#▒ ❛ i love your light ❜ 「self/promotions. 」

[mutalune]

hey siri how do I stop feeling gutwrenchingly anxious in the guilt way for using the treatment methods available to me to not be in constant misery

[solannecontinuum]

Oh! Would you look at that. eyes emoji.

HERE IT IS, EVERYONE! My newsletter blog post for the end of APRIL! We got lots of things to share, including a MAJOR MCS Paracosm piece, A HYLICS Illustration Series, some special Sky projects in the works, and MORE! This one is packed!

If you're interested, feel free to follow my newsletter blog! It updates on a monthly basis, towards the end of each month. ^0^

[cosycafune]

RELENTLESS CONQUEROR

1.5k words. you’re not supposed to give in; that’s your first mistake. confessing to a man that’s notorious for deals is only going to screw you over. but, having him between your thighs, ruining you, makes you forget about sylus’ nature.

acts: multiple creampies, slight choking, rough sex, teasing, corruption kink, breeding kink, crying, orgasms, missionary, light sadistic tendencies, pet names, overstimulation, size difference, big cock, hickeys and potentially more.

a/n: there's only so much I can write for him. I love him.

RUINED, that’s what you are. The moment you revealed your love for Sylus, he couldn’t help but grasp you – sexually reforming you. As a confession fleed from your lips, his usually stoic demeanour faltered. Faltered with cockiness that you knew would be your demise.

Perhaps that was why you’re here right now? Pulverised, stuffed immensely with his colossal cock? Tears streamed from your wavering eyes, paving you into gasping, moaning and writhing as he thrusts inhumanely within you. All forms of coherency fled from you, leaving you a trembling, jolting mess – mushy at Sylus’ precise cock ruining.

Your gummy walls engulf him, completely overwhelmed and claimed. Tears stream down your cheeks while Sylus cloudily meets your eyes, taking you in missionary. To him, he had to memorise you in your rawest form. Rawest form as your large breasts bounce, your pursed lips stammer crazily, and your throat bubbling with his name.

“Sylus! Ah!” You hazily moan, barely capable of holding his sculpted back – lazily attempting to clutch the ridges of Sylus’ abs.

“Fuck! Say… you love me, Sweetie,” Authoritatively pleading, Sylus’ carmineeyes admire your prisoned self — fuelled by lustful adrenaline.

“Ngh! I-I…love you, Sy’,” Moaning, whining obediently, you arch abnormally – completely conquered by Sylus’ cock thrusting its deepest within you.

“A-Again,” Cloudily commanding you, Sylus picks up his extremely swift pace – in love with the addictive warmth that flows from your needy cunt.

“Yes! I…Ah! Love…you,” Flustered, you're barely able to speak – mentally consumed by Sylus grunting within your ear.

“Look at…you, sweetie,” So close to crumbling, you grow extremely close to finishing – longing for Sylus to inform you that he loves you.

Positioned upon his ample, seclusive bed, you glimpse into his eyes. A whisper of vulnerability holds them, leading to you guiding your trembling hand to settle upon his cheek. Even as your small hand is entwined with his own, his toned hips primal, marking you with his fruitful cock, Sylus listened to every essence of you.

It’s as if he preyed on your vulnerability, posing himself to watch your crumbled expressions worship his cock. With each lick of sweat upon you, each gasp, moan and plead for more, you knew Sylus basked within it. No, you knew he had estimated how long it’d take for you to break your intimate barriers for him. Innately, guided by fate, you knew he was mentally intrigued by how swiftly you admitted your love. Admitted your love to be beneath him, overpowered by his veiny cock, consistently cumming and faltering.

“‘Need…more,” Pleading, moulded to accommodate Sylus eternally, you grow obedient.

The obedience you display sculpts Sylus into a hazardous state, boyishly grinning before he maintains intense eye contact. Wealthy with your clinginess, Sylus increases the skin slapping in the room, watching your eyes impossibly roll back, your brain mushed at how stupidly good he fucked you. Sylus is proud and consumed by how someone as stubborn and naive as you handle him. Handle his devilish cock, going an unstable amount of sexual rounds. 

Seeing you, someone promoted as untouchable, detesting his presence, sexually succumbing to him – begging – heightened Sylus’ ego. Taunting you, he can’t help but stop his addicted cock – looking down at the ego-shattering mess of you. If you knew what you looked like, pouty, messy, flaunting glassy eyes for him, he knew you’d be unable to redeem yourself.

“S-So…near,” Breathless, you choppily hurl your pointless words, “D-Don’t…stop.” Clenching drastically around Sylus’ cock, you lovingly press your lips against his own – listening to his air-less breaths.

“When you…kiss me like that.” Lulled by you, Sylus is incapable of resisting – relishing the intimate warmth your kiss promotes.

Sombrely, you both had kissed in disadvantaged circumstances. Obstacles engulfed you both each time. So, sacrificing your honour, and giving Sylus genuine affection, warmed him immensely. Having you, knowing you were once discontent with him, flares Sylus’ primal instincts. A surge of desperation writes his fate, paving him into gifting you a deep thrust – greeting the sexual spots you love heavily.

“I…love you,” Subconsciously speaking, you gasp with each thrust – revealing each mental card you hold. Your poker face had crumpled, leaving behind your purest love for Sylus.

“Mhm,” Sylus mutters, feeling you frantically clench around him – unable to compose yourself. You’re so close to faltering, cumming all over his pulsating cock – but your subconsciousness wants to hear him return your words.

“Do…you?” Teary, faintly questioning Sylus, you greet his rolling eyes – noticing his firmness increasing within you.

“Hm–” As Sylus readies himself to speak, you mewl, too overwhelmed by the macaroni-imitating sounds, the wicked skin slapping and the emotion-heavy atmosphere.

Breathing heavily beneath him, attempting to pry Sylus away, so close to finishing, you sink further into the bedsheets. Spewing tears, your eyes close, your lips draw apart further and your back arches. Even caged, presented with limited freedom, you impulsively gather might. Using your might, you claw at Sylus’ back, your dainty hands barely covering the surface of his manly back.

“Ah! Sylus!” Freeing yourself, you clamp around his pulsating cock – finishing intensely. Your willpower shredded itself, surrendering you to Sylus entirely.

“Finished?” Teasing you, Sylus sharpens his pounding – decimating your overstimulated pussy. Even as your adorable cum decorates his manly cock, he can’t help but continue – bounded by the feeling of you.

“G-Good,” Mentally misplaced, you respond to his fuzzy voice – noticing the Sylus’ eager bucking.

To you, you could sense he longed for more. Each one of his thrusts was becoming a little sloppy, paired with his heavy breathing. Sylus is dripping with sweat, admiring a sleepy you – burying himself his deepest within you. He knew you struggled to take his thickness, but easing you through it was the best thing he had ever done. It represents the subconscious trust you carry for him, revealing your nude vulnerability and your guarded heart.

“L-Let…me,” Pussy-stricken, Sylus stutters – consumed by the tingling warmth that cuddles his whole physique. However, he still has adorable, crimson ears. Ears you’d always tease.

Nodding, you lazily wrap your burly legs around Sylus’ abdomen – desperate to immortally seize him. Nothing in you wanted to release his closeness, to protect your future. Everything within you wanted to keep him here, have him cum in you so many times, uncaring if you end up pregnant. All you wanted was everything of him, no matter how much love bit you – putting you in overwhelming situations.

Sacrificing yourself, you feel Sylus grow increasingly aggressive and more possessive. Animalistically, he brings his hand to settle around your neck – moaning, grunting and growling at the submissive scenery of you. Sylus goes his absolute hardest, turned on by your overstimulated self. Just seeing you, croakily moaning, completely broken into, churned his heart. 

You’re all his now, something he won’t forfeit. Even as you subconsciously cry, your jiggly breasts bouncing, your squelching pussy wanting more, Sylus can’t bring himself to release you. He knows you want all of his thick, fruitful buckets of semen, but he wanted to taunt you a little bit. Even if it renders him into painful, yet beautiful, pleasure, he doesn’t care. Depriving you, corrupting you, it was what he loved most. As if he’d give you his cum right now, filling you up to listen to you purr with satisfaction.

“‘Can’t…resist,” Admiring your hickey-scattered self, Sylus cries out with angst – his abdomen a crazed mess as he intensely cums inside of you.

Happily, Sylus stuffed you like a twinkie bar – overstuffing you with his spilling seed. As you arch at his extremely intense release, Sylus softly increases the pressure on your neck – remaining his deepest within you. Whilst you’re laying beneath him, a sticky and sweaty mess, he lets his cock kiss your cervix once more – shooting out his last cum spurts. Marking you made him gleeful, leaving you with a belly full of him.

He did not care that you’re ovulating, right now.

“You…did good, sweetie,” Exhausted, pulling out, Sylus breathlessly praises you – looking into your fluttering eyes. He could see the conflict that stirred within your glassy eyes.

“Y-Yeah, but,” Doubtful, you stop speaking – feeling him alter his physique. Sylus slowly settled you upon his chest, giving a nude you the sound of his rumbling heartbeat.

“Speak,” Doused with curiosity, Sylus’ low, scruffy tone forces you to answer. His authority’s off the charts, knowing you’re vulnerable now.

“You never said it,” Physically drained, you respond to him – meekly shying away at his intimidating demeanour.

“That I love you, sweetie?” Sylus’ almost conclusive question causes your stomach to inhabit butterflies.

You didn’t even care that you could get pregnant or anything that could happen.

“Yeah,” Meek, you reply to an attentive him – listening to Sylus’ heartbeat rise erratically. 

You did that.

“I love you, sweetie,” Embedded with truth, Sylus reassures you – plastering a gentle kiss upon your temple.

Gentleness adheres to you, causing you to cave into his hold. Listening to him speak so sincerely, riddled with the art of love, completely consumed you. Heartiness adheres to you, pushing you into relishing Sylus’ presence. Even if love bites, you can’t help but relish Sylus’ presence – rendered love-stricken.

Weirdly, you didn’t want to resist the bites of love. Naturally, you pledge to embrace them – especially since they came from Sylus.

—

do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024. read more.

[jyoongim]

Just found you and read all your Alastor fics. Love them! My request is jealous fucking with breeding. But the jealousy comes on because of Lucifer. Luci comes to visit the hotel and causally makes a sweet comment to reader but as soon as he notices that it pisses off Al, Lucifer just goes all in offer to buy readers soul and free her just to piss off Al until reader and Charlie have to break them up before they fight. Then comes in the breeding, so everyone knows your his as if him owning your soul wasn’t enough

Oh I appreciate it so much! I hope you enjoy it around these parts and I am happy you enjoy my writing!

Warnings: fem!reader, jealous!Alastor, flirting, Lucifer riling up Alastor, rough sex, breeding kink, pregnancy mentioned

The hotel was in an uproar over the King of Hell's impending visit.

Charlie was a nervous wreck and you were doing everything to make sure that the hotel was somewhat presentable and that everyone was well behaved.

”Now just be your charming self and make sure to help promote the purpose of the hotel for Charlie” you said fixing Alastor’s bow tie. He smiled down at you, waving his hand dismissively “Oh don’t worry my dear Ill be the perfect host. There’s nothing to worry about”

Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell…was not what you had expected.

You could see where Charlie got her flare from.

He was looking around the lobby, taking in the interior and the residents. You didn’t miss the way his face scrunched up a bit.

”And here are our lovely hotel managers dad” Charlie said, turning towards you and Alastor.

You smiled, giving him a slight curtesy “Its a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty, I hope that you enjoy your time here at the hotel” 

Lucifer dawned a sultry smile, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips. Kissing it.

”The pleasure is all mine”

Alastor growled, stepping between the two of you. He gave a tense smile “Pleased to meet you sir” he slapped your hand out of his and took it to shake. Lucifer blinked, a slight frown on his face “and you would be?” A snort escaped the red demon 

“Alastor! Im the host of the hotel. Maybe you’ve heard of my radio broadcast?” Lucifer deadpanned “nah never was one to consume media” he shrugged.

He slipped by to your side, looping an arm around you “Now I’m sure you wouldn’t mind giving me a tour hmmm? Show me all of the more intimate parts” he chortled, as you nervously turned to Alastor.

Alastor's smile was tense and his eye was twitching slightly.

Irritated and annoyed.

Lucifer seemed to pick up on that.

He eyed the lanky demon, before cooing at you “oh don’t tell me you need the bellhop’s permission? ”

oh no. The lights flickered.

You cleared your throat “I would be honored your grace,but Alastor knows the hotel better than I. He can show you around” you offered, making the King groan.

Charlie chirped in “Yes yes. Alastor has been a great help. Well shall we?”

The tour went without any mishap. Alastor had you tucked away into his side as Charlie gave a run through of what she was trying to achieve.

Charlie suggested dinner before her dad left, to give him a little convincing to help.

You bustled about the kitchen, setting everyone’s meal down and making your way to sit by Alastor.

A hand grabbed your wrist, you stiffened as Lucifer gave you a charming smile “why not sit by me. Charlie has told of some of the improvements you think would work for the hotel”

You heard a static buzz as you took a seat by him.

You listened quietly as Charlie went on and on about her plans.

Lucifer had been not so subtly subtly flirting with you the entire dinner.

”Well I will think about it Charlie. I do believe your dream is possible” She smiled happily. he turned his eyes to you

”Especially with such lovely help” you blushed.

He seemed more interested in you.

”sooo what’s your deal with that guy” he was referring to Alastor

you tilted your head in question, he clarified his intention

”I mean he own your soul or something? A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be tied to the likes of him. how about I nullify whatever deal you made and you take you under my wing instead”

You looked at him shocked.

The sound of glass breaking sounded and Alastor shook his hand of the liquid once in the glass

He chuckled darkly “Well I am afraid it is late, wouldn’t you agree dearest?” His eyes narrowed on the man as he stood, coming around to stand behind you.

His eyes were black and glowing red as he practically sneered at the King.

Lucifer was unfazed by the intimidation tactic.

”haha what I strike a nerve? You’ve got this amazing beauty on a leash and for what? Im sure shell do much better being tied to you” 

Before Alastor could lunge at the man, you stood up and pressed yourself against him as you heard Charlie grab her dad to pull him away. 

Your hands reached for his face, turning his enraged eyes to you.

You shook your head at him slightly. You know when someone wa just trying to ruffle his feathers.

”I am feeling quite tired from today’s activities why don’t we turn in for the night yes?” You pleaded with him, softly pushing him back towards to door.

Large hands gripped your waist as his turned his eyes back towards Lucifer, he hissed lowly before whisking you out of the kitchen and to your shared bedroom.

———————————————————————————

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.

You whined at a harsh thrust that jolted your body against the silky sheets.

The room was buzzing with static as Alastor fucked into you.

Green chains hung heavy around your collar as Alastor pulled on them to pull you into his thrusts.

He was pissed.

His usual composed and controlled demeanor slipping the moment he slammed the door.

He had taken you against the door roughly, too pent up to let you get a single word out.

He had thrown you onto the bed after, a dark aura surrounding him as his antlers grew with the angry emotions swirling inside him.

“Ah! Ha! A-Alastor!” You moaned as another orgasm racked through you.

He twisted your chains around his arm as he used them as leverage to drill his dick into you.

“Who do he think he is?” He growled, pushing your head into the mattress 

“Thinking he can just take you from me…ME?! You are mine”

You let out a cry as he ruined your walls, balls slapping against your cunt.

“You wouldn’t leave my side would you sweetheart” he hissed down at you, turning your head so you could see him.

”Who would want you after I ruin you hmm? You would be nothing but sloppy seconds.” He regraded you, angry at the very thought of you thinking you could terminate your deal with him.

Your deal with Alastor was nothing too extreme. Your complete devotion to him for his protection.

While he might not admit it, Alastor had grown accustomed to you being by his side, able to help him see reason and take on tasks he found too mundane.

You were like his wife in a sense. 

Soft and caring, always doing whatever he asked of you.

You never complained, happily fulfilling your duties to a tee.

And some goofy, short king thinks you would leave your benefactor?

Had he not given you anything you ever wanted?

You were the most free soul he had, that was a privilege.

Your cunt squelched as he pulled out, the tip kissing your outer lips as he stilled in his rough fucking.

You panted, clammy sweat sticking to your body as he tugged at your chains.

You were on your back, thighs spread around his waist.

A hand wrapped around your throat, Alastor leaning down to press a surprise soft kiss to your forehead

”You wouldn’t dare leave me would you baby” he cocked his head at you.

You shook your head quickly, hoping that he had blew off enough steam to finally be reasonable.

But Alastor’s jealousy was ugly.

He wouldn’t be done with you until there was nothing you thought about but him.

He should be what plagues your thoughts.

You should crave him by the time he was done.

He slotted back inside you, making you gasp as he returned to his fast pace.

”Leave me for that sorry excuse of a king? Ha! You wouldn’t. No not my pretty girl. Youre my good girl aren’t you?”

You mewled as you watch him transform.

”I-Im your good girl Ah! Pl-please!” Your eyes clenched closed in pleasure.

”Youre mine. You understand that? I own you. Your every thought. Every feeling. Your body, mind, and soul are mine. You gave them to me oh so happy. I can do whatever I please with you. Ruin you and dump you off into the street like a common whore if I wished”

You whimpered at his words.

”But thats not enough is it? Hmmm? Noooo. Youre not mine” he purred.

you pouted, ready to reassure him that you were, in fact, his.

He lifted one of your legs to your chest, angling his hips down

”Ill make sure every disrespectful wretch knows you are mine. Fir it seems my constant presence isn’t enough”

Your cunt fluttered.

How else would….

His dick hit that sweet spot deep inside you

”Oh! Ah!” His hand on your neck tightened as a sharp smile appeared on his face

”So maybe putting a claim to you will do the trick”

Your mouth shaped into an ‘O’ as he fucked you roughly, hips grinding down as if to make you mold to his very shape.

Sinners couldn’t reproduce.

Right?

that was your last coherent thought as he slammed his hips into yours over and over til he sighed, his dick twitching as he filled you with his cum.

You whined as he gave soft thrusts to keep his cum inside you, purring as it spilled around him, pooling around your ass.

You whined when he pulled out, hearing a soft ‘pop’ as you clenched around nothing.

A hand settled on your lower belly, now full of his cum, Alastor grinned wicked “Let’s see how much the pipsqueak will want you now my dear” he chuckled.

———————————————————————————

“Its nice to see you again sir” you said welcoming the King of Hell inside the hotel.

He smiled and once he got a good look at you, it fell.

”Charlie will be down in a second do you need anything?” You asked sweetly, hand resting on your swollen belly.

He stuttered out a response in surprise “O-oh w-why thank you. I take it you’ve been well”

Alastor manifested behind you, grinning at the short monarch, his arm roping around your waist, hand settling on the side of your stomach “Ah yes! We’ve been busy. Im sure you can tell”

Alastor- 2

Lucifer- 0

[sugrhigh]

CANT SLEEP - ( c.s )

REQUESTED**

summary- chris stumbles across your instagram late at night, unable to contain himself from participating in some self pleasure. but when he accidentally likes an old post, things get even steamier.

warnings- onlyfans!reader x subby-ish!chris, phone (?) sex, pretty much smut with a little plot don’t say i didn’t warn you

a/n: say you can’t sleep, baby i know! she’s working late but she’s definitely not a singer! anyways i hope you guys didn’t forget about me and enjoy this little fic. and thank you to the non who requested! (if you hate it im so sorry)

fucking instagram.

chris has a love-hate relationship with social media; it feels annoyingly formal considering the fame, but he’s also mutuals with lots of beautiful women because of it.

so it’s admittedly fun to scroll through the app once he’s alone in his room for the night, just like he is now, tapping his thumb to leave a like on the posts that really catch his eye.

and then a suggestion pops up on his feed, a tempting picture from someone completely different: you.

it’s a newer photo, from a day ago. you’re on the beach somewhere in the caribbean, trendy sunglasses perched on your head, covered only by a skimpy orange bikini.

all dressed up in his favorite color, just by coincidence.

he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, exhaling a long breath out his nose as he analyzes further.

you’re laid out on your stomach by the ocean, ass fully on display as you prop yourself up on your elbows. it only presses your cleavage further together, an entirely mouthwatering sight. the lighting makes your eyes light up, mysterious smile frozen on your face.

call me on my shellphone.

chris smirks slightly at your caption, mainly because he actually does want to hit you up. but instead he clicks on your profile, intent on learning more.

his eyes widen slightly at your following; he can’t believe he’s never seen or heard of you before this. your email is in your bio, along with the pleasant surprise that you’re based in LA. then he sees the only fans link pasted underneath.

and as much as chris wants to click it, he won’t. at least, not yet. so he returns to your public posts, scrolling to find even more enticing photos.

there’s one of you in bed, hair fanned out around you, a suggestive finger between your teeth. you’re promoting a lingerie website, dressed in a sexy red set that leaves very little to the imagination.

then a picture of you leaning over the side of a pool, water beading on the slope of your back as you look down the lense, plush lips parted in faux-surprise.

he’s getting far too excited, and before he knows it he’s palming himself through his pants, admiring all of the revealing angles and outfits. chris finds himself thanking all of the companies sponsoring you.

a moment later he lands on a photo that quite literally leaves him breathless. you’re on your knees, bent over a little vanity stool with your legs spread wide apart. you’re glancing back at the camera, clothed pussy practically begging to escape the tiny blue thong covering it.

he’s applying pressure to his shaft in bursts now, teasing himself as his hips chase his fingers. it’s only when he glances back at his phone that he realizes he’s accidentally liked the post, from over four months ago. he was too focused on the movement of one hand that he forgot about the other.

his cheeks redden immediately, frozen in embarrassment as he yanks his hand away from his lap. he’s not sure what to do, and (un)luckily enough, you’ve already seen that he’s stalking.

when you check the notification you’re surprised, in the middle of your regular scroll now that you’re back in your room for the night. you’re still at a resort in the bahamas, enjoying a much-needed vacation (though you’re still occasionally working).

but looking at chris sturniolo’s big verified account in your likes, on a post from a while ago nonetheless, gets you a little excited. it surprises you, him being on your page, though you’ve always been a bit of a fan.

you click on his profile, going right to his messages since you already follow him. you’re mostly motivated by the fact that you’re buzzing off a few fruity drinks, so you type out two letters and hit send.

hi

the dm comes through his phone a second later. it’s just a simple little word, but chris grows even more sheepish at the fact that you did in fact see his little slip up.

he bites down on the inside of his cheek, unsure of whether or not he should respond. but he’s already in too deep, and he doesn’t want to act like a complete loser to you. so he uses he taps the keyboard.

hey

when you see that he’s answered, you feel yourself get a little bit giddy. you were really hoping you wouldn’t scare him away, and the fact that he’s rising to the challenge impresses you.

nice to see you in my likes

i’m quite the fan

chris’s heart quite literally skips a beat. you’re toying with him, but he also gets the sense that you like it, that you want more. he’s still ridiculously horny, and actually talking to you isn’t helping, but he doesn’t care.

i think i might be a bigger fan of you

it’s far bolder than he normally gets, especially online, and he kind of likes it way more than expected. you can feel your body heating up at his response, rolling over onto your stomach on top of the plush comforter.

your teeth clamp down on your bottom lip, gnawing on it as you consider what you want to say. you don’t want to be too forward, but it’s also the name of the game.

cute :)

what were you doing on my account this late at night christopher

he swears his face can’t get any more red. he instinctively looks at his lap, at his still-hard dick, and he decides that honesty might be the best policy.

lurking

because you turn me on

you fully smile now, happy that he’s continuing to match your energy. it’s impossible to ignore the way you’re throbbing now, imagining all of the dirty ways this conversation could go, so you keep it up.

oh really now

what’re you thinking about hmm

you, in my bed

in my hands

wish i could feel them right now

View Photo

here, specifically ;)

the photo notification sends his heart beating out of control, and his curious finger taps it open without hesitation. it’s a photo of your bare chest, perky tits exposed to the camera, shirt bunched up by your collarbone. your mouth is parted just a bit, and chris audibly sucks in a breath.

he’s already slipped his hand back into his sweats, really stroking his dick this time. he’s so fucking hot and bothered at this point that he’s sensitive as hell, and spreading his own wetness only adds to the effect.

holy shit

want my tongue all over you

chris is fumbling around with the keyboard, toying with himself as he continues the conversation because he never wants it to end.

you don’t want it to either, considering nobody has ever really piqued your interest like chris has. you’re practically dripping from the conversation, already soaking your thin silk shorts.

but at the end of the day this is still your job, and you can’t give everything away for free.

you should video chat me rn

link is in my bio x

and perhaps you underestimated him, because you get a notification a minute later that someone has requested a private video chat, which is insanely expensive to do because of your recent growth.

you know it’s chris, even though his username was definitely randomly generated. but people don’t pay frequently enough for it to be anyone else, so you open the app and initiate the call.

chris nearly crawls out of his skin when his phone starts buzzing, even though he was expecting it. he has no idea why he did this because he’s absolutely terrified, but the need took over and he had to really see you.

and now he is.

the call connects and you pop up, laid back against your pillows with your phone propped up on something he can’t see. you’re already topless, and a moan slips past his lips before he can help it.

“hey there.” you purr, smiling slightly from his little noise.

“fuck, even your voice is sexy.” he groans, bucking into his hand without a second thought.

it just feels so good, and having you on the phone is making it harder and harder for him to slow down. he doesn’t even care how obvious he’s being; why hide it now?

“aw, touching yourself already? how needy, i was hoping you’d wait for me.” you tease, one hand trailing from your neck to your breasts as you speak.

chris takes note of this, breath hitching as he watches you slide your fingers lower. you toy with the waistband of your tiny pajama pants, pulling them down so slowly that it makes him weak.

and then you spread your legs, fully revealing yourself now in the dim lighting from a lamp that’s somewhere out of sight. his mouth hangs open, pupils blown out in pure lust.

“god, i wish i could taste that pretty pussy right now.”

it slips out naturally, which amazes him because he’s never been very confident when it comes to dirty talk. but you bring it out of him.

and the least you can say is that you fucking love it. a sigh passes your lips as your fingers slide over your slit, enjoying his facial expressions as he strokes his own cock.

“mm, i just know your mouth would feel so good,” you praise, yearning for more of him in a way that forces you to continue, “let me see you, baby. wanna watch you get off with me.”

chris’s cheeks flush slightly at the request, but he would do just about anything you asked at this point, so he blindly adjusts his camera angle. now you can see that he’s got his sweats pushed down, shirt resting above his happy trail, dick in one hand while he holds his phone in the other.

“fuck, you’d fill me up perfectly too.” you tell him truthfully, applying more pressure to your clit in fast circles at the sight.

he whimpers as he pumps even faster, spurred on by your words and your actions. he ogles as one hand teases your nipples, simultaneously plunging the other into your cunt.

that’s when chris finally hears a moan slip past your lips, and he swears he’s in heaven.

“shittt.” you slur, driving your two fingers deep into your entrance over and over, wishing they were chris’s instead.

“so fuckin sexy, m’not gonna be able to last much longer.” he compliments, even though he’s barely able to string the sentence together.

not that there would be any right words to describe the way he’s feeling. this is not at all how he thought his day was going to turn out, but it has to be the best turn it could’ve taken. his muscles are tightening, and the familiar pit in his stomach is growing.

“keep going. want you to come for me, pretty boy.” your voice is sultry and strained as you build your own orgasm up, clenching around your own hand as you curl them inside yourself expertly.

chris throws his head back, biting down hard on his lip to contain the primal growl crawling up his throat.

the pet name is just the nail in the coffin. his dick twitches and he knows he’s only a few strokes away from finishing, so he draws it out of himself in a way that allows him to relish the feeling.

the sight of him unraveling makes your head spin, and the rubber band in your own stomach suddenly snaps. you’re a shuddering mess, riding your orgasm out as you whine his name.

usually you’re careful to not let yourself get too into it, never falling deep enough in the fantasy. but then again, it’s not every day that a guy like chris ends up in your likes.

it’s unfamiliar territory for each of you in different way, but at the same time neither of you want this to be the last time you interact. his chest heaves, and you take a brief moment of silence to catch your breath.

“wow, that was…” he trails off, because he has no idea what to say now.

“yeah,” you nod, sly smile lighting your features up, “i think you’re my new favorite customer.”

-

@fawnchives @l9vesick @55sturn @luverboychris @teapartyprincess4two @pinksturniolo @mattinside @stonermattsgf @inkyray @impureals @chrisactualwife @snowysosturn @fikefries @riasturns @beccaluvschris @realuvrrr @mattstromboli @pepsiboyy @gdsvhtwa @ginswife @ivonchetooo1239 @julescameronmf @autsturni @beach4life @mattspolitank @cupidsword @mattssturnz @anonymouslyachrisgirl @aflairforthedramattic @literallyjustrue @p1nkm6tter @vschrissturn @mattsturniolox @bigbeefybitch @tpwktahlz @goldengrapejuice @cherrybombpopcs @hrtz4alex2211 @sturnsjtop @slutformeganfox @katw4shereee @lizzy7777 @st4niolos @bigdic7821 @justalittle47 @mattsdirtylittlehoe @iihrtsturniol0 @bellasashylegs @xoxo4chrisss @miloisdone1

[totalswag]

a day to remember — DREW STARKEY

authors note just take a moment to appreciate how good this man looks. i’m so proud of him and cannot wait to see the movie. he’s come so far in his career. ALSO seeing these pictures i NEDDED to write about him.

join my taglist ⇛ if you would like to be notified anytime i post click this link and you’ll be all set to go.

summary attending the first premiere for drew’s upcoming movie, queer, and supporting him with all love.

warning(s) NONE

You could feel the buzz of excitement from outside as you carefully stepped out the vehicle. The soft fabric of your white dress complimented Drew dark blue suit perfectly. With his perfectly groomed hair, tailored dark blue suit, and a smile tugging at his lips as he extended his hand to you, he looked very attractive.

Today is the premier for the upcoming movie, Queer. Everyone is going to be there to promote the movie. Drew has been talking about it for days. You couldn’t wait to be by his side.

This is your second trip to Venice in support of Drew. When Tatum was three months old, you two went to Drew for a month and began shooting. Tatum just turned five months old and is staying with your parents at home while you are here.

Drew invited you to accompany him as a support person— you were looking forward to attending the premiere and staying by his side the entire time. You can't express how proud you are of Drew and watching him accomplish what he loves. He has come so far in his career.

First Drew walked onto the red carpet— immediately posing for the flashing cameras around him. He turns into your direction, taking his shades off, signaling you to come over.

Happily walking over to your man with a big smile on your face, waving in the direction of paparazzi and fans. Drew carefully placed his right hand on your lower back while your hand rested on his stomach.

Drew looked over at you, his smile warm and comforting. "You look incredible," he said, barely loud enough to be heard over the shouting. 

You smiled back and squeezed his hand. "You don't look so bad yourself."

There was a moment where you looked him up in down processing how good he looks— paparazzi and fans definitely got that on camera.

You proceeded up the carpet together, pausing for photos. It was overpowering yet thrilling, and Drew never let go of your hand, his presence constant and soothing.

As the premiere continued, Drew took multiple pictures and alongside his casting crew. You knew his inner child is jumping up and down for his older self right now.

On the red carpet, a young man stood behind a camera, holding a microphone and ready to interview Drew. The young man grinned as he motioned you both over. 

He starts off by asking how you are both doing and compliments your outfits for the premiere. He’s keeping his questions professional and not over the top.

“Drew what was it like shooting this film?” The interviewer asked curiously.

"Working on this film was fantastic. Drew responds calmly, "Given the opportunity to work with such great people like Daniel Greg was truly remarkable.”

The conversation for a bit was about the movie, you were asked a few questions, then the interviewer asked about Tatum. You both miss her so much.

“So, how’s parenthood treating you guys?” he asked, his tone genuinely curious and light. “And how’s Tatum doing?”

You shared a short gaze with Drew, who spoke with a warm smile on his face. "Parenthood is amazing," he exclaimed, his voice warm. "Tatum's wonderful—she's growing up so quickly. It's wild, but we're enjoying every moment."

You nodded, adding, “She’s the light of our lives, honestly. Every day with her is an adventure.”

Eventually it was time to end the interview. Drew and you thanked the young man— shaking his hand. Drew’s manager pointed towards the fans waiting anxiously to meet him.

“They look so happy to see you” you smirk, playfully nudging his side that makes him giggle a bit.

Interacting with Drew’s fans is always exciting— you always look forward seeing them because they’re so nice. Their squeals grew sharp when you two stopped walking.

“Y/N you look so good!” A young fan said with the biggest smile on her face and complete shock she’s experiencing this moment.

"You are too sweet, thank you gorgeous" you gasp before giving her a warm hug.

Drew signed autographs, pictures, had small conversations with fans for a while until it was time for everyone headed inside for the movie.

The movie was unbelievable. The whole time you were stunned by the acting from the cast— so amazing. The production did a fantastic job getting this done along with the cast.

After the movie, everyone proceeded to this restaurant for dinner. You'd had a few cocktails by now—Drew and Oplo were standing up, arms around each other, talking on the phone. You sat behind the phone, eyes fixed on Drew.

He looked so lovely with his shirt unbuttoned, revealing a little of his chest. Everything about him was addictive.

He walked towards you laughing at something Oplo said. Scoots his chair closer to yours— knees touching.

"I could feel your eyes on me over there," he asked, caressing your thigh. "Is everything okay?" 

"I'm admiring how good my man looks," you say, tracing a heart on his chest, "and thinking how proud of him for never giving up on his dream." You feel yourself choking on your words but maintain your composure.

Drew maintains constant eye contact with you. He slowly closed his eyes while biting his lip. His hand grips yours and squeezes lightly. His actions provided you with an answer.

"I love you so much, darling, I'm not sure what I did to earn you. Thank you for everything and for making me Tatum's dad."

You lean in for a brief kiss on the lips.

"And I love you more than you even know."

my taglist!

@drewstarkeys-world @chenslucy @starkeyvhs @rosezza @rafeyslamb @runningfrom2am @diqldrunks

[baby-yongbok]

What Are You Looking At?

Dom!Seungmin x Sub!Fem!Reader

-`♡´- Genre: Smut, some plot mostly porn

-`♡´- Summary: One question turned into an entire scene

-`♡´- Word Count: 3.9k

-`♡´- Warnings: Dominant/Submissive Dynamics, Hard Dom Seungmin and a bit of Dom Hyunjin, Choking, Slapping [for a second] , Degradation, Semi-Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Mentions of other members relationships, OT8 are involved, Previous consent implied, use of sex toys in public, Aftercare [Some on screen, more implied off screen] (Sorry If I missed any)

-`♡´- A/N: This was something that I've wanted to post for a while but I just never got around to editing it until now! I hope that you enjoy! And yes the reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡. This fic was 100% self-indulgent and contributed towards my Seungmin Brainrot

❥ Names Used Towards Reader: Slut, Pathetic, Pitiful, Whore

-`♡´- Masterlist -`♡´-

It’s not everyday that your boyfriend invites you to be his date to an event, so when Seungmin invited you to attend one of the many events to promote the new album with him and his members, you excitedly accepted. It’s been a while since you’ve all gotten together and any day with all of the boys is more than entertaining so you found yourself getting more excited than usual for this event. 

Of course, Seungmin had one condition when he invited you, he had to pick out your entire outfit. It was a fairly upscale event so formal attire was the only appropriate choice. You knew the moment that he requested to pick out your outfit that you’d be matching your man, it’s something that he loves but will never admit. He loves when the two of you look like a couple and carry similar visual energies. 

Your outfits were fairly basic. He had a white dress shirt and black slacks with small more flashy designer elements incorporated into the outfit. For you, he picked out a black gown of the same brand that he was wearing. It’s his go to dress for you to wear at events when he wants you to be on everyone’s radar. When he wants the two of you to be eye-catching and wants every single person in the room to eye the dips and curves of your perfect plush figure.  

There was one condition to your outfit though, a dare of sorts. 

“Why are these here?” You asked as you looked over the outfit laid out on your bed. The soft black panties with the built in vibrator along the gusset were resting on top of your velvety black gown.

“Ah, right, I wanted to propose a little game for the night.” You eyed Seungmin through the bedroom mirror as he fiddled with the glossy buttons of his dress shirt. “ You wear those and let me control them throughout the night. If you hide it well you get to be in charge tonight.” 

Your face lights up at the sound of his offer. You’ve been begging him to let you dominate him in bed for months but he always turns you down.  

“If you make it too obvious or get caught in any way then I get to use you all night.” He turns to face you, slipping a hand into his pocket. “And I can use any toy that I please.”

You suck your teeth at him, he’s been itching to use the new spreader bar that he ordered a month ago since the day that it arrived. You weren’t sure about it when it got here and you still aren’t very sure about it now. Of course you think that it’ll be fun to use but you know Seungmin and you know just how rough he likes to be when you aren’t restricted by any toys or rope so you can only imagine how it’ll be when your legs are permanently spread open for him. You think for a second, trying to weigh your options but the thought of being able to be in charge of him for a night is way too tempting to pass up. 

“Deal.” You smile, holding out your pinky finger and he copies the action twisting his finger around yours and leaning in for a swift kiss. 

“Good luck, I’m not gonna take it easy on you.”

“Would it be so horrible to let me be in charge?” You scoff as you slip the panties on, aligning the vibrator to rest against your clit and folds comfortably. 

“Nah.” Just as you move to pick up your dress a deep vibration rumbles through your core and a gasp leaves your lips followed by a choked moan. You glare over at your boyfriend, his hand is in his pocket, most likely holding the tiny remote, and there’s a devious smirk resting on his lips while he watches you. “I just figured that if I’m gonna do it I should make you work for it.”

“You’re not gonna break me.” You roll your eyes as you push your thighs together, the vibrations stop abruptly and you let out a breath that you weren’t even aware you were holding.

“You know that I love a challenge."

You were more than excited when you saw all of the boys, but they seemed ten times more excited to see you. They updated you on everything that they could think of from games that they’ve started playing, songs that they started writing, and Hyunjin even let you get a sneak peak into his art folder on his phone. Of course, Seungmin decided to torture you in the most delicious way the entire time, but much to his dismay, you held your composure, even with him whispering pure filth into your ear all evening. You’ve been through your fair share of edging and teasing since dating Seungmin so a game like this was nothing compared to the countless times that you’ve begged and cried on his cock after being fucked for hours on end. He’s the type of dominant that takes pleasure in training his submissive and you’re the type of submissive that loves to do everything so perfectly that it’s almost infuriating, especially for someone like Seungmin who has a thing for taming brats.

“Can I have a coffee too?” You asked as you sat between Hyunjin and Changbin. Your boyfriend only glared at you as he stood from his seat and made his way over to the coffee machine to make himself a drink. You try your best to hide your smirk as you push your thighs together. He's being extra mean to you today and all of the guys have noticed it. They’ve all been extremely nice to you to make up for it but what they don’t know is that this is all a part of Seungmin’s game. He knows that you’re an absolute slut for degradation and that each nasty word and eyeroll is getting under your skin and sending a shock right to your clit but to the guys the two of you are just having a bad day. 

Changbin puts in his request right after you and follows by repeating your question but he’s met with silence just as you were a second ago. Instead of answering either of you, Seungmin starts talking to Jeongin about something that you’re barely paying any attention to as he makes everyone a drink except you, allegedly. 

You zone out as Changbin starts messing with Hyunjin, he’s teasing him about something random and the sound of them laughing registers as a distant echo as you take the time to admire just how good your man looks right now. You’ve seen Seungmin in more suits than you can count but there’s something about what he’s wearing tonight that has you in a choke hold. Maybe it's the perfect fit of his pressed dress shirt or the way the fabric of his dress pants stretches over his thighs. It could also be the fact that you’ve been edged by these damn vibrating panties for the past two and a half hours. You sat through an entire press conference as your boyfriend messed with the tiny remote in his pocket, watching you from the corner of his eye and stopping the vibration right when he saw your eyes roll back or noticed your balance become a bit unsteady. 

 You watch him as he takes out his phone and glances over at you for no more than a second before looking down at his screen. The micro interaction snaps you out of your daze and you pull your attention over to Changbin as you try your best to focus on anything else.

“You looked so cute on the stage, Hyunjinnie.” Changbin continues to tease the man next to you as he reaches behind you to pinch at his cheeks. Hyunjin moves away, dodging his hand and looking down at his phone, most likely to text his girlfriend who’s a close friend of yours. You smile to yourself since you’re the one who introduced them to each other and played cupid for a bit until they fell for each other.

“Binnie, he’s gonna keep ignoring you if you don’t -” You’re cut off by a loud gasp that catches Changbin off guard and startles Felix who’s sitting next to him. You clear your throat and shift in your seat a bit, trying your best to calm down as the vibrator buzzes against your core at its highest setting. Once you feel that you’ve settled a bit you glare over at your boyfriend with the calmest expression you can manage to keep. He stares back at you, matching your expression with a hint of a smirk on his face. 

"What are you looking at?" The slight smile on his face contradicts the bite in his voice and you find yourself pressing your plush thighs together again. The pressure against your clit pushes you closer to your orgasm but that’s the last thing that you want to do. You can’t cum here in front of all of his friends, not because it would be embarrassing, the two of you have talked about putting on a show for his friends for a long time and you’re more than into it, but if you cum right now in front of everyone you’ll lose the game. There’s no way that you’re losing this. 

"Seungmin, stop being so mean to her, what's up with you two?" Hyunjin tries to come to your defense, pushing his phone into his pocket and glaring at the younger member as you choke back a moan.

"She's a slut." His tone is flat like he’s speaking a well known fact.

"Hey, whoa why would you say that?" It's Changbin's turn to defend you, he sounds more than fed up with the attitude that your partner has had towards you today. Gosh, if only he knew the half of it.

"Because it's true, you're a slut aren't you?" Seungmin turns his attention towards you, taking a couple of steps forward and standing with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you hold back. He notices every slight raise of your eyebrows and the way that you lightly bite at your bottom lip, he knows that he’s winning. All movement in the room comes to a subtle stop as the members watch the situation unfold in front of them. You can hear the door open and close quickly and you assume that what was left of the staff decided to give you all some privacy, thank gosh.

"Seungmin, seriously, stop it." Chan speaks up as he makes his way to the side of the couch that you’re sitting on with Changbin and Hyunjin. Your boyfriend is way too invested in you to heed his warning, he’s way too focused on winning to care about what anyone else says. He rolls up his sleeves further before kneeling in front of you and grabbing your jaw harshly. 

“Look at me.” You swiftly fix your gaze on him, earning more of a smile from the dark haired man in front of you. You can hear Han, Jeongin and Minho protest the harsh action in your defense. They all turn their chairs to face the two of you and Changbin moves over a bit to give you some room between him and Hyunjin. 

“Seungmin seriously.” Chan protests again, putting his hand on the younger member's shoulder but he swiftly shrugs it off, never taking his eyes off of you. 

"Tell them." You whimper at his request as you bat your thick lashes at him. Your glassy doe eyes tell him everything that he needs to know, He’s studied every single part of you, every move and every sound. You’re trying so hard to keep it in but your sub space is setting in heavy especially with all of these eyes on you, it just turns you on ten times more. You’re a sucker for being a good girl for your man especially when there’s an audience.  

"I'm a slut." Your words come out in a gasp as a tear trails down your cheek. The vibration abusing your clit feels so much more intense as your vision becomes hazy and your body starts to feel like it’s floating. Seungmin’s fully smiling now, admiring how pretty you look in your headspace. Since you’ve slipped into yours it’s time for him to fully slip into his. He’s in full dominant mode now, he’s hyper vigilant, using his extensive knowledge of you to lead him through the scene. Han stands from his seat, looking over the younger man's shoulder, unsure of what to say. 

"Tell. Them. Now." A small yet firm slap to your cheek punctuates each word that comes out of his mouth and you can hear Felix’s deep voice start to protest before it’s cut off by a deep moan leaving your parted lips. It feels like the air in the room thickened as soon as the sound registered, you blink a couple of times as you try to think of a way to cover it up, maybe you can say that you’re just kidding, maybe you can say that it was all a filthy prank. Maybe you’ll just ignore Seungmin’s orders, you need to win this game, there’s no way that you can lose.

Your thoughts are racing at a hundred miles per hour, but the moment that your eyes meet your partner's brown ones again, you cave. You crack completely, slipping deep enough into your sub space to be at his mercy. You know that he’d never put you in an unsafe situation and you both have even spoken to the guys about letting them sit in on a scene between you and him some day, you just didn’t know that today would be the day, to be fair none of them did, not even Seungmin.

"What the fuck?" That’s all that he can manage to think of but instead of answering him Seungmin waves at him dismissively. 

"Shh you'll miss the best part." His eyes stay on yours as he watches you slip and even through your hazy state you don’t dare to break his gaze.

"Color?" Changbin furrows his brows at the question that leaves your boyfriend's lips and Hyunjin raises his. You mumble a weak ‘green’ and you can hear your boyfriend confirm your response faintly before you turn your attention back over to your rising orgasm.

"No fucking way." Hyunjin scoffs in disbelief, a surprised yet entertained smile on his face. 

"Looks like you got caught." Seungmin teases as he exchanges looks with Hyunjin, the only other open and proud dominant in the room. Since you introduced Hyunjin to your close friend who is now his girlfriend and submissive, he and Seungmin have often talked about having semi-public scenes with their partners in front of the other members. Hyunjin swore that he'd be the first to do it but it looks like Seungmin beat him to it. 

"Pathetic isn't she?" Seungmin asks towards Hyunjin and he clicks his tongue in response. 

"Absolutely pitiful." 

"Why the fuck are you guys doing that? She's fucking crying for Christ's sake." Minho makes his way over to stand next to Chan and at this point there's an entire circle around the two of you. Hyunjin watches you with curious eyes and an amused grin as you press your plush thighs together which truly isn’t helping the violent pulsing of your clit against your panties. 

Seungmin watches you too, keeping note of your reaction and searching for any signs of discomfort. Once he's sure that you’re fine he lets go of his grip on your jaw and you whine at the loss of contact. You’re way too far gone to care about how you look or sound now, all that you know is that you're absolutely desperate for release and you’ll do anything to get it.

"You guys don't believe that she's a slut?" The room is quiet in response to Seungmin's question as they all watch her. Now they're catching on. "Watch."

Seungmin's hand cages your neck swiftly, pinning you against the curved back of the couch. His grip is light at first as he only applies a soft amount of pressure to the sides of your throat but you can feel his grip gradually become more intense with each passing second and you can’t help the whining moans that escape you as you fight the urge to rut your hips into the air as your dripping pussy clenches around nothing. 

"Seungmin, what the -'' Changbin is cut off by a loud whiny moan escaping you once Seungmin hits the pressure that you go dumb for. You lose your self control almost instantly and give into your horny desire to rut your hips into the air, desperate for any type of friction. 

"Such a whore. You want to cum?" You shake your head as best you can with whines falling from your lips uncontrollably. "Hyunjin, countdown from five."

"I'd love to." Hyunjin, turns more towards the two of you to get a clear look at the desperation on your face with each number that passes.

 "Five” He waits for a couple of seconds too long, clearly teasing you. Your friend did say that he could be a tease. You just wish that you weren’t finding that out right now. “Four...Three.”

He rests his chin in his palm, pretending to be bored with the task despite the smirk on his face “Three and a half....Two....hm where was I?"

Seungmin chuckles at your frustrated whine as Hyunjin fake pouts towards the two of you.

"Better start over to be sure." 

"I think you're right, let's see." Hyunjin takes a deep breath and you can’t help but to let out a deep desperate cry as tears flow down your cheeks. You’ve been holding back for so long that it feels like every inch of your body is on fire. You know the rules: If you cum without permission you get punished. Seungmin’s punishments are anything but fun. He has a talent for coming up with the most grueling punishments that could ever cross a dominants mind. You’ve learned to love them in a strange way but you’ve already lost the game, you don’t want to give him more to look forward to tonight. 

"So pretty when you cry" Seungmin smirks at Hyunjin’s comment while the others around them simply watch in aroused confusion. They haven't taken their eyes off of you since the beginning and they wouldn’t dream of even blinking now.  

"Alright so let’s do it nice and slow this time. One, Two, Three.”

“Three and a half.” He pauses, closing his eyes to ‘think’ for a second “Four....Four and a half.... Hmm.”

“What's after that?" Seungmin teases in mock confusion and Hyunjin shrugs as he looks around at the other members who now seem more than entertained by the game the two are playing.

"Mm, I don't remember. Do you remember, Felix?" Hyunjin asks the blonde sitting next to Changbin as he shifts his gaze fully towards you so that he can admire the way your eyes roll back as your body practically shakes with anticipation. Seungmin loosened his grip on your neck a couple of seconds ago but you haven’t stopped moaning and whimpering ever since he first touched you. 

"No clue." Hyunjin smiles as Felix plays along with him and Seungmin’s game.

"Hm, what about you Chan? Do you remember what comes after four?" Seungmin looks over at his elder, giving him a slight head tilt to confirm that he can truly answer. The once confused but now fully aroused member takes a second before replying. He looks over at you before finally saying the very thing that you’ve been dying to hear

"Five" You gasp in excitement as your lidded eyes meet the lust glazed ones of your partner. It’s almost like you forgot that everyone else was in the room. All that mattered was Seungmin and you only wanted to hear him say one thing.

"Lucky girl" Seungmin pulls you forward by your neck, the harsh movement makes you drag out a loud and lazy moan. "Cum."

Without so much as a second thought you’re letting go in front of everyone. You’re shaking, crying and gasping like a fish out of water as your orgasm rips through you like the venom of a vampire. You lean forward into Seungmin as you grid your cunt against the couch and rest your head on his shoulder. He moves his hand from your neck to your back as he rubs soothing circles into the velvet fabric of your dress. 

“That’s my girl. Sounds so pretty, did so well.” Everyone watches as they weave through various stages of amazement and disbelief as you come down from your high.

Once he sees that you’re riding out the pleasure Seungmin reaches into his pocket to turn off the vibrator. You pant against him, small whimpers escaping you as tears roll down your cheeks. 

“Han, would you pass me a water bottle please?” He does as he asks, leaning over a shocked Minho to reach for the water bottles on the table and handing one to Seungmin.

“I’ll get you your coffee and then I’ll hold you alright? Can you wait for just a second?” He whispers in your ear and you nod against him the best that you can. Usually he’d ask you to use your words but he figured that he’ll let it slide this time.

 Seungmin gives you a soft kiss on your cheek before leaning you back against the couch. You nearly fall over into Changbin who holds you up awkwardly before Hyunjin moves in a bit closer to you. He gives Seungmin a look, asking for permission to touch you which your partner swiftly allows before standing from his spot in front of you and moving back to the coffee machine. He rolls up his sleeves that have fallen down a bit as he starts the machine again and starts to make your favorite aftercare drink. 

Hyunjin puts his arm around you and he allows you to rest on his chest, he rubs up and down your arm and whispers to you to try and ground you a bit. This isn’t the first time that you and Seungmin have done a scene with Hyunjin so he’s no stranger to the type of aftercare that you receive. The rest of the boys look between your limp body resting against your friend and your boyfriend who’s nonchalantly operating the coffee machine while they  quietly try to put the pieces together and figure out exactly what they just witnessed. Seungmin feels the burning stares on the side of his face as he waits for your glass to fill and turns towards his members with a straight face. 

"What are you looking at?" No one responds, they all just stare between you as they open and close their mouths and try to figure out the right question to ask while attempting to hide their aching hard ons. The room stays quiet until Jeongin sighs and stands from his seat.

"Is anyone going to ask what the fuck just happened or is it going to have to be me?"

[Note: In a healthy BDSM dynamic or scene all members involved should consent before hand. This is a work of fiction and is no way a representation of what real ethical scenes should look like unless there are clear boundaries.]

[bobluvbot]

late night cravings

pairing: sirius black x afab!reader summary: you sneak off the night for a cheeky midnight snack, hoping sirius won’t notice (spoiler alert: he does, and he’s sulky about it)  wc: 4k cw: pregnancy & baby talk, descriptions of food and eating, brief allusions to sex (not directly stated), no physical traits of reader specified but sirius can hold things out of reader’s reach  a/n: so i had a lengthy angst fic for sirius’s debut on my blog and im halfway done on it but i cant seem to finish it bc it sends me to a depressing spiral each time <33333 so pls enjoy a very self-indulgent domestic excessively fluffy blurb with my beloved <33333 p.s this is not proofread so plz ignore mistakes ty <3

opening the tomato salsa jar turned out to be the hardest part. 

back in bed, you thought the trickiest part of your late night escapade from sirius black was his long limbs wound up tight with yours, even in low light of the small nightlight in the corner, you could still make out the intricate script and designs following the curves and dips of his strong arms, holding you close to his chest. 

you had it committed to memory by now, having explored sirius’s body well enough to memorize the way his skin feels against yours, with heartbeats and breaths falling in sync without much effort. 

judging by the way his breathing gets heavy after every exhale and the little snores that escape in between, you knew he was beyond knackered. it was day five of sirius’s new job as an deputy director at the auror office. the day he learned about the promotion was pure unadulterated happiness. after letting you know through an express owl, you mustered up enough vigor available to your seven months pregnant self to get out of the house and go to the local shops to get party supplies and food to celebrate sirius’s achievement. 

Coming in third out of the list of things he genuinely loved in this life, after you and his luscious locks of course, was his job as an auror. young sirius had never thought in his wildest dreams that he’d work at the ministry, much less actually enjoy it. can’t really blame sixteen year old sirius, starting an underground rock band with the marauders seemed like the perfect thing to do after gruelling hours of studying at hogwarts. 

defense against the dark arts came to him naturally, with some counterspells like second nature to him as being exposed with use of dark magic young gave him no choice but to grow up quickly and defend himself from the excruciating pain or the mind control that was from his own family’s doing. Winning the first wizarding war alongside his friends and found family has solidified sirius’s calling in eradicating the use of dark magic and making sure the next generation can have a safe and normal life without the looming threat of a megalomaniac sorting people with their blood status and taking over the wizarding world. 

that night, sirius walked into a dark and eerily quiet home that had his senses on overdrive. but when the lights turned on and he saw familiar faces of his loved ones all beaming with pride, and there you were in the center, looking ethereal and round and all his, with his favorite red velvet cake on hand and a ridiculously big balloon that says “congratulations” tied to the candle, he could have melted in a syrupy mess of gooey happiness right then and there if he hadn’t caught himself together last minute.

Sirius had thought– that after you agreeing to go on one date with him to hogsmeade, winning the quidditch cup and seeing the proud look on minerva’s face, going home for christmas break and euphemia welcoming him with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug, remus teaching at the very same classroom you all were in years back, james and lily’s first kiss at the altar, holding little baby harry in his arms, you walking down the aisle with a bouquet of peonies in the most beautiful dress, and when you held his hand that one night and told him that you were expecting—- that he knew of love. but you do something extraordinary that has him scrambling to add to the endless list of why you’re the love of his life. he was so focused on you that he wasn’t prepared to catch pure muscle of james’s body as he flung himself to tackle his best friend in a hug. luckily, remus with a party hat was aptly standing between a toppling sirius and the living room wall, and he singlehandedly saved the two from creating a huge hole in the drywall. 

this was the life, sirius had thought after many hours of partying celebrating and eating, when he laid beside you in bed, limbs tangled, sated and dizzy and warm as you both came down from your highs. and he gets to spend it with you.

but as fun and exciting sirius’s new job is, it entailed an increased amount of responsibility as he was assisting the head auror. his least favorite part of the job was the boatloads of paperwork he has to deal with. An express owl almost dropped a howler letter into the soup you were making for dinner earlier that day and you opened it up panicking thinking it was an emergency. But no, it was just sirius whining that his hand hurt and is about to fall off and that he needs you to kiss it better. 

You did eventually, and one thing led to another and here you were, tucked in your husband’s warm embrace. you could stay here forever, only separating to drink water and bathroom trips, but the gnawing urge to eat something savory, sweet, tangy, and crunchy has possessed your entire being, the only way to quell it was to get up and go to the kitchen. the baby doesn’t seem to have a semblance of time yet, a fact you both envied and despised, because the clock on your nightstand said it was 3:48am in bold red numbers. A few months ago, you’d never be caught dead awake at this time, taking your precious sleep time seriously. The man himself would poke fun at you and say you’d gladly sleep through an earthquake or a housefire just as long as you get your seven to eight hours of sleep per day, and despite of your assumed role of contradicting and arguing with spontaneous and stubborn sirius, you had to agree.

But this was not about you anymore, or at least not quite yet for a good seventeen years, so you untangle yourself from sirius and your perfectly warm and cool side of the bed and waddle down the carpeted stairs, careful not to set foot on the creaky step that might risk waking sirius up. You need your secrets too, and you’re not in the mood to share food.

Grateful for the heavens that you and sirius stocked up on groceries two days ago, you had a wide selection of random items to munch on. A few days ago, you were introduced to the idea of a fluffernutter sandwich while scrolling through the short videos on your feed. Peanut butter and marshmallow fluff as spreads on their own was something you didn’t mind eating, but both together in a sandwich? You were enthralled, and the only way to quell the curiosity was to make it. So you did. 

You shovel and slather more than enough spread on each slice of bread, though you might have used the same spoon on both jars.. but who’s to tell you off otherwise, your snoozing husband upstairs? pfft. 

Smiling happily as if committing a particularly naughty crime, you place the spoon in your mouth, licking off the gooey mixture as you place the sandwich on a piece of paper towel (yes, you take the no dishwashing tonight seriously) on the table. humming, you mull over what to prepare next.

The baby needs something savory and tangy, but you’re not particularly keen on going through all the effort of heating up the soup from dinner, not to mention the amount of cutlery and dishes you’ll use for that, so you zero in on the tostada shells you chose rather than tortilla chips because its much more crispier. 

Opening the fridge, you see the laughing cow on a round packaging and decide its the one, so you grab two cheese wedges from it. 

Sirius had argued that the next aisle had actual, real blocks of cheese with a variety on display and that there was no point in getting artificially flavored ones. But you’ve gotten really good at giving him the stank face, which inadvertently ends 75 percent of nonsense bickering before it even starts; and since you’ve started showing more and more, sirius has admittedly gone softer on you, not that he was ever more but a pushover your entire relationship. Merely widening of eyes and a jut of your lower lip, even adding a slight tremble or two during times where you did actually fuck up, sirius can’t hold his stance longer than a minute before sighing and taking you in his arms. he might call you out for being a brat at times, but there’s no denying he loves it. And so the artificial wheel of cheese wedges got purchased and bagged home, and you’re meticulously spreading it over the golden shells, leaving little to no gaps of it bare. 

Laying it on another paper towel, your heart gets giddy on your chest knowing you’re in for a treat tonight. But not quite time to start munching, the baby reminds you that you still need something tangy to complete the meal. So comes your big predicament, should you get dill pickles or tomato salsa? 

It took you ten seconds too long of weighing down the pros-and-cons of choosing one and feeling like you made the wrong choice if you end up not liking it. It doesn’t help that the pregnancy hormones make you more anxious and tend to put you always on the verge of tears. So when the not-so-groundbreaking idea of just eating them both hits you, you feel the weight slide off your shoulders as you sigh. Because again, who’s gonna tell you that eating pickles this late at night can give you bad acid reflux, your snoozing husband? Pfft.

Snacking on some, you do manage to pick out the juiciest looking pickle chips and lay them atop of your tostadas. You and the little one are beyond excited to dive in. It’s looking like a mini upside-down pizza with the cheese spread first then the pickle as toppings. Only thing left now was the the tomato salsa slathered on top to seal the deal. 

Opening tight lids wasn’t an issue for you before, in fact, you took pride when friends hand you a jar or bottle to open because you could do it in a breeze. Chances were, the lid wasn’t even screwed on that tight, you were just built different, you’d say with a shrug once you give the items back. So when the tomato jar doesn’t budge after two attempts, you get puzzled.

Maybe your hands were slippery? You wipe them down with a tea towel and try again. No.

You weren’t holding it tight enough? Fingers held taut against the lid, you try three times. Still no.

Determined, you try different positions before letting the jar go, shooting it glares as if it’d get intimidated and just open up for you. You were also getting lightheaded, and passing out on the kitchen floor due to excessive stimulation of your vagal reflex because you were too stubborn to use magic or wake your husband up to open it for you doesn’t seem like the best way to spend the early Tuesday morning hours.

Magic was even out of the option (well, in your brain it was), because your wand’s tucked beside sirius’s on your nightstand, and frankly, you don’t have the patience to drag yourself upstairs just to flick a utility spell to open the wretched thing. So you do the next best option: lose hope. 

The disappointment was mutual between you and your baby. And the acid reflux did start to kick in, making your stomach grumble in both hunger and pain. This was all going so well until it isn’t, tears began to make its way up to your eyes.

“See, this is what you get for being greedy and eating all snacks by yourself,” sirius huffs behind you, deep voice still raspy with sleep. You didn’t even hear him getting out of bed and coming down the stairs, that’s how preoccupied you were with opening the jar.

He grabs the container away from you to open it, but not without throwing a scowl at your direction, handsome face contorted with furrowed eyebrows and downturned mouth, enough to express that he felt betrayed by this whole ordeal. If you were in a better mood, you’d poke his sides and tackle him playfully, teasing him for being sulky. But for now, you need the jar opened so you could eat in peace. You’ll deal with the sharing food issue later.

“t wasn’t supposed to take long,” you mumble, caught off guard and refusing to make eye contact, pretending the fridge magnets beside sirius’s head is ten times more interesting than his face. You don’t miss his raised eyebrow and snort at your response. 

The second attempt comes and he opens it with a satisfying pop. your mouth falls agape, eyeing the *now accessible* tomato salsa dip in disbelief. What the hell? 

And you couldn’t even take the smug grin spreading across sirius’s face by the millisecond. Refuse to. You try to snatch the open container away from him but he holds it higher and out of reach, making a show of puffing his chest, flexing his biceps, even giving it a kiss. This is all James’s doing, you need to have a talk with Lily soon about keeping these two separated.

“Sirius!” you try to plead your way out. the trademark innocent, pouty expression settles on your face like a second mask, hoping he’d go down this easy. 

It doesn’t work. He just chuckles, mocking your pleas and face while his free hand sneaks up and pinches your unsuspecting cheek to tease you further.

You yelp in mock outrage and swat his hand away, trying your best to keep your displeasure firm on your face, but you feel the giggles coming up. “This is why I sneak out alone to eat, you’re such a bully,” you huff, but take a seat in front of your makeshift spread. 

Sirius places the jar near you, but not without poking your exposed sides, armed with the knowledge that the easiest way to get you laughing (and eventually conceding in an argument) is knowing where your tickle zones are. “Oh yeah,” he drawls, plopping himself beside you. “That’s also why you’re the only one waking up with an upset stomach, stinking up our bathroom so early in the morning.”

Now this one got you appalled, embarrassed, disturbed, basically hit with all the feelings. You’ve been living together long before you got married, and he never brought up this issue until today. “That’s it. I’m leaving.” He makes a move to snatch the sandwich away but the embarrassment on your cheeks made you more agile, swatting his hand away and shielding the sandwich with your hands. “After I finish my meal,” you continue, shooting him a glare.

But see, one of the things that drove you nuts even way back at Hogwarts, was how Sirius Black mostly managed to outsmart you or be one step ahead of you in everything. After you turned him down without much thought whatsoever despite his grand declaration of interest, Sirius took it upon himself to show you (1) that you made a mistake for rejecting him, (2) that his ego won’t let you embarrass him like that again, (3) and that you won’t get rid of him that easily. Once he set his eyes on you, you were face to face with him in everything: grades, OWLs/NEWTs scores, Quidditch plays and bets, wins at the duelling club, even with the fucking gobstones tournament. He never let you catch a break.

Things were surely different now, since you vowed to be with him in sickness and health and untill death parts you both– hell, you’re carrying his child. So you figured maybe, maybe, he’ll let you catch a break this time. Let you eat in peace as you mull over his bathroom comment and how you’re going to get him back. 

But again, no. Unlike you, Sirius remembered to grab his wand from the nightstand. Not even batting an eye, he says nonchalantly, “Accio sandwich.” And the fluffernutter you protected with all your physical might managed to escape your watch, and land gracefully on his waiting palm. 

What irritated you more from this whole ordeal? The prodigal auror that climbed his way up the ranks and became the youngest deputy director, fully capable of complex spells and wielding different kinds of magic, felt the need to do a verbal Accio spell just to make a point to you.

Out of words, you just stare at him blankly. Too stunned to even cry in frustration because you knew you made a conscious, willing choice to be with this man. 

Maybe your best guilt-tripping expression comes best when you’re not trying. Color drains from his face when you remained silent and he scrambles to take a bite off the sandwich before handing it back to you, or rather placing it on your limp hand as you refuse to acknowledge it, still too hurt to budge. “‘m sorry, baby. Just wanted to eat with you since we didn’t get to earlier.”

He did arrive later than usual, deciding to finish the stack of case files and paperwork so he won’t have to sift through them again the next day. There were plans to wait for him before eating, but when the jitteriness and slightly nausea started to kick in, you had no choice in the matter. Sirius had been sulky and clingy the moment he got home, and as compromise, you stayed to watch him eat; listening and reacting animatedly as he ranted about his stressful day.

So you cut him off some slack, also exhausted from all the emotional stimulation sirius brought since he woke up. As a silent peace offering (also because you’re not ready to say sorry to his face), you slide the tostadas within his reach and finally take your bite of the goddamn sandwich. It was good, tasted as expected, sweet peanut butter. You’d probably have it again as a drunk at 3am meal.

Sirius also went and got snacks of his own: microwaved popcorn, pickles, toasted bread slathered with butter, and grapes. Together, you munched on the little spread of random food you could find in your kitchen at 4am in comfortable silence, which is surprising after the earlier bickering. No matter how cheesy it sounded in your head, sirius was the only person that can drive you to the brink of insanity and right back. You were in for a hell of a ride for the foreseeable future; and while there’s a lot of uncertainty right now and changes to be made when the little one gets here, you’re beyond happy that you get to do all this with him. 

Sleep was beginning to creep up on you. Of course he notices this right when you do, so a warm arm wrapped across your back urges you to settle on his lap, bodies melding into the familiar crevices like puzzle pieces, though you both had to adjust certain angles to accommodate your growing belly. You sit like this for a while; your head tucked securely in the crook of his neck, steady breaths lulling you to sleep, while sirius’s hands instinctively finds its way under your sleep shirt and on the natural curve of your belly, lithe fingers stroking and drawing soothing circles anywhere he could reach. 

you wish you could stay like this forever– cozy and soft and safe– but alas, you were carrying sirius black’s offspring. the baby decides to reward you with a round of kicks, probably giddy after feeling their father’s touch. Sirius chuckles and coos at your bump, while a muffled groan leaves your lips from the sudden onslaught of movement, but still refusing to move from this comfortable position.

Smooth cold lips touch the side of your forehead and you relish in the feeling. “Does it ever hurt, love? All that kicking and wiggling?” 

“Not really,” a content sigh leaves your lips. “Feels strange at times, seeing your belly move on its own.” 

To prove your point, two tiny bulges make a split second appearance just above where Sirius’s hand lay. His thumb soothes the area lovingly.

“Definitely getting stronger though; Lily told me during the later months, harry for some reason loved to kick downwards, making bathroom trips more frequent than it already is. Not excited for that.”

He presses kisses on your forehead, temple, hairline, anywhere he could reach without moving too much. “Things that you do and endure for this ‘lil troublemaker,” sirius murmurs. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, you could feel his body reverberating with awe and fondness. You try to bask in it for as long as you could, but a passing thought makes its presence known to you again.

“Do i really make the bathroom stink?” it comes out whinier than you intended it to be but you just had to know for peace of mind. 

Sirius’s whole frame vibrates as he tries to stifle his laughter, taking you with him. He’s laughing at your expense but you feel your own giggles brewing in your belly. You try to hold it in for longer, preserving some self respect. “A little bit,” he says solemnly. You groan, earlier mortified feeling returning in full swing. It triggers another round of chuckles.

“But dove, it’s nothing that my deep love and adoration for my lovely strong hot and sexy wife can’t handle.” He says assuredly, and you curse yourself for being so down bad for this man as blood rushes to your cheeks from his words. Good thing it’s dim and your face is still tucked in the crook of his neck. 

You do pinch his arm in response, and both your laughters compliment the comfortable silence. 

“Although,” he says after a while. “The betrayal of you eating without me still hurts.” 

“Siri.. i’m sorry,” you mumble. “‘y looked so tired, Didn’t wanna wake you up.”

He tuts and doesn’t say much after that. In sirius dictionary, this means he just wants some affection from you— for you to dote on him and coax out his forgiveness, even if you both know he’s not really mad; judging by his arms still wrapped securely around your frame and steady breaths that tickle and fan on your bare skin. 

So you mimic his actions from earlier, planting tiny kisses on his neck, collarbones, jawline, anywhere your lips could reach. Kissing his cheek seem to do the trick, his fake scowl quickly coming undone as a bashful smile breaks through the frown, and his tiny dimple you love so much making an appearance. The muggle maternity books did say dimples are genetic, so an image of a little Sirius running around and smiling up at you with those dimpled cheeks is a warming thought. 

“I am charming all the lids to be stuck at night as soon as i wake up tomorrow for work.” You poke a sensitive spot on his side, making him jolt, but you couldn’t resist laughter as it bubbles out of the surface. “You’re insufferable, I can’t believe I married a psychopath.”

“And you let him knock you up too. I’d say it takes one to know one, hm?” 

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

TAKE YOU DOWN A PEG ─── neil lewis ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I want you. Your bones. Your body heat. The bite marks your teeth leave. To see how bad and beautiful those eyes look beneath me." — Beau Taplin.

pairing. sub!neil lewis x reader

summary. gumshoe video’s got a rude customer who neil can’t seem to ban…

warnings. swearing, voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, semi-public sex, breathplay, oral sex (m), cockwarming, degradation/insults, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 5.3k

a/n. the hardest thing about writing this was scouring letterboxd for obscure films that i think neil would foam over. pls don’t beat me to death if my film references miss the mark 😭

Neil loves his job. Seriously, seriously, he does. It's completely self-satisfying, his personal passion project that’s taken up a large amount of his life, and brings him the uttermost joy of allowing him to do what he does best: recommend films. 

Gumshoe Video is like his fucking baby, and he takes care of it, immensely; he wipes down every tape every Sunday, he sweeps the floor and rearranges the furniture, he organizes the tapes almost constantly, and he does his hardest to provide stellar, passionate - if almost annoying - film advice. He wants the reviews up on this place, alright, otherwise it feels like he’s letting his baby down. 

Now, if there’s one thing Neil hates about his job, just one minor, teensy weensy thing, it’s probably you. You, the rude customer who came in three months ago and has come in everyday since. 

The day you and Neil Lewis met was one just like the rest. Gumshoe Video was promoting old spaghetti westerns; Neil was wearing a cowboy hat and opening deliveries from a video tape shop in Calabasas that had closed down; you were coming off work and were daydreaming, dizzily entering shops to get your mind off the irritatingly mundane job you had. Unlike Neil, you fucking hate your job. 

You had entered Gumshoe, browsing lazily through the Film Noir section, when Neil sprung up like a weed behind you, speaking animatedly about how the best film noir’s had to be Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, or Double Indemnity, and if you’d ever watched them before. 

As Neil blabbered on, your left eyebrow became increasingly raised. Finally having enough of him, you spoke. “So, are you one of those guys that talk all over the girl and ask them if they’ve ever seen Citizen Kane, or if I can even name five Ingmar Bergman movies for you?”

Neil spluttered, flustered with being confronted about his obsessive cinephile talking habit of carrying the conversation away like a track runner in a relay race going off with the baton in the wrong direction. “What? I was just —“

“— name dropping film noir’s, ‘cause I’m some ditzy, uncultured bimbo bitch who mistakenly walked in, right?” You said, rolling your eyes. Later, in retrospect, you’ll wonder if you were too rude; then, you’ll remember you don’t give a fuck, you were having a bad day, and Neil Lewis had one hell of an annoying face. 

Neil’s face grew offended, an irritated furrowed brow wiggling onto his features. “If you don’t want to watch what I recommend, you don’t have to!” he exclaimed, arms up placatingly in the air. 

“Uh huh, okay, and you don’t have to shove your pretentious cinephile knowledge up my ass.”

He just stared at you, boring his bright blue eyes into your own, face contorted so exasperatedly you might as well have climbed up to the stars, plucked the moon from the sky, and used it as a pillow. 

My god, Neil thought. Are you just a rude customer? Or did you get off on berating small businesses like a sadistic freak?

After a moment of you two staring each other down in the fluorescent artificial light of Gumshoe, both looking terribly affronted, you left. 

Neil would then rant about this “insane customer” for at least twelve hours straight to anyone who’d liste. The next day, the distasteful experience was extremely close to thereby fully exiting his mind, but didn’t, because you, yes, you, walked in again. 

You shot straight daggers with your eyes at Neil, but your expression became soft, demure, and gentle when you saw Jonathan manning the register instead. You trailed through the aisles unperturbed, Jonathan too busy sporting a hangover from working the late shift at that obscure speakeasy copycat bar (in which, as often as possible, he would sneak a shot to stay awake) to recommend films. 

In any case, that was Neil’s job, and Jonathan leaned over to whisper in his ear: “Neil, man, do me a favor and please distract that customer -- fuck, this headache’s killing me…”

Neil protested, shaking his head rapidly. “That’s her.”

“Her who?”

“Her! The - customer who -- who yelled at me!” 

Jonathan blinked blearily, clearly still too incapacitated to think about the matter much. “She yelled at you… and she’s back. Here. And why exactly is that…?”

“To yell at me s’more, probably!” Neil whisper-shouted incredulously. 

Suddenly, you broke Neil and Jonathan out of their not-so-quiet argument by slamming down Gumshoe Video’s copies of Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, and Double Indemnity. The irony did not miss Neil - honestly, it was a little on the nose, even for him. 

“Thought I’d see what all the rage was.” you explained “sweetly”, gesturing to Neil as you spoke, indignation seeping through your every word. Your grudge was, well, mostly unexplained, ‘cept for the fact you yourself were an avid cinephile, had watched those three movies more than you could count, and did not take Neil’s “have you watched these before” kindly. 

Thus started you and Neil’s long-winded rivalry slash animosity slash terribly caustic back-and-forth correspondence. 

You keep coming to Gumshoe Video, because, despite your anger towards Neil, you fucking adore the place. The films are downright amazing, the atmosphere is like fucking heaven with the walls lined full of video tapes, decorated in classic film props, campy lifesize cardboard cutouts making you jump at every turn, and Gumshoe Video’s concept is insanely different (and lightyears better) than the corporate monolith that is Media Giant. 

He keeps coming to Gumshoe Video because, again, Neil loves his job, and treats Gumshoe like he carried it for nine months and has been lovingly raising it for the five years it's been open. 

From that first incident, you and Neil’s relationship twisted a little into something like this: you come in, insult him on whatever costume he’s wearing, return the tapes you rented the other night, argue with him for exactly an hour and a half on the couch, insult him for another ten as you browse the store, ignore his film recommendations, and rent three more movies. 

He waits for you to enter, wears the ugliest costume he owns to visually assault you, gladly takes the tapes back, argues with you for 1 and ½ hours, fires back retorts as you insult him, recommends movies he thinks will make you jump out your apartment window, and gives you your movies. 

You’re the minor, teensy weensy headache Neil experiences everyday, but at least, at the very least, Gumshoe makes daily dollars from your rentals - kinda like the payback or relief fund a town gets after a hurricane’s run through it. 

But, (somewhat?) shamefully… there’s a reason Neil doesn’t just ban you from the store and live his life without ever thinking of you again. 

This reason occurred to him a month ago, when he was in the backroom, pasting barcodes and information stickers on tapes that were yet to be placed in the store. You were looking for the washroom, awkwardly stumbling through the back hallway of Gumshoe Video, and since you couldn’t find Neil — he, in spite of the nature of your relationship, trusted you to look around and rent the tapes by yourself, having done it several times while arguing with him at the counter — you had to brave through it alone.

Now, the thing about the room Neil was in — more of a shoe closet than a room, honestly — was that it was locked from the outside, and he didn’t have the key. The key was currently in the hands of one Lucien, who had gone to buy takeout for the two of them because of the late night cataloging of new tapes ahead of them. 

And… he was taking about a hundred years to come back because he was trying to get the cashier’s number at their usual Chinese restaurant. 

Anyway, imagine this: you’re looking for the washroom, and the door to a small room is propped open. You enter, don’t think much of the small stack of empty tape boxes acting as a door stopper, and let it close. The light in there is dim, just a shitty little ceiling light; Neil turns, tapes in his hand; you turn, after closing the door. 

Finally, remember: the room is more of a shoe closet than a room.

“Jesus -- christ!” Neil yelped, startled at your sudden appearance. “What  -- the hell are you doing here?” 

“I take it this isn’t the bathroom?” You murmured, ignoring his question and shifting uncomfortably. Seriously, the tape closet was only meant for one person in it at a time. 

If the lights were brighter, you would’ve seen how hard Neil rolled his eyes; they almost rolled out of his head. “Well, I don’t think so, given the lack of toilet, sink, and light, no.”

“Well, Neil,” you purred, hot breath curling around the sensitive skin of his neck, “maybe, just maybe, you should have a sign for the bathroom, so I don’t have my tits any closer to your face than I want them to.” You said this sweetly, voice husky, low, and oddly sultry, but Neil knew better than that: you probably wanted to fucking kill him right now.

You were right, though; your tits were flush Neil’s bandy chest, the heat between you two growing the longer you were this close in proximity. 

“Now get me out of here,” you said quickly after, ignoring how warm Neil felt against your body. You’d turned so your back faced him, hands twisting at the silver knob of the door - which, Neil honestly didn’t know why was there, considering it didn’t fucking work. 

Neil sighed. “The door locks from the outside.” 

“What?” You said, distracted by leaning down to press your weight against the door like it was just sticky. Moments later, “…What?” you all but shrieked, hands falling from the knob, turning to face him once more. 

And, again, if the lights were brighter you’d have seen Neil’s face better: he was bright fucking red, because, apparently not accounting for the small space of the room, you’d leaned and obliviously had your ass pressed right against him. It didn’t help that his large, warm hands, having long since dropped the tapes he was labeling, hung near the flesh of your rear, having nowhere else to go in the limited space.

Neil thanked the small mercy God graced upon him that there wasn’t any kind of friction, so his soft cock remained just that: soft, and barely noticed by you. 

“The door locks from the outside.” Neil repeated breathlessly, the amount of air in the shoe-box room being incredibly small, too small to share between the two of you. 

“Fucking…” You cursed under your breath, shaking your head in disbelief. “So, what, we have to stay here ‘till someone busts us out? What’re you gonna do if I go batshit and eat you or something?”

“For one, Lucien isn’t going to take that long to come back. Anyway, why’re you assuming you’ll overpower me - what if I go batshit and tear into you?”

You snorted, like the connotation he could overpower you was completely implausible. “Neil, Neil, Neil,” you repeated nonsensically, before lifting a hand up to his shoulder and digging your nails into him, the fabric of his shirt obviously not thick enough to distort your strength. “I could have you pinned down in less than a minute. I do other things than watch movies all day, unlike your lanky ass.”

Neil merely let out a chagrined laugh in response, hands clammy at the thought: you pinning him down— he then shook himself mentally, about to slap himself upside the head. Fucking hell, this situation was doing things to him. 

“You don’t believe me?” You retorted with a raised brow. Swiftly, your hands curled around Neil’s wrists, pinning them behind him and pressing his back against you. “How about now, huh?” you whispered softly in his ear, making his head swim. 

Your chin rested on his shoulder, your nose brushing against his neck, and it took everything in Neil not to let out a breathy keen — this was all too much for him: your touch, your voice, and the apparent dawning on him that he found you terribly, massively, attractive. 

“Fuck, I, er - - um,” Neil scrambled for a response, when the door to the tape closet suddenly opened. Your hands released him immediately, and you strided out, breathing in deeply. 

On the other side stood Lucien, plastic takeout bag in one hand, closet key in the other. “What happened to you?” he asked confusedly, as Neil filed out after you, gaze trained on your stretching figure walking off. 

“We got, uh -- locked, in the- in the tape closet.” Neil murmured, thoughts still fuzzy from your rough touch. 

“With her?” Lucien shuddered, handing Neil the chinese takeout bag sympathetically. “You need this food more than I do.”

So, there it was. Neil’s reason. He would’ve called you an insufferable bitch that he never wanted to see enter Gumshoe Video ever again hundreds of times by now — if your sensual voice insulting him didn’t get him all tight in the pants. 

He began having thoughts — thoughts of you. You, whispering vulgar, humiliating words in his ear, your hands carding his hair, pulling tight against his scalp, selfishly making him do whatever you wanted him to do, no matter his pleas. 

The fantasy was unlike anything Neil had dreamed up before, having always believed it should be him on top, him controlling the situation, him dominating — but it wasn’t a bad one. He’d come faster than he ever did before, just by imagining you were rolling your hips into his own… your strength pinning him down… your lips brushing past the shell of his ear, telling him he was so fucking dirty, so filthy for being this needy. 

However, that was all just a vague, distant pipedream, especially with how you seem to actually hate him. All the interaction he’d had with you consisted of poisonous, irritated words, insults and curses — which had him feeling both incredibly turned on, and sick at the fact he was attracted to you just by being mean to him. 

Sometime after that, nearing the end of the work day, Neil was the only one left there: Jonathan had taken the morning shift, and Lucien was, surprisingly, on a date with the cashier at their usual Chinese restaurant place. Looks like he succeeded in getting her number, while Neil had been pressed against you in that tiny tape closet, moments away from getting a hard-on. 

So, Neil was the only one there - and you were the only customer there. Your daily routine of stopping by and verbally attacking him was late today, so it was nearing midnight when you and Neil sat on the couch and began arguing. 

“I’m sure your “manly” ego isn’t at all pathetic and easily hurt by the superiority of Mia Farrow’s performance in Rosemary’s Baby.” You spat, leaning into the diverse array of old throw pillows that sat on the couch day after day. 

Neil rolled his eyes, hands up in the air animatedly. “My manly ego - and I don’t enjoy the sarcasm nor the air quotes you’re using - isn’t pathetic, nor easily hurt! Mia Farrow just wasn’t better than John Cassavetes was. I stand by the fact they were equal.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, your hand coming down on Neil’s knee to dig into him angrily. “Neil, I don’t expect you to understand her performance - I don’t think anyone does, not with that little cinephile brain you have. Do you do any thinking up there, or is it just The Treasure of the Sierra Madre on rewind?”

Neil flushed, both at the insults and how your hand was on his fucking leg. “What about you? What is it that makes you keep coming back here if you think my opinion is so… worthless and entitled?” 

You grit your teeth, leaning in closer to him. “Because, Neil, this is the only other video tape shop for miles, and I will not be caught dead at Media Giant. Trust me, I despise this - “arrangement” of ours, far more than you do.”

He huffed, his gaze trailing over your features, unable to come up with a response: he was too busy focussing, trying not to zero in on how your face was inches away from one his, your fingers oddly inching up his thigh. 

“Don’t go making this about me. Why is it,” your continued, hands traced dizzying circles into the fabric of his jeans, “that you don’t just kick me out? I come in here, day after day, berating you, ignoring your recommendations… shouldn’t I have been banned a long time ago?”

Neil gulped. “You’re still a - a customer, one who rents daily I might add—“

You smirked up at him. “Don’t lie to me. I know Gumshoe’s doing just fine… and I heard you, y’know? Last week… in your office.”

“What? What are you talking about?” He stammered out, racking his head for what he might’ve been doing in his office— fuck. 

Fuck, he thought, mind racing rapidly, he thought you had already left by the time he started— 

“I heard you, hiding in your office… stroking yourself, moaning my name.” 

You’d rented just one tape last Friday, for a movie date with a guy from work, and you almost left - before realizing Neil took your membership card and never gave it back. You waltzed back in, and to your obvious surprise, Neil wasn’t at the register. 

“Neil?” You called out softly, trying not to spark an argument with him that would span hours, because you were trying to show up to this date on time. 

You walked down the back hallway, and found his office door, which had a gleaming NEIL LEWIS printed on its foggy glass. 

Your hand had almost reached for the handle, his name on the tip of your tongue, when you heard a needy whine slip past the door. Shocked, you lingered and pulled your hand away, pressing your ear against the pane to listen closer. 

“God, fuck,” you heard Neil curse, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. “Need you so bad,” you heard him whisper to no-one but himself, before a low moan belted out of him. 

Your face grew warm, immediately, flushed at the news that Neil-fuckin’-Lewis was jerking off, in his office, mumbling your name. You squeezed your eyes shut, continuing to listen to his pretty voice, and after several moments of your lust-riddled mind drinking in his sweet noises, how he was so focussed on his pleasure while completely oblivious to your listening in, you found one of your hands coming up to tweak your erect nipple — fuck, his stuttered little moans had your cunt pulsing with utter need.

Neil was getting close, you could tell, hearing him buck into - what you assumed - was his wooden desk, sloppily muffled mewls leaving his mouth. 

You were biting down on your lip, hard, an incredible amount of self control in place. The man was so horny, sounding so fucking submissive it drove you insane: just the thought that he’d bend to your will and do whatever you wanted made your legs clench.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending who you ask, you felt your phone begin buzzing in the waistband of your modesty shorts - probably the date you were late for - and you had quickly fled. 

“Oh, jesus,” Neil blurted out now, alarmed, immediately in the flight part of fight or flight. “I- whatever you heard, I can - I can explain, really, so please don’t—“

Your hand gripped his thigh, keeping him from getting up. “Hey, hey, shh,” you said, bringing a finger to your lips. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I know, just as well as you do, how bad you want me.”

Truly, Neil couldn’t control himself that night. You had walked in, wearing a delicious little dress with a sweetheart neckline, strolling around in 3-inch heels, cooing mockingly at his costume for that week’s theme — a criminal wearing nifty little handcuffs to promote the double feature promotion of crime films and dramas — purposely leaning down to make him feel smaller than you. 

Neil had flushed, looking away, willing himself not to let out a needy groan at your get-up, instead silently checking out your tape rentals and quickly handing them back to you. After you’d walked out of the store, he’d dashed to his office, feeling the tent in his pants grow warm, aching. 

Quite similarly to how he felt now, your eyes coursing over his entire form, so close Neil felt himself sinking into the couch. 

“Look how fucking hard you are already.” you whispered, hand drawing away from his thigh and reaching for the bulge in his jeans, palming him between the fabric. “Does it turn you on? The fact you got caught?”

Neil’s breath hitched. “Fuck, please, I—“ 

“You’re so pathetic.” You said, laughing at him. “I can feel how big you are, such a thick cock, and all you know how to do with it is beg.”

Your plush lips were curled into a cheshire grin, baring your sharp teeth at him, and Neil was ashamed at how badly he wanted those teeth to press painful bites into his sensitive skin. 

He was about to whine again, plead desperately, but he shut up when you slipped off the couch, sinking to your knees, fingers undoing his belt buckle and fly. Shifting his jeans down, you dipped your hand down the waistband of his boxers and pulled his cock out: it was angry, hard and begging for release. 

But you wanted to tease him before you got to the good part. First, your warm breath fanned over his cock, making him jump, trying to rut up into your mouth, and your soft lips slipping past his leaking head had his hands tugging at your hair, trying to pull you closer to him. 

You thinned your eyes and got up, hand pressing his cheeks together and forcing his jaw open. You spit into his mouth, then patronizingly patted his face, “Do that again and I won’t touch you - I’ll take my tapes and leave you a needy fucking mess on this couch.”

Neil groaned, your spit foreign and hot on his tongue like lava. “God, I… I just wanna — want you so bad.” 

You tutted, sinking back down on your knees to face his rock hard length up and pressed flat against his abdomen. “Not yet. You haven’t earned it, you desperate fucking pervert. D’you know who jerks off in their office to someone they barely know? Fucking perverts.”

He leaned his head back, a moan leaving his lips at your insulting choice of words. It felt like you were torturing him, but his body wanted nothing more than you. 

Your lips then ghosted past him for another moment before you started your assault on his strained cock: you laid tentative kitten licks all the way down his length, enjoying how he squirmed under you, wanting nothing more but your wet mouth around him. Then, without warning, you took him in your mouth whole, tongue dragging and curling around his cock. You devoured him salaciously, hollowing your cheeks, sliding his cock in and out of your full mouth at an alarming speed, hitting the back of your neck with each thrust. 

Your tongue felt heavenly on his cock: wet, warm, and sticky, lapping at him without stopping. Your teeth grazed against him lightly, and Neil’s back arched into your touch. 

He was practically convulsing now, drooling as his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the pure pleasure you were inflicting on him with no split second or moment for him to regain his composure. You wanted to see him fall apart, come undone just by your mouth, he realized, and he wanted to let you, wanted to let go — but, as fast as you’d taken his hard cock into your mouth, you let him drop from your lips. 

“Why did you - please, fuck -- why did you stop?!” Neil whimpered noisily, head rolling onto his chest to look down at your face: lips plump, faint tear tracks running off your cheeks, your gagged spit falling from your chin. 

“I oughta take you down a peg, Neil. Show you what a dumb fucking loser you are, pretending you’re so confident, so dominant, like you know everything there is about movies.” You responded nonchalantly, getting up and shedding your panties and leggings. 

“M’not dumb,” he whined, looking at you through heavy lidded eyes, “god, you’re killing me here.”

“You’ll live,” you grinned, climbing on his lap and lining your wet sex with the fat head of his cock. Then you descended down on him, watching blissfully as his cock disappeared into your folds.

Neil’s hands wrapped around your waist, burying his face into your neck. He mewled against your skin, drunk on your tantalizing scent, lips wet with drool and leaving a slick trail. 

Despite your dominance in this situation, completely controlling Neil’s pleasure, you couldn’t control your own: Neil’s cock felt fucking good, long and thick in all the right places, a curve that arched right against your cervix, veins rubbing against your walls pleasantly. He stretched your cunt completely, making you wince, but there was still pleasure there, the feeling of your crevices being filled with his fat cock making your toes curl. 

After a moment of getting used to his cock, you rose back up, then sunk down, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. Neil’s head shot back, a labored cry leaving him as you set a steady, almost too slow pace, torturously sliding his cock in and out of your tight hole. 

Your hands trailed across his still-clothed chest, and you grieved the chance lost to have stripped him, your touch teasing him every step of the way — but having him deep within you was probably better. 

“Your- fuck, you’re so -- so soft,” Neil squeaked below you, revelling in how you took him, bottoming out each time like it was nothing. 

You simpered at his words, how helpless he was, succumbing to the pleasure; to you. “Knew you were,” you slammed down on his cock, making Neil choke, “pretending to be arrogant. You just needed someone to put you in your place.” 

Neil hadn’t realized it wasn’t a rhetorical question until your hand came up to his hair, tangling through his locks and tugging. “Who d’you belong to? Who put you in your place?” you murmured lowly. 

He whimpered at your roughness, leaning into the sofa obediently. “You! You own me,” he pleaded, desperately chasing his own pleasure. 

“That’s it,” you said, shutting your eyes, bobbing up and down on his cock faster. Your ass bounced above him, and Neil’s hands rested on the flesh of your rear, massaging you. 

Greedily, Neil tried to thrust into you, but you weren’t having any of it, deterring his attempts by pushing him so he laid flat on the couch, your hands pinning his wrists above his head, the new position pushing him deeper into you. 

“You stay down, you dirty fuckin’ loser,” you said caustically, but your actions said otherwise: your walls were squeezing around him needily, your cunt sucking him in so far you could feel his balls brushing against your clit. 

The tip of his cock brushed past your g-spot each time you rutted into him, and soon enough you felt it: that pulsing, that heat, that familiar coiling within your insides. Neil was reaching it too, his face flushed pink and his breathing as heavy as it was back then, in the tape closet. 

You began thumping down on him, your fingers tightening around his scalp. Your pace had gotten feverish, bordering feral, both your minds focussed on one thing: release. You could feel your cunt tensing, your mind going foggy, and then, there it was: your pleasure ran through you like electric current, shocking your body. You felt numb, tingly like when the blood flow to your arm gets cut off for a moment, making your pace stutter. 

You didn’t stop, however, riding out your high on his cock, bouncing up and down on Neil’s thick length. He felt fucking delicious, piercing you in all the right ways, and you adored how malleable he was right now: so horny and submissive he stopped speaking and was merely letting dirty moans leave his mouth without any protest. His gaze, his focus, was elsewhere, lost in the deep haze of pleasure your cunt was subjecting him too. 

You leaned down, pressing small love-bites onto his skin like he’d fantasized so many times before, and it broke him out of his stupor. “Did you think of this, in your office?” you whispered, “did you think of me, my tits bouncing, your cock deep in my cunt?”

“Ugh,” Neil groaned, reveling in how your seductive voice sounded like music. He was much, much closer than he thought, and when you licked up his jaw, your hot breath on the shell of his ear making him sweat, your cunt still fucking him roughly, he let go. 

You felt it first, the familiar liquid bursting past his thick head and painting your fleshy walls creamy, like a new coat of alabaster that Gumshoe desperately needed. 

“So good, so wet,” Neil groaned, shutting his eyes and pressing his forehead to yours. You stared at him, watching his lewd expression throughout his entire high, waiting for that beautiful blue gaze of his to open and face you again. 

“I’m milking you dry. Look how fucking full you’ve made me, you filthy pervert.” You were taking him for every drop he could offer, and it was delectable. 

You two were heaving now, both coming down from your highs. You’d effectively ruined the couch, your slick soaking the cushions and his jeans, as well as his come, which was leaning out of your still-stuffed hole. 

“I think you’ve gotta replace this manky ass couch, Neil,” was the first thing you said, your hands sliding down from their grip in his hair to his pink cheeks, rubbing his skin delicately. 

His eyes opened, watching you carefully. “It was about time,” Neil shrugged breathlessly. “Do you… do you actually - hate me?” he continued, murmuring self-consciously. 

You laughed, but it wasn’t sharp, not at him like before, no; it was tender, like a scarf Neil wanted to wrap around him in the winter time.

“I never hated you,” you murmured, tone reverent, “you’re just a little, how does it go…”

“Presumptuous?” Neil finished for you. 

You nodded, then grasped at his shirt and pulled him from the couch so he was sitting upright again. “Jus’ wanted to, ahem, “take you down a peg” like I said earlier..” you trailed off, cheeks growing warm remembering your earlier behavior during sex. 

This was all very new, to the both of you — you, in all your relationships and flings, were not the dominant partner. You guessed there was a first time for everything.

Then, you were about to get off his lap, but Neil held you steady on his cock. “Don’t go,” he said simply. “I’ve got Brief Encounter in the player, if you want to, y’know…” 

He wasn’t hard anymore, but it just felt good, cozy, having you two talk and regain your composure with him filling you nicely. It felt right. 

You smiled, a gummy, blissful smile. “Okay. I’ve actually never seen this,” you said, turning to face the tv, wincing slightly. 

“Really?” Neil said, an amazed joy seeping into his voice. 

“I’m joking,” you snorted, and you could practically see Neil pouting behind you. “But I don’t think we’ll be paying much attention…” you purred, clenching your thighs around his length. 

“Jesus fuck,” Neil groaned behind you, hands coming under your shirt, “you’re exactly like those movies.”

“I’m even better, baby.” 

[lovifie]

Hey there Lovifie.

I hate to bother you but can I ask for a request?

You see the thing is that I’ve been having a few bad weeks lately and the news I got today just really pushed me to the point that I can’t stop crying now.

Long story short, I’ve applied again for another promotion within my department for my job; this would be the third time I’ve tried for one and for the third time I was passed over for someone else. I honestly don’t know what I’m doing wrong; why they're not choosing me. I’m doing everything they’re asking for, going above & beyond for them and more but apparently it’s just not good enough for them. I just don’t know what else I can do.

Now I feel like I’m not good enough for anything; I'm confused and it hurts. Can I please request a comfort fic of John Price or Poly141 comforting a curvy, Mexican female reader who just feels like she's not good? Please? 🙏🏽 💔

My dear, you are never ever a bother. I’m really sorry to hear you have been having the last couple of shitty weeks, I sent you a message before and I hope this cheers you up a bit and everyone that may be having a rough time 🩷

I did it with poly141 because if we are looking for comfort we are going all out!!

The boys are back home and you know it, they got home last week, spending most of the time together, bathing in each other comforting proximity, helping them decompress after their deployment. 

You didn't tell them about what was troubling your mind, they already have enough on their plate and you didn't want to bother them. Or that's what you thought it would be, a bother. 

That's why you are standing before the door, knowing you have to enter but trying to recollect your feelings to be able to portray a happy face when you finally open the door. 

But the door opens before you want it to, Simon's brown eyes staring at you. “What are you doing, lovie? The motion camera is going nuts…” he trails off, looking at how you try your hardest to look fine. “Everything alright?”

You quickly nod, walking past him, kissing his cheek standing on your tip toes. “Yeah, all good. Was trying to remember where I put my keys.” You laugh, thinking that it is believable as you enter. He doesn't buy it but chooses to stay quiet. You will talk when you need it. 

You leave your bag on the floor next to the door, taking off your shoes and Simon helps you take off your jacket, hanging it on the hook next to Johnny's. “How was work?”

“Horrible.” You think, but instead, you sight and murmur. “Tiring.”

“Did I hear somebody say they are tired?” Johnny's voice beams in the room when he walks to you like a happy puppy, hugging you from behind and hiding his face on your neck. You move your hand back to pet the back of his head. “You tired, mami?”

You nod, with a smile on your face. Closing your eyes when he kisses your cheek squishing your face with his. “Then eat dinner and straight to bed.”

“No shower?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Nah, you are still clean for a couple more days. Right. Or are you stinky?” He says, moving his head back with a confused expression on his face, only for him to hide his face again in your neck making you chuckle when he sniffs your smell dramatically hard. “Yeah, not stinky.” 

He pats your butt, as in signing the deal that you don't need to shower and you smile shaking your head. 

His silliness is almost enough to make you forget the hardness of your day. Almost. 

“Is she home?!” Kyle's voice sounds from the kitchen and you follow his voice like a moth to the light. Hearing Simon tell Johnny to go shower his stinky self, making him whine. 

“Hi, Riri.” You say, using the nickname he hates so much. 

He groans, scrunching his face at you making you laugh. “I'm not Rihanna, love.”

“Hm, but you sound just like her when you shower.” You say hugging him from behind, he is standing in front of the stove, taking care of dinner. Some kind of pasta getting boiled while he works on the sauce on the pan right in front of you. 

So close to it, that when Kyle moves, threatening to tickle you for teasing him, you move your arm to shield yourself. But your forearm crashes with the pan, making it fall and burning you in the process. 

Kyle manages to catch it by the handle just in time before burning himself or spilling it all over the floor. He turns off both of the stoves, to make sure nothing burns while he checks on you. 

“You alright, love? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stood so close.” He says, but your eyes are glued to the spot of sauce on the ground. Almost nothing fell from the pan, barely enough to fill half a glass. 

But the thought in your mind makes you write it at the top of the list of things you have fuck up. And it makes your eyes tear up with the feeling of simply not being good enough.

“Sunshine.” Kyle calls you, cupping your face so you will look at him but his eyes follow you, seeing the sauce on the ground. “Hey, hey, it's okay.”

“I'm sorry.” Your voice cracks making you inhale to try and calm yourself down. “I'm sorry, Kyle.”

“Hey, what happened to Riri?” He asks with a kind smile on his face. “Don't apologise, love. It's okay, there is more sauce stuck to the spoon than on the floor, love. No problem, alright? Everything is fi- you are burnt!”

He cuts himself off when he sees your skin red with the burnt, he grabs your wrist pulling you to the sink to move your arm under running cold water. “I'm sorry, love. Poor baby…”

“Hi, mami.” Price says entering the kitchen, he must have just come out of the bathroom. Possibly kicked out by Johnny, because he enters the kitchen only wearing his pyjama pants, hair still moist. You look at him, eyes wet with tears making him furrow his eyebrows in worry. “What happened?”

“Little cooking accident, nothing to worry about.” Kyle answers, rubbing circles on your hand still under the water with his thumb. “Can you pass the mop, please?” Kyle asks, pointing with his face to the sauce on the floor. 

“I'll do it.” You say, trying to pull your hand from Kyle's grasp. “I spilt it, I'll clean it.”

“Nonsense, you and I are bothering Johnny to grab the burns cream from the bathroom. Let's go, we might see his bubble butt if we are lucky.” Kyle jokes, winking at you, trying to get you to smile. 

But you are already too deep in your own thoughts to do so, you sigh, rubbing your eyes at the sting of your tears and shaking your head. “I'm fine, I'm just… I'm just going to go to bed.”

“Without eating?” Simon walks into the doorframe, handing the mop to Price who cleans the floor keeping an eye on you. “Are you grounding yourself or what, love?”

And you try your best to not cry, to hold it in, at least until you are in your room, with your privacy to cry yourself to sleep. But then Johnny also walks in, talking about if anyone knows where his towel is; and his blue eyes catch yours, shining with worry when he sees your tears.

“What happened?” He asks, repeating Price's words without knowing it. 

You look at them, the four pairs of eyes looking at you, expecting an explanation, worry and curiosity clear on them. And it only makes your eyes sting more with a new batch of tears that easily roll down your cheeks. 

It makes you cover your face with your hands, sobbing softly against your palm. One of them hugs you, pressing you against his body and you know it's Price for the warmth emanating from his naked torso. 

“Let's go to the living room, the kitchen is too small for five people.” Simon comments, his hand resting on the small of your back, caressing comforting circles on it. 

When you don't move, Price moves his hands under your armpits, raising you to hold onto him like a koala. Crying on his strong shoulder like a baby, a big baby.

He sits down on the sofa, moving you so you are sitting on his lap sideways, your face still hidden on his neck. You feel everyone else find their place around the two of you. Kyle is sitting next to Price on the sofa, your feet resting on his lap, his warm hand resting on your calf under your trouser warming you up. Johnny is sitting on the armrest of the sofa, his hand resting on your ribs, moving up and down as well, moving slowly to help you breathe slower. And Simon is kneeling on the floor behind the sofa, one arm bendt on the backrest of the sofa to lean his head on it and the other hand petting your head, brushing your hair. 

But no matter how comforting his touches are at the moment, the door holding the tears in has been opened and they are rolling freely down your face into Price's exposed shoulder. 

It's long after that, that you manage to breathe normally again. Still hiccuping but now oxygen getting to your lungs. 

Simon is the first that you look up, moving your hand from Price's shoulder to grab Simon's finger, the man curling his finger pulling your hand to his. A soft smile on his face. “Hey, pretty girl.”

Price looks over your shoulder, using his thumbs to dry the tears from your face, kissing your cheek. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks, the only answer he gets from you is in the way of shrugged shoulders. 

Simon stands behind you, letting your hand fall onto Kyle's and groaning when his knees pop as he stands up. He sits on the opposite armrest from Johnny, next to Kyle and looks at your face when Price moves you lower so you are resting your face on his chest. 

“What's wrong, love?” Price asks looking at you, his hand petting your thigh. 

“I… I just keep fucking everything up…” You admit, voice tiny, afraid that if you speak any louder the tears will return. “I ruined dinner, I ruined tonight, I ruined everything…”

“What are you talking about?” Johnny asks behind you. “You haven't ruined anything, lass. Everything is right.”

“Surprisingly, Johnny's right, love.” Gaz says, Johnny making an offended noise behind you. “Nothing is ruined, love…”

“Did something happen at work today?” Simon asks, regretting the moment you lock eyes with him and your eyes glisten with tears. 

You nod again, melting into Price's arms. “We are proud of you, you know that right?” Price says, making you sob again. “We were proud before today, we will be proud tomorrow, we were proud of you weeks ago and we will be even more proud of you in the future.”

“You don't even know what happened…” you sniffle, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. 

“We don't need to.” Johnny says. “We know you. And we know that you always try your best, that you work your ass off and that you are a bloody good worker, love.”

“Yeah, I just need to make my boss see it too.” You mumble, sadness being replaced by annoyance. 

“We can always murder him.” Simon says, earning himself a group groan of his name. “I'm just saying.”

“What Simon's trying to say.” Price says, turning to you again. “Is that if all four of us can see it… he will eventually see it too.”

“Yeah, it's his fault he is so stupid it's taking him so long.” Gaz says, smile on his face.

“But I'm tired of it…” You admit, pout on your face as you lean your head back onto Johnny, the man resting his hand on your face, caressing your cheek. 

“That's normal, love… How about we take care of you, him?” Johnny asks, making you look at him. “Let's have dinner, then you and I take a stinky bath, and then… a movie? Some cuddles? Sounds good?”

You nod before answering. “Yeah… sounds really good.” 

All of them but Price stand up at your words. “Dinner time it is, boys.” Gaz says, walking into the kitchen as Johnny and Simon set up the table.

“Should we help them?” You ask Price, looking over his shoulder. 

“Nah, they can themselves.” He answers, cupping your face to give you a peck on your lips. “You are amazing, love… don't forget it, alright? You are more important than your job, a promotion or anything going on, alright? We love you, cariño.” He says, accentuating the “r” to make you smile.

And later, when you are sitting down with the four of them at the table, the only thing you can think about is about how lucky you are.

[kromeihl]

A oneshot or smth with ken sato x model! Reader where they are having a cutesy indoor pool date at reader or ken’s house? Maybe some smooches and fluff? Or anything more :3 also! Loved the last fic sm! 💗💗

IM SO SORRY IF IM REQUESTING TO MUCH I JUST LOVE YOUR WRITING SM LIKE REEEE 😫

(Imagine the pool was like these-)

- xoxo! 💗

YESS!! YOU AGAIN, I LOVE YOUR REQUESTS HAHA 💕 TYSM! It means so much to me that someone appreciates the way I write 🥹🫶🏼 KEEP EM REQUESTS COMIN’ (Self promoting yet again -> bloop.) I’m so so sorry that this was late! I got busy this week 😞 And I feel like Kenji rn I’m literally taking care of a puppy and do everything, I can barely sleep 😍 (also i’m lowk having my brain short circuit i ran out of ideas😭 im so sorry if it’s short)

CHILLIN’ ❄️

-> KENJI SATO X MODEL!READER

WARNING(s): NOT PROOFREAD

Keeping your relationship secret was kind of difficult. You were a model, a famous one, also known for modeling the Yomiuri Giants’ jerseys. And your boyfriend THE Ken Sato, a legend, a famous baseball player in Yomiuri Giants.

Both of you were known for your interactions, being caught by the public sometimes as you go out on dates, but still denying the accusations although it was true. He wanted to flex you to the whole world, but you’re afraid that making this relationship known public, would break it. Fans could be too much sometimes..

I hear my phone ring, snapping off from the overthinking. “Ken?” I call out after answering the call, “[Name]!” He says joyfully, happy that you responded to his call.

You smile, “What’s up?” asking as you felt a bit concerned. “Nothing, just wanted to go on a da—“ I sigh, hearing his words, cutting him off. “Kenji, you know we can’t go out in public anymore, these fans can see anything.”

Kenji laughs, “What if we have a date at my place?” I blink, right, how could we not think of this before? “Kenji, you’re a genius!” I say excitedly, hearing a victorious laugh from the other side of the phone.

“See ya tonight, baby. 6:00pm, wear something nice, it’s an indoor pool date.” He says, before ending the call. I blink, feeling surprised. Indoor pool date? Oh, it’s my time to shine.

As soon as you knocked on the door, you waited a few seconds before just deciding to open it.

It was quiet, you were only met by a dim lit room as you walk. “Kenji?” You call out, only hearing soft music playing from across the hallway.

You slowly walk over, turning a corner before seeing a glass door, you slide it open, greeted by a shirtless Kenji sitting at the pool. His eyes were close until he heard your footsteps.

You cross your arms smirking at him, and there he was with that reaction of his. He looked like he was star struck, seeing you in that pretty swimsuit of yours. “Gorgeous girl.” He chuckles, motioning you to come in.

You finally hop in the pool, listening to your favorite song that he played on his speaker. You place your head on his chest as you both relax in the water.

“This is all we need.” I sigh, closing my eyes. Kenji slowly puts a hand on my cheek, making me open my eyes rather quickly. His thumb brushes over my lip before he gives me a peck on the lips.

Soon, his kisses were everywhere on my face. Forehead, cheeks, lips, everywhere. You giggle as he plants kisses on your face, his free hand wrapping around your waist to pull you close.

“My pretty girl.” His compliment makes you blush, maybe it was his time to be flustered, too.

You wrap around your arms on his neck, both of your foreheads touching as he moves his hands to your waist, you both close your eyes, chuckling at the closeness.

“This is what I’ve always wanted, just you and me.” He sighs. After a few moments, you lean into his touch, resting your head on his chest as you watch the indoor pool, LED lights turning different colors slowly.

Some painted canvases on the wall for display. “Since when did you get to build an indoor pool?” I raise a brow at him. “You know me, what I want, I get.” He jokes, placing a hand on your head.

“It’s beautiful.” You say as you look around, “You’re more beautiful.” You look at him, feeling a bit flustered from his words. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You roll your eyes at his cheesiness, splashing water on him. “Hey!” He whines, with you quickly hopping away in the water, “Oh, it’s on!” He says with a determined look.

Just you and him, that’s the best place to be in.

[cheriladycl01]

Ghost - Oscar Piastri x UnknownDriver! Reader Part 3

Plot: Reader is the first female F1 driver of the century, however no-one knows that as you are a ghost on the grid. You started in 2022, coming in P12 in the championship. You get moved to Red Bull Racing in 2023 with the off year for Sergio Perez.

Standing up on the podium, not being able to do anything as you watched Oscar run off was torture. You had to stay there while your national anthem played that should have been amazing considering it was you, Lewis and Lando all up there together.

And of course, there were no breaks for you afterwards. Everyone wanted you, from SkySports, to F1, to Netflix. Everyone was throwing questions at you and asking how different your achievements feel now knowing that your the first woman to have completed many of them.

You were fine answering them, because like they said. All of your previous achievements were now bigger than they were as Ghost. People could tell that you weren't fully with them, you were a little spacey and sometimes struggled with hearing and answering the questions.

Most of them put it down to the post race fuzz of the win and revealing who you were, but upon getting to the Sky Sports Team who consisted of Jenson Button, Nico Rosberg, Natalie Pinkham and Danica Patrick questions turned sour.

"So Y/N aside from racing we caught light of Oscar Piastri's quick depart after the reveal, any insight on this?" Danica asks, making you look down.

"I don't think these questions are necessary" Jenson says just as the Red Bull PR manager was about to ask for racing related questions only.

"Yes please stick to racing questions only" the Red Bull PR backs up, nodding before taking a step back. You look back up, straight to Nico who had a soft look on his face.

"I'm just interested, you raced for Alpine last year when he was a reserve driver... for Alpine and you've been promoted to Red Bull this year while Piastri's made the move to Mclaren. Can't help but wonder if its underlying sexism that's made him this mad, you all cant deny he was blunt and rude in his interview with us earlier" Danica pushes and you head snaps up. You feel a hand on your shoulder as if to stop you from what your about to say but you go ahead anyway.

"I've hurt a dear friend. So how dare you stand there and try to victimize me, when he is the one that I've hurt. He knew me as Ghost's assistant and media manager... we were close and I've not been truthful to him for obvious reasons. So don't stand there and try to make him out to be a misogynistic twat when he isn't. I don't know what you experienced in NASCAR Danica but in F1 all I've experienced today is love and support. Just because your sport sucks doesn't mean mine does" you snap, and recoil shocked that you'd just said all of that. She looks at you also in shock, Jenson and Nico were trying to stop their laughter.

"Well, some strong opinions there from Y/N Y/L/N" Jenson says as he watches you turn away and walk off. You were done with interviews for the day. You just wanted to find Oscar and talk to him now.

"Lando! Lando" you shout as you see the curly haired boy ahead of you walking into the Mclaren motorhome.

"Hey, Y/N or should i say Ghost" he smiles before pulling you into a hug.

"I was not expecting that bombshell today, and I will admit I'm sorry for assuming you were some ugly guy... your very obviously not" he laughs.

"Where's Oscar" you ask, you didn't want to seem rude but of course he was your priority right now.

"Y/N, I don't think its a good idea to see him right now. I think maybe just wait for him to come to you. He's upset and" he starts but you look him dead in the eye.

"He upset me too, he just ran off... at my first race win" you say as selfish as it was... but he also ruined that experience for you.

"I know, but you did like lie to him for just under 2 years" Lando says softly not wanting to rattle your already unstable cage of self hatred.

"And what was i supposed to do Lando, tell him a secret that Red Bull had me sign an NDA over and break my contract and risk loosing my seat?" you ask, hoping he would start to understand.

"Look Y/N you really should go..." Lando pushes looking around the area you were currently in. He put a hand on your lower back as to guide you back out, but you planted yourself still.

"No, I'm not leaving till i talk to him" you grunt.

"Y/N I'm telling you this as your friend and your co-worker. You need to go" he says, you'd actually never seen his eyes this serious before and it had your head cocking to the side in confusion.

As your about to ask him why the hell he's being so twitchy, two people stumble out of the next room a little disheveled and both laughing. You eyes lock on them.

"O-Oscar?" you ask in shock, the girl looks up at him confused and his face turns red but also a sour expression comes onto his face.

Before any of them can say anything your turning away from them, everything feels slow motion, all the voices around you blur and your heartbeat comes erratic.

You couldn't understand why it hurt so much, the thought of him not even for a moment being happy for you up on a podium that he come here to be with some other girl ... or was it because in the time you'd spent with him you'd fallen for the racer.

You round the corner, stumbling behind the Mclaren motorhome so that you could just breath. You crouch down, your head leaning back against the side.

"Fucks sake" you say to yourself, once you'd calmed yourself from the initial shock you fully sat down on the metal edging outside the Mclaren motorhome.

"Y/N?" you hear a voice ask, your head peaks up and you spot Alex and Logan.

"Oh, hey guys. Great Race today!" you smile.

"Why are you just sat outside the Mclaren motorhome?" Logan asks raising an eyebrow at you.

"Oh, erm no reason. I just got lost on my way back to Red Bull" you smile standing up and walking to the long strip and turning left.

"Your still clearly lost, Red Bull's that way" Alex says pointing to the right hand side, that you weren't facing.

"Right, yeah i knew that" you smile, turning round and scuttering off the other way.

To say that the UK was the start of something spectacular was an understatement. You didn't go out and celebrate that night, you stayed in with your family.

The next race was Hungary where you proceeded to take the win away from Max in the last 3 laps, being on the fresher tires. They asked you to let Max take the win but you begged for them to let you fight it out. You shared the podium with Max and Lando, in Spa you came second, sharing the podium with Max and Charles and in The Netherlands you came 4th.

Throughout all of this Oscar hadn't reached out to you. You'd kept in contact with Lando, asking how he was and what had been going on. However Monza changed things.

An article came out about an interview Oscar had done about you and how you hadn't spoken to him since. He hadn't spoken very nicely about you when all you'd done was stick up for him. You guys got into a massive argument outside the garages that of course people caught on camera.

You had a really bad qualifying, the car just didn't have pace and your mind wasn't in the right place. So you were starting P14 on the grid, after a cry to Christian that you were so overwhelmed and him assuring you that it was today that really mattered.

You had turned off everything when you got in the car on the Sunday. No thoughts in your head just the racing. On the start you managed to get yourself to P12 overtaking Liam and Nico right of the bat.

"Excellent start Y/N lets keep pushing"

Martin Bundle - I have to say that Y/N is incredible with these races where she starts down in the back of the grid, and she gets those amazing starts where she slips in the middle of the two drivers ahead and is able to confidently get herself up too places

"Okay, and Alonso are ahead, you have DRS" your engineer tells you, and you are able to overtake Yuki who doesn't go as aggressively into the chicane as you do. You have a little spin but recover enough to pull up aside Alonso on the straight, going for the overtake.

"Amazing Y/N, that's P10 right now. Keep pushing"

Eventually you were left fighting Carlos, Max clipped a tire and was now down in 4th fighting with Charles.

"Y/N this has been a fantastic race, from P14 up to P2, Carlos is 1.8 second ahead. Lets get him and bring home a double podium. Max is fighting for P3 right now. 5 laps to go" he advises.

"Tell him to speed up, I'll give him DRS we can overtake Sainz together so its a 1.2" you advise looking seeing the Ferrari behind you. You slow down on the hairpin, breaking early, which Charles didn't expect where he was concentrating on defending from Max. You speed up, watching as he spins out a little leaving room for Max on the inside.

"Okay, Sainz has sped up there's now a 2.6 second gap"

"Copy that" you say, Max was using your slip stream, but didn't go for the overtake, you easily defended from Charles together while gaining on the other Ferrari.

"Okay last two laps, Sainz, 0.3 second gap"

"Yeah i can fucking tell I'm riding his rear end" you say, the minute you get onto the straight you and Max both go either side of Sainz, sandwiching him in as your about to go into turn 11. He breaks early falling back leaving you to take the optimal racing line and get ahead of Max.

"Is Max fighting this last lap?" you ask.

"He's been told is free to fight. Mode push and bring us another win" your race engineer advises, you breeze through the final lap, it was a close call but you came first.

"Y/N Y/L/N winner of the 2023 Italian Grand Prix" your race engineer says a big grin coming onto your face as you flip up the visor holding your fist up as you see all the Red Bull crew cheering for you on the fencing.

"Where did Oscar place?" you ask, you hadnt thought about him up until now. Even as you passed the orange 81 car, it was just another car then.

"Not a good race for Piastri, P12 behind Lawson"

"Okay. Thank you for the great drive today. Thank you Christian" you say before preparing yourself for the podium.

Would Oscar be there?

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle

[oh-babylove]

~7k. copia/f!reader. explicit. established relationship, smut, filth and fluff. copia does date night, and you show him your appreciation-- it's only fair. mdni.

thanks to @copia for showing me how to put images in a grid-- top right image by instagram user susitse.art. @enjoy-my-swearing and @photiniainsummer, this one's for you. <3

when the red comes over you - ao3

rhrn spoilers. blowjobs, masturbation, dirty talk, light degradation, a small piece of light cum kink, a touch of hanky-panky in public, some thigh riding, face-fucking, fluff, tw: references to past sexual assault/dubious consent/sexual trauma

You’re holding the same pole on the subway car as Copia, his gloved hand over yours, swaying with him, forced into his space by the crowd. It gives you an excuse to stand close to him, in the circle of his scent like cold smoke. You're not complaining– well, not much. Keeping your balance is a bit of a challenge– you aren't used to doing this in heels, even these modest Cuban heels. Riding the subway truly is riding, the rhythmic thrum of the rails swaying up your body, through the balls of your feet. Riding the train feels like riding a living thing.

“I like this,” you say, as if coming to a decision.

“Hnn?” Copia replies, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you.

“Riding the train. I like it.” You lean in to murmur in his ear, not that you have far to go. It’s a matter of tilting your head until you can feel the warmth of his skin against your cheek. “But I’d like riding you even more.” It’s just the kind of cheesy nonsense that you’re both into.

Your body keeps brushing against his– a particularly hard bump has your belly pressed against his erection, and his choked-off gasp scores a direct hit to your brain stem, bypassing your ears, cinching something tight around your diaphragm. His hand tightens on your hip, possessive. Holding you up, keeping your balance.

“You little minx,” he hisses, frustrated--with a ragged edge of delight. “You wait till I get you home.”

“You caint blame that on me, now, that was the train,” you say, but you're close to laughing, yourself. You can hear your accent getting thicker, but damned if you can stop it. Besides, Copia loves it, loves ruffling your feathers enough that he can get you to slide back into that slurring hillfolk drawl. Someday he might even make you less self-conscious about it. 

Truth be told, you’ve been practically vibrating since before you left the apartment, restless and swollen between the legs, a low-grade ache that Copia has not been helpful with.

(The apartment. Your apartment. Yours, plural, now, you think. You’d never been a co-religionist of his, and he’d had a toothbrush at your place for a long time. Then a drawer in your dresser. Then he’d brought over his best frying pan, his best chef knife– simply because he couldn’t stand it, gattina, you cook with that? And now there’s as many of his books as yours on the shelves– shelves you put up with your own hands while he did ‘the heavy lookin’ on.’ His name isn’t on the lease, but he paid the rent for the next two months anyway. In full.

When you tried to fight him on it, he’d just shrugged. “Babydoll, I’ve been here more nights than I haven’t for the last four months, this is just… ehh, consider it backdated, yeah?” He’d kissed your forehead. “We can do half each after that. If you haven’t gotten sick of your dirty old man by then.”

It was hard to argue with that.

Copia kept his room at the Ministry, even after his… promotion. His term as Imperator, he’d decided, would be more hands off. You’d talked about it a little. Mostly in bed, sweaty and spent and a little sticky. “Mister Psaltarian is more than capable of running most of it. The administrative things. I’m better with the ghouls, I think, but there’s Kevin, and Ashley, they have it well in hand. I want the new guy to– to be able to be his own man, yeah? I’ll show him the ropes, of course, answer any questions he has, but he doesn’t need me looking over his shoulder all the damn time.”

The new guy. Hell of a way to refer to his long-lost brother. “And you ain’t ready to be around him twenty-four seven just yet.”

“...And that. Yes.” He was quiet for a moment. “You’re too perceptive, gattina. Keep it up and I’ll have to fuck you again, till you don’t think so good.”

“So… you sayin’ you gone fuck my brains out? Say, you ever notice that your man Psaltarian loses his train of thought whenever Kevin comes into the room?”

“That’s it, back in the handcuffs with you. And remember, you brought this on yourself.”)

As ever, he’d insisted on doing your makeup. (It should have been your first clue that you were in for it.) It only makes sense-- he’s better at it than you’ve ever been, and he loves doing it. You love it, too, if you’re honest. He had to take his gloves off for it, to hold your chin firmly and keep you in place. It was terribly intimate, his breath ghosting over your lips, the skin of his hand against your cheek. His quiet, gentle command held something still in the center of you, made it sing like a struck tuning fork– a calm vibration that sank into your bones. The cool brush of the eyeliner on the delicate skin of your eyelids. How meticulous he’d been, how precise. That calm focus he brings to everything that he cares about. How his whole being focused on that point, painting cat eyes sharp enough to kill a man.

Your lipstick had been worse, barely holding your mouth open, the brush sliding over the curve of your cupid’s bow, stretching out your lower lip ever so slightly. You hadn’t even known they’d made brushes for lipstick. Copia has taught you so many things.

Copia knows just what shades of red match your skin tone, knows just how to bring out the color of your eyes. He knows, too, the best cut of a dress to accentuate your figure, to flatter your curves. This one was lovely, shaping your breasts, with a little bit of flare to the skirt. He bought you this dress, these heels. This lingerie. He’s taught you how to fasten a silk stocking to a garter belt, that the underwear goes on over the garters, not underneath.

He’d taken the liberty of fastening your stockings tonight. “So the back seam is straight, gattina. I know it’s tricky to get right on your own, yes? Let me help.” His hands, his clever fingers, so high up on your thighs, his face level with your pussy.

“Oh yeah, sweetness, you're helping something, alright,” you choked out, a little strangled. 

He must have seen how wet you were already, if the self-satisfied hum he made behind you was any indication. He bit the crease of your ass, just lightly, making a goofy little rawr noise that made you actually giggle.

Embarrassing, the noises he gets out of you.

“You shaved,” he said, and it was supremely gratifying to hear him a little hoarse, himself. 

“Did you wanna do that, too?”

“Hnn. We’d miss our reservation.” He wasn't moving from his place on his knees behind you. “Miss the show.”

“Sound like you're enjoying this show purt’ well,” you said, but you thought it best to step into your underwear, anyway. 

Pain shared is pain lessened, isn't it?

…He didn't need to know that you only kept them on for a couple of minutes, just until you used the bathroom one last time on the way out the door.

You almost never know in advance where exactly Copia will take you when it's his turn to plan date night- generally your only clue is what clothing he picks out for you, how he does your makeup, if makeup is required. You've ranged over the city hitting up obscure museums before, taken tours in the underbelly of the public transportation system, gone to aviaries and magic shops and tiny greenhouses.

(You like to think you hold your own. Dive bars and twenty four hour diners, sidewalk art festivals and night markets, one memorable instance of a graffiti lesson– that had been an unexpected delight. 

Your man can be blisteringly uncool sometimes– most of the time, even– but there's no snobbery in him. No fear, either, not in the way most people are afraid: of embarrassing themselves, saying the wrong thing, of looking like a jackass. He hadn't been good at it, but he threw himself into the attempt wholeheartedly, listened to the man in the baggy jeans with the paint-stained fingers explain technique and theory and the history of the medium with total attention and enthusiasm. 

Never will you reach the bottom of him. His openness and his generosity and his good, good heart.)

Dinner and a show is almost a little pedestrian, for him, but there's comfort in the classics. A bar paneled in blond wood and washed in warm light, specializing in rare vinyls piped in on a very serious sound system as much as the cocktails. 

He’d been very good, kept his knee between yours, but otherwise, hadn’t even tried to put a hand up your skirt– a rarity, with him.  His eyes told a different story, watching you with obvious, predatory hunger. The second time you caught him ogling your cleavage he leaned into it, dragging his eyes salaciously down your body with enough force that you nearly felt his gloves snagging on your skin.

The cheeky motherfucker actually licked his lips at you.

You barked out your unlovely laugh, and the way he grinned took the sting out of the sharp glances cast your way– the aim was to listen to the obscure bossa nova, not to your fellow patrons. Your face was hot. “Ah, gattina, you cannot blame a man for looking. Not when you are as ravishing as that.” It wasn’t helping the heat in your face.

A glance at the mirror over the bar, old and pitted and a little smoky, the perfect self-aware touch of authenticity. You’d never have recognized the woman looking back, not when you first met Copia, this exquisite creature with perfect makeup. Sharp. Sexy. 

You don’t hate it.

“...Y’outdid yourself,” you said, slow. You didn’t look real to yourself, this absolute pinnacle of femininity. Copia’s gaze softened, warmed, less the slavering predator and more– a naked adoration that was hard to look at.

(Of course, neither expression was comparable to the first time he’d put you in an exquisitely tailored three-piece suit. You’d thought the man was going to pass out from how quickly his blood rushed south– but that’s a story for another day.)

He crowded your space, just this side of indecent, his knee halfway between your thighs. Copia fed you little morsels from his own fork of– whatever this was. A vaguely mediterranean inspired amuse-bouche. He took his time with it, making you duck your head while the cool tines slid against your lower lip. You kept his eyes for it, moving slow, relishing the way his mouth hung open. 

It’s a little much, in public, truly.

You weren’t even sure what you were eating, something perfectly balanced with rich cream, phyllo dough, an acidic tang. Spanakopita when it’s got a Michelin star or two, you thought. Copia’s little shudder at your groan of appreciation didn’t escape your notice, but you managed to keep the smugness out of your expression with truly heroic effort. 

From there, it was a short taxi ride with his gloved hand heavy on your knee, Copia keeping up a stream of polite chatter that you barely heard a word of. He’d gotten box seats in a lovely little jewel box of a theatre, for a revival of a classic two-man existential tragicomedy starring a couple of aging comedic actors known for their roles in a cultural zeitgeist film from around the turn of the last century.

It was a good effort, all told, and the actors weren’t bad– they had a chemistry borne out of twenty years of friendship that’s impossible to replicate. But Copia proved that he’s a true and faithful servant of the Devil somewhere around the start of the second act, when he peeled a glove off with his teeth.

Your chest went tight.

No wonder he wanted box seats, you thought, as he settled his hand back on your knee. Like it belonged there, like he had perfect possession of it, every right to edge just under the hem of your skirt. 

(His hands-- you love his hands. He’s self-conscious about the hair on the back of them, the dusting of freckles. Large and well-made and skilled, seeing them is like sharing a secret. A gift. He’s squeamish about textures, too sensitive, the slightest scrape will make him shudder-- and not in a fun way. Sandpaper would be torture. Anything gelatinous is right out. You get used to the constant grime and the vague awareness of filth you get on your hands, living in a city. It’s not so bad, for you, you invest in hand sanitizer and don’t touch your face. It’s the price you pay for living in a place with something like a subway, where things pulse and hum and never truly sleep, to be a microbe in the gut of this beast of a city, to be a tiny cog in the great machine.

You love it here. You didn’t think you would. Hell, you didn’t think you could. “It’s growing on me,” you told Copia one day, cool as you like, as if you weren’t giving anything away. “A little.”

“You have no talent for bullshit, babydoll,” he said, both dry and terribly fond.)

All of your awareness focused on the soft warmth of him enveloping your knee, the rough scrape of his calluses on the inside of your thigh– a new sensation, he’s taken the acoustic guitar back up recently. Not moving, just–holding. 

You kept your eyes forward, and your breathing even.

His thumb slid over your kneecap, absentmindedly tracing little circles. Your legs fell open a little wider, just so your thighs weren’t touching. You were terribly, achingly aware of the air on your cunt.

A soft stroke back and forth, a gesture that could have been reflexive, thoughtless– if it wasn’t for the beatific expression on his face, his eyes forward and too-innocent. It would have been more convincing if he hadn’t been inching his slow way upwards, featherlight touches, tracing up and back down, up and back down. Just a millimeter higher each time. An agonizingly slow drag, a glacial pace.

Your grip tightened on the armrest. 

Copia leaned forward, his breath in your ear. “Why, gattina,” he purred. “I do not think you are even paying attention to the play.”

“You are,” you managed, “a real sunnavbitch, you know it?”

He only chuckled low, and ran his touch to the top of your thigh. The side of his hand brushed up against your wet cunt and you both gasped.

“You little slut,” he hissed, with obvious pride. “So eager for me already.”

He dragged the very tip of one finger up between your lips, so slick it was almost frictionless, pulling away just before he could touch your clit. You took a ragged breath that was nearly a whine, bereft at the loss of his touch. You felt your cunt clench over nothing, an involuntary contraction. 

Copia hummed in mock-sympathy, and took mercy on you, cupping your whole cunt with his broad hand, steady and even pressure that was nowhere near enough, but at least took a little of the edge off. 

His middle finger slid naturally between your labia majora, and settled there, his fingertip crooked so he could just barely feel the inside of you.

The bastard stayed that way for the rest of the performance, sometimes giving you a gentle squeeze, sometimes pulling away to slide his fingertip back up to circle your clit. Just often enough to keep your attention focused where he wanted.

Evil, evil man.

Copia retracted his hand before the lights went up, giving you one final squeeze. He kept your eyes as he brought his hand up to his face, inhaled deeply, and surreptitiously licked his palm before fitting his hand back into his glove for the applause.

“Play weren’t that bad,” you said, weakly. “No call to do- alla that.”

“Oh? Didn’t you tell me you had a crush on the– which was it, the one with the dark hair– as a little girl? You want to wait around, go to the stage door, get an autograph?” All innocence, all the accommodating boyfriend.

“I revise my previous opinion. You are the Lebron James of being a sunnavabitch.” Despite your discomfort in heels, you couldn’t drag him to the train home fast enough.

So now, here you are. You shiver a little, in this hot and humid subway car, remembering. You bite your lip and can taste the wax of your lipstick.

Copia sees it, of course he does, how your eyes go just a little glazed. He smirks a terribly self-satisfied smirk. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, this’d cost you at least a dollar. Maybe five nintey-nine.”

“Inflation is just outrageous these days. Highway robbery. I’m shocked.”

“Not yet, you aren’t.”

“You are talking a big game, babydoll. Be careful, I think, ehh-- your mouth is writing checks your ass can’t cash.” His hand heavy on your hip, almost indecent. His boot between your shoes, the sweet curve of his thigh displacing your skirt. He’s so close, so warm and solid. The train is packed, but he’s all you can see, all you can feel. His breath in your ear, pitched low. “Your pussy can’t cash.”

It’s all you can do to keep yourself from grinding on his thigh in the middle of the train. “Sweetness,” you croak out. “We’re in public.”

He leans back, conciliatory. Terribly smug. The world fades back in. You catch a teenager in a hoodie smirking at the two of you, a direct and uncomfortable gaze that feels more taboo in this city than even the way your hips keep shifting, restless. You feel almost drunk, stepping into the warmth of his body and his hard cock between your hip and your belly, a little vindictive, relishing his frustrated little grunt in your ear. 

“Two more stops, gattina,” he murmurs, as much for his benefit as yours. You see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “We can make it.”

“Mm-hmm,” you manage. 

He drags you roughly by your elbow off the train, in a way that has your fellow passengers actually making a faint murmur of disapproval at the way he growls. He might be leaving a bruise on your arm. Can’t be helped. You’re laughing up the stairs, your heels loud on the concrete and metal, giddy, just this side of hysterical. 

He’s clumsy with the keys when you get to your apartment building, following you up the stairs so he can look up your skirt. “Can’t believe– I watched you put those on.” 

“You just mad you didn’t get to watch me take ‘em off.”

He’s on your neck like a lamprey when you get to your door, and now it’s your turn to be clumsy while you paw through your purse, his hot wet mouth insistent, just under your ear, his teeth grazing your skin. His hands firm on your breasts, pushing the neckline of your dress down so he can fill his hands with them, gripping almost hard enough to hurt. He’s trapping you against the door, grinding into your ass while you fumble with the lock.

“What’re you– you tryna fuck me in the hallway?” you gasp. He’s reaching up your skirt now, his bare palm at the top of your stocking. When did he take his gloves off?

“I will,” he growls, “if you don’t hurry the fuck up.”

You somehow make it in the door without breaking the key off in the lock, and you give him just enough time to slide the bolt home before you’re shoving him onto the couch. You’re in his lap just as quick, your mouth on his, nearly biting him as he laughs into your mouth. Christ, you didn’t even get out of your heels. 

He’s warm under you, solid muscle under a sweet softness around the middle, and you can’t unbutton his shirt fast enough. His tongue in your mouth is making you clumsy, making it hard to keep track of how buttons work, shorting out basic motor functions. When you make it, you groan at his fur under your palms, and then he shoves his thigh between your legs and you whine when you grind your wet cunt against it. You have to break off from his mouth for it, clinging to his shoulders.

Your lipstick is all over Copia’s face. He’s grinning, rapt, delighted, impossibly fond. The man’s face is so pink it looks like he’s been slapped around. “Good, eh?” He pushes his thigh forward again, his hand up your dress and on your ass. “You like that?” He’s pulling you into it, making you drag your cunt over his tight jeans. The seam running down the front of his thigh hits your clit and you gasp. “So fucking desperate you need to hump my leg, filthy little thing.”

You roll against him once or twice more, because he’s right, it feels so good, those long runner’s thighs, the coiled power of him. That hard muscle and rough fabric against you, his body between your knees, so warm and familiar and beloved.

But his smirk is just a little too smug for your taste, so you have to make yourself stop before you fall too deep into a rhythm. Even if you actually hurt with being so turned on for so long. You get his shirt the rest of the way open, have to bend your head to suck a nipple into your mouth– the terrible brand over his heart level with your eyes– and bite. It’s not hard, but it does raise his back off the couch, and distract him from you eeling down between his legs to kneel on the floor.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, looking down at you, knowing (some of) what you have in mind.

Your hand is on his belt buckle, and the sheer Pavlovian reaction you have to the sound of undoing it with one hand forces you to press your cheek to his thigh and focus on your breathing for a moment.

You laugh, shaky. You left an actual wet spot on his jeans.

Copia’s hand is in your hair, fingernails running along your scalp, soothing, grounding you. “Baby?” he asks. “Babydoll, are you alright? We don’t have to–”

“No.” You catch your breath, look back up at him, and his mismatched eyes go from soft and sweet to almost afraid, when he sees your expression. The hunger there– you could eat him alive. “No, I was just– too turned on, for a second.”

“Oh.” He pets at you again, then his smile turns predatory as he sweeps your hair up in one hand and pulls tight. “Then why don’t you get to sucking my cock, puttana?” 

Just for that, you lean up and bite at his belly, the sweet furry softness just below his navel. You laugh with a mouthful of his flesh at his yelp, how it turns into a groan as you unzip his jeans and take him in hand. 

It isn’t as if you aren’t intimately (haha) familiar with his dick, but it’s always nice to see. You’d called it pretty, the first time you’d slept with him, and it really is an accurate description. (It had been emotional for a great many reasons, but that had touched him in ways he still couldn’t articulate.) Silky soft skin over the hard length of him, his head already shiny with precum. It’s the same color as his lips, under the paint.

“You see what you do to me, gattina?” he murmurs above you. “You wreck me. You’ve ruined me– or at least these pants.”

“It’ll come out in the wash,” you say, and take him into your mouth, slow suction, tasting salt. He fills your mouth, fills your hand, blood-warm and firm in your grip. You watch his eyes when you start to suck him down, loving, as you always do, how in that first moment he looks at you, whimpers at you, like you're breaking his heart. 

You hear the dry click of him swallowing as you pull the soft skin of his cock further towards your mouth, your grip twisting, the slow churn of it. How his veins give under your lips, under your hand. It doesn’t take long to get him slick, the thick ridge of the underside of him heavy on your tongue. The musk of him fills your whole senses, thick and animal and a little gross.

His hips shift, and before you have to pull yourself off of him to tell him to talk, he’s doing what you want. “Look at you,” he breathes, reverent. “You’re so good at this, fucking made for this,” a twitch upwards, a movement too small to be called a thrust, “aren’t you? Born for this, your god made you to suck my cock. My perfect– ohh– perfect little cocksucker. Want it so bad, don’t you?”

His hand is heavy on the back of your skull, pushing you down with that even, steady pressure just how he likes. How you both like. “Don’t worry. I’ll give it to you, give you what you want.” He’s not choking you with it, you have plenty of room to work with your hand. Still, as you take him down further, swallowing around the thick length of him, you feel hot tears running down your cheeks, sheer dumb animal reaction. You slip your other hand to cradle his slick balls, rolling them gently, the weight of them a little cooler than the rest of his body. He makes a strangled noise, an “Ohh fuck, baby, babydoll, so good for me, so good to me, fuck, fuck–!” 

His stutter and his loss of control are just too much, finally, you feel the air of the apartment cool at the top of your slick thighs, your swollen cunt, and you have to do something about it. You take your hand from his balls and slide it up your skirt, slowly enough to feel your silk stockings under your fingertips, slow enough that Copia catches it.

Just as you register how fucking wet you are, his eyes go wide and his hips shudder, the smooth hot head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. 

Your grip tightens on the base of his cock, a warning. You freeze, staring blank and unseeing at his soft belly, before looking up at him imploringly. “Okay,” he says, gentling you like a frightened horse. His big hand moving in your hair. “Okay. But baby,” he's nearly whining as you slowly suckle on the head of him, faint living salt in your mouth, “I know you want it, you’re too fucking good at that to not want it, I. Ohhh.” His hand grips tight in your hair as you swallow around him, thick and hot on your tongue. “Oh, fuck.”

You’re finding your pace on his cock again, a little faster, your hands working in time on his cock, on your clit. Freshly shaved like this, you’re fantastically, impossibly slippery. “Ohh, fuck. Oh, sweet Satan. Oh my dear Lord Below.” Copia absolutely doesn’t know what he’s saying, he so rarely gets outright religious on you. It’s an unspoken courtesy you’ve extended to each other, so to hear him break it sends a smug little charge through you. You whimper a little around his cock, give yourself a little more pressure on your clit. He can’t keep still, not all the way, even though you know he’s trying, making little aborted movements of his hips.

Copia swallows. It’s remarkable how you can see him trying to pull himself together. “Knew you loved this,” he says, his voice creaking. “Can’t be that good at something if you don’t love it. Didn’t know you loved it this much, gattina.” A little more pressure on the back of your skull, his nails scraping your scalp. He isn’t exactly holding you down, but he isn’t letting you pull off, either. “Never had my cock sucked this good, never even had a man suck my cock this good, thought I liked that better, before you came along. Had so many people suck this cock–” and that hurts, a hot bolt of pain and arousal that hits your heart and your clit at the same time. Your pace falters, and it must show, because Copia slows as well.

It’s a sore spot. You know that his own inverted form of celibacy in the Ministry included a certain implied… availability that could be, charitably, unpleasant for him at times. Clergy take no wives, no husbands, but give themselves freely to their congregation. You haven’t pushed him on the things that happened to him, he usually insists it was fine, expected, normal– but you generally have to go for a long walk and break something after you talk about it. You know, too, that he had positive experiences there, genuinely caring relationships. It doesn’t exactly help matters that your own knowledge of partnered sex, before Copia, falls radically short of the mean for someone in your age group.

All of that goes through your head in a flash, and he knows it, he can read you so well, even between one stroke of his cock and the next. “Only– didn’t know you’d have a natural talent at this.” Petting at you, soothing, his thumb moving tender on your cheekbone. “Remember, how I had to teach you how to kiss, those hours in the park.” You make a noise on him, not sure if this is helping. “Loved that, babydoll, loved doing that with you, teaching you, drove me wild.” He’s murmuring low to you, his voice a little rough, a little too exposed. “But I– I was ready for you to bite it off, the first time you went down.” 

Awkward thing, laughing with a mouth full of dick. But he keeps going. “I didn’t know, my baby. I didn’t know how it could feel. Didn’t know how good it could be.” He twitches in your mouth, in time with a tiny movement of his hips, so warm and alive in you. “Taught you how to kiss, but babylove, I swear I felt like a virgin when you took me to bed.” His voice is low and wrecked for different reasons than it was before, and oh no, his eyes are wet.

You let go of him, turn your head to wipe your mouth on your shoulder, quick and perfunctory. You can't take your eyes from him. "Sug," you say, unsure how to continue, the twisting in your chest too much for words, beyond anything you could articulate with language. Your knees creak a little as you start to get up, to do what you don't know. Kiss him or touch him or say something, anything, to the way he's looking at you. 

Copia pushes you back down, his hand heavy at the back of your neck. His thumb slots right at the base of your skull, right where he likes to keep it when he kisses you. “No, no, you’re too good at this, I wouldn’t interrupt an artist.” Back in some semblance of control. “You’re too good, you make me feel too good, show me. Will you--? Please, baby, will you show me how it can be good--?"

"Well," you say, pumping slow at his cock. "I can try." You press a tiny kiss to the head of him, too sweet for the situation, relishing the way he shivers. You take him in, how his hair is a disaster, sticking up in the back, his shirt open, your makeup smeared all over his face, his body, the parts of his thighs that you can reach. His pupils are blown wide, his eyes a little glazed, his lips swollen from the way you kissed them and the way he's bitten them. He's wrecked, and he's yours. 

You love him. With all your heart, all your mind, and, you're afraid, all your soul. It hurts to look at him, you think he might sear your eyes right out of your skull. 

You close your eyes against it, at how it stings, and nuzzle into the silky skin of his cock. Copia's belly is soft, warm, furred, delightfully sticky under your touch, as you run your hand up the front of him, up until you're cupping the sweet curve of his pectoral, until you can feel the cruel scar of his branding under the pads of your fingers. You trace over it, mapping the vector of those interlocking sixes. You feel his pulse under your palm, under your lips. You drag your mouth back and forth, just to feel the soft, delicately crenelated skin, the coolness of his flesh here soothing your feverishness. 

Copia makes a tiny wounded noise as his hand presses over yours. As if he could press his heart into your hand. He’s better at language than you’ve ever been, but you can see it falter and fail for him. All you know how to do is– action. It feels inadequate, somehow.

Your dear man. He sees you, and raises your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles in a courtly gesture. It should be absurd, with you on your knees for him, with the delicate skin of his cock against your mouth. Somehow, it isn’t, the alchemy of his tenderness conveying exactly what he means. What you mean, with the most vulnerable part of him between your teeth. “D’you want me to take you to bed, babydoll?”

“No,” you say, pulling off of him long enough to murmur it against his slick head. “Later, maybe. If you’re up to it. Right now, I want–” It’s easier to wrap your lips around him again, to tell him that way. You’re more eloquent with your mouth this way than you ever were with language.

“Alright,” he says, almost a gasp, as he returns your hand to you. “Touch yourself for me?” Almost pleading. As if your pleasure were a favor to bestow on him. “I want– wanna see you get off, my baby, wanna see how much you love doing this. So fucking hot–” His voice breaks off into a whine as you pull him further into your mouth. 

His big hand on your head, stroking your hair back, so sweetly. “Do you want me to be a little mean? I know you like that.” 

You moan around his cock in an unmistakable affirmative, rut a little harder into your hand, plead with your eyes. 

Copia’s smile turns sharp, wicked. “My perfect little cocksucker.” The deep affection in his voice belies the words. “Perfect little cumslut.” Your hand is already back between your legs, and you might– might– be moving your hips a little more theatrically than strictly necessary. 

He holds the back of your neck, the base of your skull, his grip tight. Just this side of painful. “You know how to tap out. How to get me to stop.” He pushes you down on him as he tilts his hips up to you, not quite cutting off your air. “But you’re not gonna do that, are you?” 

Copia licks his lips. He looks feverish, making shallow little thrusts into your mouth. “No, you. Ohh, you like this too much.” He’s so careful, even like this, testing just how hard he can thrust, finding your limit and pushing just past it before backing down. It makes you moan, makes you shiver, makes your hand speed up on your cunt in time with the way he’s pushing into your throat.

“Cruel to me,” he croons, as he uses your mouth. “Keeping that sweet little pussy from me.” He’s panting. “I can hear it, hear how wet you are.” As he says it, you realize you can, too, the wet noise in counterpoint to the sound of you working his cock. “M’gonna make you pay for it. Hope you’re ready, gonna eat you out till m’hard again.” He’s got both hands on your head now, and he’s too far into you for you to use your hand on him.

“You’ll. Hnn. You’ll need me to, to eat you out. Make you cum on my face.” If it weren’t for the sheer adoration in his eyes, this would be brutal, the way he’s pushing into your throat. The speed of your hand on your clit. Moving with him, point and counterpoint. “Fuck, I’m gonna wreck it, gonna split your pretty little cunt open– I’ll last longer, after I cum down your throat.” You whine around his cock, your cunt clenching on nothing, shivering against your hand.

Copia sounds like he’s in pain. It feels like he can’t stop himself, the way his hips are working. “Gattina,” he whines, helplessly. “Can’t– can’t last much longer, you looking at me like that.” You can feel him trembling under your touch. “D’you. You want it?” Movements a little more shallow, holding himself in check. “You want this cum in your mouth?” A rough, jagged thrust. “Little slut–!” he hisses, and he’s not quite too far gone to grin in smug delight at the way you moan in reaction. 

“Gonna cum like this?” he croons, taunting. His white eye bores into you, too bright, and he looks crazed. Deranged. It’s almost frightening, the way you can’t look away from it. Your eyes burn, hot tears on your cheeks, and you couldn’t stop rubbing your cunt if you tried. The way he’s watching you, the way he sees just how turned on you are by him using you like this. Like it’s shameful. “From me fucking your slut mouth like a little cocksleeve.” His voice is creaking, nearly out of control. “You want this cum? You want it? Hmm?”

You’re hanging on by a thread, your nerves strung out like piano wire, helpless before him. Your jaw hurts, his hand so tight in your hair. “Then take it.” He’s beckoning you over the edge, chanting, rapt. “Take it, take my cum, take my fucking cum–” he rasps, knowing exactly what will set you off, will snap the bright line of you.

You see his smile as you break, whining around his cock. How he lights up at it, overjoyed, crooked and tender. You hold his eyes the whole time, giving him as much of it as you can, letting him see all of it, the shining abyssal affection that crashes through your body for him, catching your nerve endings like fire through tinfoil. 

“Ohh–! Precious,” he says, almost crying, “my precious girl, my baby, my–” his voice breaks on your name, the syllables like a song, like a prayer, like something more than holy, like the shahada, like the shema, like it's the last thing that he knows. You never knew your name until he held it in his mouth like this, at the uttermost end of himself. He’s flooding over your tongue, slick and bitter. Like the first jet from the fountain in school, sun-warmed metal, iron from the earth, living water. 

His cock jumps in your mouth, and you’re shaking, trembling through your aftershocks and his as you swallow all of him, pull all of him into you, watching his eyes and his blissed out expression until his voice does– something wrecked. “You–!” he gasps, delighted. “C’mere, come up here, you’re too– too far away–” he’s pulling at you, babbling, delirious, so soft now. 

Copia’s pulling you up, into his arms, his lap, too quick for you to wipe his cum and your spit from your mouth. “Dunno if I like it, you that far away, wanna feel your pretty little body when you cum, you–” And then he’s kissing on you, shivering, laughing, little pecks along your jawline till he reaches your mouth. He makes a deep, appreciative groan when he tastes himself on your lips. He pulls back to look at you, almost scandalized in delight. 

You have to laugh at him. For once you can’t be bothered to be self-conscious about it. “Oh, I do like that,” he murmurs, almost to himself, before he dives back in, like he has to get all of it. You’re still shaky, a fine shiver all down your spine. He’s almost clumsy, licking into your mouth, a real rarity for him. You try not to feel too smug about it.

You can’t stop smiling, when you finally get your mouth back. “Acceptable, then?”

“So good. Every time, I can’t believe–” he’s nuzzling at you, his nose against yours, totally uninhibited in his affection. “So perfect, so sweet, love you so much, thank you, thank you, baby–” Nonsense babble. Incoherently effusive. He scoops your legs across his lap and runs his hands over all of your skin that he can reach. “Perfetta…sei perfetta. Angioletto,” he murmurs, and you shiver. You haven’t heard that one in a while. “Angioletto mio,” he’s saying, into your hair, your skin, and it’s rare that you blow him all the way back to Italian. “Sei tutto ciò che voglio del Paradiso.” You’re a little too fucked-out to parse that all the way, but it still snags in your heart a little.

(He knows, usually, how you still aren’t used to being loved on this much. You know he restrains himself, tries not to overwhelm you. It breaks your heart, sometimes, when you see him hold himself back, even as his consideration makes you warm.) 

Now, though, it’s good. It’s perfect. His pants are half off, his dick out, ridiculous. You think you might have snapped a garter, and you definitely put ladders in these stockings. You couldn’t give less of a shit. You loop your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, letting out a deep, contented sigh.

Copia’s still petting you– appropriate enough. You feel like a cat in a sunbeam, even supremely disheveled like this.

He squeezes you lightly, again, and makes a little noise in the back of his throat. “The, enh– the talking. It wasn’t too much?” Like he’s shy, all of a sudden.

“Noo!” You have to pull back to look up at him. “No, holy shit, sweetness, it was inspired. Even for you! Hot damn, baby. ‘Cocksleeve,’ where did that come from?” 

“Ehh– a couple of times, there, I’m, ah. Not even sure I remember what I was saying.” Is he blushing? It’s adorable.

“No, it was great. I’d tell you if it weren’t, honeybunch.” You lean your head back against him, boneless and warm all the way through. “Naw, this was awesome. Ten outta ten, go Team Us.” You hold up your hand for a high-five, and your sweet man, he’ll never leave you hanging– the slap rings loud through your living room. 

He tilts his head back onto the couch, looking up at the Devil’s Ivy crawling over your bookshelves. “Although,” he says, slow, considering. “I do seem to recall that I promised you I was gonna make you cum on my face.”

“And split my pussy open,” you remind him. “Or was you writing checks your dick can’t cash?”

“Babydoll, don’t you know by now?” He’s turning back to look at you, his mismatched eyes full of predatory adulation. “The Devil always keeps his promises.”

[xxe-jkk]

Summary : waking up with the person that you love is like heaven, even if it present you as a menace…

Warning ! : idol!au, a lot of fluff, few kisses, reference to suggestive (a bit) Jungkook being the clingiest and teasing boyfriend coded (weakness) you want to kick him out but he’s jk. Comfort, ref to friends to lovers..

A/N : it’s the first time I do a fic like that, will see how it will go 😭 be indulgent about it pls (low English sorry) love y’all

Muscles on your body felt almost breaking down by all the hard working that you did. Jungkook already told you to stay healthy, stubborn as you are, you want to give all you can do for making people proud of you, specially Jungkook. The biggest point common that you both have is how you work hard for things that you love, but different level, you thought.

The sunlight get on your both naked body covered by the sheet on your bed. It’s seem for you so long since you really get a real good sleep with all the stress overwhelming you. Despite it, you feel guilty to tell him about it knowing that he certainly work ten times much and harder that you. You want to put yourself on his shoes for not being a selfish one. Though, he’s being here with you since the day one, supporting you and make you laugh on the hardest moment, he was all you could asked for. You both been busy with him and his promotions, and you with your studies and classes. When he was away apart, it’s like a part of you who go with him, it’s not the same when he isn’t here..

You turn your face slightly to his side, using his tattooed arm as a pillow. He was sleeping peacefully, good thing that he took the time to rest with all the trip and work that he did. Jungkook is Jungkook, god knows how much he could take with his self, still feeling you good despite all of it. His hair in front of his forehead, sweet cheeks who got the envy to squish them, why does he seem that innocent when he definitely not?

Open his eyes softly, meeting your gaze on him

“Keep sleeping, sorry for waking you babe”

his sleepy eyes met yours lazily, putting you closer to his bare chest. You can’t tell if he’s awake or sleepy. So cute. He hums a bit before getting into his sleep state.

“Why do you seem so tensed, did you sleep well?” He mumbled calmly

“it’s you that hug me too tight, you can feel my bones at this point” tease him softly as caress his cheek. It’s ridiculously true that Jungkook loves physical touch, always wanting you close, specially when it’s only you and him.

“you’re lying, I’m holding you with a tenderness touch”

“You’re the one who do, I can’t even get away from your hold, even in your sleep”

“why would you go away from me?” He asked with fake confusion before continue with a smirk

“seem like you loved my hold last night when I took you on the kitchen”

Getting a hit of shyness, you put your hand on his mouth to shut him out “shut up, stop being that wild”

“rain, rain, rain, you can’t fake it” he sings softly

“ you just up from bed and it’s the first thing that it came on your mind?” smile slightly at his behaviour

“what else could I think of? I keep having your taste on my tongue” tease you, how he loves make you that flustered, too much for him

he nuzzled his face on your soft neck and letting some kisses there and there.

“fuck. I could spend my days like that, never get enough”

“not me, go away” tease him slightly, but at your surprise, he knows how to play this game too

“ what? Okay now I’m really upset” stand up from bed, missing already his touch “gonna see bam, he will take my affection”

“Wait, what? No okay come back, I’m kidding” hug his waist by behind as nuzzling your face on his neck “finally, I want your touch, I missed it”

“..why are you so cute?..” As taking your hands, wrapping them around his neck as being in front of you, he cuddles you, laying down on the bed. Shower your throat and bare chest with light kisses

“I love you, I love you, how are you mine?”

you could ask the same question, is he serious? He has the entire world into him and he asking you that?

“I love you too baby, I missed you so much, feeling lonely without you, or maybe because I am?” He laughed at your soft behaviour, at those moments, he just want to stop time and and being with you, being with people he loves without being away from them. He know that almost, he will not be apart to see you for two years, why do they make him apart of you when it’s the time where you’re supposed to spend a lot of time together?

”I missed you too, so much that I could cry if I still think about that” he say softly

“please don’t, don’t want to see your teary eyes or I will cry too”

“ we’re a good match of sensitive”

You both do a high five as an accomplishment

“Don’t you find it’s like the wassup thing” you say lightly like if you found out a new thing

“ yeahh” he told it in a playful tone

“we should do what we used to do before we date”

“bro it’s been too long since, I thought we replaced it by kisses” you remember when you both were into that comfy friendship, three years ago. You both were best friends before dating, but with his career going on, it was hard to keep seeing each other, maybe it didn’t changed that much now too. Jungkook always told you during your friendship that he didn’t have the time to date, seem like he was right, but your both feelings are strong enough to handle the separation, and he make it easier by his face call, messages and his huge affection when he’s back. Dating Jeon Jungkook is hard, but he make it easier, for you

“Just a reminder, we already did all the couple stuff last night baby” he whispers it in your ear as taking your hand

“why are you such a menace? Aish, you can’t stay still for one second?”

“I told you that I was hard to handle, it’s difficult to date Jeon Jungkook” he say as putting a peck on your lips, putting your sitting body close to him by your tights ”let’s go, leshugoo”

As getting ready to do the wassup check, you both put a distance between your hands. Before your both hands get slapped together, You dodge his hand like a feint. His hand was held there, only tapping the air. You faked it. He looked at you with confusion in his starry eyes before his lips forming a pout. You burst out laughing.

“you laughing? You seem that confident, huh?” You couldn’t stop laughing

“sorry, I couldn’t contain myself of doing it, you were so ready and I-“ before you couldn’t continue, he kisses your lips half roughy but soft at the same time.

“ I will take my revenge” he tell you with a smirk on his face

As hugging his shoulders, you keep giggling softly

“you’re the one who were so wild with me at first, need to teach you a lesson”

“but I was just playing with you” he whines softly as looking at you

“me too, I couldn’t stop laughing about it by the way” you smiled

“no, you made fun of me” he pout again, can’t contain a smirk going.

“so you shouldn’t be all lovey with me at the first”

“let me love my girlfriend in peace” “you already loved her enough last night”

Now it’s his turn to laugh, seem like you became wild like him. Such a menace.

“I will give you back what you just did, will see who will laugh this time”

With him, you can be ready to anything because obviously, he plays hard when he plays, and not only in sex.

You put a soft peck on his lips, and again, until you say “why not forget that? As besties, we shouldn’t fight, huh?

“besties, huh?” He say playfully as playing with your hair “I would gladly do but I need something in return, something that only you can give me, only from you I accept”

“something from me? What’s it? “ look at him with envy eyes. You want him so fucking bad.

“ let me show you and I might forgive you about what you did to me” he say playfully, caressing softly your tights, hands directly in your bare ass as putting kisses in your neck. There we go again

“what happened to the ‘wassup bro’ coded” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“few kisses won’t ruin our friendship, baby”

—————————————————————————

a/n : why does it look so bad??😭 I’m reflecting myself about posting it. Hope that it’s just my eyes and you will love it. Love yaaa💕

Do not copy, translate!

[lowkeyrobin]

MCYT with a reader who would literally get into a fist fight for them?? Literally, if someone even looks at them wrong reader will throw hands. It's literally that meme (Random person) "GET YO FUCKING DOG BITCH" (MCYT) "it don't bite" "YES IT FUCKIN DO-" I'm sorry I'm feeling silly 😔

OH MY FUCKING GOD I LOVE THIS PROMPT AND THE REFERENCE TO THIS MEME LMFAOOO OH MY LORD BSHWJRHEJJAJW ; very vine oriented so I apologize. you threw me into a loop referencing that

MCYT ; "anytime, anywhere, I'd beat a bitches ass for you"

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, slimecicle, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language, talk of blood/injuries, physical fighting, vine cringe because I got very carried away and you can tell

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

he was one of those kids in high school that made light offensive jokes but would never fight anyone over anything, he's not a violent person at all other than in his jokes

but God forbid some random person look at you two weird in public, you're on their ass

you're more offended that they were judging Tommy at all, you couldn't care that they were judging you

"sorry, do you have a problem?" You squint your eyes at the person, "me and my boyfriend are just trying to shop and you keep following us around and staring, like, can I help you?"

just a teenage Karen

yall do take it outside when the motherfucker follows you out and begins to record you

you beat this fuckers ass to a PULP

Tommy's just holding the few bags of stuff you'd purchased staring down, jaw on the fucking floor like "Oh my God wtf do I do"

he had the vlog camera on so he kinda got it all on video before he pulled you away from the person

yall sprinted the hell away bc the security guards were running towards yall 😭😭

#neveridentified

#the person admitted guilt anyways and said they were planning to hurt you so no point in trying to track yall down for self defense

#i barely know the law shush

RANBOO

they just kind of accepted that you were like this

"I do not endorse violence unless you are y/n. I can't make them un-violent. I have tried, they're a vicious guard dog now"

hurricane Katrina? more like hurricane tortilla when you enter the building

yk the free style dance teacher vine? that'll be ranboo out in public and someone will stare at them all weird and you'll glare back

"walk away, walk away" you mumble, watching the person hurrily walk away as they see you like glaring daggers into their skull

your dynamic is the one vine that's like "Oh can I have a sip of your water?" and "It's not water or vodka, it's vinegar" "bitch what"

then you'll go make angsty edge lord posts to the one bojack horseman audio "I'm not a violent dog" and insert a clip of you beating the shit out of someone in high school

FREDDIE BADLINU

you post the "look at all those chickens" vine on your Twitter everytime you see a hate comment made for one of you

you love instigating fights w people online it's the funniest fucking thing

if you don't know how to reply to some dumbass edgelord response you'll just spam the guacamole vine until they shut up

"wait, why does y/n have so many soaps?"

"MIND YOUR FUCKIN BUISNESS DAVID"

Freddie's response to your violence is usually the saxophone seal vine. he genuinely laughs everytime he sees you fighting w someone online

sometimes you'll stream it while you wait for a response and while you're fighting online trolls who've been brainwashed by Twitter

"You're gay?!?!?!?11??11"

insert the "ms keisha dead" vine and the battle is over idk what to say

fight fire with fire I guess

NIKI NIHACHU

she hates yet loves that you'd fight ppl for her

oh, someone treated her wrong? you'll be trending on Twitter for fighting the person

#y/u/n will literally be at number 1 for a week

people edit the fight too

she appreciates it though, even though she doesn't exactly like to promote violence, she'll accept it from you

"Oh, don't worry about them, they're just a little... nervous around people sometimes"

"nervous? girl that mf is SNARLING at me"

you'll see a post that's like "me when someone tries to start shit w my s/o" and reply with the "hahaha I do that" vine

when I tell you she CACKLES reading online fights with people 😭🙏

CHARLIE SLIMECICLE

"get the F off my yard!" proceeds to have to drag you away from situations where someone's actin a little funny in a /neg way

he genuinely thinks you fighting people for him is funny

he'll tell the stories on stream and to his friends like "dude they fucked this guy up, I honestly feel bad for laughing"

honestly most the time it's people victimizing themselves

like that one meme where the lady very obviously and fakely falls over that bench on LIVE TELEVISION.

he's your biggest supporter

he's the old guy from that one vine of the kid singing "Oh wait a minute mister postman" and he does the whole ass high note

"here's y/n fighting someone for idk what because they're talking to the police 😋"

you're a problem at this point

QUACKITY

you've physically fought so many wild racists for him it's crazy

he'll gladly cheer you on

"AHHHH COME GET YO DOG BRO HELP"

"Oh it don't bite"

you proceed to bite the bitch

online fights are usually responded w the purple teletubby twerking meme

"L don't be a weak ass racist pussy next time"

you fight Logan Paul for some reason??? Twitter drama mostly

don't worry quackitys there to watch

17-3 don't worry... ehehehrhahahha

when he tells you that you need to stop instigating fights you send him the "They ask you how you are but you just have to say that you're fine when you're not really fine" meme BAHDNHAHA

FOOLISH GAMERS

"YOU KNOW WHAT DUDE? IM OUTTA HERE" vine in a nutshell with you two. I can't explain this but it makes sense I swear

"whatd you do to your eyebrows?" meme except its "Whyd you fight that person!?" "I don't really know!"

Twitter fights are like "and they were roommates!" "ohmygodtheywereroomates" I swear to fucking god

you love instigating shit with Twitter trolls

when you stand up for him/reply to edgelord haters for him he replies with the "country boy I love youuuuuuu" vine

"GIVE ME YOUR FUCKIN MONEY!" vine with the law and order intro is literallt how physical fights go

let's just say some stalker edgelords tracked you guys down at the streamer awards...

HE AND PUNZ GENUINLEY CHEER YOU ON

here you go trending on Twitter again

[neptunes-sol-angel]

Just a little reminder that everyone has a feminine and masculine side, so don't hesitate to read the messages for your masculine side too.

Paid Services | Botanica | Tip Jar

Pile One 🕺

BEYONCÉ - COZY

Right away, I’m detecting that this pile is trying to work through some bitterness and that’s ok. I get the gist that this collective is aware of this and are either accepting of it or in denial of it because of the assumption that it’s embarrassing or demeaning to feel that way. I always want to remind people that it’s okay to feel negative emotions. Having them is not what defines you but how you choose to express them is how it truly characterizes you. It feels like this brooding energy is like a seesaw or a visual representation of tug of war, because it’s happening in two different directions. This pile could be in limbo with trying to reach the other side of realizing your self-worth. There’s bitterness split into two directions. Acerbic agony over “why not me?” in terms of finding people who accept and match the love that you give to others and “why me?” when it comes to jealousy and vitriol that makes you afraid of your own potential for success and dim your light. What your feminine side is asking of you is to stop watering yourself down because you feel it’s safer that way to be under others. Take note of the vibe that you get from this channeled song because it’s time to get “cozy” with who you are and take some initiative in the lessons that you’ve been through by talking your shit. You sat with your pain long enough to know its beginning but to finally decide how YOU want to create its end. If you’re in a funk where it’s making you feel meek and want to self-sabotage, reach deep inside yourself to know that the answer isn’t to revert back to old patterns and lies that people told you to keep you stuck because they don’t want to see you grow. Get cozy with yourself because you must understand that every step of the way isn’t going to be comfortable all of the time but I feel that a lot of you are at a point where things are getting worse before they get better. It could be something external going on, but I feel that it’s mostly mental. You’re going to come out of this even stronger than before and you’re going to move differently and choose differently but also get an upgrade relating to speech. How you talk to yourself will improve, you’ll speak with more confidence, and your words will match exactly with your feelings when it comes to communicating with others. The main thing that I am seeing here is no longer trying to make accommodations that make you suffer in the end just to protect another person’s ego.

Pile Two 🕺

BEYONCÉ -MOVE

I’m sensing a lot of completion with this pile. If you’re not in this new energy yet, prepare for people making a lot of misconceptions about you. You could be accused of being aloof or have people nitpicking or trying to diagnose you based on little to no evidence. It doesn’t have to be this exact situation but what I first would like to point out is that it’s like, you’re floating down this river, unphased, and just flowing with the currents. Or that you’re water itself, becoming mutable with your form but regardless of what changes are made, you’re still water. If you’ve experienced intense feelings over people ghosting you or just not prioritizing you in the past, I’m seeing that you’ll be at a stage where you understand that what those people did wasn’t at all right and you’re no longer internalizing it with your thoughts and actions, but in other words, you’re not going to be that person anymore that’s waiting for a text. You’re not going to wait for people to act right, wait for other people’s approval, or postpone your life for people who like to play with your time. I’m getting the message that you shouldn’t stop yourself from doing whatever it is that you think about doing because “they will talk about you either way”. This could apply to promoting yourself in some way, maybe for a new job opportunity, or just taking a chance to improve your health. You may have anxiety of thinking that maybe there’s no point in trying to see what you can do for your body because you’ve been stagnant for years because of circumstances that weren’t really in your control, like finances or being dependent on a toxic parent. This could also be something else, but either way it’s like you’re afraid of what you could hear, possibly something negative or even just a “no”, but I’m hearing you can’t make that judgment without trying, because you might actually receive a yes, assistance in getting back on your feet again, or good news about your timing in getting something done before you could miss out on what’s important.

Pile Three 🕺

BEYONCÉ - CUFF IT

A rebirth is needed for this pile. There’s a lot of indulgence that feels mindless and endless because you’re seeking to satiate a need or needs but there are people who are already aware of this but are in need of confirmation for which way is the right direction to go. It’s about experiencing everything for the first time all over again. Not in a dreadful way to make you suffer, but to soothe any worries over not finding happiness if you don’t have that “one thing”. If you’ve been tested recently on remaining brave in your decision to part ways with someone but are having second doubts or the fear that you’re going to miss out, maybe that “need” that you have can be replenished by just being around your family to remind yourself that you aren’t lacking love and support around you. If you’re feeling “sexual”, maybe it isn’t sex that you necessarily need and that it’s just your soul telling you to create. If you’ve been used to seeking answers through spiritual measures but are still left confused, then maybe that’s a sign that it’s time to step back and take a break from the unseen and to come back and relearn how to go through life from just being instead of trying to know everything. Even if it isn’t those specific scenarios previously mentioned, you’re on a journey of wisdom of learning that a lot of the things that you’ve considered as losses haunting your everyday life, were not really losses, because they can be replaced by something else that’s going to lead you into falling more in love with yourself.