lacedwithmsg - Tumblr blog

lacedwithmsg · 9 days ago

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omfg, wtf wtf wtf wtf I didn't know I needed this but now I feel like I've been doused with the horny equivalent of holy water wtf this is so good

❄︎ 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 ❄︎

❄︎ 𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍 (𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽!)

❄︎ 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾!𝗒𝗎𝗆𝖺&𝖿𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 (𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗎)

❄︎ 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗒𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂c, 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒, 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗐/ 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗍𝗌, 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗂-𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗀𝗅𝖾

❄︎ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 𝗍𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗒/𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇/𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅, 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒 & 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍: 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 (𝖿&𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀), 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗌𝖾𝗑 (𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽), 𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼/𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗂-𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝖾𝗑 (𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅), 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾-𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 + 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾, 𝗌𝖾𝗑𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇

❄︎ 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇: 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗋. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀. 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗋, 𝗒𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗅, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒’𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉.

❄︎ 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 7218

❄︎ 𝗆.𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍!

"everytime you try to forget who i am

i'll be right there to remind you again"

it was always a bad idea. coming over to their dorm late at night. laughing too easily. leaving your perfume on their clothes and your gloss on their mugs.

you knew what you were doing.

they weren’t just your friends. weren’t just your labelmates. fuma was warm hands and soft teasing, the one who pulled you into his lap when the others weren’t looking. yuma was sharper, more protective. more intense. the way he watched you was never casual. not once.

and you? you liked the attention.

you liked the way they never said it out loud, but they both started getting weird when you were around. territorial. tense. competing in ways they didn’t used to. you liked feeling wanted. you just didn’t expect them to snap. it starts with something simple.

a practice session. a dance cover collab you’re filming with another group’s main dancer. he’s a little flirty. not serious, just teasing. he lifts you during a spin and makes some comment about how you’re lighter than he thought.

you laugh. no big deal. until you look toward the door. yuma is there. and he doesn’t look amused. his stare is so hard it steals the smile from your face. you blink once, and he’s already walking off without a word. then it’s fuma who finds you first. back at the dorm. his arms crossed, jaw tight.

f: “you like playing games?”

you blink. you’re in his t-shirt. borrowed weeks ago and never returned, and you’ve just stepped out of the bathroom, towel over your shoulder.

y: “you should let her speak for herself.”

yuma’s voice comes from the kitchen. slow. steady. calculated. you freeze. they’re both here. again. it always ends like this. you caught between them. like you’re something they have to take from each other. you take a step back, suddenly uneasy.

you: “i’m not doing this right now.”

you try to move. fuma blocks the hallway. his hand hits the wall beside your head, eyes locked on yours.

f: “you are.”

you: “get out of my way.”

f: “you wearing my shirt and letting some random put his hands on you isn’t innocent. don’t act like you don’t know what that looks like.”

you: “so what, i’m not allowed to work with other people?”

yuma moves behind you. slow. deliberate. you feel his presence before he touches you, but the brush of his fingers on your wrist still makes your breath catch.

y: “you could’ve said no. to him touching you.”

fuma smirks, but there’s no humor in it.

f: “maybe she liked it.”

your mouth opens. nothing comes out. the air is thick. choking. fuma leans closer.

f: “did you?”

you: “...you’re both insane.”

you push past them. yuma lets you go. fuma doesn’t. his hand wraps around your arm, not too hard, not soft either. your heart jumps.

f: “you’re not leaving.”

you: “fuma-”

yuma cuts in, voice low.

y: “don’t make her run.”

you whirl around.

you: “i’m not yours. either of you.”

yuma laughs. one bitter breath.

y: “but you want to be.”

your stomach flips.

you: “you’re full of shit.”

fuma’s hand doesn’t move.

f: “then why’d you come here?”

you: “because i thought- i don’t know. i thought we were friends.”

they both laugh at that. yuma steps in. crowding your space. his eyes on yours, full of that simmering tension you always pretended not to feel.

y: “you don’t treat friends like this.”

he gestures to your body. to the t-shirt that doesn’t belong to you. to your lips still pink from the gloss you applied twenty minutes ago. to your bare legs.

f: “you dress like that and think we’re just friends?”

you: “you let me borrow this bro!”

y: “you knew what it would do to us.”

you: “do to you? i didn’t make you act this way.”

you try to step back. yuma grabs your waist. fuma still has your wrist. you’re stuck between them. it’s overwhelming—their warmth, their anger, the possessiveness radiating from both like heat off a flame.

f: “you think it’s cute? letting us get like this?”

y: “you don’t get to walk out. not until we’re done.”

you: “done what? accusing me of shit that isn’t true?”

you try to break free again. this time, yuma pulls you hard against him. your back hits his chest. he holds you there, arms wrapped tight, chin grazing your shoulder. you inhale sharply. his breath is warm on your neck.

y: “you wanna run because you know.”

fuma steps forward. he’s close enough now that your knees knock together. his hand ghosts up your thigh, slow and deliberate, not touching. not yet, but close enough to burn.

f: “you like the attention. you just don’t want to admit it.”

your heart is a mess in your chest. part of you wants to scream. another part, the worse part, likes this. being wanted. being fought over. being the center of their obsession.

you: “i never said i was yours.”

yuma’s grip tightens.

y: “don’t make me say it again.”

you: “say what?”

y: “that you belong to someone.”

your lips part, but the words don’t come. fuma watches you, eyes sharp, hand still hovering near your skin.

f: “you need us to say it out loud?”

you swallow hard.

f: “fine.”

he leans in. his hand cups your jaw, tilting your face toward him. yuma doesn’t move, doesn’t stop him. he’s holding you still so fuma can touch.

f: “you belong to us.”

his lips brush yours. not a kiss. a threat. a promise. you’re not sure. yuma’s lips ghost along your neck.

y: “stop pretending you don’t love it.”

you hate that he’s right.

you: “this isn’t fair.”

f: “neither is you making us want something you were never planning to give.”

yuma turns your face toward him. his lips are close. too close.

y: “so pick. now.”

you freeze. wide-eyed. heart in your throat. they both stare at you. daring you. waiting.

you: “i... i can’t.”

fuma steps back. finally. but his eyes don’t leave yours.

f: “then don’t expect us to wait.”

he turns and disappears into the bedroom. the door slams shut. you’re still trapped in yuma’s arms.

y: “you knew this would happen.”

you: “i didn’t-”

y: “yeah. you did.”

he finally lets go. you stumble back, shaking. you think he’s about to follow fuma, but he stops in the hallway. looks at you one more time.

y: “we’re not your fucking toys.”

you: “then stop playing.”

the door clicks shut behind him. you’re left in the hallway. alone. finally. but your heartbeat is still racing. your body still remembers their hands. and you know this isn’t over.

it’s past midnight when you knock on their door again.

you know you shouldn’t be here. not after the way they looked at you. not after what they said. but something in you needs closure, or maybe punishment. you’re not sure anymore. the door creaks open. it’s fuma. he stares at you like he knew you’d come crawling back.

f: “so which one of us were you here for?”

you open your mouth. nothing comes out. then yuma’s voice cuts through the apartment.

y: “she’s not here to choose.”

you flinch. he’s already walking over, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. his stare cuts right through you.

y: “she’s here because she needs it.”

you don’t deny it. fuma lets you in without another word. the door closes behind you, and everything feels heavier. darker.

you: “this isn’t-”

yuma’s already in front of you. his fingers tilt your chin up.

y: “don’t lie.”

you: “i just…”

fuma moves behind you. his hands brush your hips, sliding under the borrowed shirt that still hangs off your frame. he pulls it up slowly, exposing inch after inch of skin until you're bare underneath.

f: “you come to our place with no bra, no panties, and expect us to believe you didn’t want this?”

your breath stutters. fuma’s lips find the back of your neck, while yuma leans in and brushes his mouth over yours, not kissing. just hovering. testing.

you: “i didn’t mean for it to get this far.”

y: “you should’ve thought of that before you started playing both sides.”

his hand slides down, gripping your thigh. fuma’s pushing your shirt off completely now, letting it fall to the floor.

f: “you wanted both of us.”

y: “you’ll take both of us.”

you gasp as fuma lifts you up easily, hands under your thighs, carrying you straight to the couch. yuma follows. they don’t even talk. they just move in sync, like they’ve been waiting for this moment for too long.

fuma lays you out on the cushions, climbing over you. he drops to his knees between your legs, spreading them slowly with hands that are far too patient for how hungry his eyes are.

f: “look at her. she’s soaked.”

yuma pins your wrists above your head with one hand, pressing his forehead to yours.

y: “don’t pretend. not anymore.”

fuma’s mouth moves over your inner thigh, soft at first. then rougher, biting into skin that makes you twitch.

f: “you want my mouth or not?”

you: “f-fuma..”

y: “use your words.”

you: “yes. please.”

he doesn’t wait. fuma buries his tongue in you like he’s starving. messy, greedy, groaning into you while his hands lock your thighs in place. you arch off the couch, but yuma holds you down easily, watching every twitch, every moan, like it’s confirmation.

y: “you’ll never be able to take another man after this.”

you whimper as fuma sucks hard on your clit, tongue flicking fast while your whole body shakes. the buildup is insane. too fast. too much.

you: “g-gon-”

yuma cuts you off, smirking.

y: “cum for him, baby.”

you do. hard. clenching, twitching, legs trembling around fuma’s face as he licks you through it. before you can catch your breath, yuma is already pushing down his sweats, cock hard and leaking. he leans over you, sliding two fingers into your mouth.

y: “wet them.”

you do without hesitation, still dazed. your body feels weightless. yuma pulls them out and slides them between your legs, pressing inside slowly.

f: “already stretched and still tight. fuck.”

you: “yum- plea- i want-”

y: “you want?”

his tone is dangerous.

y: “say it.”

you: “i want you to fuck me. both of you.”

fuma swears under his breath, eyes dark as sin. yuma looks like he might lose it. he lines up his cock and pushes in slowly. too slowly, watching your face twist in pleasure and pain as he fills you inch by inch.

y: “mine first.”

fuma doesn’t argue this time. he sits back, stroking himself slowly while he watches you squirm under yuma’s thrusts. yuma is rough. hips snapping forward, one hand still gripping your wrists, the other wrapped tight around your throat. you’re a mess beneath him, panting, whimpering, legs spread wide and trembling. fuma moves in again. this time he straddles your chest, cock hard and leaking.

f: “open your mouth.”

you obey. he slides in, groaning low as your lips wrap around him. yuma thrusts harder.

y: “look at you. greedy fucking girl. couldn’t choose, so you took us both.”

fuma’s cock hits the back of your throat, and you gag around it, tears slipping down your cheeks.

f: “fuck, that’s it. take it.”

your whole body is pulsing. stretched full, used, wanted. and you love it. your second orgasm builds fast. your core tightening around yuma as his thrusts go brutal.

y: “cum. now.”

your vision whites out as your body collapses into wave after wave of release. fuma cums next, spilling into your mouth with a hiss of your name, his hands tangled in your hair. yuma isn’t far behind. burying himself deep with a final growl before emptying inside you.

the room goes still. the only sound is your ragged breath. you’re shaking. fucked-out. raw. they pull out slowly. fumbling for blankets. wiping you down with more care than you expected. fuma curls beside you. yuma presses into your other side. no words. just hands. hands that won’t let you go.

you swore it wouldn’t happen again.

you told yourself it was a one-time thing. one night of giving in, letting your body say yes when your brain screamed no. when they touched you like they owned you, at the same time, and made it impossible to pretend you weren’t in deep.

but now you’re standing in a crowed room. the launch party is packed.

you’re in a backless dress, floor-length, fitted, black. one of the stylists picked it. not that it matters now, fuma’s eyes haven’t left you since you walked in. and yuma hasn’t spoken to anyone else.

you try to move through the crowd like you’re normal. like you’re not still wearing the heat of their last touch on your skin. like you don’t know what happens if you look at either of them for too long.

but you feel it. the burn of it. the moment someone leans in too close. one of the male staff laughing, complimenting your dress, brushing your wrist a little too casually. you feel it before you see it. the presence at your back.

y: “you having fun?”

his voice is quiet. but it cuts through you like a knife. you turn, pulse spiking.

you: “we’re in public.”

yuma’s smile is thin. dangerous.

y: “that didn’t answer my question.”

fuma appears beside him, glass in hand. not smiling.

f: “you like being watched?”

you: “stop it.”

fuma’s fingers slide down your arm.

f: “you’re not wearing a bra.”

you: “so?”

y: “you’re ours.”

you: “i’m still a person.”

f: “you stopped being just a person when we fucked you together in our living room.”

you: “keep your voice down.”

f: “make us.”

you don’t know how you end up in the stairwell. you think it’s fear. you think it’s need. but it’s mostly this. yuma’s hand dragging you by the wrist, fuma locking the door behind you, the sound of music and laughter muffled just outside.

they’re on you fast. fuma grabs your throat and pushes you against the wall. yuma’s hands are already under your dress.

you: “you can’t- here- someone could-”

yuma bites your shoulder hard.

y: “then be quiet.”

you’re not even wearing panties. you knew what you were doing. fuma pulls the dress down, exposing your chest to the cold air. he leans in.

f: “who made you drip like this?”

you: “stop.."

yuma drops to his knees. he doesn’t wait. he spreads your legs with both hands, shoves your thigh over his shoulder, and devours you. your moan is choked off by fuma’s palm slamming over your mouth.

f: “someone’s coming.”

you hear heels on the concrete outside. your whole body tightens. fuma presses closer, hand still over your lips, body shielding you from the light. yuma’s tongue doesn’t stop. in fact, it gets worse. deeper. hungrier. cruel. your hips jerk as he sucks your clit hard enough to make your knees buckle. fuma leans down.

f: “don’t cum.”

you: “mmph-”

he smiles.

f: “i said don’t.”

you try. you really try. but your body betrays you. you cum anyway, shaking, full-body, fists clenching as yuma licks you through it like he’s proud of ruining you. the footsteps fade. fuma lets you breathe again.

you: “you’re insane.”

f: “you fucking love it.”

yuma stands. his lips are shiny. his eyes are black.

y: “turn around.”

you hesitate. fuma grabs your hair and spins you, pressing your chest against the wall.

f: “you’re going to take both of us again.”

you: “no- someone will s-”

yuma’s already pushing his cock into you from behind. slow at first, then harder. you cry out. fuma muffles the sound with his hand again. fuma unzips, jerks himself once, and shoves his cock between your lips. it’s filthy. it’s fast. it’s so wrong.

but you’re dripping down your thighs and clenching around yuma like your body knows exactly who it belongs to. fuma fucks your mouth slow, stroking your jaw.

f: “you missed this, didn’t you?”

you: “mmf-”

yuma growls behind you.

y: “say you missed it.”

you pull off fuma’s cock long enough to gasp it out.

you: “i missed it..”

yuma slaps your ass hard. fuma grabs your chin, shoving himself back in. you lose track of time. you lose track of everything but their hands, their voices, the way they fill you up and stretch you out and claim you over and over. you’re so close again.

y: “cum on my cock. now.”

you do. loud and desperate, walls clenching as yuma fucks you through it. fuma groans and finishes across your chest. yuma follows seconds later, emptying himself inside you with a broken curse. you’re panting. ruined.

your legs can barely hold you up. fuma wipes you down quickly with a handkerchief from his jacket. yuma helps adjust your dress. you look at them. still breathless, still raw.

you: “you could’ve gotten me fired.”

yuma steps in.

y: “we would’ve made you ours full-time.”

fuma smiles, low and dark.

f: “you think we’d let you go after this?”

they glance at each other. then back at you.

y: “you’re not going anywhere.”

f: “ever.”

#recs #bro #i need more #help??

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lacedwithmsg · 18 days ago

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yuma showing all the light sticks he gathered to jo at the end is the cutest chaotic good thing I've ever witnessed.

run run wild!

#he looks so happy #and giddy #love him so much

86 notes · View notes

lacedwithmsg · 19 days ago

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they're so pretty and adorable and squishy and smiley and giggly I love them omg

(9neuk)

#pretty babies #&team has my whole heart #look at then #im crying

194 notes · View notes

lacedwithmsg · 19 days ago

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what do u think yuma would be like as a boyfriend ? 👀👀👀👀

tags: afab reader, yuma is teasing fluffball but also loves to fuck your brains out warning tags: cursing, degradation, public sex? length: 1.1k words note from author: i think about this daily and i'm so happy i finally get to word vomit about this without being worried whether this reads well or not lmao. thank you for the ask!

fluff -

i think he'd be a tease and would relish in the way you'd react. every time you respond to his teasing, he'd only be encouraged to do it more often.

would definitely nudge you away when you try to initiate skinship or hugs but eventually admits defeat and curls into you (that recent harua and yuma clip ahem). quietly screams 'yamero' when you crawl up on him for cuddles but secretly loves having you all over him.

as much as he says he doesn't like skinship, will often plant his face onto your shoulder and into your neck from behind, usually when he's just woken up or has just come home from a long, tiring day. if you happen to be sitting, will put his arms over your shoulders and dig his nose into your hair. will stay there for a while, softly swaying your body along with his.

smirks whenever your collarbone or shoulder is exposed from under your shirt (his shirts that you repossessed). would frequently dip his hand under the bottom of your shirt to rest his warm palms on your hips, waist, lower back, or ass (if he feelin' extra touchy). caresses your skin so softly it tickles sometimes.

he always smells good. he's not too into perfumes and fragrances but he has a regular go-to scent rotation. his soft, luscious locks also need active attention and care so he regularly uses hair serums and oils (that smell incredible).

his voice is pretty, no one would ever argue against that, but his voice when he's in bed, next to you, halfway between asleep and awake? actual heaven. you don't think you've ever heard anyone so pretty, husky, and sweet at the same time. you wouldn't be surprised if you woke up one day and his drool turned into real honey. oh and yeah, baby drools a little when he's really tired. poor kitten.

would share his accessories with you— be it earrings, necklaces, glasses, all of it's yours to try on and wear out. would feel so giddy whenever he sees you with one of his earrings and appear next to you in a blink of an eye to tease (and fawn over) you.

loves watching movies and shows with you on the couch or in bed cuddled together under a blanket and pillows. would prepare snacks for both of you to munch on but neither of you would bother for refills if they ran out midway through just because both of you are lazy couch potatoes.

bites you. that's it. he bites you just barely enough to leave an indentation but never enough to break skin. his favorite spot to do so is either your ear or right underneath it, behind your jaw. it kinda surprised you the first time he did it but you quickly fell in love with how soft his lips were and how warm his breath felt against your skin. licks all the spots he's bitten afterwards.

smut under the cut

smut -

his one and only goal in bed is to make you as loud as possible. doesn't matter if he's topping or bottom. will do whatever's in his ability to make you moan, sob, scream, and whimper progressively louder the longer you two have at it.

he bites and nips you everywhere. your boobs, stomach, thighs, neck— anywhere his mouth can reach, it's probably already been bitten at least once.

rests his tongue flat on your clit without moving it just to tease you. he wants to devour you just as much as you want him to but he'd never give up the chance to rile you up a little first. would kiss down your body and purposely avoid your nipples, loving the sound of your whines and the way your body pushes itself against his in hopes of receiving more attention.

the baby likes choking. giving and receiving. he'd crawl his hand up slowly before wrapping his fingers around your throat, his hips already performing at a punishing pace into your cunt. his other hand probably gripped tightly onto your hip, pulling your body down to match his thrusts. when you're on top of him, he holds your hips with both hands, helping you bounce on his cock while you feel the soft but damp and sweaty skin of his neck before clawing at it softly with your fingers, your nails slightly digging into his skin. afterwards, both of your necks probably have red, finger-shaped marks to a certain degree.

his eyes are so pretty. and when he gives you that pointed look (yk which one I'm talking about. the one where he angles his head down a little and stares at you with his pretty kitty eyes.), you instantly fall apart under his gaze. you'd let him do whatever he wanted to you. this look usually made its appearance when you'd come home later than usual or if you hadn't responded to his messages. and this look is usually paired with him bending you over the counter and fucking you mindless on the cool, marble tile. would mark up your ass, too. squeezes your ass cheeks relentlessly as he's ramming into your from behind. spreads them open with his large hands sometimes to get a better view of his dick tearing into your pussy.

your pretty, little pussy. if he didn't have a dick, his mouth would be latched onto your cunt 24/7. from the back, the front, hell, from the side even, he'd eat you out like a man starved. once his tongue was in you, it'd stay in there for at least an entire hour. all whilst you progressively lose all strength and stability in your knees as he holds you up against a wall, sometimes in front of a mirror so you could watch yourself unravel from his touch. his lips are so plump and red after, tasting yourself on him when you inevitably give in to the urge and slam your lips on his.

loves, LOVES fucking you somewhere risky. gets off on your muffled moans when you hear someone walk by, during which he'd slow his thrusts down to stay quiet but would compensate by ramming into you so hard and deep you saw stars every time he pushed his dick back inside you. mutters the filthiest curses and words of degradation into your ear. "you like that, huh?" "you're so wet already." "fuck, you're so tight." "better be quiet, love. wouldn't want people finding out you're a slut for my dick." "did you just clench from that?" "my dirty little cum slut." would later walk out of the closet with you like nothing happened, his dick still wet from your slick.

on days when he was extra horny, he'd make you finger yourself while he watched, leaning back and stroking his own dick. right before he came, he'd push his dick into you and give you a couple thrusts before painting your insides white with his cum.

author's notes: I believe I've gone a little off the deep end with this one. just wanted to reply to the ask with a couple paragraphs but look at where we're at now... am still working on other pieces btw, so stay tuned!

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lacedwithmsg · 20 days ago

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submissive pretty yuma waltzes his way into my thoughts every now and then and i don't complain...

doing shibari on yuma.. (aka tying him up)

yuma looks so pretty with intricate rope designs on him!! taking your time getting the knots just right and ignoring the way he's getting progressively more turned on. you finish the design and step back, taking him in. your gaze makes him feel hot but he loves to be the center of attention, especially yours. he tries to act sweet and pretty, hoping it'll get you to touch him quicker, but you're set on taking your time with him today. he'd look pretty especially with two (nsfw image link), leaving access to trail your hands across his nipples & cock but never giving him enough to satisfy him.

yuma is mouthy, but the second you finish tying him up, the feeling of how restricted he is causes the act to drop immediately. he's the sweetest sub ever when he fully submits, making the cutest, soft sound. he loves the feeling of vibrators, and being tied up while you use them on him heightens his pleasure. he's easily pliant that way, agreeing to the words falling from your mouth, dirty promises to make sure he's all emptied out by the end of the night.

#shibari yuma go crazy #just imagine him #with his pouty lips #pretty eyes #im gonna cry #recs

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lacedwithmsg · 20 days ago

Text

moisturized | nakakita yuma | fluff, crack

tags: fluff, crack, afab reader, menstruating!reader, tease!yuma, little fucking bitch!yuma if you ask me warning tags: none, except lots of cursing(by reader) length: ~900 words note from author: wrote this sum bitch in one sitting in bed on my phone. yeah you read right, a fucking menace, that's what I am. jk. no but I actually did forget to put on my lip mask and wrote this up instead of going to get it. priorities, people.

You're in bed. Flat on your back like a sad, deflated pancake that's been left out on the table for too long. The bottom half of your body is tucked snugly under your blanket. You head is resting comfortably, or at least as comfortable as you can get in your current state, on a pillow. You're pretty much all ready for bed.

Yuma is on his phone next to you, similarly tucked in under the blanket, back perched on a slightly raised pillow, and ready to go to bed. His sweater pajamas look beyond comfortable, the soft fabric probably feeling like a cloud on his skin. He's focused on whatever's on his phone, not noticing the way you're staring blankly up at the ceiling.

Then it hits you. Dawns on you. You're not done. You can't go to bed. You know why? You haven't put on your sleeping lip mask yet. Now, to anyone else, this may not sound nearly as bad as you're making it sound, but for you, this was end-of-the-world levels of bad. For someone who needs to count the number of steps they take to get to the bathroom every morning to make sure it's the same number every day, this felt like undershooting the A+ by half a percent, felt like a door with a faulty lock creeping open after you were certain you pulled it shut, or, to put it simply, felt really fucking bad and there was no way you could go to bed now that you had attained this knowledge.

But, on the other hand, you feel so fucking comfortable right now— not to mention the raging cramps ravishing at your insides. Yes, you so happen to be on your god forsaken period as well. You really are in between a rock and a hard place.

Wait. But then, you turn to your side again and suddenly, you're crafting up the most intricate, complex, and well thought-out plan known to man.

"Yuma?"

"Mhm?"

"I'm in bed right now."

"Yeah?"

"Next to you."

"Uh huh."

"And I'm really comfy."

"Okay."

"And cozy."

"Good for y-"

"And I really don't wanna move."

"Wait-"

"But I forgot something really important."

He lets out a dramatic sigh, despite already putting his phone down in preparation to get up. "What is it?"

You pause for a moment.

He asks again. "Hmm? Whaddya forget?"

It's time. You bust out the prettiest, soft girl, puppy eyes along with the smallest, cutest pout you could muster and mumble," I forgot to put on my lip mask."

You see the color drain from his face, along with any and all desire he may have had to help you. He grabs his phone from where he placed it down earlier.

"Yumaaaa," you plead. "Pleaseeeeee?"

"No."

"But my lips will be dry."

"Drink water."

"It's not enough, though."

"What makes you say that?"

He caught you there. "Okay it's hard to explain but pleaseeeeee. I'd go get it myself but my cramps hurt too bad right now."

He puts his phone down again and turns to you. "You are in bed."

"Yes."

"And so am I."

"Yes."

"Next to you."

"Mhm hmm," you don't know where he's going with this.

"Also tucked under the same blanket you're under."

"Uh huh."

"But you want me to go grab your lip mask becau-"

"Because my cramps hur-"

"Hurt too bad right now. Is that right?"

"Yes..."

Now it's his turn to pause. You see it, in his eyes. He's thinking about something and you're absolutely certain that 'something' is not him getting up to go fetch your lip mask.

"You don't want dry lips, right?"

You nod slowly.

"So all I have to do is help you get them moisturized, right?"

"Uh huh-"

He leans in and takes your, admittedly not even dry, lips in his.

This motherfucker.

You go wide-eyed for a moment, unable to withstand the degree of audacity flowing out of the man in front of you.

But then admittedly, his lips are so soft. And warm. And sweet. Why the fuck do they taste sweet? It doesn't matter, you don't have enough time to ponder anyway since you're already closing your eyes and drifting into that state of bliss that comes over you every time Yuma decides to slot his lips so snugly against yours.

You curse him out in your head. Then you lean deeper into him. This dichotomy of man was so jarring it could put all fanfiction writers to shame.

Just when you thought you were free from his lips and were returning from kiss-induced blissland, it seems the devil himself has possessed your boyfriend as he fiendishly starts leaving small licks all across your lips. What. The. Fuck. Is what you think in your head but in person all you really manage to get out is a slurred delivery of his name.

"There." He pulls away. "Moisturized."

This motherfucker. You're in love with him. God forbid you're going to let him have that over you right now, though, so all you do is glare at him through your lidded eyes and your lips still pink, plump, and pursed.

He chuckles and grabs his phone.

author's notes: this lil brat, amirite? (I need his lips on mine right this instant.) am working on other pieces right now as well but decided to release this one in the meantime. hope you enjoyed! have a good day!

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