lips.

“Good girl.” He cooed. “Ready for papa to fill you up huh? Wanna be full for when Daddy gets home?” He continued to egg you on, knowing fully well you’d just babble at this point as your eyes rolled back, your hips jutting forward so he could hit you in all the right spots. Biting on his lower lip Bokuto slammed into you a couple mores, hard enough to make his desk shake and to have you sobbing out his name in the empty office.

“Fuck yea~” he growled lowly, keeping his eyes glued to your cunt as he finally released within you, watching the way you clenched desperately around his dick in an attempt to swallow up his warmth. His strokes came to a slow stop as he rode out the high of his orgasm, eyes shiny with desire as his cock was coated in your slick and his own, how your little pussy walls fluttered around him.

“Papa...~” Your whiney little voice snapped him back to reality, looking up at your tear-stained face. Your fingers were still desperately gripping the wood as you gave him a pretty whimper, chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. “Feel full~”

“I bet you do pretty baby~” He cooed, both palms moving to cup your face as he leaned into you, pressed a smooch to your dampened forehead. “Gunna keep this pretty cunny full for Daddy cause I know he’ll love to see it.”

“You’re right he would~ “The sly words were followed by a laugh that could only belong to Kuroo. Bokuto looked up to find his boyfriend entering the office, suit jacket already shrugged off as he slowly rolled up the sleeves of his button-up. “Seems like you two were having a lot of fun while I had to work, so unfair~”

“Mmm, Daddy~” You spoke softly, your eyes still glassy as you looked to him, a blush covering your features as he smoothed a palm over your cheek, down your throat and over the sweater you wore which was now covered in a layer of sex sweat. “Hi, pretty Kitty~ let’s see this full cunny of yours.” He spoke as he leaned into Bokuto, his other hand curling around the back of his neck to teasingly brush against his pulse.

Bokuto had to chuckle, slowly easing his girl's trembling legs from his shoulders so he could spread them wide, despite your whining. You moved your hands to cover your blushing face as Kuroo groaned out loud, watching the way Bokuto slowly pulled his coated dick from your entrance. Whatever papers got caught underneath you got ruined by your shared filth, a pretty little bead of white rolling out of your clenching hole and down between your cheeks. Bokuto thought he was going to get hard again just from the sight.

“Beautiful~ “Kuroo breathed, lips close to Bokuto’s ear as he allowed his tongue to poke out, sneak across the man’s lobe. Bokuto shivered, a little growl rumbling into his chest before he felt the tremble of (Y/N)’s thighs, the way you peaked up at them with glassy eyes through your fingers.

“Did Papa fuck you too hard baba~? Need to take a break?” The change in Bokuto’s demeanour happened in seconds as you nodded to him, body quivering from the uncomfortable wood that was beneath you. Kuroo was quick to hum in agreement, gently easing you up so you sat up. You clung to him instantly, your blush getting darker as you mumbled a soft “daddy” leaning your head, so it fell into his shoulder.

Kuroo sighed softly, smoothing his large palm over the back of your head as he watched Bokuto tuck himself back into his slacks, brows raising in delight at the stain that remained there from earlier. “Did kitty do that all by herself?” Bokuto grinned, smoothing his fingers over the dry stain. “Yesss she did~ took what she needed like a big girl, you woulda loved to see it,” Bokuto spoke with a gentle snicker.

“Mm, I’ll make her do it to me later so I can see, isn’t that right sweetheart,” Kuroo spoke into your hair, and despite your whining at such a request your toes curled in excitement, fingers gripping at his shoulders a bit harder. “But for now, let’s get you cleaned up yea? Wanna take a bath with me kitty?”

You nodded into his shoulder, your legs wrapping around Kuroo instinctively so he could haul you into his arms, his palm smoothing over your rear to cup it. You only lifted your face so you could look to Bokuto, held a slightly trembling palm out to him. “Come to Papa.”  

“I’ll be right there birdy,” Bokuto reassured a free and new cigarette lit and already tucked between his lips as he placed a quick slap to Kuroo’s ass, a laugh erupting from the black-haired male. “Gotta clean this mess you made all over my desk~” he spoke in a tease, gathering up the loose and crinkled papers with a larger smirk as blush bloomed over your cheeks.

“S-sorry...~” you managed to mumble before your face was dug into Kuroo’s neck again, having them both chuckling. “See you soon, Papa~” Kuroo teased to his lover as he made his way towards the bathroom, his palm gripping at your rear just a little tighter as he held you protectively, whispered sweet things into your hair that had you giggling.

Bokuto watched it fondly and made haste with the rest of his work. He had a feeling the three of you were just getting started for the evening.

[wing-ed-thing]

Mob Wife (Kakuzu x Reader, ft. Hidan) Part IV

Synopsis: The Akatsuki are in emergency mode. Kakuzu leads Hidan to the only place he knows for sure is safe to regroup.

Word Count: 

Warnings/Tags: Violence, Blackmail, Language, Fem!Reader, HouseWife!Reader, Moll!Reader, Attempt at Humor, Ceremonial Drinking of Sake, Traditional Wedding

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Finale

Notes: It’s back. Writing Hidan has got me feeling a certain way rn

It rained on your wedding day: weather fitting for, and not minded by, a criminal and a deserter. As you approached the temple, he tried to tell you many times that you were going to be turned away, but as you spoke to the shrine masters, you were greeted warmly and welcomed. You were young with a warm face that offset Kakuzu’s intimidating exterior. Everyone always loved you right away, a way about you that Kakuzu could never begin to consider replicating. With your open heart, you brought a foreign concept into his world: acceptance. The few priests and priestesses at the temple on the border of the Land of Stone looked upon you kindly, a kindness that you and Kakuzu continued to repay years later. The small village of a few hundred that housed that shrine would never see a shinobi attack. Now, only you continue to repay years later.

You could tell that Kakuzu didn’t like being in the temple in the slightest. He had never been one for religion or structure or ceremonies, so you tried not to laugh the first time you saw him in his montsuki haori hakama. You wondered how much grumbling went into getting Kakuzu in such formal attire with a goofy, lopsided grin. Even as he gazed upon your amused, upturned lips, his infamous temper laid unusually dormant. Kakuzu never thought that he would see his own wedding day. Being the kind of man he was, he never thought that he’d have one. He didn’t think that he deserved it, but for once as you stood in front of him in your shiromuku, all of his jaded thoughts seemed to fade. Of course with you, all doors opened.

Kakuzu knelt next to you at the shrine, ever stoic. He put his hair up before the ceremony and secured it neatly behind his head. You remembered it when it was short. As the priest announced your marriage to the gods, you couldn’t help but glance at Kakuzu out of the corner of your eye. He held himself together better than you imagined he would.

“Well, yes. I am an adult,” he would tell you later.

But at that moment, he received the first sakazuki. The priest's vessel tipped over the small cup two times before pouring. Kakuzu brought the dish up to his lips and took three sips: pointless seeing that neither of you had parents, but traditional nonetheless. You were taught to always honor your ancestors, but you doubted that Kakuzu felt the same. You received your cup and the same sake, taking the same three sips and the ceremony went on. The second sakazuki represented your vow to care for each other. You received a slightly larger cup and once again, you each touched the sake to your lips three times. The third represented fortune and fertility.

The Heavens, the Earth, and the People.

You offered Kakuzu a light smile as you moved to the next part of the ceremony, a gesture to assure him that it was almost over. He would have rolled his eyes in any other setting, but Kakuzu didn’t even have to speak for you to know exactly what he meant. You knew that more than anything, he was happy to be with you. Out of all the things that he had done as a shinobi, he could handle a stuffy ceremony.

“I thought you liked stuffy things,” you teased him later, parts of your robes slung over forearms and shoulders for better mobility as you walked through the gardens. Your hand rested in his as you balanced yourself on some raised, rock ledges. His expression could have easily been mistaken for exasperation as he scoffed, but you knew better. He looked happy. “You’re a shinobi. Now that’s stuffy!”

The priest had you stand and you received a flowering branch to offer to the gods. As you held the sprig in your hand, you glanced at Kakuzu. His eyes met your own and you quietly prayed over your offerings before presenting them together, stem first. You bowed together, the rituals vaguely familiar to you as you performed them.

With the blessings of the gods, you had received your rings. Your thumb ran over the skin of Kakuzu’s hand. They had a familiar gruffness to them and held smooth bumps from old scars. His fingernails were short. You slid the band onto his ring finger. The black suited him. He squeezed the fingers of your other hand. The space behind your eyes stung as you held back tears watching as he placed the ring on your hand.

Neither of you had family, so you thanked the shrine priests and priestesses and enjoyed their hospitality. You took a single picture. It was the same frame that you held in your hands now.

Kakuzu walked out a few hours ago, taking Hidan with him. Your kitchen was, for the most part, wrecked. Your doing. Your tears had since dried up and your trembling was beginning to fade. With a shaky breath, you brought yourself to your feet. You placed the picture face-down on the counter and reached for the broom in the corner. Your heart hurt, but the world continued on. And if the world continued on, so should you.

***

You didn’t want to eat, you didn’t feel hungry, but you stood over the sink anyway biting into whatever you could pull from your fridge. You cleaned up the kitchen to the best of your ability. Trash piled up in neat bins outside: splintered wood, broken plates, and any other particles of dust that you managed to sweep up. You could handle it later. At least the rest of the kitchen was spotless. You glanced down at the thick wedding band that sat in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, you bit into your bell pepper like an apple. That was the kind of night you were having.

A harsh pounding came from the front door and for a split second you wondered if your husband came back. Ex-husband. You didn’t think so. You kept your eyes on the kitchen window but the pounding continued adamantly. A slight shiver went down the back of your neck. The next farm wasn’t for miles. That was definitely not Kakuzu.

You put down your pepper and rolled out your utensil drawer. Your fingers danced across the kunai strapped to the bottom as you silently hoped that your training hadn’t worn off too horribly. The banging ceased as the doorknob began to rattle. The door swung open and you launched your kunai with immense velocity and precision. It was snatched out of the air.

“Fuck! That hurts like a bitch!”

Hidan stood in the entryway with his hand still held up and wrapped around your weapon. Blood dripped onto your floors as the kunai clattered to the ground. He shook out his palm, now sporting a deep gash. All you could do was stand and blink, wondering why he was there and if Kakuzu was with him. Hidan threw his cloak onto the rack. It slid, hardly staying on as he marched over to you. The door didn’t fit into its frame the same as it did before and there was no sign of Kakuzu.

“Can you patch me up, lady?” He looked around your kitchen for somewhere to sit, but found none. He dripped more onto your floors. You quickly guided his wrist over your sink and looked up at him. Beads of water fell down his face. You didn’t even hear the rain outside.

“What happened?” you asked sternly, your voice cracking a bit with worry. Hidan groaned.

“You fucked up my hand, can you at least fix me? I’m traumatized over here.” You sighed, yanking him forward before turning the running water on over his hand. You held it there for a second as if telling him to keep it there before running off to get your medical kit.

“Hidan, you have to tell me if there is an emergency,” you said as you heaved the box onto the counter from your spare room. You cleaned his palm with soap and disinfectant before applying pressure. While you didn’t have to worry about blood loss with Hidan, you also didn’t want him passing out on your kitchen floor either. That would make one more thing to clean up. “Hidan—” You pulled the gauze extra tight. He didn’t seem to be listening to you. —“Is there an emergency?”

“No, lady, it was just cold as fuck and Kakuzu’s got a stick up his ass that’s worse than usual. But you already know what that’s like.” The atmosphere stood still at the mention of Kakuzu’s name.

You knew that you shouldn’t worry about him. As far as you were concerned, he had just divorced you a few hours ago, and even if he hadn’t, you were certain that he could take care of himself. You apparently didn’t do a great job at masking your worry.

He usually didn’t care about the effect of his words, but as you frowned to yourself, Hidan couldn’t help but consider how sad you looked. He pursed his lips, never one for comforting others. For a split second, he wondered whether or not he should have brought up his partner at all. Two fingers gently bumped the bottom of your chin and you looked up at Hidan.

“Don’t look so down. It doesn’t look good on you.” He hesitated. “He’ll come back.”

You dropped his wrapped hand, not noticing that you’ve been drawing loops around his knuckles with your finger.

“I don’t know. He’s usually pretty certain about things and I can’t dwell on that.” You shook your head, turning the water back on to wash your own hands. “You have to go. I know that you have things to do and my— and Kakuzu won’t like that you’re here.” He pouted as you moved around him. You had blood to clean up.

“But it’s raining…” he pouted, expression falling in your peripheral. “And he’s miserable right now which means I’m miserable. C’mon let me stay, I’m miserable.”

“Hidan.” You turned to him and leaned on the doorway from your kitchen to your small living area. “Your partner doesn’t live here anymore.” You flicked on the entryway light, your bucket in hand. Hidan followed behind you, now taking your spot in the doorframe.

“But that doesn’t mean that I have to leave. You know he’s being stupid, but that doesn’t mean that I need to suffer out in the rain because Kakuzu’s a crotchety, old bastard.” You sighed, resting on the handle of your mop. You shook your head.

“I’m sure by the time you get to town the two of you can find somewhere to stay.”

A silence overtook the house again, full of raging, but unspoken thoughts. You squeezed out the yarns and tended to the floors. It, at the very least, gave you something to do. Hidan’s blood already dried part way and you scrubbed harder, but not before it was snatched out of your grip. Hidan shoved you over to take your place. The backs of your knees hit the armrest of the modest couch that you almost toppled down onto. He took to scrubbing.

“So what happened?” he asked.

“Sorry?” Hidan peered at you with his bright violet irises.

“I’m trying to be nice and ask you about your problems, so you better start chatting before I lose interest.” The mop splashed back into the bucket. “Who else do you get to talk to?” You pursed your lips. You knew that he was biding his time to wait out the rain, but his words weren’t wrong. The hurt still felt fresh and perhaps you were feeling a bit desperate to get it out of your system.

“I’m not sure what happened. I asked, but, well, you know how my… how Kakuzu is.” And you found yourself retelling the entirety of what happened: the argument, the ring, Kakuzu’s misplaced comments about children. You left out the part about the wrecked kitchen. “And then he said something about ‘now letting this happen’ which had to be the last straw for me.”

“Did you want brats?” Hidan had since stopped his cleaning. Surprisingly, he listened intently to your rambling as he propped himself against the wall. You swung your feet back and forth over the side of the couch.

“I never really thought about it before and Kakuzu and I never talked about it, so I don’t know why he brought it up.”

“Because he’s a dumbass who thinks too much. I never know what’s going on in that fucked up head of his. If I had a home to come to like this with a cute little thing in an apron—” Hidan scoffed. —“Fuck the Akatsuki. I wouldn’t be hiding you out here because of some band of losers in capes.” That made you laugh.

“You’re in the Akatsuki,” you giggled and Hidan raised a slender eyebrow.

“So? I’m the best one out of all those guys.”

“The best out of some band of losers?” The corners of Hidan’s lips turned upwards into a brief smile as he rolled his pretty irises.

“Listen, I got my devilish charms going for me which is better than Ragdoll. He looks like a fucking pin cushion.” Your hand came over your mouth as you laughed. Hidan looked down at where you sat, pride swelling in his chest at the prospect of cheering you up. But your face quickly morphed into something sentimental.

“Aw, but he’s a cute pin cushion…” Your bottom lip curled into a pout, but at least you didn’t look quite as sad as before. Hidan leaned a bit forward.

“He’s a little over a hundred-eight centimeters tall and has a big-ass nose.” You let out an amused breath. “I’d hardly consider that ‘cute’.”

“But it’s a cute nose. It’s slender and has that cute little bump in the middle.” Your voice grew quieter. Another silence, the third of Hidan’s visit.

It all felt too confusing for you. Maybe Kakuzu was never that interested in you in the first place. You shook your head then and there, much to Hidan’s confusion. Despite Kakuzu’s attitude towards most everything, you knew that he cared deeply about you. Perhaps he had grown bored. Despite ninja work not being of interest to you, you knew that many found the profession very exciting. You ran many profitable operations in the surrounding area, but more money could be made elsewhere, you knew that much. Your lifespan was nothing compared to Kakuzu’s nearly a century of living. He had done everything in life that he had wanted to do and all you had little to show for your existence.

You kept replaying his words about the time that you had. That you had enough time to do more. But if you really thought about it, you were content living the way you had been. You were happy and for a split second you considered whether or not Kakuzu actually saw himself as worthy of you. You shook your head for the second time. No, if anything, you considered it the other way around. You’d imagine that you would come off as boring and childlike to an immortal.

“That’s a lot of thinking.” Hidan had taken to wandering around the room. You hadn’t noticed. “Fuck thinking. You deserve better than taking care of some place in the middle of nowhere and running numbers on boring-ass shit.” You smiled again to yourself, something else that you didn’t notice.

“I actually like it here,” you mumbled. Hidan yawned.

“Can I stay now?” You deliberated to yourself before grabbing the bucket and the mop away from him. He didn’t do a great job, but you found yourself relatively uncaring at the moment.

“Yes, you can stay,” you sighed. Hidan was already halfway down the hall by the time you finished your sentence.

“Good because I was going to crash here anyway.”

@brokennerdalert @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @krispypotato @meme-queen-1999​

Notes: Reader and Kakuzu had a Shinto wedding if anyone’s interested. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[lordabovehelpme]

Injured- Din Djarin x Reader

Request: Well, everyone sees Din as Grogu's father and they even tell him, but one day Reader tells him that too and Din says "Yes, he has a father but he doesn't have a mother... yet" and looks directly at Reader 👀*heart eyes, motherf* - @along-the-lines-of-space

A/n: Hon! This is such a cute idea!!! I kinda went a different direction with it, but if you want me to do it again, totally tell me! Love ya! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can hear the hatch open, signifying the mandalorians return. Climbing down the ladder you watch as he drags the quarry to the carbonite freezer. But he moves slower than usual, almost as if he is stuck in his own world.

As soon as the quarry is frozen the mandalorian collapses onto the ground. The harsh clank of metal on unforgiving metal ringing through the hull. He groans and shifts to lay on his side. Gasping you rush to his side. “Mando?”

You pull his head onto your lap and look down into his visor. He grumbles and nuzzles into your thighs.

“Mando, what happened?” You gasp again when you notice a growing pool of blood below his knee. “What happened?” This time you say it louder, needing to hear his answer.

“Quarry… explosive… didn’t notice.” He turns his helmet further into your thighs and his breaths starts to even out.

“No no no, come on. Stay with me.” But, your pleads mean nothing to him. If it weren't for the fact that he is bleeding out, you would laugh at how funny his snores sound in the vocoder. Cursing, your mind starts to work out a plan. You take his head in your hands and wiggle from beneath him. Placing your elbows under his armpits you struggle to pull him over to the bunk.

Rushing to the fresher, you grab a bowl of water and a couple washcloths. You had already gave up on lifting the beast of a man up onto the bunk, so you’ve grabbed blankets and pillows and placed them around him.

Making sure he is still asleep, you start to take his leg armor off. Cringing, you realize that there is no way to treat his wound with his pants on. You sigh, “Forgive me, but you’ll die if I don’t.” Slowly you unbuckle his belt and undo his pants. Heat rises to your cheeks and you bite your lip, giving one last look at the mandalorians visor, you pull his pants down.

You curse at the length of his wound, it travels down from the middle of his thigh to below his knee. “Okay, prepared to be healed.” Dunking the washcloth in the bowl, you start to clean the wound as best as you can. You’re gentle yet firm as you scrub away the already dried blood.

As soon as you’re content with your cleaning job, you grab some bandages and start to wrap his leg. It’s now that you fully realize how exposed your mandalorian is. His pants pulled down to his ankles and his beautiful tan skin exposed for your gaze.

You would think he would be smaller without the bulky armor, but it’s almost as if he has become larger. The air no longer flows in and out of your lungs, it suffocates you with his natural spicy scent.

He groans and you shrink, afraid for when he wakes up. Thankfully, he stays asleep. Sighing, you shake your head and try to run from your improper thoughts. Grabbing a bacta shot, you tap the end, getting rid of air bubbles, and inject the medicine into his meaty thigh.

Taking his pants off all together you fold them and toss them into a corner. You grab another blanket and drape it across his form, giving him some much needed dignity. Trying to make him even more comfortable, you take the rest of his armor off, leaving him in his underclothes and helmet.

You tuck the blanket around him and make sure his head is supported by the pillow. However, when you go to walk away your heart tugs at you. You get a nasty feeling that as soon as you leave, he’ll wake up in a worse state. Weighing your options you eventually lay down next to him.

His soft snores are faint but they soothe your anxiety of him being dead. Slowly, you shimmy towards him. It’s cold in the ship and you can feel the goosebumps forming on your skin. Biting your lip, you lift the blanket and snuggle up against his side, mindful of his leg.

He should be okay for now; or you hope so. The warmth radiating off of his body is starting to make you sleepy. You look up at his chin, admiring the hair that has started to grow underneath his chin, obviously it's been a few days since he’s shaved. Snapping back down to look at his covered chest, you curse at yourself so being so plain with your ogling.

You close your eyes and nuzzle into his chest, succumbing to your slumber.

***

Thrashing limbs and groans wake you up. “Cyare.”

“Hey hey hey.” Your eyes beg to stay closed but you stay awake and sit up. His hands grab at you. “It’s okay, don’t move, you’ll exhaust yourself.”

“Cyare…” His head leans back down on the pillow.

“Hey big boy.” You rub small circles on the back of his hands. “Stay here, I am going to go get some water.” He grumbles something, but you’re already up and walking over to the kitchen area. Filling the bowl back up, you also grab a glass for him.

Sitting back down near him you peel the blanket back. In a panic, the mandalorian reaches down to cover himself.

“Sorry, I had to take your pants off to get to it.” He doesn’t say anything. “Alright… I um got you some water. Let me just rewrap this and then I’ll leave you.” He still stays silent. You frown as you realize that the bandages are already bloody again; must have been from him moving. “Mando, I’m gonna need you to not wake up in tizzy fits anymore, you’re just opening the wound back up.”

You unwrap the bloody bandages and wet a washcloth, then begin to clean it again. He hisses when you press it to his body.

“Sorry… sorry.”

“It’s okay.” One of those warm palms grabs your hip and rubs your skin.

“Okay, this is going to hurt, but you’ll feel much better in about ten minutes.” You grin as you hold up a bacta shot. As you poke it into his thigh, the hand squeezes your hip. “All done, now it’s time to wrap it up, okay?” The hand gives you a couple squeezes.

After you finish wrapping the wound, you pull the blanket back over his form and go to get up. “Cyare, stay.”

You cup his helmet. “I can’t, you need to drink some water.”

“Turn around.”

Giving him an apprehensive look, you follow his command and turn around. One hand stays tracing circles on your hip, while you can hear the other shuffle around. The glass clinks as he sets it back down and the hand on your hip tugs you back towards him.

“You can look now cyare.” You turn back around. “Come here, m’ tired.” He lifts the blanket and his arm, creating a perfect space for your body. Succumbing to his offer, you snuggle up into side. His arm settles down around your shoulders and his fingertips graze across your skin.

***

It’s become routine for the two of you. Every couple hours you’ll unwrap and redress his wound. Then you give him a bacta shot and within ten minutes the stoic mandalorian no longer has a filter. This time being no different. However, he was complaining about the pain so you gave him the shot before dressing the wound again.

“Cyare.”

“Mhm?”

“Am I going to die? I feel like I am going to die.”

Biting back your laughter, you play along. “You can’t die on me, you have a son to take care of. What would he do without his father?”

“Yes, he has a father, but no mother...yet.” His visor tilts to look at you, his voice lower than usual.

Raising your eyebrows, you continue to wrap his wound, “Mm, is that so?”

“Yeah.”

“Well where are you going to find this special lady?”

His hand reaches up and cups your face. “She’s right here. And she’s quite pretty too.”

Your eyes snap to meet his visor. No, that can’t be right, it’s the bacta that's talking. “Alright, hot shot.”

Under his helmet he frowns. “No cyare, I’m serious.” His hand drops from your face to grab at your hand. “Wanna have children with you. Want you to be the mother of my kids. Wanna wake up and be able to kiss you.”

Your mouth is opening and closing, you probably look like a fish out of water, but you don’t care about that right now. You can’t even start to gather your thoughts, they’re moving too fast for you to even process them.

After a few minutes of you just staring you finally start to form words. But his soft snores are the only thing he offers.

***

The spot next to you is cold when you wake up. Panic rips through your body as you shoot up and search for the mandalorian.

A deep chuckle sounds from behind you, “I’m right here cyare.” You turn around and spot him sitting on a chair, thighs spread wide as he keeps his injured leg straight. He has a pair old black shorts on, that are way too short for your mind to comprehend.

“Why… when did you get up?” Your rub at your eyes, trying to shake away your sleep.

“I felt better, and I was hungry. Did you sleep good?”

“Ummm… yeah.” Suddenly all of what he said earlier comes back to you, making heat flow to your cheeks.

Almost as if he understands what you were saying, he leans over and sets his elbows on his knees. “Listen, cyare… I’m sorry for what I said-”

“Did you mean it?” You interpret him before you can stop yourself. Cringing at your abruptness you peer down at the blanket and start to play with the edge.

“What?” He genuinely sounds confused.

“Did, did you mean it? Um, what you said?” The thread that you have been picking at has become even more interesting.

“Cyare, look at me.” He reaches out and his index finger lifts your chin. You let him and finally meet his visor, fighting back the part in you that begs for you to run away. “I am sorry for being so blunt, but I did.”

You nod, not totally processing what he said yet. “Oh.” His hand brushes away the stray hair that fell in your face. Then it finally hits you, “Oh!” Shuffling closer to him, he brushes your hair. “Well you know… I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” You grin up at him and he chuckles.

Standing up you wrap your arms around his neck and hug him. He pulls you close, slotting his helmet into the space between your shoulder and neck.

“But let’s take it slow, okay?”

“Of course cyare.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you liked it! As always, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! 

Love, Lordy :) 

Masterlist 

Taglist: @ficthots @along-the-lines-of-space @jedi-jesi @coldlilheart @remmysbounty​ 

[atsuminthe]

Sharing is caring

—The twins fight over your affection. You decide to share the love and treat them both.

note: mm i love the miyas so this was super fun to write (◕દ◕) oh to be tsum’s princess and samu’s puppy 😔

warnings: female reader, 18+, threesome, incest (i’m not too sure about this one but i put it here anyway), anal sex, double penetration, nipple play, slight spanking, praise/degradation (very mild), slight dacryphilia, slight dumbification, pet names, one (1) clit spank

taglist: @nakizumie; @risjime; @lovelytarou;

“Wait, ‘Tsumu—”

Atsumu whines when you push him off of you, flopping on the other side of your bed, and you scramble to your feet to grab a t-shirt from the floor. You hastily pull it over your head and open the door.

“Yes, sorry—oh, ‘Samu!” you beam, patting your hair to smooth it down a bit. Osamu smiles, taking in your dishevelled form—his cheeks tint a pretty pink when he realizes that you’re only in your underwear and that’s his twin’s shirt slightly covering your thighs. “What’s the matter?” He clears his throat awkwardly.

“Am a interruptin’ something?” he asks, grey eyes flickering from your face down to your body, then shifting behind you to see his twin splayed on the bed. You shake your head, smiling.

“No, actually—”

“YES, YA ARE!” Atsumu cuts you, raising his body and propping himself on his elbow. “Now scram, scrub,” he frowns, gasping when Osamu flips him off. With a sigh, the silver-haired twin shifts his attention to you.

“A can come later if ya—” he starts, but you grab his hands, pulling him into your bedroom and pushing his chest until he falls into the bed next to his brother. An idea pops in your head—and by the pink flush on Osamu’s face, he will definitely like it.

“What the fuck—” Atsumu huffs, raising an eyebrow, but you shush him as you jump between them, kneeling in front of Osamu with a grin.

“Wanna join us?”

To say he’s shocked—him, and his twin—is an understatement. His pupils are blown wide, eyes almost black, as the blond gasps behind you. “C’mon! It’ll be fun, I promise,” you laugh as Atsumu’s hands circle your waist, slipping under the maroon shirt and making you shudder. “Besides, I love you both the same. It wouldn’t be fair if only ‘Tsumu gets action.” Osamu stares, dumbfounded, not knowing what to do, while Atsumu becomes impatient at the lack of attention he receives.

“HEY! Yer my girlfriend,” the setter pouts, accentuating ‘my’ with a sharp nip to your neck, growling at the way you mewl his name. “An’ a don’t like sharin’.”

“‘Tsumu—it’s not fair for ‘Samu, I want him to have fun too,” you manage between moans, head thrown back and resting on the blond’s shoulder. He gives his twin a sharp look—she’s mine, it says—but then realizes something.

This is a great opportunity to show you that nobody—not even his own brother—can fuck you better than him. He smirks, then fakes a sigh and clicks his tongue. “Fine, a guess he can join,” he relents, lifting the shirt so his brother has a perfect view to your just-as-perfect chest, moving his hands to pinch one of your nipples. The motion makes you arch your back with a muffled moan, and the blond can see his sibling eyeing your perky tits hungrily. “Go ahead—don’t just stand there like an idiot.”

And the silver-haired spiker complies, dipping his head down to latch his mouth onto your other nipple, massaging your breast as he does so. The hotness of his tongue, coupled with the swirl of it and the gentle sucks force a wobbly moan out of you, thighs trembling as you rub them against each other, trying to get some relief from the friction. Atsumu is quick to part your legs, hand shooting between them to rub your clit through your panties. He groans at the wetness he finds there.

“Naughty little thing—yer enjoyin’ this, aren’t ya?” he coos, and all you can do is let out a gurgled moan, hands scratching at said man’s shoulder and the blond’s arm. Your hips buck into Atsumu’s fingers, and he nudges his brother to take off your panties—he does, throwing them somewhere on the floor while moving his head to place sloppy kisses down your body—on your breasts, under them, your ribcage, your tummy—gently biting the soft flesh of your inner thigh. Osamu peppers your skin with nips and sticky kisses, inching closer and closer to your heated core. Each ministration makes you gasp, and Atsumu turns your head to crash his lips over yours, stealing your breath away. He’s feral—like his brother, really. It feels like a competition of who can make you feel the best.

Unbeknownst to you, it is.

You arch your back, moaning against the Atsumu’s lips when Osamu licks a stripe from your hole to your clit. It feels so good, and you’re so hot—you need release, and you need it now. The hand scratching his shoulder moves to grip his hair, tugging lightly on it to signal him that you need whatever he gives you—Osamu has always been at your beck and call, as did his brother, and now is no exception as he begins lapping at your cunt, groaning at the sweet taste of you. It’s addicting, intoxicating—he’s drunk on you, he wants more—he grabs your legs, throwing them over his shoulders, and continues eating you out like he’s a man starved.

Atsumu relishes in the little sounds you make. “So pretty for us,” he breathes against your lips, dragging his teeth across the lower one. One hand is squishing your chest, the other plays with your clit.

“‘S too much...” you mewl, black spots dancing at the edge of your vision. The twins groan in unison.

“Too much? Is our sweet little thing backing out now?” the blond mocks, and—as if on cue—Osamu releases your poor hole with a wet pop. You whine at the loss, hands blindly searching for them, and they chuckle at the way your body trembles with need.

“Hey, ‘Samu.”

“Yeah, ‘Tsumu.”

“She did pretty well, didn’t she?”

“Sure did. We should reward her.”

Atsumu’s fingers gently rub at your clit—you’re close, he knows, but he also knows that only this is not enough for you to get off. “Ya hear that, princess? ‘Samu wants to reward ya.” Your whimpers make their features soften, and they nod at each other, maneuvering you so you properly sit in Atsumu’s lap, with Osamu kneeling between your spread thighs. They lick their lips, watching the way you twitch in anticipation.

“How ‘bout ya decide what ya want, huh?” Osamu questions, holding one of your hands and raising it to press a kiss to the back of your palm. “A’m feelin’ generous tonight.”

Your moans and whimpers go unnoticed as Atsumu groans, an impatient sound, and roughly spanks your puffy clit—it makes you whimper, a bit of drool running down your chin. “Look at ya—yer so down bad for this ya can’t even speak,” he says, biting the love of your ear. “Use yer words, slut.”

“I–I want—” you hiccup, tears starting to fall from your eyes as the blond teases your slit by dragging the pads of his fingers along it, “I want you two! Please, ‘Tsumu, ‘Samu!”

“There ya go,” Osamu coos, wiping a few of your tears. “Yer not that much of a dumb puppy, are ya?” You can’t see it, but the glint in their eyes has become a fire. He leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Ya want ‘Tsumu to hold ya?” he asks, and you nod eagerly.

It’s not like you haven’t done anal before. You did, in fact—your blond boyfriend was always open to new ideas (“spice up the atmosphere”)—and it felt amazing, but you don’t know how you’ll manage to fit both of the twins. If Osamu is anything like his brother when it comes to length and girth, it will be a ride.

As if sensing your hesitation, Atsumu cups your cheek and presses a kiss to your temple. “Don’t worry, princess, we’ll take care o’ ya. Tell us if ya want to stop.”

Compared to Atsumu—who’s notorious for being fiery and untamed, burning you with his passion if you’re not careful and always eager to please—Osamu is a bit calmer. That doesn’t mean he’s going to back down or let his brother outshine him, of course—he’ll cool you down with his love, his kisses reminding you of a gentle breeze.

The blond slips his hand down, kneading the soft flesh of your ass and giving is a few light slaps. The growl in his chest rises the moment he sees your arousal dripping down your thighs, and his boxers fly somewhere next to your panties on the floor, swiftly joined by his twin’s. He rubs the head of his cock between your folds to slick it up, long fingers prodding at your puckered hole. He pushed one finger past the tight muscle ring—slowly, holding your hand—while he kisses your shoulder. “‘S okay, princess, a got ya,” he whispers when you squirm, giving Osamu a side glance. He moves his fingers easily, making good work of your focus on the twin in front of you.

His brother is too mesmerised with the way his cock disappears inside your cunt, velvety walls sucking him in and making him groan. He’s had sex before—it just didn’t feel like this: so amazing he might explode. You’re perfect, everything about you is—he bottoms in one fluid motion, making you throw your head back with an breathy moan of his name, giving the spiker an opportunity to suck a hickey on your neck.

Atsumu has long since removed his fingers, squeezing a bottle of lube on his dick to make sure he’ll slip in as smoothly as possible—he does, pushing in slowly and making sure it doesn’t hurt you.

They haven’t even started moving and it’s already overwhelming. Your vision is dotted with stars, your thighs are shaking and your breath is ragged, moans escaping every so often. “Feels—great...” you whimper, toes curling at the blond’s hips finally meet the soft expanse of your ass. “Move...”

And they do. Gently at first, letting you accommodate their sizes, then increasing their pace with every pleasured cry that leaves your lips. Grunts, whimpers, sobs and gasps fill the room as the twins rock their hips, battling over who gets to kiss you first and where, who makes you feel better and who loves you more. You feel the knot in your stomach tighten—but you can’t say anything, your brain to hazy and fucked out to form anything other than broken sounds.

“Look at you—we fucked ya stupid, haven’t we, princess?” Atsumu pants from behind you, nibbling at your ear. “Such a good girl—always so obedient and eager—”

“Yer squeezin’ me so tight, puppy—” Osamu groans, grabbing your jaw and making you look at him. He chuckles at the way your unfocused, teary eyes watch him, tongue lolled out, drool dripping down your chin as you pant and gasp. “So messy, just for us...” he smiles, feeling close. He stills his hips after he pushes in roughly, filling you to the brim with his cum.

Their words spur you on and bring you closer to your orgasm—soon, you break completely with a scream, body spasming and convulsing with the intensity of your release. You fall limp in Atsumu’s waiting arms, and he peppers your neck with sweet kisses as Osamu pulls his softening cock out of you, leaving his brother to chase for his high—he comes soon enough with a muffled groan, and you whine at the slight overstimulation. He shushes you with a kiss to your cheek.

The blond lets your back fall on the bed as he moves to sit next to his twin, watching with a smirk the way your plush thighs still shiver slightly in the aftermath. He loves it when you’re messy like this—cum oozing out of your pretty cunt, face full of tears and drool, sweat glistening on your skin—it gives him a sense of pride. A job well done, as he likes to put it. He fistbumps Osamu, and they smile.

“Ya know what ma’ always says,” the setter starts, grabbing a towel and cleaning you up as you weakly grab his hand—he raises it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it and whispering a soft ‘a love ya, princess’. He crawls next to you, draping an arm over your waist.

“Sharin’ is carin’,” the spiker finishes, flopping on the other side of the bed, placing your head on his bicep. Both of them kiss each of your temples, and you fall into a blissful sleep, warmth and love enveloping you from all sides.

You could get used to this.

[krisdreaming]

More Than Enough

Series: Naruto: Shippuden

Pairing: Hyuga Neji x fem!reader

Summary: Neji isn’t used to feeling insecure, but when it comes to you, he just needs a little extra reassurance that he’s doing okay. (Also, first kiss? It’s not really explicitly stated, but I like to think that it is :3)

WC: 1.8k

A/N: My first Naruto writing! To say I’m nervous to post this would be an understatement. I understand that Naruto isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and I promise it won’t be taking over the blog or anything. I’m just suffering from a little brainrot at the moment. I’ll tag everything I write for Naruto with “kris writes naruto” so feel free to block the tag if you like. And with that out of the way, let’s get on with it!

He feels it in the pit of his stomach. When Neji sees you leave the hokage’s office, it starts as a familiar upward swoop, warm and strange but not unwelcome. Then he sees Lee next to you, his arms moving animatedly as he speaks. He’s walking so closely to you that every once in a while, his hand brushes your arm. It’s too far away for Neji to make out Lee’s words, but the sound of your laughter carries to him on the breeze. The swoop takes a downturn and sours in his gut.

He’d been about to call out to you, but instead he watches silently. He’s so intent on the two of you that Tenten manages to catch him completely off guard. “She has a cute laugh, doesn’t she?”

“Hm?” He’s startled, but he doesn’t let it show as he turns to see Tenten beside him, a sly grin forming on her lips. 

“Your girlfriend,” Tenten says teasingly, nudging his arm with her elbow, “She has a pretty cute laugh. It’s okay to admit it, you know.”

“I know,” He says with a shrug. He’s still too distracted to come up with a sharper reply. Tenten rolls her eyes, and his gaze wanders back to you. His girlfriend. It’s only been official for a matter of weeks, and things really aren’t much different. He still trains and eats and sleeps, but the spaces in between are filled with you. Making time for you hasn’t been as difficult as he’d feared. Somehow, you just fit into his life so seamlessly.

Lee has finally caught sight of his teammates, pulling Neji out of this thoughts. “Tenten!” Lee shouts, his hands raised above his head in an exaggerated wave, “Neji!” When you see him, your face lights up, and you quicken your pace to cover the remaining space between you. You come to a stop at his side, hands clasped behind your back and an easy smile on your lips.

“How was your day?” You ask, and try as he might he can’t stop the small smile that’s forming.

“Fine,” He says, shifting ever so slightly closer to you, “It was nothing exciting or out of the ordinary.” You laugh softly at that. “What about yours? You got your mission assignment?” He notices a loose strand of hair tickling your cheek.

“Yup,” You nod, and he thinks about reaching out to tuck the piece of hair behind your ear, but he doesn’t move. “It’s C rank, so it should be pretty simple,” You shrug, “Especially considering the fact that I’ll have Lee with me,” You turn to his teammate, and now Neji understands why Lee has been practically vibrating behind you.

“Do not worry, Neji!” Lee presses a fist to his chest, “I will keep her safe for the duration of the journey!”

You roll your eyes, giving the well-meaning ninja a nudge with your elbow. “I don’t think I’ll need your protection, Lee,” You chuckle, and Neji lifts his chin a fraction, looking from you to Lee. You can take care of yourself. He’s well aware of that, and he knows Lee is, too. Lee is just, well, Lee. 

“It’s a short mission,” You turn to him now, “We’re leaving tomorrow morning, and we should be back by the end of the week. We’re just escorting a small merchant caravan to the Land of Tea. At this time of year, it should be an easy journey. Right, Lee?”

“Right!” Lee stands a little straighter, “Nothing to worry about at all, Neji.”

“I wasn’t worried,” He assures his teammate with a shake of his head, “The two of you are perfectly capable. The caravan will be in good hands.” That much he knows is true. You and Lee have always gotten along and worked together well, so it’s no surprise you’ve been assigned to the mission together. 

“Thank you, Neji!” Lee bows his head quickly, “Please, excuse me. I must get to my evening training session with Gai-sensei. Oh, Y/N!” He’s already begun to jog off, but he twists his body to look back at you, “I will see you tomorrow morning! Rest well!” With that, he’s off.

“That guy,” Tenten shakes her head with a sigh, “He certainly is a handful, isn’t he? Good luck on your mission,” She gives you a pointed look, “I know he’s just my teammate, but somehow I feel like I need to apologize for him.”

“No need, Tenten,” You dismiss the comment with a wave of your hand, “Lee’s not so bad. I think we’ll be just fine.”

“Well then, better you than me!” Tenten laughs, “I’ll see you two later, I’ve got to get home. Enjoy your evening!” With a teasing wink and a wave of her hand, she’s gone as well. Neji turns to you, your grin lit by the glow of the setting sun. Finally, he lifts his hand to tuck the stray strand of hair behind your ear. Ever so slightly, you lean into his touch.

“I suppose you want to get home?” He asks, swallowing back the hitch in his throat. He lets his hand fall back to his side now that your hair is back in place.

“Eventually,” You nod, “Let’s take the long way.” Just like that, the two of you fall into step, following the familiar route toward your house. It begins through the bustling streets of Konoha, passing by the shops and homes tucked in together as you walk side by side, the occasional brush of your arms the only point of contact between you. Even so, Neji enjoys the feel of you so close to him and the sound of your voice as you chatter on about the events of your day. Every so often he’ll offer a hum or a smile or a few words in response, but he’s mostly content just listening to you. 

The crowd begins to thin toward the edge of town, and the storefronts become more sparse. As the two of you pass by your favorite dumpling shop, he comes to a stop. “Do you want to go in?” He asks, and you make a thoughtful sound before shaking your head.

“No, not today. I’d rather just walk. Is that okay?” You tilt your chin up to look at him.

“Of course,” He nods quickly. He’d like nothing more. 

“It’s such a beautiful evening,” You continue, tucking your hand in the crook of his elbow and pulling him along toward the path along the edge of town. Following dutifully along, he hums in agreement. This path eventually winds through the woods, and Neji can’t count how many times you’ve walked it together. The quiet of the woods is one of your favorite places, and one where he can tell you feel more at ease. 

Beneath the trees, darkness is falling a little faster than in the open, and the air is cooler. He’s glad to be away from the crowded streets. Wordlessly, you slide your hand down his arm, and when your fingertips brush his palm he slides his fingers between yours.

He thinks back to Tenten’s comment earlier. She often likes to tease him about how reserved he is in showing his affection for you. He knows she doesn’t mean anything by it, but Neji wonders sometimes if it’s something you notice, as well. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold your hand or put his arm around you while you’re in town. It’s just that showing the world something as private and intimate as his feelings for you feels strange to him. He’s far from embarrassed of you, and he hopes that you know that. 

The thought crosses his mind for the first time. Perhaps you’d be better suited to someone like Lee. Someone who would dote on you and shower you with affection. Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to shout his admiration for you to the world.

“Neji,” You give his hand a tug, slowing to a stop and turning to look at him, “You’re quiet. Is everything alright?” You give his fingers a gentle squeeze.

“I’m fine,” He says, offering you a small smile. The concern on your face makes him regret getting so lost in his own thoughts and worrying you. 

“You had this little frown on your face,” You say softly, letting go of his hand and reaching up to cup his cheek, “You know you can talk to me, right?”

He’s about to brush it off and keep walking, knowing you should get home and rest before tomorrow, but something earnest in your expression stops him. “Can I ask you something? Promise you’ll tell me the truth?” He asks quietly.

“Of course I will,” You nod. “Want to walk and talk?” You gesture to the path ahead, and he nods. He seeks out the comfort of your hand in his again before continuing. Somehow, it feels easier this way.

“I’ve just been thinking,” He begins, shooting a furtive glance your way, “Am I a good boyfriend for you? I know I don’t always have a lot to say, and I spend a lot of time training. Tenten says I don’t pay much attention to you even when we’re together. And... is it enough? Because-”

“Hey,” You interrupt him before he can slip his hand out of yours, coming to a stop again and holding on tighter, “It’s more than enough.” You’re actually smiling at him. “You’re the best boyfriend I could ask for, Neji. Honestly.” You shake your head, and he’s so frozen at your response that he lets you take both of his hands in yours. “I already know you’re serious, and reserved, and quiet, and I like all of those things about you.”

“You do?” He finds his voice only to be skeptical. You laugh softly.

“I do,” You insist. “Y’know, I don’t need you hanging onto me all the time. That’d actually be kind of weird,” You giggle, “I think every single moment with you is special. You’re sweet, and caring, and thoughtful. You make me feel like... like...” You trail off, suddenly ducking your chin nervously.

“It’s okay,” He murmurs, smile growing wider as he drops your hands to cup your face this time, tilting your chin back up with his fingertips so he can meet your gaze again. Something warm and tender is filling his middle, threatening to overflow.

“Happy,” You finish then, softly, “You make me feel happy.”

“You make me feel happy, too,” He whispers, leaning in so that his lips fit perfectly against yours, kissing you softly. “Very happy,” He adds as he pulls away. Even in the semi-darkness, your smile nearly takes his breath away. He’s grateful that you’re alone here, because it gives him the courage to kiss you again.

[furiosophie]

maybe a little more oh the things we left behind epilogue fluff??? ;u; i know the entire epilogue was fluff but i am insatiable

yes very good thinking anon and sorry for the long wait my brain is just a heap of goo right now but here we go - some ottwlb fluff set between the Mandalorian war and the very last scene of the fic, a small compilation of how Din found the rest of their family:

oh the things we found

small TW for mentions of blood and trauma

Din doesn't in any way plan on becoming a magnet for Force-sensitive children, he really doesn't, but it happens regardless, something about his unique combination of Force-null beskar, Force-conduit darksaber, and Force-bond husband drawing them in like moths to a flame.

He finds Rey first, on a recon mission out to Jakku, casing a distress signal from a lost covert. She can't be any older than Ben, who is seven now and an absolute terror, but in comparison to him, she doesn't listen to Din one bit, her whole life just a series of defying the authority figures around her. She dangles from a rope above him, in the hollowed-out remains of an Imperial Star Destroyer, sticking out her tongue at him. "I'm not coming with you!" she declares while Din tries to position himself in a way that will allow him to catch her if she slips. "I'm waiting for my family. They're coming to get me!"

He doesn't have the heart to tell her no one in their right mind would ever willingly come back to a place like Jakku. He places all his rations, most of his credits, and, just for good measure, some bacta spray on the ground below her like he's making some offering to an ancient feral god and leaves with an ache in his chest.

"She won't come with me," he complains to Luke later, pacing up and down in the living area of the Mudhorn while Luke brews tea. They don't technically live in the Mudhorn anymore, have their own quarters in the ruins of Yavin's temple, but they always end up here regardless, whenever one of them comes back from a mission, whenever they need it to be just the two of them, away from everyone's worries.

Luke hands him a steaming cup and places a soft kiss on his temple. "Don't worry," he says, in that cryptic tone of his, the one he uses to tease Din when he's being daft about something that's impossible for him to know. "She will." And that's that.

Din goes back. Once, twice, three times, until the sparse crowd of locals looks at him with pity in their eyes. She does come with him eventually, after his eighths visit, when he draws the darksaber on a dune beast and turns around to find her looking at him with the type of recognition in her eyes that he's only ever seen in the way Luke looks at Ben and Grogu.

"She's like you," he accuses when Luke greets them at the bottom of the Mudhorn's ramp, Rey perched high on his shoulders, her arms wrapped around his helmet so tight it's hard for him to see. Luke just smiles and reaches out so Rey can tentatively take his hand. The change is instant - as soon as their palms touch her whole body relaxes as if something in her is finally at peace and Din has to reach up to keep her from sliding off his shoulders. And well. That's that.

Finn is next, standing tall in front of a group of terrified kids, in a backroom of the imperial laboratory they just raided, his eyes ablaze and lips turned up into a snarl. "I'll fight you," he snaps even as Din can see his hands shaking around the mop he fished out of the supply closet as a makeshift weapon. "I'm not scared, I'll fight you!" And really all Din can do in response is pull his helmet off and fall to his knees with his hands raised above his head.

It seems to work because he gets all of them into the Mudhorn eventually, Finn curled up on the copilot's seat, staring out in wonder at the endless expanse of space while the rest of the kids are rolled up into every available blanket in the captain's quarter. It's a bit of a rough start - where Rey felt turmoil because of the things swirling inside her without guidance, all Finn has ever known is supervision and people telling him to be something he's not, his connection to the Force tempered down in all the wrong places, too silent and too loud all at the same time, and in the first weeks, Din spends a lot of time hugging him close to the beskar plating of his chest, taking strolls under the quietness of Yavin's trees like he used to do with Ben. Finn quiets eventually, just as Rey did, the two of them getting on like a house on fire.

Shara is the one who brings Paige and Rose Tico, two sisters left stranded and alone by the still raging unrest of the remnants of war, and there is barely a discussion before she decides to take them in herself, the two of them glued to Poe the second they step off Shara's ship.

He finds Armitage last, standing over the dead body of an Imperial officer, blood on his hands and all across his face, just a sliver of yellow in the green of his eyes. Din has bruises on his arms for a week from how hard the kid strains against him as he tries to drag him out of the Star Destroyer before it self-destructs, but he figures, all things considered, they'll be able to handle that too.

He turns out to be a menace, of course, too smart for his own good, and way too stubborn to let Ben get away with his teasing, which always seems to end up Luke and Din having to physically drag them away from each other. Din tries to do for him what he did for everyone else, to hold him close and comfort him, but he only ever succeeds in the quiet of the night when he finds him at the very top of the temple wrapped up tightly in Luke's arms, both of them holding onto each other for dear life, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks tear-stained, darkness hanging around them like rain clouds.

Armitage takes a shine to Bo-Katan though, amidst all of his defiance, a fact that seems to confuse her as much as it does Din, and he knows that that will probably spell disaster in the future given how fast and feral Armitage takes to swinging a lightsaber, but to his relieve the Armorer steps up to pull him to her workshop by the back of his neck and balances the murder in his eyes with ever-evolving engineering challenges.

And so it takes a bit, quite a while in fact, but they find their balance eventually, their weird ever-growing family, all of them slotting into each other in a way that sometimes makes Din wonder if this was their doing too, Luke's and his, if in bending the universe around them, and in becoming one in the Force they somehow became a beacon for all those who are lost.

He wonders about it on the nights when, even after Han settles down on Yavin more or less permanently to be closer to Ben, and even after Paz bashfully asks to officially adopt Rey who's been glued to his shoulders for months, and even after Armitage makes it very clear that he doesn't plan to ever be adopted by anyone, Luke comes back from an excursion to find Din pilled into their bed with a bunch of wayward Foundlings.

"Sorry," Din mumbles sleepily as Luke steps over a snoring Paz who's taken up guard in the hallway, "It just happened."

"Is there room for one more?"

"Unlikely," Din sighs as he always does, but Luke finds a spot anyways, shuffling the kids around until they are just awake enough to demand a story from him.

"It's late," Luke smiles as Din pulls him closer to lean their foreheads together in greeting, Grogu climbing up from where he was tucked beneath Ben's chin to settle in between his dads. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."

"Just one!" Rey pleads from her spot at Din's side, Finn's head popping up behind her in a show of support and Luke raises a warning eyebrow as Poe and Rose scoot closer from where they were sprawled over Din's legs. "You always say we need to be curious about the world around us!"

"It will help us sleep," Armitage argues from his spot at the end of the bed, the one he takes to pretend he doesn't care about any of this, and starts scooting close too, shoving at Ben to make space.

"They make a good point," Din interjects gently and pulls Armitage out of the way and between them before Ben can get up enough to headbutt him with Din's helmet, which is a constant on his head on those nights where they all feel pulled towards each other.

"Traitor," Luke laughs, letting Armitage nestle in closer to him, but he'll tell them about his travels anyways until they are all knocked out and snoring peacefully and Din can press a quick kiss to Luke's lips without having to listen to a cascade of "ew" and "gross".

And so, in the end, he always drifts asleep knowing he doesn't fully understand it, not really, how they all manage to fit so perfectly into each other's lives, how he managed to find this, this place that is domestic in a way nothing in his life has ever been, but he figures he doesn't have to understand it, not when he also knows with absolute certainty that they are all exactly where they are supposed to be.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Night Crawling

Sam x Reader

Word Count: ~3350

Warnings: Some explicit smutty goodness in a dive bar bathroom, some recreational drug use, some Sam feels. 

A/N: I really thought I was going to write PWP for once. As usual, some feels snuck in. Set at some vague point in Season 5. 

I’ve had the new Miley Cyrus album on repeat all day; inspiration, title, and bathroom graffiti quote all came from “Night Crawling.” Listen to that and “Gimme What I Want” if you want maximum ~atmosphere~ or whatever while reading. 

“Another?” Sam asks, leaning in to make himself heard over the music. He gives me a twisted, wicked version of his usual dimpled smile. There’s a drop of tequila clinging to his lip, and I want to lick it off. He’s so close. 

My head is still spinning from the last shot and from his attention. I shake it off. 

“Bathroom, I’ll be back,” I tell him. 

Sam’s in a fucking mood tonight. Not that I blame him. Time is ticking away, faster by the day it feels like; if Lucifer was after me, I’d take whatever escape I could get. 

Dean’s at the motel, hopefully putting some ice on his twisted ankle or maybe sleeping, and normally Sam would be fussing over him like an overgrown fucking mother hen. Instead, he suggested that we go “blow off some steam,” looking at me with this glint in his eyes, like he was daring me. 

So… here we are, getting fucked up in a grimy rock club, watching some Nine Inch Nails wannabes wail like a porn soundtrack over a dirty industrial bassline. 

Sam fucking Winchester. Always full of surprises. 

It’s one of those single-occupancy dive bathrooms where I don’t want to touch anything or, like, inhale too hard. It’s impossible to tell what color the walls originally were under the layers of concert flyers and graffiti. There’s probably enough cocaine residue on the chipped porcelain sink counter to get an elephant high. That kind of place. 

He wants me almost as much as I want him, I’m pretty sure, but I never thought either of us would act on it. Too many complications, too many ways to fuck it all up… now, though? The entire world is fucked. Might as well get laid before it all goes to shit.

Two lines of red Sharpie scrawl next to the mirror grab my attention: night crawling, sky falling, gotta listen when the Devil’s calling. 

Yeah. Well. 

I don’t think either of us will make it out of this alive, but he doesn’t want to. That’s what this is all about, really. He started this apocalypse. He’ll never forgive himself if he lives through it. I’ll never forgive him if he doesn’t. 

I wash my hands and splash some water on my cheeks, bracing myself. I can feel the chemicals kicking up my spine, now.

If Sam fucking Winchester needs to indulge his self-destructive streak and get out of his head for a night, I’ll keep him company. Fuck knows I’ll never say no to him. I’ll stay with him til the end, if he lets me. 

It hits me again: this is the end. The world is about to end, and that sweet, sexy, puppy-eyed motherfucker out there is at the center of all of it. Heaven, hell, good, evil… and Sam. If tonight is what we’ve got — if this is all we’ll ever get — I’ll take it. I’ve always wanted more, but… this’ll do. It’ll have to do. 

He’s slouching against the wall, right outside the bathroom hallway. He gives me this dark, hungry grin when he sees me, and maybe whatever was in that pastel blue pill is making itself known, or maybe it’s just Sam that’s sending a wave of prickly heat over my skin… either way, it feels good. 

“C’mon,” he says, passing me a cup of ice water, and then he’s gripping me by the wrist, pulling me into the crowd. 

Sam doesn’t dance, and he sure as hell doesn’t dance with me, but he’s not fucking around: hands on my waist, hair falling in his eyes as he looks down at me, cheeks flushed, moving with the beat. I rest my free hand on his upper arm, right where the swell of his bicep flexes against the soft cotton sleeve of his t-shirt, and I can’t help but squeeze slightly, feeling hot skin and muscle under my palm. I swallow hard. 

Sam leans in closer. I can smell him, the natural scent of his sweat under the spice of his deodorant, and it’s so overwhelming that I shiver. 

He gets his lips right up against my ear, the deep rumble of his voice a physical thing that I can feel as well as hear: “Ever just get sick of being yourself?” 

Jesus. 

“Yeah,” I mumble, mouth dry. I don’t know if he hears me but it doesn’t really matter. 

“I think too much. I don’t want to think tonight. Is that okay?” 

I suck in a breath. “Don’t need to explain, Sam. I get it.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, heavy-lidded, golden skin shining with sweat in the flecks of light coming off the disco ball. “Dance with me.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, Sam, anything you want.”

I toss back the cup of water, gulping it down, too eager; some of it trickles down my chin. I don’t care. I drop the cup and run my hand up Sam’s chest. His eyes flutter closed and he licks his lips, sinful, gorgeous. For a moment I think he might say something but instead he spins me around and hauls me closer, my back to his chest. 

The song is filthy, all thudding funk hooks and wild drums. There’s this frantic heat behind it that has me sinking under the surface, swimming through the riff, and the pulse of it wriggles down my spine and works itself out through my hips as I toss my head. It’s the kind of rhythm that’s made for sweating all over a stranger. 

Sam might as fucking well be a stranger right now. I never knew he could move like this. 

His hips swivel and twist, and his hands slide down to my thighs, pinning me against the solid muscled heat of his body. I feel reckless. I feel high and overstimulated and utterly fearless, and I can feel his touch echoing through me, inside me, throbbing down my belly to where I’m empty and suddenly aching. 

As soon as I think about it, the emptiness hits me hard. My cunt is clenching around nothing in time with the gritty slap of percussion. I arch my back and rub myself against Sam shamelessly. 

He’s hard against my ass, hard and getting harder with every shrieking lick of guitar, and the awareness of it sends a thrill down through the core of me, like a bolt of lightning striking between my legs. My breath catches and hisses out of my lungs like I’m a punctured balloon. I feel dizzy. 

It’s all so intense right now. Every inch of my skin is fizzing, and the simple curl of his fingers around my wrist has me shuddering like he’s stroking something much more intimate. 

On any other night I would try to step back, to get myself under control… I’d start thinking, and I wouldn’t be able to stop, and I’d get stuck in my head instead of giving in to the mind-blowingly intimate thrill of his fingertips pressing into my pulse. 

We’re not thinking tonight. I couldn’t think straight even if I wanted to. 

The beat changes, segueing into something low and slinking and goddamn obscene. I’m dripping with sweat — mine or Sam’s? I can’t tell — and my skin is on fire, and I want Sam in this awful, all-consuming way that I’ve never wanted anything or anyone.

So I don’t think about it; I just turn, twisting in his arms until we’re face to face, or rather, face to chest. He’s biting his lip, expression almost pained as he grips my waist and slots a thigh between mine. I snake my arms around his neck and roll my hips, feeling the seam of my jeans dragging up the sensitive spot between my legs, and I’m absurdly grateful for the way the music drowns out any embarrassing noise I might make. 

There’s a drop of sweat sliding down the corded muscle of his neck. It trickles to a glittering halt right at eye level, in the hollow of his throat, and I can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. I could fall down and worship whatever god invented the v-neck. 

I don’t fall to my knees, but I do lean forward and taste his skin. Salt floods my tongue. 

Sam’s hand runs up my back, cups the nape of my neck, and he doesn’t so much guide me as yank, tilting my head to meet the rough urgent sting of his teeth and the soft slide of his tongue. I groan into his mouth, and his hands flatten at the small of my back, pulling me impossibly closer. I want to shove myself against him until I can burrow under his skin. 

His mouth. He nips and sucks and explores, lips on mine with crushing force one second, whisper-sweet the next. 

I’m melting. I must be melting. 

I hold on for dear life, delirious, drunk on the way he’s kissing me. I’ve imagined this before, but I never imagined it like this. 

We’re still dancing, or something like it anyway; his hips swivel, and I rut against him, my entire body throbbing with animalistic need. Sam shifts his weight, grinding against me, and I can feel the fat stiff length of him right up against my center. I whimper, desperate and wanton. 

One hand slides up my back, around my ribs, up, until he can trace the curve of my breast with his thumb and then pinch my nipple through my bra. When I buck against him, he does it again. My knees don’t want to support me any more. 

I’m a half-second away from coming just like this. I’m shaking. 

“The fuck are we doing?” Sam says roughly. He nips my earlobe.

“Not thinking, remember?” I snap, and then I’m stumbling back, almost falling, tugging him by the wrist as I start to weave through the crushing press of bodies. My heart is pounding. Everything blurs together. My skin feels too cold without him all over it. 

There’s one open bathroom, no line, no reason to hesitate. The heavy door closes behind us and the deadbolt slides home with a metallic echoing thud. 

He’s already crowding me back, hands on my cheeks, tip of his nose brushing mine. I grab at the front of his shirt, fingers twisting in the sweat-damp fabric. My ass hits the counter and I surge up clumsily to kiss him. The angle’s off; our teeth clack together. 

We laugh and fit ourselves back together, bodies like puzzle pieces in that fucking song Sam would never admit he loves, and I could cry with relief at the way he feels under my hands. I can feel him breathing, the harsh rise and fall of his chest, and I can feel the heat of him, blood and sweat and bone, solid and real and here and mine, at least for tonight. 

He fumbles with the button of my jeans and kisses me like he’s drowning. Then he curls two long fingers up and into me, grinding the heel of his hand against my clit. I lean back, heels skidding on the dirty tile as I try to brace myself and rock my hips up all at once. 

“Need you to fuck me,” I bite out, remarkably steady considering the way I’m trembling. 

“You gonna regret this tomorrow?” Sam asks. He twists his fingers, knuckles stretching me open, so good my eyes roll back in my head. 

Tomorrow… we’re not going to think about tomorrow. 

“Might regret waiting this long,” I groan. Understatement of the century. 

“You ‘n me both. You sure?” He’s staring down at me and he looks wrecked: pupils blown, lips swollen, hair clinging to his temples where his skin is streaked with sweat. 

“Do you feel how close I am?” I grab his wrist with one hand, holding him there, fucking myself on his fingers as I try to pull my jeans down with the other hand. 

Sam’s mouth drops open and his eyes go unfocused for a second. Whatever self-control he had left is gone. He pulls his hand away, and I whine at the loss, but together we get my pants down, and I kick them off as he gets his belt open. He’s just as big as I always imagined, proportional to those sinfully long elegant fingers, and my mouth fucking waters as I watch him stroke himself. 

He bites his lip, chest heaving, and tugs me up onto the very edge of the grimy sink counter. Before I can find my balance he’s right there, hooking an arm under my knee so that he can spread my legs wider, and he’s guiding the hot velvety head of his cock down my center and in, and the slick blunt pressure of it makes me claw at his back, trying to get him closer even though I can barely handle how good that first thick inch feels. 

“Fuuu - unnhhhhh - fuck, Sam, I need…” I choke out, and then all I can do is pant breathlessly, incoherent, as he rocks his hips and starts to stretch me open. I’m helpless like this, no leverage to do anything but sit there and take it, and he moves so maddeningly slow that I’m going out of my skull. 

“God, look at you,” he breathes. “So fucking good. Always wondered what you’d look like taking my cock. Always imagined you begging. Are you gonna beg for me?” 

“If you don’t shut the fuck up and give it to me, Sam, I swear —” 

“Yeah?” he growls. He grips my hips hard enough to bruise.

I wrap my legs around his waist, hooking my ankles together, leaning back on my hands, and then I can arch my back and pull him deeper, working myself onto his cock. 

“Sam —” I start, but before I can say anything else he slams home, grinding in hard and fast, and my voice cracks on a stuttering, incoherent whine. It’s blindingly good. He’s steely-hard and so goddamn thick I feel like I’m about to split open, like one wrong move is going to pull me apart. His first rolling thrust sparks this wrenching wave of pressure that fills me up and shakes me down to the tips of my toes, my entire body rippling with feverish heat. 

“That’s my girl,” he pants. He pulls me against him and twists up, rough and filthy, and I shudder against him, writhing, mindless and overwhelmed. 

“Sam,” I choke out. My voice is high-pitched and squeaky-thin, and the next sharp thrust makes me forget whatever I was going to say beyond, “Nnnnhhhhhyesohgod.” 

“There?” 

“Fuck. Yes.” 

He moans, low and broken, and finds that perfect spot again, grinding into it with eye-popping force.

I can feel it, pleasure cramping through me with every movement, coiling up, building around the deep throbbing ache where he’s fucking into me. I feel like a wild animal, primal and lost.

“Good girl. Fuck, feels so good.”

I clutch at his shoulders, muscles quaking, burying my face in his neck as all that white-hot pressure peaks inside me. I let out an ugly, anguished sob, can’t hold it back, and then all I can feel is the all-consuming spasm of my orgasm, tension rocketing through every inch of me, sending me out into space for a long paralyzed moment. The first pulse of it is so scary-intense that I can’t breathe, can’t control myself, can’t keep track of my own body… 

Then it all comes back at once, and I’m exquisitely aware of Sam against me as he fucks me through it, hips surging forward as I squeeze around him and urge him deeper. 

“Thought about this so many times,” he’s confessing, ragged and raw. 

“Me too,” I gasp.  

He sucks in a shaky breath, moving slower as I start to come down, and I can feel him holding back now. “Think about you so fucking much, I can’t —”

“Me fucking too, Sam.”

He kisses me, gentle in a way that could very easily destroy me. 

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” he whispers, forehead sweaty where it rests against mine.  

“Fuck, Sam, don’t — this is —” 

I feel so strange and strung-out, caught between the shivery aftershocks in my belly and the startling tenderness in his voice as he mumbles, “Wanted to take my time.”

“Sam.” 

“Wanted to take my time with you,” he repeats. He moves against me with this slow, snakelike undulation. “Wanted to lay you out and kiss you everywhere and fucking worship you.” 

“We can. We can — I want that.” 

“Never gonna be enough,” he chokes out. “I knew — I knew, if I did this, I’d never want to stop.”

My skin is lit up with the feel of him, liquid heat gathering in my gut as my body responds to every perfect touch, but I’m afraid my ribcage is about to split open with the way my heart is hammering. 

We’re in a goddamn dive bar bathroom, for fuck’s sake, and I’m fucked up, and maybe this will feel cheap and tawdry and silly in the morning, but… somehow I don’t think it will. Somehow this feels like the most important thing that’s ever happened to me. 

“Why’d we wait this long?” I ask. There’s an embarrassing wobble in my voice. 

“Because I’m a fucking idiot,” he grits out. “Because I was scared.” Before I can respond, he kisses me, all teeth and desperation, twisting his hips and swallowing my moan. He slides his hands under my shirt, sliding them up my back, and drags his fingernails down in trails of stinging heat. It’s pleasure and pain and fucking obliteration, and the sensory overload has me spiraling out again. 

“Fuck that,” I half-laugh. My back arches and my voice breaks, and I bite his lip hard enough that I taste copper. 

He groans, full-throated and shameless, and ducks his head, sinking his teeth into the sweat-slick curve of my neck. He sucks, nibbles, and it sets off fireworks behind my eyelids. 

“Close, Sam. So close,” I babble, breathing harsh and heavy. I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull, and I can feel him moan. “Never thought it’d feel like this. It’s — this is so much better —” 

He shudders against me, lets out this long, guttural sound, and then he shifts and pounds into me harder, and all I can do is cling to him, pulling him closer like I’m never going to let go. “C’mon, then. Fuck. Tell me what you want.” 

“Please, Sam. Just — please. Please.” 

“I’d do anything for you,” he growls. “You know that, right?” 

“Anything?” 

“Anything.” 

“Don’t leave me,” I blurt out, as the unbearable tension starts to crest. “Don’t leave me, Sam. Please.” 

I know he hears it. He gasps like I punched him. I can feel him jerk, twitch, fingers clawing at my back, cock twitching and swelling inside me as he starts to come. I bite down on the meat of his shoulder as I let go. My orgasm feels like it’s ripping something loose, an earthquake in my core, and I don’t trust myself not to say exactly what’s on my mind. There’s a surge of pleasure, one glowing wave of it then another, and I’m dimly aware of shuddering against Sam as he rocks into me one more time, clutching him close… as if I could get close enough to keep him here with me. 

It’s impossible to be sad right now. I’m chemically incapable of sadness, still soaring high, but this is so much bigger than sadness anyway. I just feel like I’m about to break. 

“That,” he says, with an ugly sound, half-laugh, half-sob. “That���s what I was afraid of. That I wouldn’t ever want to leave.” 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Let’s just — let’s not think about it. Okay? Can we go back to the motel and — can we do that again? Take our time?” 

“Just for tonight?” he asks raggedly. 

“Just for tonight. We’re not going to think about what comes next.” 

He nods. We both know it’s a lie. 

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