wasabimia

[wasabimia]

[wasabimia]

We have this interesting situation where we basically no longer have privacy nor the expectation of privacy, but we also don't have community or meaningful connection with others, so we're all simultaneously both completely exposed and absolutely alone, and please understand that when I say this situation is "interesting", what I in fact mean is that it's "nightmarish and I wish I could wake up"

[wasabimia]

Okay here it is, a second Bezz x Reader fic for my lovely anon's ask! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings for probably not talking boundaries well enough so maybe dubious consent? Also this does get into more kinky areas so if that's not your thing then please don't read!

You had spotted him standing over the bar, just a mess of curly hair. At first, you hadn't given much attention to him, but you were much more focused on the drink in front of you and the fact that the music was actually getting good. Your clothes had gotten uncomfortable about the second you arrived at the club, fabric rubbing against your skin in a way that was just wrong.

All the people here were interesting, that was for sure. There was a group of folks with brightly coloured hair and piercings. Another group that seemed much more average, dressed in sparkly clothes and dancing the night away. Then, there was the group that the curly-haired guy came with.

Most of the night, you had spent staring at that group of men. They were definitely familiar with each other, if the constant touching was any giveaway. And then there was that one guy, still hanging by the bar with the curly head of hair and a large white shirt that looked more like a dress than anything else.

It was almost on complete instinct—not a full thought, just desperation—that you strolled up next to him, leaned against the counter with more confidence than you actually felt. And, with an anxious smile, you spoke. "Can I buy a drink for you?" The urge to add a little pet name at the end was strong, but he was wearing lipstick. Red lipstick that matched the red fishnets he wore.

The words, as awkward as they were, were met with surprise and then suspicion. "What?" Ah, you had expected rejection or a 'I have a girlfriend' or 'I'm gay.' Not this sort of surprised mixed with something that almost looked like disgust.

"Um, a drink? My treat, uh, if you want?" You watched as the look on his face melted into something much more friendly, and god, his smile was beautiful. He had a red lipstick smudge on his front teeth—you hardly managed to resist wiping it off with the pad of your thumb.

You waved over a bartender, falling into the much easier role of ordering a drink. It was easier to order a drink, slide in a bit of flattery and pause to let the man next to you say what drink he wanted. Soon enough, you had two drinks at a discount. "So, what is your name?"

There was a long pause before an answer, one that you filled with your name and an awkward chuckle before he finally answered. "Marco. Thanks for the drink. I'm, uh, somewhat surprised you don't recognise me." His words were spoken almost shyly as he sipped at his drink; some cocktail that did not match the muscle in his thighs and arms but somehow worked perfectly with that gleam in his eyes.

Oh, you realised that was the problem, he didn't want to be recognised. You rushed to reassure Marco, not wanting to miss the opportunity to talk—and maybe fuck—this guy. "Oh, I'm not from here. Um, I don't really know who you are. Sorry?" You cursed yourself for stumbling over your words. It's just that Marco was so pretty, you felt untethered around him.

"Ah, I'm just an, eh, athlete. Kinda." At least he was just as awkward. You nod, not asking any more questions. It was clear that he wasn't so keen on talking about it. Gulping back the rest of your drink, you settle into the pleasant buzz of not-quite-drunk.

Perhaps that is what gave you the confidence to reach out. Despite drinking, that smudge of red was still there, and you just had to do something about it. Marco had been talking about a random topic, and you weren't sure what exactly it was, and that mark on his teeth was taunting you.

Marco went still, staring blankly as you brush a finger against the tooth, his saliva helping the slide. Your actions finally registered, and you yank your hand away, apologies spluttering from your mouth. "Shit, I was just, it kept distracting me. Lipstick, I mean, on your teeth."

The silence was tense, his eyes widening as a blush spread over his cheeks. "It's okay, I'm. Fuck, you really—when I am tipsy and wearing this outfit, I just." Marco pauses, and you smirk at how he looks up at you through his eyelashes—despite you being shorter than him—pouting out his lips ever so slightly.

"You said you are an athlete, yeah? You any good?" You can feel your confidence building, just the sight of Marco's face flushed. He nodded slowly, confusion painting his face. You ran a finger through his curly hair, giggling as he leaned into the touch.

"I've," he paused to draw a deep breath, "won a few times, yeah. I think that deserves a reward?" Marco lilted his words into a question, a coy grin as he noticed where the conversation was heading. The drinks were working for him, too, the alcohol making him braver.

You answer his question with a matching smile, dropping your voice to a whisper. Marco had to lean in closer just to hear you speak. "Definitely. How do you want it?" Your breath ghosts over his skin, making him shudder. His hand flies up to wrap around your wrist.

Marco considers the question, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips. Finally, as the music dropped into some overused rhythm, he answered. "I'm not—I just want to relax. I don't want to think, it's been rough. This season hasn't been so good. I just want to feel good."

You ignore the hints about his career, deciding that it's just not important, and instead grin, "I can do that."

It's only a few minutes, maybe half an hour, and you make it to his apartment. The other guys that Marco came with had laughed and winked suggestively. One had even teasingly slapped Marco's ass, something of which you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at. Many men wouldn't be comfortable with that, but then again, Marco did act very compliant with you, so he certainly wasn't the average man.

You didn't get much time to look around at the different rooms in his place. There were a lot of photos of motorcycles, a shelf full of trophies, and Marco sprawled across the bed in those red fishnets and that fucking red lipstick. Who could focus with a sight like that?

Deciding to take a little bit of a risk, you straddle his waist and push your hands onto his chest. You lean down to whisper into his ear, "Must get sore a lot, yeah?" As you wait for an answer, you busy yourself by pressing kisses to his neck, sucking little marks and biting at his skin lightly. Marco answers with a weak little 'yeah,' his tone all confused. "Mm, let me help with that, 'kay?"

Reaching over to the bedside table, you search the two drawers for lube. It takes an embarrassingly long time to find, but Marco doesn't mention it, instead too focused on touching you. His hands dance across your chest, the curve of your back and a few gropes of your ass. You let him explore, let him pretend like he was in control for just a little longer. Once you finally find a bottle, unopened, you sit back to look down at Marco. "Have you ever been fingered?"

Marco went completely still, muscles tensing before he forced himself to laugh nervously, "Yeah, I have." You nod, smiling reassuringly, and follow up on your previous question by asking if that happened recently or not. Shaking his head, Marco raised a hand to cover his face.

"Don't be shy, okay? I just want to make you feel good, ever since I saw you with your pretty little dress and," you pause to dig your fingers into the flesh of his thighs, "these red fishnets and your gorgeous makeup." Marco groaned at your words, hips jumping at your touch. Mumbling something under his breath—too quiet for you to hear and maybe not even in English (you really wish you practised more Italian)—and pulled at said dress. You helped him tug it up past his chest, marvelling as more skin is revealed and "Fuck me, you have piercings."

There is no chance for Marco to answer, not with how quickly your lips drop to his chest, licking over his nipple and the cold metal. Marco broke off into a keening whine, his nails scrambling at your back with desperation as you suck harder and swirl your tongue around the piercing. "Cazzo!" Marco choked out, pushing at your shoulders. You took the hint, pulling off to stare at him in confusion. "I was about to come." He explained, flushing all the way down to his chest.

You chuckle in surprise, "Damn, you are—"

"—pathetic?—"

"—absolutely incredible." Marco stares at you with a look of surprise. Staring back with just as wide eyes, you silently dare him to argue with you. When he doesn't, you grin and press a kiss to the centre of his chest. "Can I take off your clothes?" Marco responds with a weak yes, his hair shaking along with his movements. You giggled as a stray curl got stuck to his sweaty forehead, bringing a finger to move the strand of hair back behind his ear.

Busying yourself by tugging down the shorts he wore under his dress, you marvelled at the muscles built into Marco's thighs. You hook a finger under the band of the fishnets, snapping the lace against his skin with a slight noise. Deciding to leave them on, you focus on his grey boxers. "You'd look good with matching panties." You comment offhandedly, not expecting Marco to groan loudly, his hips jerking under your touch.

Without any further hesitation, you tug down the last piece of fabric. Marvelling at Marco's flushed dick, you trace a finger over his tip and chuckle as he practically mewls under the brief touch. "I don't want you to touch yourself, can you do that for me?" Met with frantic nodding, you hum under your breath, "I need words, darling."

"Yes, yes, I can do that, please!"

You grin brightly, pouring a considerable amount of lube over your fingers. With your free hand, you spread Marco's legs and began massaging his rim. He stays still, for the most part, only wriggling around as you push a finger in. The flesh gives way easily, your finger sliding in. Pushing at his walls, you begin to push in a second finger gently. Ignoring your desperate movements of grinding into the mattress, you scissor your fingers for a while until the ring of muscle seems relaxed.

Changing your focus from preparing Marco to finding his prostate, you drag a pillow under his ass with your free hand—telling Marco to raise his hips and grinning as he does with no hesitation—the angle making it much easier to push into him. It only takes a few seconds before you find the right spot, and you crook a finger and Marco just moans. Your heart stutters at the loud sound—you find yourself desperate to hear him moan like that again.

So, you push again, massaging at the spongy-textured spot. Each press draws out a moan from Marco, loud enough that you really hope no one is nearby, since only you wanted to be able to hear Marco. Pulling out—Marco cries out, pushing his hips against you desperately—just for a second, you pour a little bit more and push in three fingers. Returning quickly to massaging against his prostate, you return your focus to Marco's face and—

—he's crying. Immediately, you stop, hands stilling. "Marco?" You begin to remove your fingers, trying to swallow down your panic. "Are you okay?" Pulling your fingers completely, you move away from him, tapping his face. Slowly, Marco opens his eyes—you swallow down the spike of shame and pleasure that came from seeing his eyes filled with—gaze, all confused. Slowly, as you move away from him, Marco seems to come back to his mind.

"Why did you stop?" He asked, voice warbling. Slowly, you reach out to touch his cheeks and wipe away the tears. His mouth forms an 'o' shape as he notices the tears. "Oh." Marco seems to be reacting slower—subspace or something like it, you realise—his mouth moving before words made it out. "Good tears. I feel good. I feel so good. Now I feel empty—I don't, please keep going."

"I need to know you can tell me to stop. We should talk about this first, it isn't—"

"—Please, please, I know traffic light system, or I can punch you or something too."

You stay silent for a while, imagining all the different ways that this could go wrong. Still, with Marco's eyes looking at you like that—you couldn't resist Marco. With a sigh, you kiss him on the cheek and whisper, "I'm trusting you, darling."

Within seconds, you are back between his spread legs, fingers back where Marco certainly thought they belonged. It's only seconds before tears are dripping from his eyes, muscles tensing, and cock spurting pre-come. It's only a few more minutes before he orgasms—without any warning—mouth opened in a silent shout of pleasure.

Marco looks like he passed out, so you settle for taking care of yourself. It's stupidly quick, wiggling in the same fingers you used on Marco into your hole and grinding onto his abs. It isn't the most satisfying, but honestly, just seeing how Marco came apart under you.

Then, you busy yourself with cleaning up the mess Marco left—because honestly, it was only him that made it—and you get the chance to explore the house a little. Not so much, you weren't a creep, but you do read the labels on some of the trophies—MotoGP. Leaving a note with your number on it, right next to a cup of water, you leave the apartment to catch a ride home. Although you wished that you could stay the rest of the night, you dedicated that desire to hoping that Marco would send you a message.

[wasabimia]

Lay Me Down

It's a simple assignment, really. Vocal rest. You know it's not that easy for him.

Word Count: 4.3k

Pairing: afab!reader x hozier

Tags: Smut (18+!), sub andrew, mild size kink, piv sex, overstimulation, edging, a bit of hair pulling, creampie <3

Beta by the masterful @pendingnomdeplume

Prompt from @uprightpillar

Req from this anon

Read it on AO3

A simple cough had been what did it. You had told him it was too early to go swimming, the water would be too cold, but he didn't listen. Typical. When he'd come down with a cold, you'd taken your fair share of I told you so, and cared for him the best you could while he coughed his lungs out on the couch. You'd been out when you got the text from him. Vocal rest, he said. Doctor's orders, with an eye roll. It wasn't the first time, but it was certainly more necessary than the last. His voice had been hoarse all day, raspy and often punctuated with a cough each time he spoke a bit too loud. He was no longer sick, but the damage to his throat still lingered.

It was all less than ideal. He had a run of shows coming up soon, a few festivals he'd been looking forward to for some time. There was no choice, he had to recover his voice, and he had to do it quickly. When you finally returned home, a bag of groceries in your hands, he was sprawled out on the couch in the living room, his head on one of the decorative pillows.

"Hi, love," you greeted him with a smile, setting the bag down on the counter.

He laid the book in his hands down onto his chest, still open, and gave you a soft smile. He pointed at you, then moved his thumbs rapidly – 'did you get my text?'

You nodded and sighed, turning away to start emptying the contents of the bag on the counter. "Bummer. How long?" You waited for a reply, before realizing. You spun to face him, to find a smartass smirk on his face. He didn't even have to speak to find a way to be snarky.

He held up three fingers, then flattened his hand and tilted it back and forth.

"Three-ish days?"

He nodded to confirm.

The gears were already turning in your head.

Things were quiet in the house the following days. Air that would normally be filled with your chatting voices was instead punctuated by the occasional bird chirp, the rustle of paper as a page was turned, or the snap of his fingers, if he wanted to get your attention for something. He was mostly able to communicate with you with gestures and looks alone; the two of you had known each other long enough that it felt like half of your communication was mental, anyway.

When he couldn't get his point across that way, he'd text you. Pretty soon, your texts looked like the ramblings of a crazy man. Random things, lines from his book that he wanted to share, whatever was on his mind that he wanted to talk about. It was cute in its own way. Like a very long, nonsensical, convoluted love letter taking place over many hours. He loved you, and he loved to just talk to you, even when he couldn't do so verbally.

It was the end of the second day, and another 24 hours remained before he could speak again. You'd just finished cleaning up from dinner, a task you had to fight to accomplish. He'd insisted on being the one to both cook and clean tonight. He wanted to treat you after you'd spent the last week nursing him back to health while he shivered, sniffled, and coughed. While he'd been successful at physically barricading you from the kitchen, you'd slipped in unnoticed to do the dishes.

You were curled up next to him on the couch, some movie neither of you cared for all that much on the TV. Your head rested on his lap, one of his hands draped across your hip and the other nested in your hair, absently scratching your scalp gently. These moments were your favorite part of being with him. The quiet drone of the movie, the heat of his body, the scent of his cologne that always clung to him and mixed with the detergent you used to wash both of your clothes. Warmth radiated from his body into you, blanketing your senses like a quilt. Normally the silence would be punctuated by his comments about the movie, always about the parts he had no business critiquing, but you loved to hear his complaints anyway.

A tap on your shoulder startled you out of the pleasant daze you'd drifted off into. You looked up at him, and he gave you a smile followed by putting his lips together in a kissy face. You shifted and twisted, pulling yourself off of his lap and onto your knees. He watched you the whole time, putting a hand softly on the back of your head once you were situated. Placing a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, you leaned in, your lips meeting in a slow kiss.

Each kiss was more pleasant than the last. The softness of his lips, the tickle of his beard, the silent sigh he let out when you pulled away, it all had you blushing. You didn't even think about it when you tossed a leg around him, straddling his lap as your hands came up to rest on the sides of his face. His lips were parted, his eyes shifting between your gaze and your lips, waiting impatiently for you to come back for more. And you did, of course you did. Slow, soft kisses gradually turned deep and frantic, and when his tongue slipped against yours, this was suddenly something entirely different.

A look from him was usually a more than sufficient request for sex. He merely had to give you those eyes you'd seen so many times, and you'd let yourself be whisked away to the bedroom. Yet, on the offhand occasion that he wanted you to be in charge, it was a different look. Subtle, but different. And when you pulled back to read his gaze, you saw it there. This look was different. It was a desperate, pleading, begging type of look, so much so that you wondered if you were just imagining it. But when his hands grabbed at the hem of your shirt, his brows tipped up and his mouth parted as if he wanted to speak, you saw it plain as day.

"I dunno, baby," you cooed, responding to his gaze as if he'd asked you the question out loud. "You really should rest that lovely voice of yours." You touched a finger gently to his throat, feeling the muscles there flex as he licked his lips and swallowed.

He brought a hand to his mouth, pinching his index finger and thumb together and running them across his lips. I'll be quiet.

You giggled, tilting your head at him. "Do you really think you can stay silent for me?"

He nodded quickly, placing a hand over yours where it rested on his cheek. The length of his fingers completely covered yours, and for a moment you felt dizzy with lust. He was so much bigger than you, so much stronger, yet he gave himself to you so willingly. On days like this, he would crawl over broken glass if you told him to. His lips formed a single word, one you read easily – please.

Andrew was a vocal man. Half of the time, he would make more noise than you would, and it was one of your favorite things about him. The moans, the whimpers, the breathy whispers of your name, all of it was so him. All of it in that accent you loved, it was enough to drive you crazy. He loved to talk, he loved to make you blush and send butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. It had been torture the last time he'd been on a rest like this, but somewhat alleviated by the fact that he'd been away, and you'd been at home. Now, you were together, and he couldn't make a peep. The idea of it sent a wave of heat through you, prickling your skin and putting a smile on your lips.

He reached for you as you climbed off of him, wanting you to stay right where you were. But he followed quickly when you offered a hand, leading the two of you away to the bedroom with a giggle. You both moved like a well rehearsed dance – your bodies a mess of tangled limbs and flying fabric as you stripped each other bare. Within moments, he was on his back beneath you, his hands holding your hair out of the way while you planted kisses down his neck and to his collarbones.

This sight was a rare one, him splayed out beneath you like this, his hair fanned out on the blankets. What a beautiful sight it was. You could feel the delicate, accelerated thrum of his pulse where your lips met with the veins of his neck. His skin was so warm as you ran your fingers up his chest, tracing along his ribs, the rise and fall of it timed nearly perfectly with your own quick breaths.

"Sit," you told him, pulling back from him and nodding towards the headboard.

He didn't hesitate for a moment, pulling himself back to rest against the mound of pillows in front of the headboard. Everything moved as if in slow motion, your eyes drawn across every muscle and bone, and down the long, soft lines of his body. The scene looked like a painting come to life when he held his hands out to you with a smile, and despite the silence, you could swear you heard him tell you to c'mere.

You crawled up to him, your legs straddling one thigh. He let out a sigh as you settled your weight onto him, running his fingers up through your hair to guide your mouth back to his. Your hips began to glide back and forth of their own accord, his breath catching in his throat as he broke away and looked down to where you'd started grinding against him. Hands settled on your waist, though he knew better than to grab too hard. You were setting the pace.

Your eyes trailed down the length of his chest, down to where his cock rested, already hard and leaking onto his stomach. You trailed a finger along it, watching it twitch, and the involuntary jerk of his hips when you wrapped a hand around him. No matter how many times you found yourself here, it would never fail to give you butterflies.

There was something sacred about this. The lack of noise made it feel much closer, somehow. Rain had started to fall, pattering softly against the windows and darkening the room, now only lit by the bedside lamps. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, still grinding against his thigh, listening to him try to keep his breathing even as you stroked his cock in time with the movement of your hips. It was like quiet music, the rain on the window, his strangled breaths, the quiet whines and moans from your lips.

"You're being so good for me," you whispered into his neck.

Andrew's breaths stopped, his fingers tightening against your waist, his head falling forward to rest on your shoulder. You ran your thumb along the bead of arousal collected at the tip of his cock, the wet sound of it under your fingers so loud in the near-silent room. You were sure if he could speak, he'd be begging to taste you. Feeling the wetness between your legs, soaking his skin, must have been like torture.

"What do you want, baby?" You asked softly, pulling back to look in his eyes, your hips slowing to a lazy grind of your clit on him that made you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

He took a hand from your waist, moving to reach between your legs.

"Ah, love, no." You shook your head, watching the movement of his hand jolt to a stop as he looked at you with that same pleading expression. "I asked what you wanted. I didn't tell you to take it," you corrected.

His teeth clenched and his jaw tight, he set his hand back where it was on your waist, behaving himself.

"You want to touch me?" You asked with a tilt of your head, your voice slow and quiet, every syllable accompanied by the sound of rain on the bedroom windows.

Nodding his head, his eyes darted from your face to the spot where your clit brushed against his leg, ever so slightly out of his sight.

"Good job," you commended, watching the blush spread across his cheeks at the praise, your hand around his cock resuming its movement. "I'd tell you to use your words, but, well…"

His shoulders rattled with silent laughter as he reached down between the two of you. There was an air of desperation to his movements that didn't match the smile on his lips, his hand shaking the slightest bit as he slid a finger into you. It already had you feeling like jelly, the way he flexed his wrist to press the heel of his hand against your clit. A quiet whimper rose to your lips as you fell closer to him once again, your chest against his and your head falling heavy on his shoulder.

Sometimes, in moments like this, it would hit you so hard and heavy, the bliss of it all. The beauty of the man beneath you, his obsession with pleasing you, the quick flutter of his heartbeat beneath your fingers, the distinct sound of his labored breaths. He could find your favorite spots so quickly, like he knew your body inside and out. And he did, you figured, if the many past nights of leisurely, exploratory worship of your body were to count for anything.

You wanted to keep it slow, wanted to draw this out, but the way he was sighing and panting in your ear made that very difficult. It felt so natural as he pulled his hand away, and the way you moved and shifted to place yourself in his lap, the way your fingers guided his cock to slide it through the mess of wetness between your thighs. He looked like he was about ready to snap at the feeling, his fingers wrapped tight around your waist like you were the only tether holding him to the earth. You whispered praises and filth to him as you lowered yourself down, making sure he knew what a good boy he was for being so quiet.

His lip was drawn between his teeth, biting down hard enough to draw blood. Not a sound left him besides little gasps for air as you took him into you. You'd never get used to this – the way his eyes slipped shut, the way his lips parted, the thump on the headboard as his head fell back.

This had to be torture for him.

"You're doing so good," you whispered into the side of his neck. It felt like too much noise would somehow ruin the sanctity of this moment, so you kept your voice low. You sank down the rest of the way, settling in his lap with a roll of your hips. "My good boy."

He looked almost pained when you pulled back to stare into his eyes. His fingers dug into your thighs with crushing force, his nails leaving little crescents in your skin. It would probably bruise, but you didn't mind. You started to move then, lifting your hips just enough, keeping it slow.

If he'd been in charge, he would be holding you in place while he ravaged you. But you barely moved at all, savoring the stretch of him, the way he filled you, the faint pulse of his heartbeat. You draped your arms along his shoulders, one hand working its way up into his hair, the other feeling along the back of his neck. He shivered at the touch, shooting you a look so intense you thought you might burst into flames.

You tangled your fingers deeper into his hair, grabbing a handful of it and pulling gently. In the stillness, you could feel him twitch inside of you in response, a feeling that sent a rush of heat coursing through your veins. "Oh," you breathed. "Did you like that, baby?"

He nodded once, quickly, pulling against your hand still curled in his hair.

"Do you want more of that?" You asked, starting to find a rhythm, the sound of skin on skin filling the air.

Another nod, as his eyes rolled back and his eyelids fluttered closed as you fucked yourself with him. A second tug on his curls had his eyes snapping open again, and he sucked a breath in through clenched teeth. His lips parted, silently mouthing fuck.

You could only hold on for so long until you needed it as badly as he did. Soon, you had your forehead resting against his shoulder, a stream of whimpers and expletives pouring from your mouth, just quiet enough that you could still hear his labored breaths, timed with each bounce of your hips. He was close, you could feel it in the way his hands roamed across your back, the way he pulled you closer, the tightness of his muscles, the pattern of his breathing. He tapped on your shoulder blade with two fingers, with some urgency.

"Are you gonna cum for me, baby?" A vicious grin spread across your lips as you pulled back to watch him. He nodded, his eyes half-lidded and his teeth buried in his lip to keep himself quiet.

Without hesitation or a second thought, you shifted, lifting yourself high on your knees, until he slid out of you. He seemed to be too baffled to react at first, just staring at you with wide eyes, his hands sliding down to your lower back. And then he started to beg – silently. His mouth moved around unspoken words, only a few of which you could catch as you stared down at him, please being chief among them. For a moment he tried to pull you back down, but a disapproving glare made his hands drop to his sides, curling tightly in the sheets in an attempt to control himself.

"Sorry, baby," you giggled. "I just love it so much when you beg." You curled your fingers under his chin, bringing his gaze up to meet yours. "You'll beg for me, right, love?"

He nodded frantically, his mouth forming silent words again.

"I guess I can keep going, if you really need me to."

His fingers clenched harder around the sheets, as he leaned himself closer to you, his breathing frantic and a cacophony of silent pleas forming on his lips.

With a smile so sweet it could make a man sick, you reached back, lined him up, and sank back down onto him. You couldn't help the open-mouthed whimper that left your lips, your eyes fixed on his as he watched the spot where your bodies met. His hands were on you again, pulling you close to him. You allowed it, given the torture you'd be putting him through.

You started to move again, rocking your hips against him in that way that always made him whine. He caught your face in his hands, looking you over for a moment before leaning in for a kiss. It was sloppy, tongues and teeth and lips searching, but it felt right. He pulled away for only a moment, long enough to stare into your eyes with a loving gaze as he mouthed a single word – beautiful.

"You should see yourself," you told him in reply. "So beautiful." You trailed your fingers through his hair, watching him shiver at your light touch. "My pretty boy."

He huffed and buried his face back in your neck, his whole body shuddering in response as your moans ghosted through the air, your breath warm on his ear. Your pace faltered for a moment when he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer and shifting his hips up to meet yours. He wanted control. He wanted to hold you like this until you both came. You let him, for now. His hips pumped frantically, chasing the wave you'd ripped from him, his movements growing jerky and disjointed.

"Stop," you whispered.

Despite his size, despite the way his arms wrapped clean around your body, he relinquished control. He shook, his body trembling with the effort of stilling his movements when he was close, so close. You couldn't help but let a smile creep across your face as you felt him twitching relentlessly inside you, his heartbeat racing, his breathing heavy and quick.

"Good boy."



You'd pushed and pulled him to and from the edge so many times now that you'd lost count. Tears threatened to spill from the corners of his eyes, his dull nails leaving scratches on your back for a change. You had just sank back down onto him once more, and his teeth were now locked tightly around the knuckles of his clenched fist.

"Sweetheart, relax," you teased, knowing he could do nothing of the sort. You brushed a few stray curls from his face, where sweat had stuck them to his skin.

He was less breathing and more panting at this point as he eased his hand from his mouth, instead placing it splayed on your lower back, fingers pressing roughly into the skin. He shook his head, glancing between you and the spot where you were grinding fervently against him. He was close again.

"Need to cum, baby? Already?" You took his face in your hands, seeing the frantic, desperate look in his eyes. "Do you think you've earned it yet?"

He tilted his head in deliberation of your question – he was beyond gone. You were the entire world to him. Nothing existed beyond your voice, the feel of your skin, and where your body welcomed his into it. That glassy-eyed look, that slight upturn at the corners of his lips, it was a sight you didn't get to see often. Only when he relinquished control of himself to you did he slip into this state, where you could ask anything of him and he would comply without a second thought. He shrugged in response to your question, tilting his head towards you. You decide.

You'd overstimulated him beyond his breaking point, edging him beyond what he would have thought he was capable of. He wanted to beg you to stop, but he wished this would go on forever, all the same. You'd had to hold yourself back, knowing that if you came like this, it'd send him over the edge, too.

"I think you've earned it," you cooed, letting him pull you in close again.

His teeth latched on to your shoulder, and his hips started to buck, his breathing ragged and uneven. He bit down harder when you dropped a hand between your bodies, your fingers working sloppy circles into your clit.

"Cum for me, baby," you whispered.

He was a mess. He pulled in little sips of air between his teeth on your shoulder, holding you so tight you thought he might break you in half if he squeezed any harder. But you let him, riding him through it. To keep fully quiet was impossible for him in that moment. He let out a near silent whimper as his hips slowed, and you felt that familiar pulse and rush of warmth as he spilled into you.

You weren't far behind him, those tiny, barely-contained sounds driving you crazy. Only a few more rolls of your hips and you were crying out his name, your fingers clenched tightly onto whatever parts of him you could reach.

Both of you struggled to catch your breath, your bodies relaxing slowly. His teeth left your shoulder, his fingers dropped back down to your shaking thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck, just holding him, letting him tremble with the aftershocks. Little praises drifted from your lips: you're okay, you did so good, I've got you. He came out of it in some time, his eyes still glassy and his movements jerky as he pulled you back to look at you.

Getting out of his lap was its own challenge. Your thighs were screaming, your knees feeling like they wanted to shatter, even your ankles hurt, somehow. When you finally managed to stand, you did so on wobbly legs and sore hips, waving away his silent laughs as you staggered off to the bathroom.

Later, in the mirror, you admired the lines on your back, red and raw, marked by his nails. There was already a bruise forming just above your collarbone, too, the mark of his teeth still in your skin. He caught your reflection from the hallway, a sheepish smile on his face.

Sorry, he mouthed, leaning his spent and half-limp body against the door frame.

You shrugged, slipping on the sleep shirt you'd grabbed from the closet. "It's alright. I like how it looks," you told him, walking over to where he stood and wrapping your arms around his waist. "I might as well just fuck you next time," you said with a giggle.

He didn't reply at first. Certainly not quickly enough that he wasn't thinking about it. When he did attempt a reply, he gestured wildly, nonsensical movements with his hands, not saying no but also not saying yes. He gave up after a moment, looking down at you with flushed cheeks and looking like he wished he could disappear.

"We'll come back to that one later," you said with a squeeze.

[wasabimia]

WDBWOTV

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⋆｡°✩₊ °✦ ‧ ‧ ₊ ˚✧₊ °✦

[wasabimia]

so appreciative of a simple gesture 🖤 my precious man 🖤

[wasabimia]

hi

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unknown / nth is insane. the song that says "I swam a lake of fire, I'd have walked across the floor of any sea, Ignored the vastness between all that can be seen" also says sha la la

[wasabimia]

Maladaptive deeply held belief: nobody could ever love me. Im going to die alone

Positive counterthought: maybe someone has an exceptionally rare form of mental illness that would cause them to make the grave mistake of wanting to fuck me

[wasabimia]

Back with another spin this wheel ✨Hozier song poll✨(we're out of inspiration again so we might be delayed on the next one)

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I just fw dudes who do the half up half down thing so hard

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people call hozier “forest daddy” “bog father” “fae king” but this is what his fridge looked like in 2013 :) he really is just Some Guy and i love him to bits

[wasabimia]

Kitten and Eddie Bear

Part one Part two Part three Part four

EM x reader (self insert y/n)

18+ !!! Eddie corrupts innocent! reader.

Mood Board here

Your mom, self-absorbed, youth-chasing woman that she is has a subscription to every women’s magazine under the Sun. But, as soon as she’s done with them, you snatch them. You love looking at the runway fashions, makeup trends from Europe, what music is new and upcoming. But what’s usually the most interesting is her Cosmopolitan magazines.

This month’s issue in particular had a bubble on the front reading “Do it like the Brazilians do!”. You’d never really been a fan of body hair but it never crossed your mind to shave your bikini line. And no guy had ever been down there so you couldn’t get their opinion. So you flip to the article and start reading. Two Brazilian sisters in New York opened a salon where they wax you completely bald! There’s some advice and instructions on how to remove the hair at home, safely and with smooth results. So you headed to the shower, grabbed your razor, lots of shaving cream and got to work.

As you step out of your en-suite bathroom, the steam billows into your bedroom and you strain your eyes to look at your bedside clock. 6:45, almost time for yours and Eddie’s movie night. You and your best friend Eddie have movie nights a lot, especially when you’re going to have the house to yourself like tonight. As you dry off, you lather up your freshly shaved body in marshmallow scented lotion. You slip into your comfiest shorts and a matching cardigan, buttoning all it’s buttons except the top one, your dainty gold necklaces peeking out. Out of the corner of your eye you see your white rabbit scurrying around his lavish oversized cage. Gotta grab his dinner when I go downstairs.

“I’m heading out sweetie” your mom knocks at the door. You glide over and pop it open with a smile. “Ok mom, have fun!” You look her over. Little black dress and hair done up to the heavens. Surely going to a singles bar hoping to meet another divorcee. “Thanks doll, tell Eddie I say hi, there’s leftover chicken in the fridge or I left cash for pizza!” She says with a quick hug and she’s running down the stairs, out the door, already late for happy hour.

You straighten up your room, tossing throw pillows and stuffed animals off your bed into a pile, except for the teddy bear that Eddie won you at the fair last summer. You lower the thermostat to keep it nice and cold, throwing a fuzzy blanket over your comforter to use if you need to. You light Eddie’s favorite candle and leave the lighter close by in case he decides to light up a joint mid movie which he usually does.

A half hour later you hear Country Girl by Black Sabbath blasting down your street, getting louder until it reaches your driveway. You run downstairs to the door, excited to see Eddie, watching him cut the engine and swing open his van’s door through your front door’s peephole. He saunters up, popping a piece of gum in his mouth and twirling his keys around his finger as he raps his knuckles on the big wooden door.

You open up and his head whips to face you, not expecting you to be at the door so soon. His eyes widen as he smiles at you. His eyes trail down the length of you then back up before giving you a playful “hey kitten”. You giggle at his silly nickname for you “come in” you say, standing slightly behind the door to give him some room. He brushes past you, grazing your arm with his leather sleeve. You shut the door behind you and jump into his arms. “Oh! heh heh. someone’s in a good mood” he says, squeezing and lifting you into a tight hug. “Just happy t’see you” you say with a smile. “I’m happy to see you too y/n, it’s been a whole 4 hours since school ended” he laughs, setting you down with a rub to your back.

“Oh gotta grab some food for mr.whiskers before I go back up, go ahead and get comfortable” you tell him. “That thing’s still alive?” Eddie asks sarcastically. You roll your eyes “yesss Eddie, he’s not a thing and he’s still alive!” You say with a pout. He laughs his way up your stairs, already feeling at home as he smells his favorite eucalyptus candle burning. He shimmys off his jacket, laying it on your desk chair. He walks over to your rabbit’s cage and wiggles two fingers in through the bars, “hey furball” he teases “ow!” He yells pulling back when mr.whiskers takes a peck at his finger. “Little white jerk” he mumbles, walking away. His eyes land on the magazines spread around your desk. Such thoughtful reading material he thinks with an eye roll, laughing at how girly and naïve you are. His two favorite things about you if he’s being honest.

He sees a pink nail file sticking out of one like a bookmark. He flips it open, and can’t believe what he sees. A colorful cartoon rendering of a vagina, spread open with two fingers, a razor in the other hand. His eyes widen as he skims the article, ladies talking about shaving or waxing all of their public hair off. Eddie’s never heard of such a thing. Or seen such a thing. In person or in Playboy. Even the girls in his dirty magazines aren’t completely bald, usually having a strip or some kind of symbol shaved in. But he likes the thought of this. He thinks about you, Is she going to shave it all off? What if she already has? He wonders, feeling bad for thinking about his innocent best friend like that. Not that he doesn’t find his mind wandering to the thought of you often. When he’s home alone in his room. Or standing in the shower. Usually his boner resting in his hand. He can’t help but pull up pictures of you from in his mind while his eyes close and his hand starts pumping.

His thoughts stop and he drops the magazine, shuffling it back to where he found it when he hears the wooden stairs creaking. “Did you yell? Did something happen?” You say as you enter your room, bowl of lettuce and veggies in one hand, large bowl of popcorn full of Reese’s pieces in the other. “The fucker bit me” Eddie scolds, shooting your bunny a glare. “Aww are you ok?” You rush over to him, putting the bowl of veggies down in mr.whiskers cage then taking Eddie’s hand in yours. You examine his middle finger and see nothing. You roll your eyes and look at him “there’s nothing there you big baby” “yeah well it still hurt” he says softly, his puppy dog eyes glittering as they catch the soft light of your lamp. Your heart warms and you feel the corners of your mouth curling up. You bring Eddie’s finger to your cherry chapstick covered lips and plant a soft kiss. “No not there, here.” He says rolling his finger slightly to show you the other side. You shake your head and kiss his finger again with a laugh.

“You know why he bites you? Cause he knows you don’t like him! He can feel your vibe” “oh can he? Can he feel my vibe?” He laughs. “Whatever just pick the movie Eds!” You say with a laugh as you bring the popcorn over to the bed. He watches as your soft shorts ride up your thighs, your ass jiggling with every step you took until you plop down, manicured finger plucking a popcorn and bringing it to your pouty mouth.

Eddie decided on A Nightmare on Elm Street. He’s leaning against your headboard, his black skinny jean covered legs spread out in front of him. You feel more comfortable laying on your stomach, closer to the tv, chin resting on your palm. You’ve never been as aware of your vagina before right now, feeling the fabric of your shorts rubbing against the smooth skin, the seam pulling up between your lips. Eddie almost can’t concentrate on his favorite movie because of how much you’re squirming around. Your ass is by his mid thigh, the bottom of your cheeks peeking out under the shadow of your shorts. Every time you shift your hips, it jiggles and Eddie tried, he tried not to stare but his willpower isn’t that strong. He stopped watching the movie and watched as you lifted your ass up and back down, the shorts riding up your core, the edges of your pussy lips just barely visible. He felt his jeans starting to pull tightly in his lap.

He was snapped back to reality when you blurted out “ohhh it’s my favorite part, Johnny Depp!” Eddie looked up and rolled his eyes at the pretty boy in his crop top. He feels his blood go hot and cold at the same time as he watches you stare at him, giddy smile on your face. She WOULD like a guy like that. he thought, shaking his head. Your squirming continued, legs parting a bit, exposing your fabric covered mound. Eddie watched as a small wet spot formed at your core while you watched your little crush. He picked up your teddy bear and threw it at the tv. “I’m glad he dies” “hey don’t toss Eddie Bear!” You turn on your side and look at him, mouth agape, eyebrows furrowed. He laughs and says “when did you name it that?” You shrug, slightly embarrassed, “after you won it for me” you say meekly. “Aww kitten,” he scoots closer to you, one knee bent on the bed, the other leg hanging off the side. “That’s so cute. I wouldn’t have thrown him if I knew that.” You smile at him, loving when he uses his soft voice with you.

You turn your attention back to the movie. Eddie looks down at his lap, boner becoming more and more of a distraction as each second ticks by. He figures now’s his chance. He rests his hand on the back of your thigh, rubbing lightly. You let him, not saying anything. Nothing out of the ordinary, he touches you all the time, even gives you massages sometimes. His hand wanders further up, snaking in towards your inner thigh. He can feel the warmth radiating from your covered mound and his mouth begins to water. The tips of his fingers tickle at the crease between your thigh and your pussy.

“Eddie Bear? Why are you doing that?” You ask flatly, still watching the movie. “Just look so pretty from back here.” He says, both hands come up to rest on your ass, pushing the cheeks up slightly to watch them recoil back. “You’re very wiggly tonight. Everything ok?” He presses a thumb to your clothed pussy and begins to swipe up and down. You jolt up and look over your shoulder at him. “Eddie dontcha think touching me there is… wrong? Friends don’t touch each other like that.” Your breath hitches at the end of your sentence, feeling his fingers tickle over your pussy. “Sometimes they do..” he says lowly, his breathing getting heavier. He hooks a finger in the fabric over your pussy and pulls it to the side to reveal exactly what he was hoping for. All smooth, puffy and pink glistening in the soft light of your room. His breath leaves his lungs at the beautiful sight. “Besides, if you think this is so wrong,” he runs his forefinger up your slick folds, “why are you so wet kitten?” You moan and drop your head back down into your bed, as you roll your hips. “So fuckin soft. Bet you taste so sweet” he says sucking air in through gritted teeth. You hear him suck his finger and you turn around, laying on your back and leaning up on your elbows.

His eyes drink you in, slowly trailing down your face, down your neck, over your collarbone, down to your chest. Your nipples are poking through your soft white cardigan, not bothering to wear a bra while you’re sitting around your room. Your face gets hot as you watch him staring at your breasts, your nipples getting even stiffer as you feel goosebumps pop up all over your body. He leans forward, slinking to your end of the bed, head rested on one hand while the other slides down the front of your shorts to continue feeling your soft wetness.

Your head falls back as your breath begins to pick up, pussy feeling warmer and wetter than it ever has. “You like when I pet you there pretty girl?” “Mhm” you moan, biting your lip. “I wanna hear those pretty purrs come out of you kitten” his eyes shifting intensely between the two of yours. His fingers travel farther down, cold metal rings biting at your sensitive skin. The tip of his finger circles around your wet entrance then slides back up and rubs roughly at your clit. His eyes fall back to your chest as it rises and falls with your shallow breaths.

“Y’know, it drives me crazy when you don’t wear a bra” your eyebrows knit together,

“like it makes you mad?” “No” he shakes his head, furrowing his brows, “well…” he tilts his head, eyes flicking back up to yours. “I don’t like thinking about other guys looking at you… but no, I’m not mad at you kitten” his hand slides up out of your shorts to the bottom of your cardigan, unbuttoning the bottom button. You groan softly at the loss of his touch. Eddie wants to punish you, make you feel guilty for ever going out looking like this, how dare you let anyone else see your body besides him. The jealousy he’s feeling only makes his hard-on throb more. But he knows this is a delicate situation, that you’re delicate. Next time, he thinks, if this time doesn’t make you hate him. He looks up at you as his hand hovers over the second button, waiting to see how you react. You stare at him for a moment before softly nodding and he goes back to undoing your buttons, pausing when he gets to the final one. He takes a deep breath before popping it open, your breasts springing free.

He wastes no time, first hand returning to your waistband and shoving down as he leans up to hover over you and guide one of your boobs into his mouth with his other hand. His eyes are closed as he swirls his velvety tongue around your pert nipple, his warm breath coming out of his nose in bursts. “S’fucking perfect”, he says letting your nipple fall from his mouth, “I knew these tits were perfect, god” he kisses the valley between your breasts as he makes his way to your other boob, popping that one into his mouth too. “Eddie bear” you moan “feels so good” he hums, “yeah baby?” His fingers circle faster over your clit now, almost vibrating “how’s that?” Your moans get louder as you feel a tight cramping feeling in your stomach, toes curling and mind going blank. His assault on your clit never waivers as he pushes you further to the edge.

You get nervous when you feel all your muscles tense up, “Eddie wait wait” you whimper grabbing his forearm. Your weak pleas only make Eddie crazier, “Shh shh s’okay baby you’re fine” he says reassuringly, his chin resting on your stomach as he stares into your eyes, kissing your belly button before returning his gaze to you. You feel safe looking at him, letting your body completely melt into the feeling of him. The tight coil building in your stomach finally snaps and you cry out, eyes getting glassy with tears.

Eddie smiles as he sits up and reaches both hands to your cheeks, brown eyes practically black with desire. “So proud of you kitten, you did so good” he kisses you longingly, softly and slips his tongue into your mouth, letting it massage yours. As your lips part you stare at him in shock. “What baby?” He looks worried. “You’ve never kissed me before” you whisper. He huffs out a laugh, “I’ve wanted to for a while.”

[wasabimia]

Desperately needed to have this on my blog

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I think the hot new trends for this summer should be reading comprehension and critical thinking skills