#All I Want for Christmas is You (Naked)

[headbandsandflats]

“It was like A Chorus Line fucked Our Town.”

Bradley Whitford, talking about his Juilliard class meeting up 31 years later, on WTF with Marc Maron

[yaerisu]

I'm begging you to leave me tf alone I'm aro ace and I only like fictional women because they're not real so they'll never squish me back I don't desire your onlyfans you girlbot bikini bottom sponge boss babe bitch.

[buckyalpine]

Imagine you get into the holiday spirt with the cutest Christmas sweater, the fluffiest socks and these adorable bells in your hair. You're running around the compound with hot chocolate and cookies, the jingle of your bells ringing with each step. Everyone things its adorable. You're like a little elf, busy in your workshop (the kitchen), surrounded by marshmallows, whipped cream, delivering mugs of creamy sweetness along with homemade gingerbread men.

Everyone finds it so cute.

Everyone except Bucky.

Bucky hates it.

He hates the little tinkle he hears with each footstep you take.

Why?

Because his mind is in the gutter.

Your running around looking all cute and sweet and innocent and all he can think about is how gorgeous those bells would sound as he railed you with his cock.

He decided to stay in his room, hoping a book would calm him down but who was he kidding, his enhanced hearing meant he could hear you scurry around down the hall towards his room, and holy shit, if he could just grab your hair and bend you over-

"Bucky!" You lightly knocked at his door before popping your head in with a cheery smile, holding a mug of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and plenty of whipped cream. No matter how intimidating Bucky painted himself out to be, you knew the soldier loved all the little extra toppings, especially after you caught him adding extra whipped cream when no one was looking.

"Hey" Bucky's voice came out more strained than intended, hoping to will his erection away which currently throbbed with need.

"I brought you hot chocolate" You stepped into his room, pausing when Bucky's smiled looked more like a grimace as he shifted from his place sitting against the headboard.

"Is-is everything okay?" You ask, padding towards him and he can't even hide the tent in his sweats, setting down the book he was reading to try and cover himself.

"Of course-yeah-thanks y/n" He rasped out as you came over and handed him the mug, your sweet scent of vanilla, sugar and spices only making it harder for him to keep his hands to himself.

"Are you sure you're okay?" You could tell Bucky was tensed, chewing his lip without meeting your eyes which was strange considering he was normally fine around you.

"Wouldn't be able to tell you sweets" Bucky chuckled to himself with a sigh rubbing the back of his neck while you cocked your head to the side, the tiny movement making the bells ring again.

Fuck.

"I don't think you'd want to help with something like this doll"

"Try me"

-

"OH" *jingle* "MY" *jingle* "GOD" You wailed, your bells ringing with each thrust as Bucky's cock slammed into you, his hands squeezing your hips as he fucked you from behind. He had you on your hands and knees after tearing your clothes of, loving the needy little whimper you let out after you caught a glimpse of his rock hard cock pressing against his sweats.

"That's it baby, that's it, sound so pretty with those cute little bells in your hair" Bucky groaned, biting his lip to keep his voice down as he fucked you harder, pushing his cock in as deep as it would go, "Look at how you're taking all of me baby, taking my big dick so well, such a good. Girl"

"More, want-more" you hiccupped, tears from pleasure streaking down your face, squealing when Bucky's hand spanked your ass before pulling out and manhandling you till you were on top. You whined, your lips pulled into a pout, all naked on top of the soldier except for the bells in your hair, your needy pussy clamping down on him. You pawed at his hand, tugging it to where you needed him most, moaning when he used his thumb to rub your clit, smirking at your fucked out state.

"Aww babygirl, are you too cockdrunk to fuck yourself on my dick" Bucky cooed as you squirmed on top of him, sloppily grinding yourself, your greedy cunt begging for anything he'd give you. You

"Fuck you're such a little slut" Bucky gritted out as he planted his feet against the mattress and started to fuck up into you, your boobs bouncing in his face matching the dainty rings every time he thrusted his hips up. "Want you under that goddamn tree and nothing else baby, gonna fuck you on every surface of his place"

Bucky could only take so much, his balls pulling tight to his body, cum desperate to blow and paint your walls, your pleasure contorted face all just for him.

"Walking around with these fuckin' bells, making my cock so hard, lookit how pretty you sound now baby, fuck y/n, m'gonna cum!"

"C-cum in me Bucky" You cried out, sobbing in pleasure as your orgasm ripped through you, collapsing against his chest as he fucked you through your high.

"That's it baby, milk my cock, that's what I want for Christmas, wanna empty my balls in you, fuck-oh fuck-milk it baby, shitt!" Bucky bit down on your shoulder to muffle his loud moans, shoving his dick in as far as it would go as he started to throb ropes of his spend into you.

That was round 1.

-

"You look like you've seen a ghost" Tony snorted as he saw Sam and Steve enter the living room, the captain's face pale in shock while Sam couldn't stop grinning. "What happened. We're gonna start the movie soon, where's metal man and y/n"

Steve went beet red while Sam cackled, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Making their own rendition of Jingle Bells"

Anyway, I'm sorry for giving you debauched instead of wholesome plots, MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMALS (the filthy part is for me @ myself)

[luvwestwood]

"AFK" - Choso Kamo (with twt links)

"..like fortnite, i’ma need your skin.."

3,012 words.

warnings. nsfw(18+), bf/gamer! choso, oral sex (m rec.), humiliation, desk sex, exhibitionism, trying not to get caught, feral choso, p in v, throat fucking, oral sex (m receiving), overstimulation, degradation, choso whimper links included lol,

notes. my previous drabble abt choso had a lil kick to it, definitely had to make it into a full one-shot! hope u guys enjoy, and thank u for 450 followers hehe, so I included twt links! ^^

credits to @/plutism for dividers, @/adrienwithane for banner.

russian translation by @juliabelll ❤️

Not too long ago, it was Choso's birthday. Being an amazing girlfriend you are, of course you built him a brand new PC. It cost you an arm and a leg, but that didn't matter at all when it came to Choso. Seeing him happy itched a part of your brain, especially when he was the one who would pay for everything: dates, your online shopping carts, you name it.

He never really bought anything for himself. You were getting tired of the countless times that he went on a tangent about how slow his previous machine was. It was doing your head in, so you saved up. For what you now call a 'not-blessing-in-disguise'.

Choso was obsessed with his new PC, and it wasn’t an exaggeration. Part of you was starting to regret it all. The man barely paid attention to you.

Am I the asshole for being mad that my boyfriend likes his gift a bit too much? No, I wouldn't think so. I should be delighted, but it's pretty much getting outrageous.

The fact that he has almost every single game out there on that PC in just a span of one week since he got it - means there's more for him to do. Every day, he'd wake up, do a bit of house stuff then sit his ass down to play with his friends. For as long as he can. Never leaving that room. Hell, he wouldn't even bother answering your messages until an hour later. 'Mb, was on the game' is something that was engraved in your brain by now.

Every time you'd come over, he'd ignore you simply by just gluing his eyes on the screen. If you try to nap, just go home. You've lost track of how many times he's managed to wake you up with his blood-curdling screams. There were times when Choso didn't even notice you leaving, which upset you quite a bit.

Of course, you had moments when you needed him the most. Like, badly. Freshly shaved, he's not even mentally there to take a peek. You could be naked and oiled up in his bed, Choso wouldn't even bat an eye.

…Advice to self, don't get him a PS5 this Christmas.

"Choso," You called out, sat on the edge of the bed behind him. No answer. Per usual, you wanted to rip that headset off his head.

Dark circles were forming around his eyes, endless cans of monster were scattered all over his desk. "Nah let's just fight Oscar, we've got a minute until the circle closes."

Rolling your eyes, a scoff escapes your mouth. Aaand he didn't hear you. Crossing your arms, you furrow your brows. He was honestly testing your patience. "Choso?!"

Choso flinches a bit, pulling one side of his headset away from his ear. His gaming chair spins around to face you. "Baby?"

He knew you were mad. You looked more than pissed. It was really because this recurring behavior of his was getting too much. "Your eyes are always on that screen! Did you even know that I was here!?”

“I-I’m sorry. Look, I'll get off after this game!” From his headset you could hear Choso’s friends teasing and picking on him. They probably heard you scolding your poor boyfriend. You couldn’t care less.

As soon as you were about to speak, he immediately spun his chair back around to face that stupid monitor again. He was too engrossed in the game. It was his squad of four against the only opposing team.

Groaning, you flop back onto his mattress. "..You always say that, and you never do." Muttering under your breath, you stare at the ceiling blankly. What felt like a hammer to your head, Choso's war cries could only get louder each second.

The past few days, you had no choice but to use your own fingers to toy with yourself. You were needy, and you missed your boyfriend's touch. Too bad he was too occupied. How come his keyboard and mouse get to be touched by him more than your....

Using all of your strength, you sat yourself up again on the edge of his mattress. Realizing there's no use in scolding him, you quietly walked up behind Choso, combing your fingers through his hair. You loved when it was down, and he loved it when you played with his hair. He found it relaxing. You could tell by the way his body was no longer tensed up, the back of his head falling heavy onto your hand.

Your hands left his hair, travelling down to his nape. With your freshly manicured nails (which he paid for), you gently scratched his skin on his neck. You could see goosebumps forming, but said nothing about it. Choso who was ticklish, tilted his head to the side - "Mmm," He hummed, telling you off as you were starting to distract him.

Letting out a laboured sigh, you stared at the back of his head. Wondering what to do with him, you pouted. Maybe I should just leave like every other day? No, I can't back down.

He seems really busy. Would he even notice if I crawled under his desk? Grinning, you got on your knees, crawling like a kitty underneath his desk but making minimal noise. You glanced behind your shoulder to see his reaction, but his eyes were still gawking at the flashing screen in front of him.

Coming face to face with his sweats, you kneeled, just in level with his lap. Peeking your head out from the shadows under his desk, Choso had only noticed you then. His eyes widened, the sight of you looking up at him like a puppy had started to cloud up his thoughts.

Grabbing onto his wrist, he slowly let go of his mouse. Bringing his hand to your cheek, he took it in the palm of his hand, eventually giving in and using his thumb to softly caress your lips. "..I missed you, Choso.." You whispered, softly sucking on his thumb. "..I need you,"

His breath hitched, your words were doing something to him. What a fool he was for ignoring you all this time? Just then, a cacophony of voices screaming through his headset broke him out of his trance. Choso's warm hand left your face, causing you to frown. Your fun was cut short. Way too short.

You had enough, deciding it was time you finally got what you wanted. Snaking your two hands up the soft cotton of his sweats, they stopped right at his crotch. His eyes anxiously shot down to you underneath him, telling you off and pointing to his headset.

Placing a finger onto your lips, you told him to just be quiet. His eyes frantically flickered from you, then to his monitor. Slowly, you slid down his pants. Smiling at the way he rose himself up from his seat slightly, so it would be easier to take them off. Of course, he wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Taking his long, thick cock into your hands, you jerked it ever so slightly. Choso cleared his throat, keeping his mouth shut all of a sudden in case he accidentally makes unwanted noise. He was practically melting under your touch, into the chair. Gliding your tongue over his pink tip, he didn't dare look at you. Not long after, your warm mouth wrapped over him, Choso letting out a sigh of relief at the feeling.

You knew how to push his buttons, bringing yourself to fully deepthroat his cock for a few seconds. His lips purse shut, Choso slightly biting down onto his bottom lip. His fingers started to press on the wrong keys, unable to focus on the game.

Pulling away, a string of saliva connected your tongue and his aching tip. You brought your lips back onto his cock, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks as you used your two hands to jerk him off at the same time.

The man above was folding at the pornographic sight underneath him. Hearing Choso moan by accident, he quickly covered it up with a cough. “…Yeah, no, I’m good- Just don’t- feel well..”Friends concerned, Choso had come up with a convincing lie in just seconds. His hand reached down to rake through your hair until his fist was full of it. [link]

He lightly pushed your head up and down his length, your mouth making sloppy noises all over, buckets of spit dripping down your chin and his balls.

Ripping his headset off, Choso didn't care about the game anymore. Or his friends. He groaned as you fondled with his balls, giving them a suck afterwards. His light grey pants were turning a darker shade than before. His two hands clawed into your hair on both sides of your face, Choso started to fuck his cock into the back your throat.

Moaning, his eyes shut tightly as his head fell back onto the cushion of his chair. His balls tightening as he heard how you constantly gagged over his thick cock. "Fuck.. Just like that.."

His moans were a mixture of curses and long groans, tears started to well up in your eyes. Choso opened his eyes again, looking down at you as he drew your mouth away from his cock. He smiled, seeing your makeup all ruined, your face covered with spit and so did his lap.

Rolling his chair away from the desk, he grabbed you from underneath. Only to pull it back again, placing it in front of his PC. Guiding his hand on your back, he bent you over on the chair, making your two legs kneel on the soft cushion so you wouldn't tire out. [link]

Holding tightly onto your hair, your head fell back towards him. Choso had ripped the fabric of your leggings that was unfortunately covering your cunt. Grabbing his cock, he lined himself up with your hole, his hands shaking from how eager he was.

Easily sliding in from the slick that covered your hole, you grabbed onto the arm rest in front of you; Choso stretching you out completely. Wasting no time, he began to move his hips back and forth, fucking his hard cock into you.

His monitor started to gently shake from how hard his cock was bullying into you, skin slapping as his balls that were full of weeks load cum made contact with your clit.

"C-Choso.." You cried out, your hand reaching back to his pelvis. Staring at yourself getting fucked like a slut through the reflection of his PC monitor, your ass rippled with each and every one of his thrusts.

Maintaining his brutal pace, his fingers were no longer woven into your hair, reaching out to the headset on his desk. Confused, you kept your eyes open to watch Choso place them over your head. "W-What..?"

His hands gripped onto the flesh of your hips, Choso leaned into your ear. "Keep moaning you slut, let them hear you." All of a sudden he groaned, feeling you clench around him at what he just said. "You like that, don't you?"

Spinning you slightly to one side, his leg went up onto the chair with you, allowing him more leverage to fuck you deeper. "Eyes up at that camera too, show them how pretty you look taking my cock," Tears started to stream down the sides of your cheeks, your face had flushed red.

Choso's hands took a hold of your hair again, his tip kissing your cervix repeatedly. "I.." Speechless, you lost your ability to form a basic sentence. His fat cock left you braindead, at this point you were seeing nothing but stars.

"..Use your words baby," A creamy white ring started to form at his base as his cock pistoned in and out of you. Choso's hand kept stamping down on your back from time to time to make sure you kept that arch. "..Isn't this what you've been wanting all week?"

"Y-you're so deep.. I can't.." Your hand reached back to his abs, twisting the white fabric of his tank top until it was all wrinkly. He took a hold of your wrist, twisting your arm behind you. Choso slightly bent over, his warm body resting against your back.

He quietly groaned into your ear, chanting your name like a prayer. You were fucked out of your mind. "You feel so good.. like this pussy was made for me." The pace of his thrusts slowed down, but his hips still rut into you hard each time. His strokes hard and deep, you swear could feel him all up in your guts. Your jaw had dropped, your head falling back onto his shoulder.

Choso's hands reached under your loose shirt, letting your tits spill out of your bra. Gently twisting your nipple between his finger tips, fondling with your whole breast afterwards, he forgot how much he loved wrapping his mouth around those.

"Your cock.. It feels so good.." You babbled, Choso sneaking his fingers underneath to rub lazy circles on your clit. Your legs began to tremble, fortunately your throat managed to choke out a whine.

Also seeing him in the reflection of his monitor, strands of his hair started to stick to his face. Multiple beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. Choso didn't want to leave your pussy. Not even Thor could pull him out. He enjoyed using you like a cock whore.

You felt so dizzy, mind full of his cock. Choso let out multiple whimpers as he felt his orgasm nearing, his index finger hooking onto the side of your mouth. The very last few seconds, his cock bottomed into you, trying to chase your orgasm. The desk hitting against he wall non-stop, his headset that was on you started to fall off your head.

Leaving a trail of wet kisses down your back, his hand grabbed onto the plush flesh of your ass, continuously giving it a spank every now and then.

The wet, slapping noises of your skin continued to follow, until you felt his thrusts come to a sudden halt. His hot cum shooting inside of you rope after rope, just before he pulled out to let the rest out onto your ass. "..Fuck.. look at that."

Using his thumb to spread your hole wide open, his load spilt onto the black leather of his gaming chair. You panted, tired and hole throbbing. You got what you wanted, that’s for sure. Forcing his headset off you, you couldn't do anything but lean against his desk, trying to regulate your breathing pattern back to normal.

"..We're not done here," Choso laughed behind you, your cunt still dripping of his thick load. His hands roughly turned your body around, placing you on top the desk to face him. Using his foot to push the chair away, he lined his cock with your hole again, using his cum that was already inside of you as lube.

"Oh m-my- Choso!" You yelped, one hand taking grip onto his shoulder for support, the other holding knocking his keyboard out of the way, trying to find something to hold onto other than his shoulder.

His forehead rested against yours, the staggering movement of his hips causing the desk itself to shake under the two of you. Choso watched as his cock disappeared in and out of your hole, grunts coming out through his clench teeth as he wrapped his large hands around your thighs. He wanted more, and wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

"..Good girl," He gritted through his teeth, "..I love t-this pussy, and you." Choso's hands pressed flat against the desk, his lips locking onto yours. His cock was coated in a mixture of his and your own cum, your sweaty bodies intimately hugging against each other.

Choso wanted to feel all you, he just craved more and more each minute. His hands shakily held onto the sides of your waist, his lips moving to your jaw to plant more kisses.

"You're so beautiful, look at me baby." Choso lightly tapped the side of your face, telling you to maintain eye contact.

Obeying, you kept your eyes open; looking into his but not a thought behind your own eyes. You only continued to whine under his touch, overstimulated from how much he's used you like a cock whore. You were so close to losing your mind, drunk off his cock.

Choso too, was lost in your pussy. God, was he whipped— If only he could stay inside you forever, he definitely would. This whole time he was busy cursing at himself, how much of an idiot he is to not appreciate what he has - you. Your cheeks were stained with your hot tears, Choso hushing you and wiping them away every now and then.

“S-Shit, I’m gonna cum again.” He pants, feeling his balls tighten for the second time, the tightness of your pussy heightening his stimulation.

Your hands cupped both of his cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss. His thrusts turning sloppy, you cooed. “..Cum for me, I want it all inside..”

This caused the coil inside of Choso to snap, him desperately whimpering into your ear as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. “F-fu-ck..” Tightly holding onto the flesh of your hips, he made sure his second load stayed inside of you.

Sliding his cock out, Choso rested his heavy cock just above your pussy. Making sure he planted a peck on your forehead, trying to catch his breath. The two of you laugh, your bodies aching and sweaty, his entire desk and chair a mess.

Reaching for something, you blinked as Choso grabbed his headset that ended up on the other side of the desk. Placing one side against his ear, he spoke into the mic. "..GG."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24 all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts! it means the world to me 🎀🩷

[luvwestwood masterlist]

[satorusugurugurl]

Spot the Difference

Summary: You claim that you can tell whose who between your boyfriends. They decide to put you to the test.

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, AFAB!Reader

Warnings: smut, bondage, restraints, blindfold, oral sex (male receiving), pinv, unprotected sex, language

Word Count: 3,868

A/N: just a drabble! 💚

Several benefits come along with dating your best friends. Conversations were easy to have. Things were barely weird or awkward, and you knew each other like the back of your hand, from how you liked your coffee to your favorite snacks and meals. You knew your boyfriend so well, it was easy for you to tell them apart, even when you weren’t looking at them. That’s how close the three of you were.

“There’s no way you can tell them apart without seeing them,” Shoko called out as the four of you sat around the apartment.

“Yes, I can.”

“Both of them are muscular and over 6 feet tall. You think I believe you?”

“I’ll show you!” You grab one of Gojo’s blindfolds off the coffee table with your back turned to the group. “You two go to the kitchen and come back one at a time, and I’ll tell you who is who.”

Your partners were intrigued to see if you could tell them apart without looking at them. So they played along. Satoru was the first to come up behind. He rested his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist, gently squeezing you as he pulled you closer into his chest. While Suguru trailed his hands over your shoulders before gently running up and down your arms before they slid down to interlace with your fingers. The entire time he caressed you, his lips pressed gently against your temple. Once they each had a turn, they were back in their respective seats. You pulled the blindfold, tossing it onto the coffee table, and triumph

“Toru was the first, and Suguru was the second.”

Everyone stared at you long before Shoko scoffed, “I bet you could smell their cologne!” Both Satoru and Suguru exchanged looks with each other. Neither of them was wearing anything remotely close to that.

“Say what you want, but I know my boyfriends.”

Did you really know them? After that night, the duo made it their goal to see if you knew who was who and when your back was turned.

Geto snuck into the shower with you as you washed your face. His hands wrapped around you like Satoru had done the night before. With a grin, you lean back into his chest as you rinse the suds off your face. “Hi, Sugu.” While Satoru crawled into bed with you while you were napping, purposely laying on Suguru’s side, he pulled you close, careful not to say anything as you hummed, rubbing your hand over his arm wrapped around your waist. “Welcome home, Toru.”

They kept their antics up for over a week. Gently touching you from behind, snuggling, calling texting hell, they even switch their body wash and colognes around, and every time you knew who was who without hesitation, it was almost flattering to know you knew both of them so well. Still, it also made them curious to see to what extent you knew them.

Which was how you ended up, blindfolded, hands tied behind your back as you lay on the bed. Your arms were tied to each bed while you spread your legs as wide as possible. Your boyfriend stood at the head of the bed, taking your naked body sprawled out before them.

“Is there an early Christmas present in June?” You squirmed in anticipation, pressing your thighs together as you felt the bed dip as they both crawled near you. “Lucky me!”

“Nah, this is more of an experiment.”

“Oooh, kinky!”

Suguru scoffed, ruffling the top of your head. “Not like that; we wanted to play a guessing game saying that you know us so well.” You cooed, squirming a bit more.

“Still kinky.”

“We’re going to take turns fucking you, and you can guess who’s who by how we feel inside of you,” Satoru whispered in your ear.

“Pfft, easy money. What do I get if I win?”

“Uh, you get to cum.”

“Nah, fuck that, I know you guys have been testing me all week. I think I deserve more than an orgasm as a prize.”

Your partners hum, thinking for a moment before Suguru pulls his hand away from the top of your head. “How about we take you on a trip to Okinawa? I’ll book us at that resort we stayed in before.” Both you and Satoru nodded with excitement.

“Now that’s a reward!”

“A reward you’ll get if you can tell us apart.”

Satoru is the first to move, positioning himself between your legs as he slides the tip of his cock inside. You whine, arching your back as he continues pushing inside of you until he bottoms out. Suguru’s eyes are dark between both his partners, his cock throbbing as he wraps his hand around it, gently stroking it. The white-haired man is breathing, trying to make a sound so you don’t know that it’s him on top of you. But you seem so out of it, the loss of your side to enhancing the pleasure of gently into your cunt. His thrusts are sharp and deep, making sure to hit your g-spot with each drag of his velvety smooth shaft.

You moan lips, parting in a string of whispers as Toru grips your hips and one hand while the other covers his mouth as he fucks into you faster. You’re the only one moaning out as partners try to make it impossible for you to tell who is who. And listening to your moans and your moans alone makes the room hotter.

Your white-haired boyfriend is pulling all the way out before his hips forward. The wet squelching sounds of your pussy, join the sweet whines of your pleasure, making the erotic moment even sexier. While you lose yourself in the sensation of one of your boyfriends fucking into you, you never seem to notice them subtly changing position. Satoru is off to the side, groaning into his hand as Suguru picks up where his boyfriend left off.

The rough change of pace has your mouth falling. Your fingers try to grip the sheets underneath you, but you can’t reach them, so you dig your heels into the mattress, your toes curling. Seeing you lose control over yourself has Suguru covering his mouth with his elbow as his hand gropes your right breast, needing the soft flesh while his thumb rubs circles over your nipple.

“Nnngh!” You whimper, lifting your head, licking your side, searching for someone in the darkness. “Come back, I need you.” You beg into the room at Satoru, who is furiously jerking off at the sight of Suguru slamming his cock so deep into your tight cunt. “Oooh f—god! Fuck me, come back please!”

Satoru moves quietly, putting his cock next to your mouth. You jump at first, shocked by the warmth of the dribbling wet tip, probing at your lips. But you eagerly open your mouth, allowing it to slide in. Subaru dark brows knit together as he groans loudly into his elbow at the sight of Satoru biting down on his hand to prevent himself from moaning.

Both men aren’t sure how much longer they can hold out. The pleasure and eroticism of the whole situation are making their cocks throb as you gag and cry out around both of them as they fuck your pussy and your mouth as hard as they can. Both were chasing their orgasms while dragging you to the edge of your own with them.

Neither of them wants to stop, but they do. You gently tap his leg with your foot. He stops grabbing Satoru by his shoulder, pulling him back enough for his cock to pop out of your mouth. Both pant as you lick your lips, your chest heaving as you giggle breathlessly.

“As fun as this is, I want to hear your voices. So Satoru fuck my throat some more, and Suguru, go faster and harder.” As fast as they stopped, they picked up the pace even faster. They went back to filling both of your pretty wet holes.

Satoru is a whining mess. His cock is shoved down your throat while Sugueu is grabbing your hips fucking into your cervix as hard as he can. God, you were so good to them; you honestly did know them, and if that in itself wasn’t fucking hot, your crying out was even hotter!

“Haaah shit, fuck, you take it so good look how hot you are, sweetheart, choking on my cock. You’re gonna be a good girl. You’re gonna swallow every drop?”

“God, you’re so fucking hot, and you’re so fucking tight. My cock feels so good.” Hissing through his teeth, he brushes with his index finger. “Y-You’re convulsing, gripping my cock so tight, come on baby, you’re so close, cum for us!”

Between the friction and their nasty words, you cum, moaning around Satoru’s cock as you clench and twitch around Suguru’s. Your moans and trembling body have both your boyfriends cumming with you. Statoru’s cock is buried down your throat as his cum slides down it, causing tears to prick your eyes. While Suguru's hips buck faster and harder, ropes of his cum fill to the brim. But he doesn’t stop until his cock is over-sensitive, and he’s spent collapsing on top of you as Satoru pulls out, allowing you to breathe freely.

Swallow the cum; you pull away, gasping down air like it was water. You sigh in relief as Satoru unclasps the restraints around your wrists. The second you’re free, you yank Satoru down to snuggle with you and the still-recovering Suguru. Your hands gently play with both their heads. Fingers twirling around strands of white and black, winning groans of pleasure from both men. Only when Suguru feels like his soul has safely returned to his body does he lift his head to stare into your sleepy, spent eyes.

“How the hell were you able to tell who was who?”

“I just know my boys!” You giggle as he rolls his eyes, resting his head back on your bare breasts. “So, about that resort trip!”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3

[thelostconsultant]

What are we?

pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

summary: After a bittersweet maiden win, Oscar needs his best friend's company. But maybe it's time to put a label on what you two really are.

Since Oscar had other obligations after the race, you waited for him in his driver's room, browsing the internet to see what people had to say about everything that happened today. It was pure chaos out there, and this was a bittersweet win for your friend. He deserved better. Much better than this.

At one point you must have fallen asleep, because you woke up to the bed shifting next to you, and opened your eyes with a short laugh when you felt the newcomer press a kiss on your forehead. “You're done for today?” you asked sleepily.

Nodding, Oscar lied down on his back and put his head in your lap. “I just want some peace and quiet,” he muttered as he closed his eyes. “You weren't waiting for me after the race. I missed you.”

“Didn’t know you wanted me there.”

He opened one eye to look at you. “I always want you there. I need my best friend to be there for me.”

“I'm always there for you, you know that,” you told him with your hand tangled in his hair. “Oh, congrats, by the way. I'm so happy for you!”

To your surprise, Oscar let out a groan. “What a well deserved win, wasn't it?” You gave him a disapproving look that made him reach out to take your hand. “I feel so stupid, I should have refused to overtake Lando when he slowed down.”

“Hey, listen, you were good out there today. You were in the lead until the team fucked you over.” He looked up at you with a sad smile. “You don't believe me,” you said with a sigh.

Oscar suddenly sat up and turned around to face you. “Look, I just… Everyone believes I didn't deserve this win. And it sucks. Last year I won my first sprint race, but everyone forgot about it because Max became the world champion that day. Today I won my first grand prix and everyone's talking about team orders.”

It was easy to spot the pain in his eyes as he watched you, but you had no idea how to make him feel better. He was beating himself up for something that was out of his control, and the sight broke your heart into pieces. He didn't deserve this, he was too nice to go through these emotional rollercoasters.

With a kind smile on your face, you put your palm on his cheek as you leaned closer, letting your lips gently brush against his chin. “You should stop using your brain for a few hours. That would probably help you see clearer later,” you whispered to him.

The corners of his lips curled into a playful smile, and you saw a mischievous glint in his eyes when his lips captured yours in a kiss. People knew you were good friends and that's why you were a regular guest at races, but behind closed doors you were sometimes a little more than that.

It all began around last Christmas, when you visited his family in Australia. His sisters bullied him until he came to let out some steam in your company, telling you about their wild idea that the two of you were secretly dating and he was about to propose, that's why he wanted them to meet you.

Of course, it was stupid, you would never be more than friends. Or so you thought. Because at one point later in the evening, Oscar cornered you in his old room and the two of you somehow fell into his bed. Naked. Happens to the best of us, right?

And ever since then, you were keeping up this friends with benefits situation, having fun occasionally without the commitment of a proper romantic relationship. Although there had been cracks in this setup lately, you knew that deep down. Because when you began flirting with a guy, Oscar became protective and somehow scared him away. You knew it was him. Your almost-boyfriend told you later.

“You should stop thinking too,” he suddenly spoke up as he grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eye. “I can tell your head is somewhere else.”

“I'm sorry, you're right,” you told him with a sheepish smile.

“What were you thinking about?”

You didn't want to talk about that, not now. You'd been avoiding this topic for a few weeks now, today just wasn't the day to discuss this. So you did the only thing you hoped could avert his thoughts, and pushed him on his back so you could climb on top of him.

And yet, despite the lustful look in his eyes, he kept talking. “That won't work on me, baby, spit it out,” he said with a smirk as his fingers dug into the plush of your thighs. You didn't respond, instead you pulled off your shirt and reached up to unclip your bra as well. “Nice try.”

You leaned down to kiss him again as your fingernails gently scratched the skin of his abdomen under his shirt. At first he played along, his hands began to roam your body between sloppy kisses, but just when you reached down to unbutton his pants, he was quick to stop you.

“I already told you what's going on in my head, it's your turn now. I want to hear it, otherwise there's no way I'm gonna fuck you today, no matter how badly I want to,” he informed you.

With a sigh, you steadied yourself by putting your hands on his shoulders. “It's silly,” you began, hoping he would let it go, but he just raised an eyebrow and listened carefully. “What do you want from… this?” you asked with your fingers moving back on forth between the two of you.

“Having fun,” was all he said in response.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Okay, but if it's nothing more but fun without commitments, why did you chase Aaron away?” Oscar tilted his head to the side as he tried to figure out who you were talking about, but then a quiet ‘oh’ left his lips when he remembered. “Yeah, he told me you talked to him. Look, I just want to understand what this is right now. I really liked that guy.”

Oscar reached up to pull your head closer to his. “You like me more, don't you?” he asked, his lips hovering above yours as he waited for your response. “Say it.”

“Don't ruin my relationships. Please, Oscar, give me the chance to be happy with someone else,” you whispered with a quiet sob.

“I don't want you to be happy with someone else. I want you to be happy with me.”

Did he really not understand? “I want to go out on dates, I want to have a relationship that I can talk about,” you tried to make him understand. It's been a conversation that was a long time coming anyway.

He nodded, seemingly understanding what you meant. “Then let's be more than what we are now. I'm ready to make it official.”

This made you freeze. “I'm not,” you admitted, which made him give you a confused look. “People think I'm just your best friend, yet some of your fans are speculating that I just want to be famous through you. Imagine how much worse it would be if we were together.”

“Ignore them. They're just jealous.” When he saw you weren't convinced, he spoke up again. “If that happens, just remind yourself that I love you,” he said. You couldn't believe your ears. Did he just say that? “I love you. That's what caught your attention, wasn't it? Look, it's complicated, I know, but we'll figure it out. I promise.”

You believed him. There was sincerity in his voice as he spoke, and the kiss he gave you was full of raw emotions. “You always get what you want, don't you?” you asked with a laugh, to which he only replied with a laugh and a nod.

[rememberwren]

Complicated Pleasures

OR: Home Videos. You (fem!reader) and Ghost have been married for years when your prodigal friend Johnny finds out that you make and post porn together. Feelings happen. 13k

About this: m/m, f/m, oral f and m receiving, anal sex, PIV, kink, pornography, sir kink, slight objectification, objectionable writing, soft!simon, very soft fic altogether, cum sharing.

-

((A video begins.

 A bed in a tidy room. Identifying features have been hidden: pictures placed face down on the nightstands, blinds drawn tight until the room is cast in a cool glow. A woman sits amongst the nondescript bedspread and sheets, her legs tucked up against her chest and arms wrapped around her thighs, naked except for the mask that does little to truly obscure her face. 

Once she knows the video has begun, it is like she blooms, arms and legs falling away to reveal the soft petals of her nakedness: the  plains of her body, the angles and curves. She’s near perfect, Soap thinks, already fisting his hard cock. 

She looks almost exactly like you. 

Then a man walks around from the other side of the camera, and Soap’s heart leaves his body.))

-

“Johnny!” you say brightly, throwing open the front door. In streams the cold air and bright sunshine reflecting off the snow, and in steps Johnny with snowflakes in his hair and on the shoulders of his coat, gifts wrapped in bright shades of gold and silver tucked beneath one of his arms. 

He stomps his feet, boots shedding packed snow on the doormat, and leans in to deposit the gifts a safe distance away so that he can open his arms and gather you up in them. Your fingers tangle in his jacket, holding him close. He is warm even after coming in from the snow, his scent like Christmas itself: woodsy pine and crackling fires. You feel Simon’s presence appear in the living room doorway and begin to pull away, trying not to hog his friend, even if you desperately want to. 

“Lookit you, bonnie as ever,” Johnny says against your ear. He lets you go, bending down to unlace his boots and call a greeting to Simon: “I see you brooding over there, LT. Happy Christmas to yeh.” 

“No titles at Christmas, Johnny.” 

“Yessir.” 

“You didn’t need to bring gifts,” you scold him.

“Of course I did—it’s fucking Christmas,” says Johnny with a grin as he straightens. He passes you the gifts, a small package and a larger one, each wrapped by a practiced hand that you sense must not have been Johnny’s own. You wonder if there isn’t a girl in his life now—except you and Simon had extended the invitation to one, if so. Why he wouldn’t have brought her, you couldn’t understand. 

Maybe his mum wrapped the gifts. 

Simon and Johnny clasp hands which turns into a hug. Watching them together makes the dust settle in some riotous part of your heart. The two of them—their friendship—just makes perfect sense in its improbability. 

Simon mutters something under his breath and Johnny nods, burying his face deeper into Simon’s broad shoulder. You have the perfect vantage point of Johnny’s face: his eyes squeezed shut, long lashes resting on his cheeks.

A timer in the kitchen goes off—the roast you’ve been cooking since the early morning hours. Excusing yourself, you disappear into the kitchen, pausing just beyond the doorway to press your chilly hands to your flushed cheeks. 

Wine. You needed wine. 

-

“So,” you begin once the three of you have sat down for dinner. “Fill us in, Johnny. What have you been up to?”

The unsaid words linger between you all, What have you been up to during the three years you left? Johnny gives a wane smile, and you think that maybe the time spent apart didn’t serve him nearly as well as he’d hoped it would—however he’d hoped it would. Simon sits at the head of the table, his ankle tangled against your own beneath the oak. It’s a comforting reminder of his presence, considering he lets you and Johnny do most of the talking for now. 

“Whole lot o’ nothing,” Johnny says, sipping at the wine in his glass between sentences. “Traveled abroad fer a while. Spent some time in America, some time in South Korea.” 

“Sounds like a nice place to meet people,” you say, aiming for subtlety the way a sledgehammer might. “I notice you didn’t take us up on our invitation and bring a lass with you.” 

“No lass to bring, hen,” he says smoothly. 

Simon’s ankle stirs against your own, some silent attempt at communication. When you glance over toward him, his eyes are on his plate, face stoic, revealing nothing. 

“Any lads?” you guess. 

Simon’s fork squeaks against his plate. Johnny stops eating. For a moment they both stare at you in shocked silence. Then a grin spreads over Johnny’s handsome face, blooming straight into laughter. He shakes his head, like you have said something very silly. 

“No, no lads,” he says.

Simon’s ankle shifts again. 

You reach for your glass of wine, face hot—

-

—and you don’t stop drinking. 

Afternoon turns into evening, and by the time night falls, the three of you have drunk your way through three bottles of wine and successfully caught each other up on your lives to date. Simon and Johnny have slipped out onto the porch twice to smoke, bringing back in the scent of tobacco and snow, one you don’t mind at all. The fire in the fireplace burns low, crackling and spitting as the log splits. The room is strewn with torn gift wrapping. Simon has already unboxed the knife Johnny had made for him, testing its weight in his palm, testing the sharpness of the blade against the pad of his thumb. (Add that to the list of things which shouldn’t arouse you about Simon but do.)

It reminds you of the idyllic Christmases that you had reached for all your life and only ever skimmed with your fingers. You should have known that the missing piece was Johnny all along. 

Wine drunk, you have kicked your feet up on Johnny’s lap at one end of the couch and curled your upper half on Simon’s lap at the other end. It is easy to fall asleep to the warm lull of their voices, swapping stories from their time in the military together. 

But all at once, the subject matter changes, and it drags you from the threshold of sleep into some misty gray area in between a dream and wakefulness. Eyes still closed, you listen. 

“I found you both, you know.” Johnny’s voice is barely more than a whisper, difficult to hear over the crackling fire. 

“Don’t know what you mean, Johnny. We’re right here.” 

“I found your videos.” 

Your hands tighten into fists where you are clutching Simon’s shirt, eyes cracking open as you put the pieces together in your mind. But he’s smoother than you are, always able to keep a cool head. He sounds a little bored, a little confused as he asks: “What videos?” 

“Never known you to play dumb LT. You know the ones I mean. The porn.” 

A lengthy silence as Simon weighs his options and likely decides that there’s no use in lying. “You did, did you?” 

“Aye.” 

A pause.

“So that’s why you finally came back. Three fucking years she begs you to at least come for Christmas—who knew all it would take was a little pornography to put a fire under your arse.”

“That’s not—didn’t even find it until a few days ago, after I’d already said yes—“ Johnny says, voice rising in his defense. 

“Careful. We don’t want to wake her up, do we?” Simon’s hand pets against your hair, softer than a kiss from the wind. Though he must know you’re awake, you’re grateful that he lets you pretend, lets you hide away while he handles this. “If she knew that you’d seen those videos, she’d be embarrassed. That would make me upset. You understand?” 

“Aye,” he says, lowering his voice a little. He rests his hand against your ankle in his lap and then decides it’s not appropriate, shifts his hand back to his own thigh. You miss his touch. You’ve always missed Johnny’s touch more than you should miss the touch of your husband’s best friend. “But if you didn’t want people to see them, I don’t understand what you were thinkin’ posting them online.” 

“Three guesses. No, go on. Never known you to be shy. Guess.”

Johnny wets his lips. “You didn’t think you’d be recognized.” 

“There’s one.” 

“You…you like it.” 

“There’s two. Give us a third.” 

“She likes it.” 

You groan a little in embarrassment, turning your face away from where Johnny can see its profile, burying it in Simon’s lap. He’s hard, a fact you only realize when his jean-clad cock rubs against your cheek. You go still, eyes widening as this knowledge goes straight to the warmth that’s been stoked between your legs more often than the fireplace has tonight.

Simon’s hand finds the nape of your neck and rests there, keeping you still and quiet. It reminds you of your last video, when he had taken you from behind and put his hand on the nape of your neck to urge your face into the bed, his hips snapping against your ass. Where had the camera been, then? You couldn’t remember. That was Simon’s one rule, besides the masks and never saying each other’s names: don’t look into the camera. 

“So what do you plan to do with this knowledge, Johnny?” Simon asks. You hold your breath, still feigning sleep. “Who do you plan to tell? You know I don’t have anyone left who would give a fuck, but I’m sure you could find someone for her—someone who could shame her and make her feel bad for trying to feel good. Is that what you want?”

“Fuck no. I’d not tell a soul,” says Johnny fiercely. His hand comes to rest on your ankle again. This time he leaves it, thumb brushing the bone. “I swear it.”

“Then why bring it up at all?” 

“I…I don’t know,” Johnny admits, head ducking. “I just had to. Spending time with yeh both, knowing what I knew—it felt dishonest.” 

Simon hums. “You know what I’d like to know?” 

“What’s that?” 

“What our single friend was doing looking at couples porn.” 

-

The night ends quickly after that. Simon carries you to bed—the bed where you film so much of the porn that Johnny has apparently seen—and helps you begin undressing while Johnny gets his boots on in the other room. 

“I’m so embarrassed,” you breathe, quiet so that Johnny could not overhear if he happened to be standing right outside the door. Your head is spinning, and only partly from all the wine. Your face burns. Your heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Johnny has seen the videos, the ones you and Simon cheekily dub ‘home movies’! God, how you will ever face him again is beyond you. 

“Give me the word and I’ll throw him out,” says Simon. “We’ll never see him again.” 

That makes a sick feeling rise up in the back of your throat. You look up at Simon and take in the somber, angry-adjacent expression on his face, and you know that he is serious. Simon never says a word that he doesn’t mean. But you can hear what he didn’t say, the words unspoken: it would kill him to do it. All their years spent watching each other’s backs, it would be hard to stab Johnny’s and leave him in the cold. Especially after the bliss of just getting him back.

You don’t want that. Not for Simon, not for Johnny. Not even for you. 

“I like Johnny,” you affirm. “I just don’t know how I’ll face him.” 

“You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. He’s the pervert looking in through our window.” 

“We’re the perverts fucking with the blinds wide open,” you remind him. 

“I’ll see him out. Finish getting undressed,” he says, disappearing through the doorway. You hear the warm timber of his voice matched by Johnny’s and the sound of the front door opening. Two sets of boots crunch through snow, and now the voices are so far away that you can’t even make out their tone, much less their words.

Stripping the last of your clothes off, you roll onto your belly and bury your face in your pillow. Tonight had been going so well. It was hard to believe how far off course things had become. What was Johnny doing looking for couples porn anyhow? 

You roll back over, staring into the darkness of the ceiling. The answer was simple: because it would get him off. It didn’t matter if it was tentacles to titjobs. He’d more than likely been looking up porn while he jerked off. 

Had he realized right away that it was you and Simon and turned the video off in disgust? Or had it taken a moment for it to sink in? Had he cared at all? 

Or had he jerked off instead? You realize you are rubbing your thighs together belatedly and force yourself into stillness. 

The front door opens, Simon stomping inside and taking off his boots. When he joins you in bed, his cheeks are still cold, mouth minty from hastily brushing his teeth of tobacco and wine. You lean in and kiss him, looking for comfort. He kisses back, sweeping his tongue through your mouth, sucking on your lower lip. 

“I’m not in the mood tonight,” you whisper when you both part, not necessarily out of truthfulness, but because you feel like you shouldn’t be in the mood. 

“Wasn’t expecting anything.” 

You lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heart. Your embarrassment is a little lessened now, abated by the calm that Simon exudes from his pores. It’s hard to believe that anything in the world could go wrong that Simon couldn’t handle with a twist of his hand or a few choice words. After a while, you glance up to find him still awake, staring into the darkness of the room. He meets your eyes and gives you one of his rare, wane smiles. 

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him. 

After a moment of silence, he says: “Our next video.” 

- 

((AMATEUR COUPLE: WAKING UP MY WIFE WITH MORNING SEX. Soap knows that he shouldn’t click on the link. The first time was an honest mistake, but anything afterwards is intentional—and unforgivable. If Ghost were to find out…Soap doesn’t even want to think about it. 

Except why would it be wrong for Soap to do it but right for a bunch of strangers? 

He doesn’t need to look down to know his cock is hard. Against his better judgement—or any judgement at all, really—he clicks the link. The video starts with Ghost in the frame, completely naked. He’s seen LT naked often enough (it’s unavoidable in such close quarters as they have shared) but he’s never looked, not like this. 

Time has barely changed him. He is still fitter than any man has the right to be, thick with muscles that are for functionality and not just for show—though the show is still impressive. 

While he’d always known that Ghost would be a sight to behold, seeing it in this context cements a fact in his brain, one that had sent him running years prior: he’s attracted to his closest friend. All the bad flirting disguised as taking the piss back when they were in the 141—it wasn’t just taking the piss. Not for Soap, at least.

In the video, Ghost exits the frame and crosses to the other side of the bed. He’s not wearing a mask this time but the upper half of his face remains solidly out of frame until it is offscreen again. You are positioned closest to the camera, laying on your side facing the audience. Your face isn’t visible, but your breasts are once Ghost draws the blankets down, down, and then down far enough to reveal your closed thighs. 

Fuck, Soap wants to see your cunt. He grips his cock tightly and squeezes, watching raptly as Ghost loops an arm over you and begins to softly tease your nipples. Soap slips a hand up his shirt and thumbs at a nipple of his own, wishing it was the other man’s touch. His cock leaks where it lies thickly against his belly as he watches his former lieutenant tease you, trace figures over your naked body, and at last slip a hand between your thighs, working one of your legs over back of his own. Now Soap can see just a trace of your slit, so soft. It makes his jaws ache, makes him want Ghost to hold your thighs apart so that he can lick and suck you into a frenzy.

He can tell the exact moment you wake. Your body stiffens, mouth falling open as Ghost sinks two of his fingers inside you. One of your hands reaches down to grip at your husband’s forearm as you scramble into wakefulness.

“Good morning,” Ghost says.))

-

The doorbell sounds, telling Simon that Johnny has arrived, but he lets his Sergeant wait out in the cold while the kettle finishes filling. A not-small part of him is still holding a grudge against Johnny for making you so embarrassed. It had taken time for you to come into your own. Courage. The videos had been your idea, whispered in the heat of the moment beneath the cover of darkness—but with time you’d been bold enough to talk about them over dinner. To read the comments with him and laugh. To watch the videos and end up in bed all over again. 

Now he could see the hesitation in your eyes whenever he pulled out his phone. 

Johnny’s expression is its typical one, open, friendly, when Simon opens the door. When he sees Simon, those blue eyes grow wide before he can curb the reaction. Johnny swallows, throat bobbing. 

“Hey LT. Lookit you. Laswell really has yeh behind a desk now doesn’t she?” Johnny’s hand reached out like he’s going to touch the tie that still dangles from around Simon’s neck, but he thinks better of it. 

Just another hunch of Simon’s proven right.

“What part of no field work confused you?” Simon asks, stepping aside to let Johnny in. 

“No confusion. Just didn’t expect yeh to look so…” He trails off, eyes flittering over Simon from his combed hair to his dress shirt stretched tight across his chest to the dress slacks that cling to his thighs. “…fancy.”

“I don’t wear the tie for Laswell’s benefit. But you already knew that.”

Johnny flushes, as good an admission as any. Wisely, he says nothing, following Simon into the kitchen and taking an offered seat at the kitchen island. His eyes flicker around the room, similar to how they had on Christmas. Then, Simon had mistaken it for Johnny taking in the way things had changed—the wallpaper is new, as is the backsplash behind the oven and stove, there are new pictures on the refrigerator—but now Simon suspects that Johnny is remembering. Piecing together backdrops he has seen in their videos. 

“The missus home?” Johnny asks, drumming his fingers on the granite. 

“No. Work.”

Simon pours tea for two, even though Johnny hates tea, and slides it across the countertop to him. To his benefit, Johnny accepts it without complaint, warming his hands around the mug.

“I told her.” 

Johnny doesn’t need to ask what or who—they’ve both been thinking about it since the moment he walked in. Simon watches as his face twists with naked regret. It tells Simon that Johnny really didn’t know that you were only feigning sleep on Christmas. 

“Is she angry with me?” 

“Embarrassed.” 

Johnny looks outraged on your behalf. “She has no reason t’ be!” 

Simon shrugs as if to say, This is what your curiosity bought her, Johnny. This is the price she’s paying. Johnny’s shoulders sag under the weight of his own guilt, elbows bracing themselves on the countertop so that he can put his face in his hands.

“Maybe,” says Simon, “it would make more of a difference if she heard it from you.” 

Johnny looks up, brow furrowed. “Heard what from me? That I’ve seen her—like that?” 

Simon’s eyes roll to the ceiling. “No. That she doesn’t have anything to be ashamed of.” 

Johnny turns the idea over in his head. He’s clever, but too blinded by his own desire to see the manipulation for what it is. What does it matter if it’s Simon’s idea or his own? Johnny is dying to talk to you. 

“You’d give me her number?”

Simon shrugs.

“Alright,” says Johnny at length, drawing the word out. “I can do that. If you think it will help.” 

Simon says nothing, sipping at his tea to hide any smugness behind his cup.

-

((The video begins in a kitchen, one Johnny has been in many times. You are there, back mostly to the camera, pressed against the granite island countertop. Simon is on the other side of you, consuming all your attention. Steaming Jesus, he’s huge compared to you, huge compared to everyone. He’s dressed in his work attire: dress clothes, dark tie in place. The effect is jarring in contrast with the mask. 

Simon reaches up and works his tie loose and off over his head. You tilt your head down a little and on it goes, easy as anything. When Simon turns you to face the camera, the tie dangles between your bare breasts. One hand on the nape of your neck, Simon bends you forward towards the granite and Soap can tell the exact moment his cock slips inside you based on the way your mouth falls open, your eyes squeezing shut behind your own mask. 

Soap isn’t sure who he’s jealous of more—you or Simon.))

-

Simon told me that he told you what I found. I just wanted to message you myself and say how sorry I am if I embarrassed you. 

You sigh reading over the text message. Flexing your fingers, you give a quick glance toward where Simon lays dozing with his head against the back of the couch, feet up on the coffee table (the knife he got for Christmas rests on his chest; he’d been toying with it absently for the last half hour) and answer: There’s no reason to apologize. It’s not your fault I’m embarrassed. 

It is though, isn’t it? You don’t care that other people see. You just care that I did. 

You pause and bite at your nails, thinking over his words and how to respond. He’s mostly right. There had been an aspect of embarrassment at first when you and Simon began posting the videos (and that embarrassment had gotten you off to a certain extent, though it didn’t usually). But eventually that heated shame had melted away into eagerness for the camera. You’d read the comments on the videos, countless human beings talking about the various ways they masturbate to your sex with Simon, talking about the things they wish they could do to you, with you, with Simon. 

So why was it so much more embarrassing knowing that Johnny had seen? Because he knew you. Because he’d seen the parts of you that you had purposefully covered up for the camera. No one was meant to see both sides—no one was meant to have all of you. Except for Simon. 

But if somebody was going to do it, a small part of you is glad it was Johnny. 

You’re Simon’s friend, you message back, curious. Didn’t it feel strange to see us like that? 

Honestly? He doesn’t wait for you to respond. Not as strange as I might have thought. 

-

((AMATEUR COUPLE: WIFE PRACTICES HER BLOWJOB SKILLS, the video is aptly titled. You are on your knees, hands tied neatly at the base of your spine. Simon sits at the edge of the bed, camera positioned perpendicular to you both, with a downward angle.

You lean forward and let his hard, flushed cock disappear past your lips deeper, deeper, until you reach the limits of what you can take without preparation or practice. His hand comes down to rest softly against the back of your head as you make yourself gag and choke around the thickest part of his cock. There’s no need to hold you down; Simon doesn’t even bother.

Soap’s jaw aches, desperate for a chance to be on his knees for Ghost like that. He could take more than you—he knows he could. Not that it had to be a competition, not when you both could share a cock that size and barely notice the other was there. He strips his own cock thinking about it, eyes falling shut as he lets the background noise of the video—Simon’s gentle praises, your whines and chokes, the wet gurgles of a throat being fucked—carry him over the edge.))

-

New Year’s Eve. 

The house is full of bodies and laughter. You feel near-delirious with your own joy, never made happier than by the happiness of the people around you. Alejandro and Rodolfo had flown in and were staying in the guest house through the New Year, arriving only yesterday with enough luggage for four between the two of them; Kyle and his girlfriend; John and his wife; Kate and her partner; even Farah and her brother had made a pit stop to spend the evening with you on their way back to Urzikstan from the Americas. 

The party had been BYOB, and everyone had taken to the sentiment and more. Farrah is mixing drinks in the kitchen, strong concoctions that even John struggles to keep down. Gaz and Alejandro keep insisting on shots (which you politely decline just as often as you agree. Simon drinks nothing, his tumultuous past putting him off of hard alcohol for good).

People are well and truly drunk by the time Johnny arrives. The whoops and hollers that fill the house have you thinking that midnight has come early. A swarm of bodies surround him, and he is forced to make the rounds hugging each person and being taken to task by them for being gone for so goddamn long. 

He arrives at you before Simon, and his face softens, smile going a little unsure around the edges as he opens his arms for you, the first time he’s seen you in person since Christmas. You could rebuff him, but you also can’t. It’s Johnny. Nearly tripping to toss yourself into his arms, he lifts you a few inches off the floor, nose buried in your hair. 

“Bonnie as always,” he whispers into your ear after putting you back down. His hand tugs teasingly on the short hem of your dress, like he is trying to lengthen it, knuckles brushing your thighs. You swat his hand away, face flushing with warmth. It wasn’t that short. 

“Johnny,” Simon calls. The two men embrace, hug lasting longer than any other. In the distance, you see Gaz elbow Price, jerking his head toward the two men. 

You put a hand on Simon’s shoulder, anxious suddenly. Simon draws back, clapping Johnny on the shoulder. He orders: “Get yourself a drink.” 

“Yessir.” 

“None of that.”

“Games? I was told there would be games,” Gaz says, situating himself between you and Simon. He’s dressed smartly in a dress-shirt with the collar undone. Someone has put a party hat on him, cone-shaped, to celebrate the New Year. You had managed to wrestle Simon into one for thirty seconds before the first of the company arrived; the memory makes you smile. 

“I have Cards Against Humanity,” you offer. 

“Oh, I love that game,” Kyle’s girlfriend says to your delight. 

“No—no—we aren’t in middle school here,” Johnny says. “And if we are, then I want to play truth or dare so my chances of getting kissed tonight rises exponentially.” 

“Come over here and they will,” Gaz offers. 

“Don’t make promises you’re not ready to keep, Garrick,” Johnny warns, grinning. 

“Sounds like something a coward would say, all due respect—” 

Then Johnny has a fistful of Kyle’s shirt, hauling him in for a bold though chaste kiss on the mouth. You are suddenly hyper aware of Simon beside you, standing tall and very still while everyone laughs and cheers at the men’s antics. You can’t deny it’s a pleasing sight, but a part of you feels irritated with the whole display. 

“Jesus Christ,” John sighs, tipping his hat back on his head. “Soap’s right—if you’ve got a normal deck of cards, love, I know  plenty of games for adults to play.” 

“Not sure I want to play those kinds of games with you, John,” Kate says somberly to the laughs of everyone around her. 

“We’ve got cards,” Simon mutters. 

Farah calls to you from the kitchen, asking you to try her latest conglomeration of alcohol. Eager to be anywhere but there, you escape to the kitchen. You lift yourself up onto one of the stools at the island, taking the red plastic cup from her hand and sniffing it. Just the smell burns the hairs of your nose. 

“Jesus, Farah, this could kill me,” you laugh. 

“Pathetic,” she says with a grin to lighten her words. “I think I saw some apple juice in the refrigerator, would you like that instead?” 

“Alright.” 

“A warm glass of milk, perhaps?”

“You’ve made your point,” you say, eyes narrowing in good humor. Taking a deep breath to steel your nerves (and stomach), you take a generous swig of the cup. Fuck, it burns going down and it burns in your belly, like swallowing a lit flame. You cough a little, trying not to gag, and hold up your thumb to her. “It’s great—so good—“

Simon comes to sit beside you at the island. He takes the cup, smells it, and raises both brows. 

“Can I tempt you, Lieutenant?” Farah asks.

“No.” 

“Then I won’t try. Where’s John, he’s never afraid of a challenge.”

Unseen to her beneath the island, fingertips brush your stocking-covered thighs. Your knees clamp together on instinct as you fight not to look over at Simon. What is he doing? 

He strikes up a conversation with Farah about her time spent in the Americas. When his hand doesn’t move, your thighs relax a little. He was just being intimate; often he liked to have a hand on your back or his foot resting against your own beneath the table. It wasn’t his fault you were on edge. Your head spins a little, thanks to the shots and Farah’s drink. Planting one elbow on the countertop, you try to focus on her stories when Simon’s hand moves again, slipping further between your legs. The hem of your dress has ridden up so high in your seated position that it doesn’t take much for his fingertips to graze against the heated seam between your legs. 

You clamp your knees shut again. He pinches your thigh softly, just enough to get the message through to you. Staring at Farah, hearing nothing, you spread your shaking knees again and let him cup you between your legs. Fuck. You tilt your hips, making as if to adjust your position on the chair. It only serves to bring you in closer contact with Simon’s hand. A groan is born and dies in the back of your throat. 

He keeps you there, holding your cunt, having a fluent conversation with Farah while your brain melts out your ears. At length, he stands. Leaning down, he says in your ear: “Outside, two minutes. Go out the back.” 

Then he disappears amongst the sea of people 

-

Three minutes later you are shivering out in the snow. Your coat only helps so much with your legs bare save for your stockings. You hadn’t even had time to lace up your boots. Shifting from one foot to the other in the spotlight of the floodlights to keep warm, you cast glances left and right wondering from which direction Simon will come, wondering what he wants that couldn’t have taken place in doors. 

At last he appears, looking far warmer than you in his olive green jacket and jeans, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. You smile at the sight of him. He doesn’t smile back. 

“Put your hands against the wall.” 

“Simon?” 

He sighs, running a hand over the curve of your waist, testing its fit in his palm. “Now I’ll have to edit that part out. Let’s try again. Put your hands on the wall.” 

You see then the phone placed just-so in the breast pocket of his coat. The glossy camera lens stares back at you, no flashing red light, nothing nearly so 1999. But you knew it was filming. What was it seeing now? The house in the background, the cool blue siding and brick. You, face surprised, lips chapped from the cold weather lately, your sexy little golden dress nearly obscured beneath your coat. 

“The time to back out is now,” Simon prods you. 

But there’s no way you’re backing out, not after the kitchen. Not after the hazy arousal you’ve been walking around in all night just at the thought of seeing Johnny again. Turning around, you reach out with shaking hands and place them against the freezing cold siding. You can see your breath like a smoky plume with each of your frantic exhales as Simon’s hands grip your ass, slipping beneath the hem of your dress and finding your stockings to tug them down around your knees. 

“Got to keep quiet for me,” he says. “Can you do that?” 

“Yessir,” you whisper, wishing you were close enough to the house to rest your heated cheek against it. 

Simon gives a heavy exhale at your words and you grin, unseen. 

Your panties join your stockings stuck around your knees. It doesn’t give you much space to spread your legs, but Simon is so lengthy that he doesn’t need the extra room. He doesn’t press against your back, ever-conscious of the camera and its angles, but you hear the sound of his belt being undone and like a Pavlovian response, it has you drooling between the legs. His cock is burning warm when it brushes against your ass, and you find yourself arching your back, seeking to put that heat inside you. 

He hums, hands spreading you wide as he can for the benefit of the camera, even if the lighting isn’t the best to see your entrance. 

“Pretty fucking girl,” he mutters. The position can’t be comfortable for him, but he’s never seemed to care about that. He reaches down to grip the base of his cock and guides the head inside you. It is a tight fit without any preparation, but he keeps the penetration shallow, rocking you back and forth on just the head, sometimes letting his cock slip free to brush against your aching clit. Your teeth clamp together, desperate to keep your sounds in—usually during home videos, Simon encouraged you to be noisy (“for the audience”). Now you found yourself struggling not to give in to the old habit. 

All of the sudden, his hand is in your hair, turning your head, guiding it to change directions until you are looking at your footsteps in the snow leading back the way you came—

Until you are looking squarely at Johnny, standing nearly frozen in the snow at the edge of the house. He’s wearing his coat and boots, hands jammed deep into his coat pockets. The darkness makes it hard to make out the subtlety of his features, but you can tell that his mouth is dropped open in an expression of near comical disbelief. 

You barely manage to keep from choking out Simon’s name, your entire body going stiff—your cunt rippling around his cock. He laughs, a low rumbling chuckle that has you squeezing your eyes shut. A whine slips free from your throat and the wind must carry it straight to Johnny, because you hear his quiet, Steamin’ Jesus. 

“He’s been waiting for this all night, I bet,” Simon mutters, his hips snapping against yours. Your hands scramble to find purchase against the siding, slip down a little to grip the bricks which offer you more resistance. “Watching you flit back and forth in this dress, knowing what you look like underneath it. He wishes it was him fucking you right now.” 

“No,” you gasp, scandalized. 

Simon just laughs again. The sound doesn’t embarrass you, just ratchets your own dizzying arousal higher. You can’t take your eyes off of Johnny, who has stumbled two or three steps closer in the snow and now has his hand against the house very similarly to you. His other hand is in a fist at his side. Closer like this, there’s no mistaking the heated expression in his eyes. Nor the bulge in his pants. 

“Oh God,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut again and turning away. 

“Look at him—look at him. He wants to touch himself,” Simon says, borderline conversational as his dick makes the most heinous squelching noises inside your body. “But I don’t think he’s got the balls.”

One of your hands comes off the bricks and reaches down between your thighs—but Simon grabs it at the last moment and pins it back in its place, sending you nearly to tears. 

“Cum on my cock or don’t cum at all,” he says, feeling cruel.

The both of you know that that likely means you won’t cum at all, not like this, and the knowledge threatens to undo you. He’s going to get you three-fourths of the way there and then leave you like this, edge you in front of all of your closest friends and not satisfy you until the very last one has left. Tears well in your eyes, beading up at the corners. 

Behind you, his thrusts grow sloppy. You dare another glance towards Johnny and see his turned back, both his hands in his mohawk gripping at his hair like he is fighting with himself. Your eyes fall shut; you’re fighting a battle of your own, you can’t be concerned about his. Simon groans lowly, filling you with his seed. He pulls out in a wet rush of fluids, reaching down to stave off his dripping seed and save your leggings from destruction. 

Gently, he fucks his cum back into you with his fingers. He wipes it across your swollen folds and in the soaked crotch of your panties before pulling them back up to rest safely on your hips. Bending down, he wipes his hands clean in the snow and then on his jacket before helping you pull your stockings up into place. The tears in your eyes have overflowed by now, dripping down your cheeks and off your chin. When you glance over, Johnny is gone. 

“Okay?” Simon murmurs, fiddling with his phone. He stops the video. 

“Yeah,” you sigh shakily. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

-

Moments to midnight and you are searching for Simon. His figure should be easy to spot, but his head isn’t visible above the sea of people, nor is his baritone voice audible amongst the cacophony of others. 

Someone else is notably missing as well. An itch in the back of your brain swells, one you have to follow to scratch. 

Countdowns begin. You peek out the window nearest to you but see no sign of either man outside in the snow smoking. Watching couples pair off, you pad on bare feet (having kicked off your heels ages ago) toward the master bedroom, slipping into the dim hallway that forks off to the bedroom, the guest bath, and the office. That hallway is where you find them, standing in the dark toe to toe. Simon has Johnny up against the wall, clutching fistfuls of Johnny’s shirt, nearly tearing it. In the dim lighting, you can barely make out their features. 

For a moment, you think they are about to come to blows. You are ready to step between them, to take either of them by the ear like an old school matriarch and remind them that they are friends and they love each other and this is no way to act amongst family—but then the others cry out for midnight and they kiss. 

Oh God, do they kiss. Johnny’s shirt strains in Simon’s hands as he lifts the other man the last few inches needed to slot their mouths together comfortably. There is no chaste peck, no soft exploration of tongues, it is a frenzied open-mouthed devouring of each other, jaws flexing as if to open up and swallow the other whole. 

Claps and cheers ring out in the living room, jolting Simon and Johnny apart. Before you can even string together a sentence, Johnny has brushed by you, one hand pressing at his mouth. He grabs his coat and leaves out the front door without so much as a goodbye to anyone. 

-

The party is over. The sun is rising. Alejandro and Rodolfo have retired out to the guest house leaving you and Simon behind to clean up the mess in more ways than one. Eyes tired but brain buzzing, you come into the living room with a half-filled trash bag in your arms to find Simon sitting on the sofa by the fireplace, his head in his hands. 

You drop the trash bag and go to him, climbing into his lap. He sighs and lets his head rest against your breasts, breaths slow and deep, not betraying any of the turmoil that might be going on in his mind.

“He’ll be back,” you promise, stroking your fingers through his cropped hair. “He’ll come back, baby.” 

You don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t.

“Have you two done that before?” you ask.

Simon shifts. He turns until his ear presses against your sternum, like he is listening to your heart for the answer. He says: “No. Once—almost, I think. But you know what he’s like. So fucking persistent. And bright. Like he’s got the bloody sun inside him.”

“You never told me.” 

“Wasn’t anything to tell.” He looks up at you with dark eyes, decidedly grim despite his words: “We doing this?”

“Seems so,” you say, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails just to watch how his eyes get heavy. Simon so often denies himself simple pleasures, but he deserves them. The simple ones and the complicated ones. 

“He belongs to me,” Simon says at length, slow, like he is working it out for himself. “Just like you do.”

“No baby,” you remind him, leaning down to press a kiss to his mouth. “He belongs to us.”

-

((It becomes a degenerate ritual. 

Soap gets home from work and showers. As soon as the steam hits the bathroom mirror, he’s hard, but he doesn’t touch himself; refuses to. He showers and cleans himself perfunctorily, cock aching. It is just as familiar with this ritual as he is, just as hungry for it. It knows what is coming. 

After he is clean and dry, he’ll go naked into his room and bring out his laptop. He always sits at his desk—hates having the laptop on his lap, wants it somewhere stable and safe so he can have both hands free to touch himself—and then he brings up your porn page with Simon. There are more than fifty videos he can choose from. Some he has only seen once, especially those early videos when you both were still getting a feel for the process and working out your nerves. There are others that are old favorites, ones that he knows every word to, one where he could mimic your every sigh and whine if he wanted to. 

And sometimes, like on nights such as this, there’s a new video. His heart jumps to his throat. 

AMATEUR COUPLE: ARGUMENT TURNS INTO SEX (NO AUDIO). Fuck, just the title has mind whirling. It was just for show, surely—he couldn’t imagine you both filming one of your actual arguments for the sake of good pornography—but he was intrigued nonetheless. Some of his favorite videos featured Ghost getting a little rougher with you, and you giving back as good as you got. 

He clicks the link. The video begins in the bedroom, recognizable to him now as your own. The camera is in the corner facing the bed at an angle giving a wide vantage point, like a voyeur standing at attention. Like Soap himself has snuck in and is watching. Just the thought has him gripping the base of his cock, a soft groan passing his lips. 

You’re sitting on the bed, mask in place. Your arms are crossed, mouth downturned into a frown as Simon enters the screen. The first minute or so truly looks like an argument, the occasional jerky hand gesture from you coupled with Simon’s clipped responses. Soap tries to read your lips, but he’s never been very good at it; he can’t make out a single word of what the two of you might be saying. Then the aura changes, the tense energy from the argument turning into something slicker, something sexual as Simon comes around the bed and puts his hand on the center of your naked chest, pressing you back, back until you are laying down. 

You fight against him, batting his hand out of the way. He pins you down easily, so much larger and stronger than you. Soap grips his cock at the thought of being in your place, being pinned to the bed with Ghost’s massive figure over him. Ghost wouldn’t need to be gentle with him either, not the way he was with you. Soap wouldn’t mind. Soap would like it, the same way he liked it in the hallway at your house when Simon gripped him by the shirt and nearly jerked him right out of his boots. 

Your head comes off the bed, mouth chasing Ghost’s—but he draws away. Soap can almost hear the laugh he clearly gives, the rumbling chuckle that would be tangible in his chest. You grit your teeth together, jaw tight. Now when Simon bends down to kiss you, you turn your head away, a childish game of cat and mouse. He grips your chin and turns it back toward him, heavy on the eye contact. When you two finally kiss, it is rough, two hungry people searching for dirty secrets behind each other's teeth. 

Ghost kisses his way down your body, sucking bruises wherever he can. By the time he’s in between your legs, you are writhing, hands gripping his hair and trying to guide his mouth to the place that needs it most. He tugs your thighs over his shoulders, pins you to the bed with one massive forearm, and eats you out like a starving man. The angle for the camera isn’t the best here, but Soap can’t take his eyes off of you anyway: your body tight as a bowstring, breasts pressed together from the position of your arms, tendons of your neck straining as your head tilts backwards. 

Soap begins to work his cock over faster, watching your pleasure. When Ghost stops, he leaves you on the edge if your tortured expression is anything to go by, but you let him maneuver you into the position he wants—hands and knees, an old favorite for LT it seems—but this time is special, because this time you are forced to face the camera dead on. 

It’s like you’re looking Soap in the eye. The brief flash of guilt this gives him only serves to ratchet his desire higher, his cock dripping precum over his knuckles as he fists it. Ghost slips his cock inside you and sets a brutal pace that you are eager to meet, your hands twisting in the bedspread as you press yourself further back against his cock. 

Ghost leans down and mutters something in your ear. More than ever, Soap misses the audio. Whatever he says has your eyes flashing to meet the camera lens, and you do so with near girlish shyness, like you are seeing it for the first time, like you have only just noticed it’s been there all these months. Your eyes can’t catch on it at first, flittering away every chance you get. Ghost’s thrusts slow to deep grinds. He wraps a hand around your throat and says more, lips moving against the nape of your neck. Fuck, what Johnny wouldn’t give to be able to read lips. 

This time you look back at the camera and keep your eyes there. Ghost resumes his thrusts, each one making your breasts bounce softly, but your eyes never leave the lens, always quick to return even when they briefly fall shut. 

Your pleasure waxes when you slip a hand between your thighs, and you begin murmuring something repeatedly, just a discrete little movement of your lips. But at Ghost’s prodding, you begin to cry it out louder and louder until Soap is damn near sure that you are screaming, your lips forming the same syllables over and over again if only Soap were able to make them out. Your eyes roll back as you cum, arms growing weak until you dip and rest your upper body against the bed giving the camera an excellent view of Simon fucking into you from behind, the arch of your body, the curve of your waist to the width of your hips. 

Soap cums when Ghost does, Ghost’s head lolling to the side as his thrusts grow sloppy and forceful, making a mess of you no doubt. 

It isn’t until later when he’s in bed that he recognizes the word you were chanting for what it is. 

How it took him so long to recognize his own name he’ll never know.))

-

He comes back. 

Simon has just returned from taking Alejandro and Rodolfo to the airport. Ever since New Year’s Eve, there has been a quietness about him which breaks prior records. Neither of you say it, but if Johnny leaves this time, it will take more out of him than it had before. It will take something out of you, too. You spend the days trying to keep busy, checking your phone too often for texts that don’t come. 

You’ve just taken the kettle off the stove when the doorbell rings, and both of you know. Your eyes meet across the kitchen. Simon nods his head toward the door, and you rush to answer it, feeling your heart in your throat. Johnny stands there on the step looking sheepish and cold, his boots and the bottom quarter of his jeans wet, like he has walked here from a great distance. 

“May I come in?” he asks. 

Simon appears behind you. Johnny gives him a wavering smile. Without a word, you hold the door open, stepping aside to let him in. 

“Didn’t think you’d be back,” Simon says coolly.

“Didn’t think I’d be back either,” Johnny admits. He wets his lips. “I…I need to come clean. It’s eatin’ me up inside. Can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t fucking think without it being about the two of you. I don’t know what to do with myself except put myself at your feet and ask fer your forgiveness.” 

“Johnny, that’s not—”

“No,” says Simon, stilling the words on your tongue. “I think that’s a good place to start. Get on your knees, Johnny.” 

Johnny blinks once, face the picture of innocent ignorance—but then he is dropping to his knees hard enough for you to hear them crack against the hardwood underneath. He obeys without thinking, because that is something that has always been easy for him to do: obey Simon. Think later. 

Simon’s hand reaches out, slow enough to give Johnny a chance to flinch away, but he doesn’t. Instead Simon threads his fingers through Johnny’s mohawk, the sides which are growing out just a little too long. Johnny’s eyes fall shut at the touch, and the whole thing goes straight to your belly, arousal making your head light. 

“You liked watching so much,” Simon says, voice low and quiet. “I think it’s time we put you to good use.”

-

“We have rules. Don’t look at the camera, don’t say each other’s names, and do as I say. Can you handle that?” Simon asks. 

“Rules of engagement. Yessir.” 

Simon snorts softly at Johnny’s eagerness. “Glad to see you still know to follow directions. But let’s see how well. Strip. Everything off. You won’t need it.” 

Johnny’s hands find the neckline of his shirt and tug it off over his head, revealing a body that is all smooth muscle and tan skin. The dark hair on his chest thickens just below his navel, trailing down into his jeans which he unbuttons without ceremony, feet working to step out of his shoes at the same time. He keeps his balance well, already slipping into a focused, strangely familiar headspace. You make yourself as small as possible on the bed, arms looped around your legs, eyes watching him hungrily. It’s been so long that you’ve wanted to see Johnny like this; now that it’s on the verge of becoming true, you feel shy and unsure. 

Johnny keeps his eyes on yours while he pushes his pants down his thighs and steps out of them. He smiles at you, soft and understanding, and only then do you let your eyes flicker down to take in his cock: he is hard, uncut, thick as Simon even if he can’t have him beaten in length. His dexterous fingers wrap around the shaft, stroking himself, the flushed head disappearing and reappearing in his fist. 

“What do you think?” Simon asks you, voice a low rumble at your side. His eyes are watching you, concerned with you first and foremost. “Is he pretty enough?”

Johnny makes an offended sound. 

“I’d say so,” you answer, aiming for unaffected and landing somewhere amongst breathless. Already you can feel the tension between your legs, a deep seated ache as your pussy drools onto the sheets below you. 

“You want to suck his cock,” says Simon. It’s not a question, but your head bobs anyway. “Go on, then. Crawl to him.” 

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawl to him, focusing on the mechanics of it instead of trying to feign sexiness. At the edge of the bed, you slip off and down to the floor amongst the pile of his clothes, laying your hands on his thighs and looking up at him from beneath his cock. 

He lets out a shaky breath. “You’re gonna suck my dick?”

You nod. 

Johnny looks to Simon with a helpless expression as if to ask, What do I do? When you glance back over your shoulder, you see that Simon is giving him nothing to work with, face a blank slate except for his raised brows. Phone in hand, aimed at the two of you. The sight of it seems to steel Johnny’s nerves. He’s never been one to be shy.

“Go at yer own pace, lass,” he says.

Leaning in, you trace your lips against the side of his shaft, feeling the velvety softness against your mouth. He smells like he showered before he came over, though you wouldn’t have minded if he hadn’t. Johnny always smells good—even on those days before he went away when he and Simon would go running together, pushing each other to their limits, returning sweaty and exhausted. Now after all this time you get to see if he tastes as good as he smells. You part your lips and leave open mouthed kisses along his length, looking up at him through your lashes when you feel his fingers sink into your hair. His mouth is parted as he watches you raptly, pupils blown wide. 

Confidence mounting, you take the head past your lips and suckle, treating him just as soft and sweetly as you know Simon won’t. Above you, he groans, hips jerking until you take another inch or two past your lips. You let him, rising up on your knees to adjust the angle, sinking your way down until his head brushes the softness at the back of your throat. Taking a calming inhale, you swallow and press forward, letting him sink into your throat until your gag reflex can take no more and forces him out. 

Johnny moans like he’s dying, his hands shaking as he fights not to thrust into your throat. Words stream from his mouth, filthy Scottish-tinted praises that have you wriggling in your place, desperate for a hand between your thighs. 

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Simon asks. 

“Never seen no one like her,” Johnny gasps, one hand letting go of your hair so that he can wipe the drool from the side of your mouth. He gives a weak laugh. “And I—fuuck, fuck—I’ve looked.”

“She’ll suck you off until you tell her to stop. Doesn’t matter how long you leave her at it,” Simon says. Fabric rustles behind you, and you ache to be able to turn and see what he is doing. But you are more determined to prove your goodness to Johnny. “Sometimes when I work from home she keeps my cock warm at my desk.”

“Dunno how you get a goddamn thing done with her mouth around yeh.”

“Discipline.” 

“I left mine in my other pants—fuck, I’m gonna cum. Are you one of those dirty girls that swallows?” he asks. 

You nod. Simon is there suddenly, a warm presence at your shoulder as he passes Johnny the camera. Nearly wrecked, Johnny’s hands shake as he aims it down at you, looking at you through the lens. His balls draw up, cock lengthening that last little bit as he spills into your mouth. 

“Don’t swallow,” Simon says at the last moment. You whine but obey. Simon pulls you up and nearly makes you dizzy with the way he kisses you, licks into your open mouth lapping Johnny’s seed from your tongue. 

“Jesus, Mary, ‘n Joseph,” Johnny breathes, belatedly remembering to turn the camera onto you both. This will likely be the messiest video you’ve ever made transition wise, but you have a feeling that it will be your favorite. 

When the kiss ends, you swallow and pull off to open your mouth, showing Johnny—and the audience—what they want: that you’ve swallowed your portion like a good girl. 

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have cum,” Johnny laughs weakly. “We’ve barely started. I don’t want this to be over.”

“You’ll cum again,” Simon says. “But it’s time to give someone else a turn. Sitrep?”

Johnny is all grins. “All good here, sir.” 

It makes you shiver to hear Johnny call him that. You’ve heard it countless times before, but never like this. The context turns the word into something foreign, something sexy. Not to mention, you know exactly what it does to Simon. Not for the first time, you wonder if his wires didn’t get a little crossed during his time enlisted, if he didn’t learn that particular kink from hearing Johnny chirp it at him every day. 

“Good boy,” says Simon softly, reaching out to ruffle Johnny’s mohawk. Johnny bats his hand away, but it’s impossible to miss the way he flushes from the cheeks down his chest at those words. Simon sets the phone on the tripod in the corner, making minor adjustments, and then turns his eyes to you. “C’mere.”

He sets you up against the headboard, your back against his chest. He parts your thighs, reaching down to use his thumbs to spread your sex open for Johnny’s hungry gaze, for the camera’s lens. You hide your masked-face behind your hands, hips rising toward his touch, desperate for the stimulation. 

“Pent up?” Simon asks, voice rough.

A sound slips past your lips, low and needy.. 

“This what you want?” His calloused fingers ghost over your swollen clit. 

“Yes,” you mumble, voice muffled by your hands. 

“Be a good girl and you’ll get it. You know how to be a good girl?” 

“How?”

“Stay relaxed. Keep your thighs open. And don’t lie to me. Can you do that?”

You nod. Yes. Easy things. You fight to relax your body, loosening your muscles. Your hands fall to rest against Simon’s thighs, eyes cracking open to watch Johnny who has seated himself at the end of the bed out of the way of the camera’s view. When he sees you looking, he smiles, reassuring and warm. His cock, which had been soft moments ago, already looks noticeably more interested in the events taking place. 

Simon drags his fingers over your clit. You tense all over, sucking in a breath before you remember his first rule and relax, going loose and soft again. He waits, patient. The next time he strokes you, you stay malleable, and he hums deep in his chest, pleased with the progress. His hand cups your whole sex, palm huge compared to you. 

“When was the first time you ever wanted to fuck our boy over here?” Simon asks. 

You know that he can’t use Johnny’s name, not on film, but neither you nor Johnny had expected the flashbang of this term of endearment. Johnny seems to melt, his eyes going heavy-lidded at the thought of being ‘your boy’. You can’t help but feel the incredible rightness of his words. They resonate deep in your chest like the ringing of a bell, tangible down to your fingertips and toes. Johnny is yours, and he is Simon’s. 

“How long?” Simon asks again, more firmly. 

“Since—since you brought him home.”

Simon slips two fingers past your entrance as a reward for your honesty. Their thickness has you gasping, fingers scrambling for purchase against his thighs. He hums something in your ear—probably a reminder about trying to relax—and you do try, but it is hard when you ache as badly as you do. You find yourself digging your heels into the bedspread, lifting your hips to try and work his fingers deeper inside of you. He feeds them to your cunt all the way to the last knuckle. 

“How’s she feel, sir?” Johnny asks. 

“Like the only heaven the likes of us will ever know.” 

“I believe it,” Johnny sighs. “Give us a taste.” 

Simon extends his fingers and Johnny takes them onto his tongue, licking and sucking the digits clean. You’re close enough to Simon to feel his inhale, to feel the way his cock jumps where it’s pressed against your lower back. He plays at being unaffected, but Simon isn’t immune to the powers of finger-sucking. He isn’t immune to Johnny. 

Then he says: “Put that mouth to work, Johnny.” 

Johnny drops to his belly between your thighs, breath fanning across your folds. Simon has to pin your legs apart, humming when your nails dig into the skin of his forearms. They are teaming up on you, against you, and you feel so small pinned between them. 

“Dreamed of this,” Johnny sighs into your pussy. He nuzzles against you, nose brushing your slit before licking a thick stripe up your folds. He laps at the honey leaking from your entrance, broad strokes of his tongue as Simon’s fingers keep you spread open for his hungry mouth. 

Sometimes Johnny’s tongue laps over Simon’s fingers, and when it does, you feel his cock twitch against your back. It only serves to remind you how empty you feel. Your hands grip Johnny’s hair, guiding his soft mouth to your clit where he sucks and laps contentedly, and you beg for his fingers. 

He moans against you, voice vibrating through your pussy. His hips have started a slow grind against the bedspread, desperate for friction as his blue eyes find Simon’s dark ones, silently asking for permission. 

Simon nods. Johnny slips his middle-most two fingers into you, hooking them softly, searching for that spongy, textured place just inside you. It’s everything you needed, the pleasure in your belly rising to a near painful crest. Your hand scrambles to find one of Simon’s, lacing your fingers together as you burst against Johnny’s tongue, squeezing his fingers, barely remembering to keep from calling his name. 

Johnny lays his head against your inner thigh, panting. His eyes are foggy, pussy-drunk as he struggles to focus on you both, his fingers still tucked softly inside you. 

“Break,” Simon whispers, kissing your neck. He shifts out from behind you, the only one of you still fully dressed. Going to the tripod in the corner, he pauses the camera and then leaves the room.

“Great abrupt bastard, isn’t he?” Johnny asks, slipping his fingers out from inside you. He goes to lick them clean, but you stop him, bringing his hand to your own mouth and cleaning your slick from his fingers, tongue searching for your taste all the way to the webbing between his knuckles. His laugh is breathy. “You like that? Like the taste of pussy?” 

You nod, slipping your mask off briefly. 

“Need a pretty girl to play with then, not the likes of me.” 

Your hand latches around his wrist as he goes to pull away, lips turning down into a frown. “That’s not what we want. We don’t play with people. People aren’t toys to us. And we’ve never had sex with anyone else like this. You should know that from the videos.” 

“Aye,” he says softly. “I didn’t mean to offend yeh, lass. I was only teasing.”

“Johnny…” 

“Yes?”

“Why’d you go away?” you ask. You know it might ruin the moment, but the curiosity is too much, an old wound with the scab picked clean off until it aches all over again. “Things seemed so good when Simon and I first got together. You were coming around all the time. Then you just…left.” 

Johnny can’t meet your eyes as he thinks back, as he remembers those days in the year after Simon first met you. When he speaks, his voice is steady. “I told yeh earlier. Couldn’t stop thinking about the two of you. Didn’t feel right to feel that way ‘bout my best mate and his best girl. And when he told me that he was gonna propose to yeh—I had two choices. Stay and watch, or run away. Maybe Simon’s right. Maybe I am a coward.”

“He told me that the two of you almost kissed once. Back during your SAS days.” 

A ghost of a smile appears on Johnny’s mouth. “Outside the Barranquilla, Columbia safehouse. I remember. I thought he would break my teeth if I tried, but Jesus, how I wanted to.”

“I think your odds were 50/50,” you say, scooting back until you are seated in Simon’s old spot, reclining against the headboard. “It started back then for you, didn’t it?” 

“Aye. I was a goner.” 

“You love him.” 

Johnny gives you a secretive smile. He presses his finger to his lips. Shh.

Simon enters the room with three water bottles and pauses, eyes flickering between you both. “The fuck were you two talking about?” 

“Nothing,” you say. “Is that water? I’m so thirsty, thank you baby.” 

“Her subtlety could use some work, LT,” Johnny says, watching as Simon goes and turns the camera back on. You hastily put your mask back in place. 

“Not her forte,” Simon admits dryly. He cracks open one of the bottles of water after tossing the last one to Johnny and drinks half of it in just a few gulps, despite having done very little so far in the scheme of things. You figured that was about to change, watching him shrug out of his shirt. 

Simon didn’t undress the way Johnny did. There wasn’t any fanfare or confidence; it was simple and efficient. You knew that Simon’s relationship with his body was a complex one. It had served him well, and he did his best to keep it healthy, but contemplating the aesthetics of it was too offensive to his palate. The scars were intense: thick punctures along his sides, the depressed, pale pucker of bullet wounds, the hard clean lines of a knife here and there. You had never minded, and judging by the way Johnny’s throat clicks when he swallows, Johnny didn’t mind either. 

“I want to fuck you,” he says. 

“Yes,” you agree. Fingers had been excellent, but nothing could compare to Simon’s cock. 

He shakes his head. “Not you. Him.” 

You turn your gaze on Johnny whose eyes are avidly watching Simon unfasten his jeans. He pushes them down over his thick thighs and reveals he’s not wearing any underwear beneath, his cock half-hard and rosy. He wraps his fist around it, jerking himself to full stiffness with a perfunctory touch, not at all interested in the show he is putting on for you both. 

“Can you take him, Johnny?” you tease. 

“I’ll die trying, thanks very much.” 

“I hope not,” is all Simon says, going to the bench at the end of the bed and retrieving the lube. He asks: “Condom?”

“Not necessary,” Johnny says, breaths coming faster now. You put your hand on his ankle, remembering the way he had touched you there on Christmas, stroking the bone softly. He glances to you and grins, and you see that what you mistook for nerves is actually excitement. He puts his hand over your own, squeezing. “Are you going to feel left out, lass?” 

“Terribly.” 

“If you last the whole time,” says Simon, holding the lube up to the light to see how empty it is. “I’ll let you fuck her when I’m finished with you.” 

“Jesus,” Johnny laughs weakly. “Can’t argue with that. Throw me that and I’ll get myself ready.” 

“I can do it,” says Simon, seating himself on the edge of the bed. Johnny shifts into a better position, feet flat on the bed, knees toward the ceiling. For a long time, Simon just looks at him: his silly hair, the odd scar here and there, his half hard cock. Deftly, he opens the cap on the lube and slicks two fingers while you come to kneel on the other side of Johnny, eager for a show. 

“Camera, love,” Simon reminds you, fingers searching between Johnny’s legs. Judging by the way Johnny’s jaw goes tight, he’s found what he’s looking for. You shift, glancing over your shoulder to make sure you are out of the camera’s point of view. Reaching down, you trail your fingertips gently over Johnny’s cock. Simon says: “Been a while?” 

“You could say that,” Johnny says, mouth falling open in a silent moan as Simon works him open. You’ve been on the receiving end of Simon’s ministrations; you know his patience can be near painful. Johnny learns it the hard way when Simon pauses twice to lube his fingers, until even the soft thrusts he gives into Johnny’s ass fill the room with the sound of sex. 

You play with his cock absently, enjoying being the tormentor instead of the tormented for once. Johnny’s silent breaths turn to heavy pants and then needy groans, foreskin pulling back to reveal the sensitive head as he grows in your palm thanks to Simon’s fingers playing inside him. His heels slip against the bedspread as he searches for the angles that suit him best, and he chokes when he finds them.

“Please, I’m ready,” Johnny says, fingers wrapping around Simon’s wrist. Simon lets him pull his fingers free and reaches for the lube again, this time to slick his cock. 

“Any preference for how I take you?” he asks mildly, like one might ask, How do you take your tea? One sugar please and thank you. 

“None, so long as your cock’s inside me,” Johnny grits out. 

“This’ll do,” says Simon, bullying his way between Johnny’s spread thighs. It takes a few pillows beneath his hips before he’s at the right height for Simon’s cock to notch against his entrance, and then you watch with rapt attention as Johnny’s body seems to blossom to welcome in Simon’s cock, a surplus of lubricant easing the way. 

Johnny flinches. 

“Easy,” says Simon, stilling. “Relax.” 

You curl up at Johnny’s side, slipping beneath one of his arms and cuddling against him. Your nervous fingers find one of his nipples and toy with it softly, kissing at his shoulder while you murmur words of encouragement to him. 

Johnny laughs weakly. “Don’t need all that, lass, but thank yeh.” 

“Wish I had someone cheering me on the first time I took Simon’s cock,” you admit. 

Simon frowns. “I was cheering you on.” 

“Less talking please, more fucking,” Johnny says, lips upturned. His body relaxes and Simon sinks the rest of the way inside him, all the way to the fucking hilt, deeper than you can ever take him in your cunt. It thrills you and makes you envious all at once. You pinch Johnny’s nipple, forcing a quiet gasp out of his throat. 

Simon looks good—strong. Unaffected. But you know him better. His brow is lower than ever, eyes closed as he centers himself. His breaths come so evenly that you know he must be counting them—four seconds in, four seconds out. His fingertips have sunk into the meat of Johnny’s thighs, gripping him tightly, as if to keep him from squirming away, or to keep him from squirming at all. 

“You solid?” Simon asks him. 

“Affirm,” Johnny breathes. “Go slow.” 

Famous last words—Simon withdraws with painstaking care, until just his head lingers inside Johnny’s body. He sinks back in at the most leisurely pace you’ve ever seen, thrusts smooth and deep as his thighs brush against Johnny’s ass. It takes no time at all for Johnny to regret those words, one of his hands laced with yours and the other twisting in the bedsheets as he begs Simon to move faster. 

And Simon can only take so much teasing himself, really. He’s human too. 

His hips snap into the open cradle of Johnny’s thighs. Johnny cries out, cock jerking where it lays hard and leaking against his belly. You lean up onto one elbow so that you can watch his pretty face contort: brow furrowing, mouth falling open. 

“Not going to cum, right?” you ask him slyly. 

He shakes his head. 

You glance down at his cock doubtfully. Simon, overhearing your words, takes that as a personal challenge, drilling into Johnny with a single-mindedness that is admirable to see and terrible to be on the receiving end of all in one. 

Suddenly tears overflow from Johnny’s eyes, dripping down toward his temples. You sit up in alarm as he lifts his hands but he just palms at his eyes, laughing. Simon slows, stops. He reaches down to pry Johnny’s hands away and then kisses him, something soft and sweet. Johnny’s hands shake as he reaches up to thread his fingers through Simon’s hair, tugging him closer.

Your heart feels liable to burst. You remember Johnny’s finger pressed to his lips, that universal sign. Shh. 

“He’s alright,” Simon says, not unkindly. “Aren’t you?”

Johnny croaks an affirmative.

After that, it is less fucking and more making love; there’s nothing else to call in. Simon pins Johnny’s wrists to the bed just to feel like he’s still in control, but his thrusts are syrupy slow, not fully withdrawing, seeking to remain as close to Johnny as he can for as long as possible. You stroke one of Johnny’s palms and Simon lets it free so that you can hold it, your fingers lacing together in a way that is foreign yes, but comfortable. 

“You’ve been a good boy for me, Johnny,” Simon says. 

“Don’t say that,” Johnny groans, turning his head away, flushed pink. 

“It’s true. Know how to be an even better boy?” 

Johnny is intrigued. Being a good boy is suddenly beneath him; now he wants to be the best boy. Looking at Simon through his lashes, he asks: “How’s that?” 

“Cum on my cock.” 

“Don’t do it Johnny,” you whine. “It’s a trap.” 

Simon laughs. He kneels back onto his haunches, dragging Johnny’s body along with him, and reaches for the other man’s cock, working it over in his fist. Johnny nearly howls, kept on the edge so long that to see the bottom of the cliffside is to know the promise of pain. He doesn’t know whether to grind his hips deeper against Simon’s cock or to chase the heat of his hand. 

“Close,” he groans. 

“Go on. Pretty abs like this—make a mess on ‘em.” 

Johnny does, pearlescent seed dripping from between Simon’s fingers as he milks Johnny for every last drop. Only then does he begin thrusting again, fast and hard, searching for his own end. Not a handful of thrusts later and he goes sloppy, breath punched from his lungs as he spills inside Johnny. 

“You promised me a cock to ride,” you say. 

“Couldn’t be helped, lass,” Johnny says with a dopey, lovesick smile. You hum. 

“We’ll just have to get you hard again, won’t we?” you ask, wrapping your fingers around his softening cock. 

-

That night, the bed is full. Johnny and you are entwined, legs and arms wrapped around each other creating an endless feedback of heat that Simon was careful not to be swept away in, too focused on his mission to allow for any mistakes. He makes no sound as he slips out of bed. He stops by the tripod in the corner and takes his phone out into the living room, turning the sound down so low that he has to hold the speaker close to his ear to hear it, lest he wake Johnny. 

He listens to you and Johnny talk while he was gone, when you believed the camera to be off. He plays it again, watching just the video. By the time he’s returned in the video, Simon’s chest feels full of pressure, like something is inside him trying to crawl its way out. Love. What does Simon Riley know about love? 

Well, he knows one thing. 

Except maybe now he knows two.

He deletes the video and goes back to bed. 

[wrioluvr]

christmas with your sub yandere boyfriend ❅.⊹₊ ⋆❆‧⋆☃︎

short drabble for today's occasion! merry christmas and happy holidays, everyone! ♡ gn reader, suggestive content

stumbling back to your apartment in an exhausted state, you can't help but lament the fact that you had to work so late on christmas eve, of all days. every hour that passed, came another distressed text from your boyfriend, desperately asking when you'd be back home. when he video called you during your break, he was so excited to spend your first christmas together, he was practically bouncing all over the place. given that he'd been trying to win your affections in any way possible over the past year (especially using his favourite method of clinging to your thighs and begging while sobbing), this was quite possibly the second best day of his life. the first being the day you accepted him as your boyfriend, of course. opening the door, his usual overly enthusiastic greeting, wearing nothing but an apron lovingly stitched with "[name's]" was replaced by an unusual silence. the room was lit by the soft, romantic glow of candles only he'd take the time to carefully set down, but yet he was nowhere to be found. looking at the clock, you realised that it's already past midnight, which meant that it was christmas already. he probably just got tired waiting and went to sleep. seeming to read your mind, your train of thought was interrupted by a bashful, familiar voice coming from the christmas tree the two of you had put up together a few days ago. you look over, and there he was in all his glory. he was naked, the only thing adorning his skin being the pretty red ribbon he'd tied himself up with like a gift, rendering him helpless to your every desire. "hey.... i'm here." he says shyly, looking up at you as you crouched at the base of the tree to meet his eyes. "what in santa's name are you doing?" you sighed, reaching over to loosen his binds. "w-wait! i did this for you... i'm your present! you can do whatever you want with me." his lust-filled eyes shimmer as he fantasises about you having you way with him, while his arms and legs are tied, unable to resist. "merry christmas, darling." he whispers, imploring you to do something to him, anything. this was going to be a long night, wasn't it...? ❆

[onsomenewsht]

Took a loan on a house I own

About when she panics and you’re very patient, but out of t-shirts

《 shout out to @p0orbaby, who turned this shit around and back on the fun side of the road

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 words count: 3k

》 commitment [noun, law]: a written order of a court directing that someone be confined in prison; mittimus

“Accept the Arsenal deal”, your agent encourages, his client’s best interests – and transfer fee – close to his heart.

“At least it’s not Manchester”, your father comments, still wishing for your comeback as saviour of your hometown club.

“What can go wrong?”, your childhood friends resonate with sincere smiles and rolling eyes at your unjustified hesitation.

Turns out, signing for the Gunners puts you in the Ballon d’Or shortlist after the first season and Leah Williamson in your bedroom.

One night you two are sharing a ride after a shameful celebration, you’re way too drunk to even remember how to walk in a straight line and she finds herself thinking way too much about your carefree giggles – if anyone asks, she just wants to make sure you don’t get kidnapped or fall on your pretty face tripping over nothing.

The following day she’s still in your house, wearing your clothes and sharing questionable stories of failed dates just to hear you laugh.

A week after she’s in your bed again, this time naked and cracking up at the worst jokes you got.

It’s not like you planned such development in the relationship with the skipper or tried to win her over with infallible pickup lines, it just happened.

Not that you’re complaining now.

Another season ends, but you keep finding each other in compromising positions at the worst possible moments, avoiding friends and teammates teasing comments with really not much effort.

Her mother, the wiser when it comes to Leah’s debatable life choices, asks about you all the time and went as far as personally inviting you over for Christmas. You declined, obviously, but made sure the Williamson family received your presents.

Your best friend demanded to have a private conversation with the blonde the first time he visited, probably embarrassing you with made-up memories and pointless threats. She took it all more seriously than needed, teaming up with him at your expense by the end of the night.

“Do you have a t-shirt I can borrow to sleep in?”

A sense of domesticity fills every interaction with the English woman nowadays, feelings you’re way too pleased to indulge but even more scared to address.

Knowing her, like a stray cat enjoying the sun and the offered food, a too-close approach or unexpected movement could provoke a runaway.

You move your eyes from the laptop slowly, taking in her freshly showered body and the wet blonde locks dropping water on the floor. She knows you hate that.

“Top drawer on your left, dry your hair before going to bed”

“What do you have against air drying?”

“What do you have against respecting my silk sheets?”

When she misses the opportunity to quip back, like she always does when your sleeping habits are mentioned, you give up any chance of reviewing the last away game to find Leah cautiously studying the furniture.

“Why are my clothes here?”

“Would you prefer to have them lying around the apartment?”

“It’s a lot of clothes”, she states, digging through all the tops and shorts and even some designer pieces stocked in the drawer.

It’s not really that much, honestly.

“You leave behind a lot of shit”

That makes the younger girl react, recovering from the shock of her things being carefully folded somewhere other than her closet – and occasionally a strategically placed chair in her room.

The cat is bothered.

Closing the laptop, you rise from the bed to slowly approach her. Cautiously.

“I just don’t understand why you put my clothes in your drawer”

“You have a lot of things here and I quite like the idea of a clean place”

“That’s not true! I–”, she fumbles for the right words to explain herself in her own mind.

You guide the blonde to the bed, sitting her down like you’d do to explain to a kid that Santa looked a lot like their overweight uncle because was, indeed, their overweight uncle; or that no, they can’t walk the dog for the last journey to Heaven.

The next words are going to be crucial.

“Leah, you basically live here”

“What?!”

Bad choice, noted.

She literally jumps so high you have to take a moment to appreciate your own cat metaphor for such spot on accuracy.

As the freshly nominated Arsenal’s captain, the goddesses and gods of football bowed to Kim Little, she shouldn’t risk her knees so mindlessly. You have to calm her down before some questionable network buys the rights for a high-budget documentary of how you managed to kill the equivalent of Princess Diana for the football community.

“I’m sorry to be the one that broke it to you, but at this point only you don’t–”

“You’re not making any sense, really, I–”

“Please, walk me through your day”

Easy.

The past two weeks have been dedicated to national duties, training camp and a friendly overseas. Not too bad, you both manage to keep in touch despite the time difference and your own commitments.

The trip back is uneventful, she sleeps for most of the flight and annoys Beth for the rest of it.

You pick her up at the airport.

Just because you’re closer than her mom and offered to.

You drive her to her apartment, but the blonde leaves the suitcase somewhere in the living room to deal with another time and comes back to the car in under three minutes.

Just because you promise to make dinner, she is supposed to refuse?

You two cook together, even if she’s still forbidden to use the air fryer and your wine accessories after the shrimps accident.

But we don’t talk about the shrimps accident.

The food is good, the company is even better. Stories are shared, memories are created with a questionable playlist in the background and laughs front and foremost. Plans are made to go see a film you’ve been waiting a year for and to find a dress she needs for a charity event.

Just because.

She takes a shower after, finally washing away the fatigue with her fancy shampoo you somehow have around in the bathroom. There’s also her favourite lotion, the delicate scent she can now smell with her eyes closed when she misses you a little too much for some reason. Even getting to the point of applying the scar cream she uses when her knee bothers, just because you know–

Oh, shit.

“Oh, shit”

“Yeah, ‘oh, shit’, indeed”, the smile on your face grows as you see the realisation crashing over Leah.

The English capitan may be a clueless idiot sometimes, but you’re already too into it to pretend not to like it.

“I basically live here”

The thought of her finally realising she moved in with you is not something you’ve indulged too much. An unconscious but lingering fear is the faithful companion of ruthless nights, lying in bed with Leah and her commitment issues.

Most nights she falls asleep holding on to you, and most mornings she wakes you up with a freshly made coffee. But she runs away and disappears for days after sharing a way too intimate moment.

By now, you know her well enough to know when to push her limits and when to let her be.

Yet, the confused and almost uncomfortable frown creasing her features hurts.

“I have to go”

“Leah–”

Without giving you the possibility to say anything to reason with her – or just protesting, for what it matters –, the footballer is putting on the first t-shirt she finds and fleeing the scene.

It’s one of your favourite tees, but maybe this it’s not the time to point it out.

“I need to go, I–”, she mutters as she tries to simultaneously put the shoes on and open the front door.

“Are you planning to walk back to your place?”

“Maybe?”

“It’s a ten minutes ride by car, you’re not that kind of athlete”

“I’ll call a taxi”

“With the phone you left on the nightstand?”

For the first time, probably ever, you sound exhausted and not amused at all about the situation – she notices it too. It’s not like she’s completely clueless about the loose attitude, the blowing hot and cold.

You look at her, never dropping your gaze as your head shakes and a tired smile doesn’t reach your eyes. You hand her the phone you picked up when she was too concerned with running away from whatever therapist’s comment was echoing in her mind to realise what she was leaving behind.

Literally speaking, obviously.

“Please, wait here for the taxi. It’s dark outside”

“I’m sorry, I–”

“We can talk at training in a couple of days”, you ease her worry with a quick side hug and a kiss on the forehead, closing the bedroom’s door behind you.

~

A couple of days later, you don’t talk at training.

She’s avoiding you.

Well, kind of. Everyone at Arsenal, even the chocolate-coloured dog Win, can tell she’s torn up inside and always on the verge of a mental breakdown or, probably worst, ready to rant an apology speech she rehearsed in front of the mirror a concerning amount of times.

The usually composed skipper is panicking whenever found around you, trying to approach and chickening out despite the mental pep talks.

“Care to tell me why she’s sleeping on my couch?”

Lia insisting on pairing for the drill was a trap, you should have seen it coming.

“She found out she moved in”, you let her know, an amused smile lighting up your features for the first time this week.

It’s easy enough to put aside the bruised ego when the situation is as ridiculous as the one you’re currently in, one can laugh at their own misery.

“Finally?”

“I think she panicked”

“Of course she did, she has commitment issues and an apartment she’s not staying in– not even now!”, she passes the ball back to you, completely missing the point of the exercise you’re supposed to do, “Why is she sulking in my house?”

“Can’t tell you, she’s avoiding me as if I signed for Tottenham”

“Don’t joke about that, she may have a heart attack”

You both burst out in giggles, knowing too well it’d be a real chance. Or Leah could find the motivation to approach you – to kill you, sure, but she’d need to be close enough to do it with her bare hands.

“Be patient with her, she’s trying”, Lia gently says after composing herself.

The curious relationship you are building with the blonde may be questionable and unhealthy for some people, but it’s filled with respect and care. It resonates with genuine laughs and whispered secrets, it cherishes with caring hands and firm holds. It’s love.

The kind of love two people give each other despite the fears and the doubts.

“I know, I’m trying too”

~

After two weeks, the most awkward goal celebration in a London derby history, and an even more embarrassing phone call with Leah’s brother, you definitely have enough.

It’s not too bad, really.

She doesn’t flee the room as soon as you make your entrance anymore, the conversations start quietly but progress in the usual easy and carefree way. Sometimes she leans into you in the middle of a night out, other times your hands find each others without a real reason if not the comforting feeling that such a simple action can provide.

It’s not perfect, but you can tell she’s trying and she has a lot going on in her head already. You just want to be there, that’s all you have ever wanted.

It’s not too bad, there’s a reason for everything.

There’s a reason for your shopping list to still include her favourite bread and that inexplicably expensive shampoo, there’s a reason for the warm coffee with your name scribbled on it in the changing room every morning.

There’s a reason for saving a spot next to the other during tactical and video sessions, on the bus for the away game, or on the table at your go-to restaurant.

There’s a reason for the smiles secretly shared in the middle of a stupid debate going on between your teammates.

There’s a reason for you to sleep with the jersey she gave you the first time you played against each other and for her to still be squatting on Lia’s couch wearing your tee – the Swiss woman makes sure to send pictures and updates every night.

It’s not too bad, but it’s game night at the Williamson, and you’re not going to put your victory streak at risk because Leah is freaking out about her housing situation and ghosting her therapist too.

“Are you planning to hide here all night?”, you ask after tapping at her car’s window.

She looks surprised, even if she’s the one parked in front of her mother’s house for the past ten minutes – lights turning off as soon as she spotted you on the side of the road.

The window rolls down comically slow, and the blonde relaxes immediately when she gathers enough courage to look up at you just to find your amused smile. Hands still grasping around the steering wheel, turning white as her cheeks get redder every second.

She’s aware she’s been ridiculous.

“I didn’t know if you’d have come tonight”, she admits.

“I can leave, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in your own–”

“No!”, she shouts immediately, “I mean, you’re already here. I want you here, I–”

“Good, I really want to defend my champion’s title and I can’t do it if my charades partner is playing hide and seek by herself”, you say, taking a step back to invite her to exit the car.

The teasing smile, that faded just for a moment, is back on your face and she couldn’t be happier to realise nothing really changed – you still look at her with unconditional affection and care, you still look after her heart in the most gentle way you possibly can.

“Hurry up, Williamson, I’ve been talking with your mother more than I’ve been with you lately so I kinda own her to lose a game or two”

She sighs and finally opens the door, getting out of the car with all the enthusiasm of a kid heading to the dentist without the promise of ice cream afterwards. And there is the t-shirt you’ve been looking for.

How many of your clothes did she manage to steal without you realising?

That’s why there’s so much of hers in the damn drawer.

“I wasn’t avoiding you”, she mumbles, more to her feet than to you as she drags them even slower.

It’s going to be the longest ten metres ever.

“Right, and Mariona isn’t asking me how to befriend the stray cat wandering in her apartment”

“I’m sorry, alright? I freaked out. The whole ‘basically living together’ thing just–”, she stops in the middle of the road, waving her hands around as if trying to catch the right words out of thin air, “It just hit me, I haven’t seen it coming”

You gently but firmly pull her safely to the other side of the road before answering, “I figured when Lia cornered me in the middle of training”

“I knew she’d tell you”, the footballer groans, rubbing her face, “She said you’d understand, but I was too scared to talk to you and–”

“I do understand, Leah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make you suffer for abandoning me and tricking Lia and Mario into adopting you”

She laughs at that, the sound loosening the tension in her shoulders and deep into your stomach. You may be more at peace with your love for the blonde, more confident in this relationship, but you have doubts too.

It breaks her heart to make you insecure, you who always go above and beyond to make sure she’s comfortable when it comes to the feelings and the moments you’re sharing – the future you’re building.

“Can we go slow? Like, really slow?”, she looks at you, her eyes softer and the panic fading to be replaced by a new sense of certainty.

“I think we can’t go any slower even if we tried, took you half an hour to exit the car and for us to make literally ten steps toward your mom’s house”

The punch that hits you is strong enough to make you wince.

“Fine, I think we can compromise”

“Your terms?”

“I get visitation rights to my own apartment and free access to your closet”, she proposes, holding out her hand.

“You already have those”, you raise an eyebrow at her cocky smile, “You have to promise not to air-dry your hair on my silk sheets ever again”

“Deal”, Leah smiles as you shake hands, “I’ll just have to get my own pillows for my side of the bed so you can stop complaining”

She laughs oh-so-carefreely at your stunned expression, finally stepping closer and leaning into your embrace, still holding on to you as she approaches the front door.

“I’ll text Lia I’m going home with you tonight”

“Good”, you say, kissing the top of her head, “But let’s be real, you just need an excuse to steal more of my clothes, don’t you?”

“Maybe, but it looks better on me”

She’s saved by her own mother, opening the door and happily taking in the lovely scene with a knowing grin. The older woman pushes you both inside, commenting about the delay and claiming it is a tactic not allowed – all the games are going to be played, doesn’t matter how late it turns.

“You better let me win if you don’t want to be the one sleeping on a couch tonight”, she whispers in your ear as you take the seat by her side.

“Don’t push your luck, Williamson. We’ve got a long way to go, and you still have to find out about the pair of keys with your name on it hidden in the drawer”

fine.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

hiii, I wanted to request male reader receiving Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet (separately) as a Christmas present? they’re naked, wrapped up in red ribbon, and presenting themselves on reader’s bed to be absolutely ravished. Please and thank you for your time!

Pairings: Lyney, Lynette, Freminet x male reader (separately)

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom characters, adult characters, light bondage, vibrator (Lyney), Lynette is called 'babygirl', slutty Freminet

The dull buzzing reached your ears as soon as the door flung open. Your eyes focused on the part of the room that the buzzing was coming from; the side where your bed is located

A small gasp escapes you when you finally land on the little present left for you this year. None other than Lyney himself; tied up tightly with red ribbon, and a bullet vibe stuffed into his hole, hence the buzzing you heard earlier–

“Well, well. What's this now? A shiny, new toy for the holidays?” You began, making your way over to the bed and brushing your fingers against Lyney's knee. “Goodness, what did I do to deserve such a beautiful present?”

“L-like what you s-see? Ghn–! ” Lyney grit his teeth as a particular pulse from the toy occupying his hole hit him. Hours of being tied down with this thing endlessly massaging his guts had turned him into some oversensitive mess; reduced to a sweaty, flushed, orgasm-hungry man

The smirk on your lips made Lyney's hole twitch, aching for your touch already. “Oh, I like it alright. And just how did you get yourself into this configuration, darling?”

“A-a magician n-never reveals his s-s-secrets...Aaahh—!! ” Wanton moans fell from Lyney's lips easily. Bucking against nothing as his hard cock leaked onto his stomach, creating a pool of precum soaking into his happy trail

Curiously, you ghosted your fingers over his length, smirking at the gasps that it caused. Your fingers dipped inside of Lyney's cute hole and pressed the little vibe right up against his prostate, an action that had his small body writhing around in pleasure (and overstimulation)

Soon after that, he came. Intense enough to knock the wind right out of his lungs, Lyney moaned loudly as you ripped orgasm after orgasm from him — fingering his little hole, slapping his cock, stroking him in time with your thrusts. All without ever removing the vibe buried in his ass

-

“Mmm...mmph—!! Haa-aah—!! ” Muffled moans drew your attention to the closed door of your bedroom. Something — or rather, someone, was making a whole lot of noise inside...

Upon opening the door, your eyes were greeted with the intriguing and beautiful sight of Lynette; tied with a silky red ribbon that accentuated her curves nicely, ass up on the sheets and face buried in them

“Damn, Christmas isn't for another week, babe. What's all of this for?” You teased, strolling closer as the feline woman shivered. Placing a hand on the plump flesh of her ass has her arching into your touch, turning her head to face you with drool-stained lips and messy bangs

“M-merry Christmas, y-y/n~” Lynette breathed. “Do you– do you like y-your gift?”

How could you not? Your darling was kind enough to wrap herself in pretty ribbons and wait archons know how long for you to come home; presenting herself all for you. You could tell that she was excited too, in between Lynette's legs awaited a drooling, quivering pussy. Wet and ready for whatever you wanted to push inside

“Oh baby, it's the best present anyone's ever given to me. You're so thoughtful~” You said, swiftly plunging two fingers inside of her cunt, your dick twitched in your pants when you felt her insides. “Fuck...”

You wasted no time pulling out your cock and lubing it up with Lynette's juices, teasing the poor thing in the process. She involuntarily clenched around nothing; choking on a moan as you slapped her clit with your dick. When you finally pushed inside, she came immediately

Wet juices dripped down Lynette's thighs, falling onto the bedsheets in an obscene display. “Fuck– That was hot, babygirl. You must've been so desperate for so long, huh?”

The catgirl could only muster a whine as you began to thrust in and out, holding onto her hips and fucking her trembling body on your length. If she continues to squeeze your cock like this it will definitely be a white Christmas...

-

This was quite the surprise— Before you, laid bare except for the shiny red ribbon clinging to his body, was Freminet. Bound and gagged by that same ribbon, whimpering when your eyes met

“Shit. I don't even– Don't even know what to say.” Taking in the full picture in front of you had your dick growing harder and harder. Freminet's hole was wet and pulsating; his small cock hung over his stomach, stiff and dribbling onto the skin. Looks like he's just as desperate to be ravaged as you were to ravage him

You approached Freminet and stroked down his chest, admiring his beautiful skin. He was so flushed by this point, with red cheeks and shoulders, his little cock was red too. A sight that you so adored whenever you had the chance to see it

“Can I take this out? I wanna hear your pretty voice while I mess you up~” The blond nodded, allowing you to remove the gag

“Fuck me, y-y/n—!! Ple-ease...?” Oh, this was too cute. Freminet begging was such a weak point of yours. Without thinking, you freed your cock from its constraints and lined it up with your darling's pretty hole, pushing past that tight entrance and immediately feeling the warmth of his walls surround your dick

“Oooohh fuck yeah—!! Fuck...hhng–! ” You gasped, bottoming out right away as Freminet's walls sucked you in. Already about to cum just from this. The trembling boy beneath you was cockdrunk; his eyes had crossed and his lips parted in a pornographic display

“H-har-der...h-harder, please!! Oh fuck...” Freminet managed, consumed by the need to be your precious cumdump

“Yeah? You're spoiling me, baby boy. Fuck—!! ” Your thrusts sped up, now pounding into Freminet's tight ass with growing lust. You need to cum so badly, need to fill him up— and as long as Freminet moans the way he is now, you'll fill him up nice and full

[raggedyflowers]

“Wrap me like a Christmas gift” 🎁

summary: op men reacting at you being… their christmas gif ?? you wrapped in a red ribbon ??? that’s it, that’s the post

character: Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Law x female reader

cw: 🔞 smut and fluff. oral sex (male and female receiving), penetrative sex — very misuse of ribbon 🎀

Zoro:

the strawhats decided to exchange the Christmas gifts on the desk of the Sunny

you were so happy unwrapping all your present, but even happier when you saw the reaction of your friends when they opened the gifs you made to them

only one persone was left without a gift from you

“Gonna give my gift for you later” you winked at Zoro

“Hope it’s gonna be the biggest bottle of sake” Zoro rolled his eyes

Later when you two were left alone, you smirked to him. “Wanna unwrap your gift now?”

He looked disinterested, but when you lose the knot of your dress and let him saw what you got under it…

or maybe… what you didn’t wear under them

only a red ribbon placed between your breast and a smile on your face

Zoro maybe did lose the capacity of speak

“Woman you’re gonna kill me” he shook his head walking toward you

“Before you die, don’t you wanna enjoy your gift?”

he did enjoyed your gift — all night long

“I — I can’t take it anymore” you mourned after the first two orgasms.

“I though you were my gift” he said to you, lifting his fece buried in your pussy. “Be a good girl and gimme another one on my tongue and then I maybe give you my cock — thing of it as my gift”

the bastard smirked before returning to licking your cunt enjoying his gift

Sanji:

almost everyone was already gone to bed

Sanji was left behind, cleaning the kitchen

“Pretty boy” you called him. “Do you wanna sneak a look at my gift?”

“Of course, love” he said. “Just let me finish here”

“But it’s getting cold” you whined

only in that moment Sanji turned back to your and his face reddened on the spot

He also got a nosebleed

“Y/n, love” he cried

you could only smirk at him, naked but for a apron and a red ribbon between your hair

“Is this your gift?”

“Only for you, pretty”

He walked near to you, kissing with passion and immediately slipping his tongue on your mouth

his hand traveled on your body, brushing against your nipples and making your shivering

“All of this just for me” he whispered to your ear “Am I the luckiest man alive?”

there wasn’t any doubts Sanji would’ve loved your gift

and he proved to you when he bended you on the kitchen table and fucked you against it

“So good for me” he said, voice filler with arousal. “My pretty girl giving me the best gift”

“Yes — yes, only for you” you repeated the mind fuzzy.

He kept pounding you from behind with a fast pace while keeping whispering loving nothings into your heard

“Too bad my gift for your was the same”

“Too bad — we should repeat this on our room”

Ace:

“Hey Hotshot, what gift do you want for Christmas?”

so, your boyfriend was the best… but he wasn’t really helpful in those situations

“I only want you” he said, kissing the top of your head

… really sweet, but you needed something more.

but then and idea come into your head

“Hotshot” you called him some nights later, when everybody was already sleeping after unwrapping their christmas present. “I actually have a gift for you”

Ace looked at you with curious eyes and a beautiful smile on his face

“Did you?” he asked exited

“Yes, but you have to take this off” you smirked pointing at your red and white dress

Ace was taken aback, but then smirked back at your and started to unbuttoning your dress

When he found the red ribbon wrapped around you where your underwear was supposed to be, you felt his hand become even more hotter then usual

“You said you only wanted me as a gift”

“Not what I meant — but so much better”

Maybe he didn’t asked for anything, but your gift was so much better of what he could’ve ever think

“Come on Babydoll, keep going” he said with his hands tightening on your hips while you rode his cock

“Ace ~ ” you moaned with shaking legs. “Can’t you just fuck me already?”

“I thought this was my gift” he said cupping both of your breast with his hands and playing with your nipples

“Okay Hotshot, enjoy this. But after that you’re gonna eat me”

“At your orders, Babydoll”

Law:

Law problem was that he couldn’t tell you what he wanted for dear life — especially in your newfound relationship

you could only try to guess what his desires were

and finding a gift for him had become an impossible mission

maybe what you planned was mundane, but it was the only thing you could’ve thought

“Traffy ~” you called him for the thousand time. “Come to bed already?”

“Just one minute, y/n-ya” he said to you for the tenth time

“If you come now, I’m gonna give you your gift early” you tried to convince him

“You bought me a present?” he asked you, lifting his face from his book for the first time

“Well” you smirked to him. “There is a red ribbon attacked to it… but the ribbon happened to be down there”

When you pointed at yourself his face blushed, even if he tried to hide it under his hat

“I thought it was a gift you wanted to unwrap in private”

He did unwrapped his gift in private, in your shared room, enjoying every second of it

“Traffy — Law, please” you begging him, crying on his fingers insieme of you.

“My baby is so impatient, even if it was my gift”

“Sorry Traffy, I want — want ” you sobbed when his fingers curled inside of you hitting your g spot.

“Tell me, baby, what do you want?”

“You” you moaned. “I want you”

“Where do you want me?” he lowered toward you, kissing you more sweetly compared to his rude movements.

“Inside” you could only say on his lips before kissing him with so much force and desperation.

“Alright” he said. “But you’re being a little selfish, it’s still my gift after all... will you let me fuck you all I want tonight?”

“Yes — fuck, yes. Use me all you want” you said back, only wanting his dick inside you and his lips on your body

“Always so good with me” he caressed his cheek. “Now let me hear how pretty you scream my name”.

[chaepink]

My Kind of Present | sub!gojo satoru

wc: 1.6k words | masterlist

dom!gn!reader, praise, use of a vibrator, slight degradation, bondage, ooc gojo kinda, fluffy ending

note: I’m back yall 🫶 also this is Christmas inspired so pretend it’s December again

The noise of your shoes on the stairs throughout the building you're in as you walk upstairs to your and Gojo's shared apartment. After struggling to open the door to the place, you finally enter, a wave of exhaustion hitting you after being out and around the entire day.

However, you notice something odd.

The place is eerily quiet, almost as if no one is home.

You remember the text Gojo sent you an hour or so ago. He had told you to quickly return from your errands for a surprise with a winky face after it and you rolled your eyes when you read it. Though you knew of his rather stupid stunts all the time, you couldn't help but be curious as to what the surprise was this time. Especially if he had only texted you once when he would usually bombard you with multiple text messages, begging you to hurry home.

After hanging up your coat and putting away the groceries, you make your way to the living room where you assume Gojo would be. However, when you get closer and closer to the room, you start to hear a faint whimpering sound coming from within that sounds suspiciously like Gojo. You would know of course.

The bright lights of your Christmas tree slightly blind you as you walk in but that's not what catches your eye. Instead, what catches your eye is what's underneath the tree. Well rather next to it. No, you're not talking about the many presents that you and Gojo bought for each other either, rather it's Gojo himself. There he is on his back, all tied in red ribbon that's wrapped around him in such an intricate way you have no idea how he even managed to do so by himself.

The sight makes the words you were going to say die on your tongue, your mouth agape and dry at the sight. Gojo hears your steps enter the room and his head shoots towards you, excitement in his eyes.

"Surprise [name]!" You rapidly blink to make sure you're seeing it all correctly but it all stays the same. Gojo looks almost like a present with the way he's tied so prettily in the ribbon and you assume that's exactly what he was going for. Except, there was no wrapping paper and Gojo was fully naked except for the ribbon adorning his chest, arms, and legs.

You walk towards him, stopping right in front of him. Confusion is shown on your face while Gojo has a huge dorky grin on his face, clearly pleased with your reaction so far.

"What's.. What's this Gojo?" Your boyfriend rolls his eyes as if the answer isn't obvious. "It's your Christmas present, of course!"

Your eyes roam his body and your eyes widen even more in disbelief at the sight of a fucking gift bow on his dick. This wasn't even close to what you were expecting as a surprise from Gojo when he texted you but the more you take in the unexpected sight, the more you start to like it.

You notice that his hands are behind his back and you assume that it's been tied together somehow.

Gojo's previous confident demeanor fades away and he swallows nervously at your intense stare on his body, feeling your eyes looking at everything. He has to hold back a shiver, not from the cold but rather from how you're looking down at him with hunger in your eyes. Though his ankles aren't tied together, Gojo had squeezed them together to try to hide his hard dick.

"Do you... like it?" You grin at him. "Oh baby I love it, you look so pretty like this." Gojo flushes red which only compliments the red ribbon on him even more. "I can't believe you did this just for me. If I knew, I would've arrived back so much earlier."

Gojo pouts and glances away from you nervously. "Um, c-can you help me?" You furrow your eyebrows at him. "You want to get out of the ribbon already?" Gojo shakes his head rapidly. Before you could ask him what he meant, he slowly spreads his legs together to reveal his now hard dick to you.

"You got hard just from my praise? Or were you already hard when I arrived here?" You chuckle. "I didn't even touch you yet or anything either." Gojo whines at your teasing. You're about to tease him again before your eyes catch onto the vibrator attached to his dick and you choke on your spit.

"Shit gojo. You just love surprising me, don't you?" Gojo flushes and you glance around. "Where's the remote, baby?' You see Gojo turn to his head and motion towards the small remote on top of a nearby table and you're quick to grab it.

"W-Wait don't a-ah shit!" You immediately increase the vibration setting and watch as he squirms on the ground, his head thrashing side to side at the intensity of the pleasure. His knees are up and you place a hand on one to keep him still. You lean over his figure and chuckle.

"I guess Santa got what I wanted for Christmas this year," you tease, a wide grin threatening to spread on your face. Gojo lets out a small cry but being the huge flirt he always is, he simply shoots back with his retort. Well, he tries to at least. "Y-You ngh asked S-Santa for me to ha be n-naked and tied in red ribbon? ah!"

You chuckle. "Well not exactly, but I would like to say it's pretty close." You watch as pre cum leaks from his tip steadily, only adding to the erotic scene in front of you.

Gojo squirms under your hungry and intense gaze. The ribbon tied around his wrists prevents him from touching you and although he's able to break out of them if he wants to, you know he won't. Every time he moves, the ribbon wrapped around his chest rubs against his nipple, causing it to harden and send a bolt of pleasure up his spine.

As Gojo soon realizes that you're not planning to touch him, he only whimpers. "Touch m-me [name]! Please..." You hold down onto his knee more, leaning forward as you look down on him. The sudden adrenaline rush you're getting from the feeling of having Gojo underneath you begging for your touch only adds to your desire to ruin him. From this view, you're able to see the way his muscles flex and tighten against the ribbon, your eyes raking over his sculpted body.

You pretend to think about his plea, tapping on your chin as if you're actually considering it. You see hope flash in Gojo's eyes before you turn back towards him with a wicked grin.

"How about... no?" You giggle when Gojo whines, his eyes never leaving the remote in your hand. You feign a pout at him. "You surprised me with all this, shouldn't I get to enjoy it, baby?"

Gojo swallows and tries to stutter out a response through a moan that escapes his mouth, reminding him that the vibrator is still against his dick and on too. "Y-Yeah but..." You raise an eyebrow at him, urging him to finish his sentence but Gojo only turns his head away from you, face flushed red. Though subtle, you feel his legs spread wider for you as he shuts his eyes. He eagerly nods.

"P-Please use me..." You grin and immediately turn the toy onto high, watching in amusement as Gojo's body jerks and arches beautifully. "Oh glady, baby." His eyes shoot open and you see how they're glazed over. Almost as if he's about to cry.

You coo at him. "Gonna cry already, baby? Just from a mere toy in your ass and some bondage?" Gojo cries weakly at you. Sure it was just a toy but it was a large one at that, one that Gojo has been nervous to try up until now. Though of course he's not regretting it now, fully immersed in the pleasure as sparks shock his body throughout.

You have to swallow down the lump in your throat as you feel your body heat up. Gojo quickly warns you he's close, his loud noises filling the room that would surely cause a noise complaint to arrive at your door tomorrow but you could care less at the moment.

"Go on baby, make a mess of yourself for me." Babbling out thank you's and pleas, you watch as he cums, the white substance covering his stomach, some even on his chest and on the ribbon. You quickly turn off the toy in him and watch as he slumps against the floor, his chest heaving as he tries to recover from the intense orgasm he just had.

Walking to where his face lay, you peck his cheek. "Stay here, alright? I'll go grab a wet cloth and clean you up." But as you stand up, Gojo's hand grabs your wrist and you widen your eyes. You didn't even realize he slipped his hands out of the bondage.

You stare at him as Gojo looks at you, heavy breaths leaving his mouth. "Could we... could we take this to the bedroom?" It takes you a few seconds but it then hits you that he's suggesting a round two and you only giggle.

"Seriously? You want another round?" Gojo nods eagerly and you move to untie the ribbon but he stops you, sitting up. "Could I keep it on? I-I kinda like it and it's only my chest anyways and-" He soon realizes he's rambling and cuts himself off. You giggle and grab his face.

"Of course, baby. You'll always be the best present I could ask for.”

ty for reading to the end! ❤️ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[whorekneecentral]

The Flash Of The Camera

Daniel Ricciardo x Fem!Reader

Warnings: photographer/husband!dan, recording/filming consensually, boudoir shoot of sorts, stripe tease, masturbation (fem), oral (f!receiving), fingering, nipple play for a few seconds, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie + softness at the end.

Word Count: 1,617

Author's Note: okay so this one was an idea from pooks, all of you that are groaning about that - shut up. this one fucks tho if I can say so myself

merry smutmas series

--

You enlist Daniel to help you with your Christmas gift for him. 

That stupid camera was with him 24/7 - the only time he put it down was to shower, work out or sleep. Even then, you're certain he dreamt of it.

Daniel had somehow ended up on a photographer kick, thanks to Lando. As you two got ready for the holidays, Daniel spent more time taking pictures than helping you. You were a bit annoyed but you had an idea, a way to get him to put the camera that he so desperately wanted to be behind.

You had mentioned to Daniel that you wanted to take a few photos for a Christmas card, just some stuff for your family to send over the holidays.

He was more than happy to take the photos for you, bouncing around the house all day waiting for you to be ready.

"Are you ready?" He shouts from the bottom of the staircase.

You were just about ready, your hair curled and tossed over your shoulders, makeup done perfectly and you took one last look in the mirror to check your outfit.

"I'm coming!" You shout back, making your way downstairs.

Daniel was waiting for you in the living room, smiling at you as you sat yourself on the couch. Blue jeans and a silky white button up, "you look pretty," he smiles, fiddling with the settings on his camera.

"Yeah?" you smiled, glancing down at your outfit. "Thanks baby."

"Yeah," he nods, holding up his camera. "Ready whenever you are, superstar."

You nodded, sitting comfortably on the couch as you smiled for him, Daniel's camera flashes a few times before he directs you; move this way, lay that way, put this hand there etc.

"You wanna try another spot?" He asks as you stand, you shake your head.

You smiled, hands lifting to undo the buttons of your shirt. "I have a different idea,"

His brows furrow, watching as you toss the shirt onto the other shirt. "What- I'm not sure these are family friendly," Daniel mumbles, watching as you undo your jeans, stepping out of them.

"Mhm I know," you smiled, sitting yourself back on the couch.

The set was red, lace and silk covered your body and Daniel smiles to himself, watching as you make yourself comfortable on the couch.

"C'mon mister camera man, don't leave me waiting." You sit on your knees, fluffing your hair. Daniel smiles, nodding as he lifts his camera again.

He takes a few pictures, you smile at him, moving around a bit. It wasn't until a few moments later that you pulled the straps of your bra down, leaning forward; your hands on your knees as you smiled at the camera.

There's a twinkle in your eyes, something mischievous and Daniel can't quite place what it is but it makes his cock twitch. He watches, the camera flashing every few seconds and you unhook your bra, letting it fall off the couch.

"Wh-Babe.. what are you doing?"

"Just keep going," You flip over, laying on your stomach.

You look over your shoulder at him, Daniel moving around to get pictures of you. You smile sweet at him as if you weren't half naked, posing for him like a playboy bunny.

Now you're on your back, lifting your hips as your manicured fingers hook around the side of the lace panties you had on. "Y/n," he trails off and you look at him.

"Keep going, Daniel." You smile to yourself, rubbing slow circles over your clit.

His eyes fix on you, not moving even an inch. He watches your every moment and listens to every single sound that slips out of your mouth.

"Are you sure you want this on camera?" His words are hesitant but his movements aren't; moving closer to you as your fingers slip lower, exactly where he wished his fingers were.

You look over at your husband, his name slipping from your lips as your fingers go exactly where he wants them to. You don't miss the way he clears his throat, shifting a bit and the bulge on his shorts beyond obvious.

"Put the camera down, baby. C'mere, come join me."

There's a look on Daniel's face, one used by him many times before; the look that he gets when he's got some sort of mischievous idea, spinning around that big head of his.

"Why put the camera down?" He hands it to you, dropping to his knees.

Your eyes fixed on the man between your legs who settled himself between your legs, looking at him in awe. Something about Daniel always fascinated you; you could never put your finger on it but he was always an object of fascination, of desire.

He can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor. He shifts to sit on his knees between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt.

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking; he wants you to look at him.

The camera in your hand clicks then flashes, taking a picture of your husband between your legs.

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping his curly hair.

Daniel knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more and he gives in.

Two fingers pushing into you, he glances up to see your head tossed back onto the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and your free hand groping your tit.

Daniel pulls away, earning himself a pout from you along with a groan but he moves up, kissing from your hips to your stomach, up to your chest.

He shifts a bit, dropping down against your side when his lips wrapped around your nipple. You can feel the way his tongue moves, how gentle he is. Daniel's tattoo covered arm slips under you when your back arches. There's a half smile on his face, watching as you lift the camera to take a picture of him.

 “Hands and knees,” Daniel tells you, take the camera from you to give you a chance to re-situate yourself.

You're on all fours, face buried in the couch cushions with your back arched. The slightest clicking sound reaches your ears, followed by a smack to your ass and then another clicking sound.

"Did you just smack my ass so you could get a picture of your handprint?" You glanced over your shoulder at your husband.

The man smiles, lipped pressed together as he shakes his head. "Definitely not. I would never do that, babe."

You laughed, the giggle is cut off by a moan when Daniel pushes his cock into you. Your back arches, the curve of your spine evident when he comes up behind you. His hand rubs down your back, resting on your tailbone as he takes another picture.

The camera is set on the coffee table, both of Daniel's hands rest on your hips now.

Daniel pulls out and pushes into you again, his name falling from your lips. “God, Danny, like that,” the words tumble out, begging your husband for more as he fucks you. 

His hands squeezing your hips, nails digging into your flesh. Your hand reaching under you, fingers barely reaching to rub your clit. 

He pulls you up, his arm wrapped around your middle, your back pressed to his chest. His fingers dig into your side for a moment, squeezing you a bit. 

He whispers in your ear, "all mine hm?"

"Yours," you mumbles, holding onto him as he fucked you from behind.

“I love you, I love you so much.” He whispers to you and you smile, a hand reaching back to touch his jaw.

“I love you.”

Daniel's cock twitches when you clench around him, “oh fuck,” he breathes, forehead against your shoulder. “This pussy was made just for me, hm? Take me so well, my pretty girl.”

You can feel your heart skip a beat, no matter what this man always makes you so happy and feel so loved, even when his cock is buried in you.

“Come on sweetheart,” Daniel whispers, letting you drop back into the couch and it’s like you read his mind. You knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Mhm,” you breathe, “almost.”

It takes a few more sloppy thrusts and Daniel's orgasm follows yours. Your husband still buried in you when he drops down onto you, landing with an oof. You let out a giggle and whisper, “thank you.”

Daniel lifts himself up a bit, moving to lay beside you before looking at you. "What for?"

You shrug, at a loss for words. “For being you, for this.”

"No need to thank me, baby. What else is a husband for?"

"Uh.. a lot?" You laughed, resting your head on his chest.

Daniel smiles, reaching for the camera to click through the pictures. He shows you the ones you had taken at first, with clothes on - he points out his favourites as they become a bit more scandalous.

"What brought this on?" He asks, looking at you and you shrug. "Just an early Christmas gift, I suppose."

He turns the camera to face the two of you; you're pressed to his side, the throw blanket over the two of you, all dazed and in love. The flash makes you squint a bit, the two of you have sleepy smiles on your faces.

"What was that one for?" You asked.

"A final addition to the gift." He smiles, kissing you.

--

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

[repulsiveliquidation]

Special Instructions || María León & Ingrid Engen

warnings : smut, body writing, cunnilingus, strap-on, double-ended dildos, biting, choking, anal, and our dear friend, double penetration.

summary : you've left some detailed instructions on your person for your lovers to find and follow.

“Brand new sharpies…check,” you mutter, “more lube…check.” 

Mapi and Ingrid were at training and it was beginning to be a bore to stay in the house all alone. You’d been doom scrolling on X when you stumbled upon some interesting content. 

Already very thoroughly satisfied in the bedroom, you were eager to bring in more activities that you were certain the girls would enjoy wholeheartedly. 

Picking up a coffee and pastries for snacks, you head home and happily bring your new toys into the house. Dumping the food on the counter and ripping the sharpies open, you take one and practically run into the bedroom to steal a shirt from Mapi.

Your best lingerie was air-drying in the bathroom while you took a warm shower to clean up. You stood in front of the mirror stark naked, marker in hand. You shook a little, a light blush growing on your cheeks. 

“What do I write?” you wonder to yourself, grabbing your phone off the counter to check your bookmarks. This was going to be fun. 

Ingrid scolds Mapi as they walk into the house, the jingle of their keys sends a shiver down your spine. You’re all set by the bedroom door, heart swelling with love as you hear the two of them bicker. 

“Ingrid, you have to be diabolical to enjoy mint chocolate chip ice-cream when there are so many other flavors to enjoy?”

“Mapi, if I cared, I would argue. But I don’t. Especially when you’re the only adult in the world who likes cherry.” 

“Excuse me, don’t you dare- what do we have here?” 

You’re sitting on your knees, hands neatly folded in your lap and a hilariously big t-shirt falling off your shoulders. They stand at the door, Mapi’s eyes looking slightly concerned while, to your surprise, Ingrid’s look almost predatory. She slowly circles you, eyes trying to undress you. Mapi kneels before you, tilting your head up to look at her. You take your shirt off and they both audibly gasp, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“What’s this amor?” Mapi asks, finger touching the black ink that glowed on your milky skin.

You giggle and bite your lip, head spinning. You watch as Ingrid’s eyes take in all the words that spell out detailed descriptions about what you wanted her and Mapi to do to you.

“Breed here?” Ingrid asks dismissively, finger pointing right at your core as she stood above you. 

“Si,” you nod, “want you two to use me however you want.”

“However we want?” Mapi asks, in a little disbelief. You remain solid in your decision. 

“Yes,” you say confidently. You look Ingrid in the eyes when you say the next bit.

“I want you to fuck me like you mean it,” you stand, “and i’ve told you where and how i want it.” 

A smirk appears on Mapi’s face, eyes lit up like a child’s on christmas day. Ingrid on the other hand, remains stone faced and tough, leaning in to whisper into Mapi’s ear. 

You stand a little far from them and can barely hear the whispers when Ingrid clears her throat. 

“On the bed, on your knees, not a fucking sound, got it?” 

“Yes Ingrid,” you mutter, scrambling to the middle of the four-poster bed. You settle on your knees, knees spread like Ingrid likes while keeping your mouth shut. You stare at the sheets, keeping your eyes closed for good measure. 

There’s rustling and bustling, along with sharp whispers and mentions of your name like you weren’t in the room. It made you embarrassingly wet at the mere idea that they were about to use you like some “thing” they had lying around. 

Ingrid climbs onto the bed first, eyes examining the instructions you’ve so kindly left for them. She reads one out loud, the effect of her words make you feel light headed with pleasure. 

“Bite here,” she reads off your right breast, “suck here,” on the left. In the middle, you wrote “kiss here,” you smile up at Ingrid and watch as she takes in all the other words you’ve left your girlfriends.

Mapi gets right behind Ingrid and looks over her shoulder, hands coming around to graze the words along your inner thigh that she found extremely hot. 

“Do as our princess says Ingrid, hasn’t she been such a good girl lately?” 

“Yes, I think she has,” Ingrid answers, tilting her head back and kissing Mapi. You watch as your pussy gets wetter and wetter at the sight, a desperate whine just waiting in your throat.

Ingrid kissed slowly up your toned stomach, before taking your right breast in her mouth to bite. Her teeth sink into your soft flesh, nipple taut in her mouth. You moan softly, feeling her hands caress your slightly numb thighs. 

She moved to the other side swiftly, sucking hard on your nipple. It’s sloppy and wet, exactly how you had imagined it going. She pulls away, hands hovering over your slightly chilly chest. 

“Can I fondle them, darling?” Ingrid asks formally, hands seemingly hard to hold back from touching without asking. 

“O-Of course you can Ingrid, you d-don’t have to ask,” you stutter, before she uses her most humiliating tone. You think you gush onto the sheets and make a mess as she degrades you. 

“Oh but kjæreste you didn’t write that down for me to do, so how can I without asking? Wouldn’t that be rude?” 

Your brain goes blank, eyes filling with subby tears. 

“R-Rude? You’re not r-rude Ingrid, you can touch how you want!” 

Ingrid gives in as she coos, hands kneading your aching breasts soothingly. She kisses your forehead and wipes your tears away, hands caressing your clammy skin while being careful to avoid the ink so it doesn’t smudge.

Mapi on the other hand, had her phone out to collect documentation. She was sure you would enjoy the pictures she was taking as much as she and Ingrid would after all this was said and done. 

Ingrid kisses down your chest as per the instructions, hands still kneading and smacking your breasts. She stops right in front of your cunt, fingers gently rubbing the words you had left on the insides of your thighs. 

“Breed here,” on the left and “eat me!” on the right. 

“Good girl,” Ingrid praises, “you were so clear with what you wanted elskling, I’m so pleased.” 

Mapi appears by your head suddenly, wearing her strap and slipping something underneath Ingrid’s pillow. She kisses your chest and leaves a smack on your right breast just as Ingrid’s lips wrap around your clit. Mapi pulls your head into her lap and you feel her cock press right up against your lips. 

“No instructions for me here, so I’ll help you there amor,” Mapi pulls a sharpie out from the sheets and tilts your head to the side. She carefully writes “for sucking,” right on your cheek. The cold ink and familiar scent only makes your head so much more fuzzy, eyes blurry as Mapi throws the pen to the side and angles her hips to your mouth. 

She presses in just as Ingrid slips two fingers into your pussy. Your thighs thrash around a little, chest huffing as the air in your chest gets blocked by Mapi fucking your throat. 

Ingrid eats you out hungrily, fingers pushing in and out of you roughly. She glances up momentarily and she sees a flash of black when your neck pushes up. She pulls away, eyes narrowing as she licks her lips tasting you. 

“What does that one say?” Ingrid asks, shuffling up onto her knees. Her hand inside you pulls out and rubs circles over your clit, free hand wrapping around your neck as Mapi begins to pull her cock out of your mouth. 

“Choke me, Ingrid,” it says, in the finest letters. 

“Is that what you want, elskling?” she teases, bony fingers wrapping gently around your neck tighter. 

“You want me to choke you?” 

You’re nodding, lips puffy from how much you’ve been biting them. 

“I need words, pretty thing.”

“Yes Ingrid, I want you to choke me please!” you say, screaming a little. Ingrid pulls away completely as you settle against Mapi, her slightly soaked cock resting right between your shoulder blades. 

Ingrid pulls a little surprise out from under her pillow, graciously left there by Mapi. Your head pops up and you smile deliriously, desperately blinking away tears to see the toy Ingrid was holding. 

Double ended dildo’s weren’t all that common in your household but this one? This one was on everyone’s wishlist for a while now. 

“Wanna fuck you with this so bad,” Ingrid begins, before turning her attention towards Mapi, who was starting to feel a little left out. 

“But I also want to take Mapi’s cock like a good girl.” 

“We can do both, princesa.” 

Ingrid’s eyes seem to widen at the thought but she soon becomes eager and almost reeling with excitement. Scrambling to get between your legs, Mapi bends over and begins to kiss you, hands grabbing your cheeks tightly. You’re unsure of where to focus on, the feeling of Mapi’s hands so close to your neck while Ingrid lubes up one end of the toy and is starting to push it into you all becomes deliciously overwhelming. 

You feel your cunt give in to one side of the toy, the tip resting nicely against your sweet spot. Ingrid grabbed a hold of it and gently rocked it into you, your hand grabbing Mapi’s hand that slowly crept towards your neck. 

“Is this what you wanted, amor?” Mapi teased, fingers pressing right up against your windpipe. 

“Sì,” you croaked, air slowly leaving your system. Just as you were getting a little light headed, Mapi pulled away. Words to argue began to leave your lips when a weight added itself onto your thighs. 

There Ingrid sat, penetrated by the other end of the toy. She grinned from ear to ear, hips gently rocking themselves on top of you. Mapi watched Ingrid eagerly before stepping off the bed. Ingrid pulled your hands to rest on her hips, fingers immediately grabbing them to guide her. 

“Fuck, that feels so good baby,” praises Ingrid, hands grasping your breasts for stability. She was using you for her own pleasure, like a mirror or book for a suction dildo. She rode you hard, feeling the toy rock steadily with each canter of her hips. She was an expert, watching her hips move in ways you didn’t know possible. 

As you were enjoying the gorgeous sight in front of you, Mapi had climbed in behind Ingrid and looked over her shoulder. Her tattooed hands reached around and caressed Ingrid’s breasts, you watched as Ingrid melted into your other lover's arms, hips never slowing down for a second. 

“Does she feel good, princesa?” Mapi asks, hands gliding over Ingrid’s flawless skin. They stop right above her cunt, a finger reeling out to circle around her neglected clit. Ingrid slows down just a little, taking in the feeling of Mapi finally touching her. 

“Ja,” Ingrid gasps, “she feels so good.” 

The cap of the lube clicks and you’re frustrated you can’t see all that was going on behind Ingrid. You watch as Mapi whispers into Ingrid’s ear and she speeds up on top of you, bouncing on the toy more to get it to stimulate both of you.  

The frustration adds to the pleasure, almost like they were ignoring you as though you weren’t in the room with them. As though you weren’t being fucked by Ingrid. 

“She’s so pretty on top, isn’t she amor?” Mapi asks you and you break out of your daydream, nodding hard when Ingrid leans over and begins to suck on your breast. Mapi comes into view and you swear you could die happy, right in this moment. 

She’s got three fingers inside Ingrid’s ass, muscles straining as she takes her time opening up your girlfriend. Ingrid, the slut she was being, rolls her hips back onto Mapi’s fingers, pussy stretched tight around the toy. As she rocked them forwards, you felt it press your sweet spot and you gasp, pulling a devious grin on Ingrid’s face.

She begins to ride hard, feeling her pussy swallow up the toy as her ass took another one of Mapi’s fingers.  

“If only you could see how pretty she looks like this amor, you’d be as crazy about it as I am.”

“She’s taking it so well, hm?” 

“She’s perfect, aren’t you Ingrid?” Mapi whispers as Ingrid sits back up. Ingrid nods deliriously, a tired smile pulled on her face. 

“So perfect,” the Norwegian whispers, whining when Mapi pulls her fingers out. Mapi hands you the lube and you stroke her cock wetly, Ingrid’s hips cheekily grinding down on you. 

Mapi settles in behind Ingrid and your thumbs rub her hip bones as Mapi slips into her ass. You watch Ingrid’s eyes close shut and you lean up to kiss her. She kisses back desperately, hands cradling your head. 

The thing with this setup was, with every thrust of Mapi’s hips, it drove the toy inside you and Ingrid deep. You were sure you could feel it in your guts, but you saw it in Ingrid’s guts. Mapi felt it. Her hand was pressed right over the spot it bulged out from and her eyes go dark with every powerful fuck of her hips. 

She speeds up, the sounds of all your moans meld into a single harmony. Ingrid becomes boneless as the pleasure fills her body, and Mapi pulls out for just a second as you sit up against the backboard.. The toy fucks deeper into you and Ingrid as you hold her in your lap. Mapi slips back into Ingrid and she screams, feeling both of you fuck her. 

“Fuck!” Ingrid screams, “I’m gonna cum!” 

“Me too!” you gasp, kissing Ingrid hard. She kisses back and pulls away, hands wrapping around your neck. Your head thuds against the wood, hands grabbing her waist tighter. She fucks herself and you with the toy harder, feeling Mapi’s hips also alternate into her at the same pace. 

Ingrid goes stiff when she comes, falling back into Mapi. Your eyes roll into your head when the high hits, and Ingrid releases the pressure around your neck at the perfect moment to boost your pleasure. 

Mapi kisses Ingrid’s shoulder softly as she gets everyone untangled. You take deep breaths when Ingrid tries to climb into your skin, legs tangling right into yours. 

She lets Mapi clean her but insists on wiping you down. She’s gentle as she scrubs the ink off your skin, kissing each spot you wrote on. 

“Can we try this on me next?” she asks quietly, playing with your hair. Mapi nods behind her, caressing Ingrid’s thigh under the sheets. 

“I’ve bought more sharpies especially for you, my love.” you whisper, thanking the algorithm gods for sending you that video.

[beardedjoel]

pretty little wife | better now

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 summary: 3.9k words, a snippet of a day in the life of husband! joel and his lovely housewife | no apocalypse au, no use of y/n warnings: 18+ MDNI! pre-established relationship/dynamic, unprotected piv, rough sex, free use kink, sub/dom relationship, cum play, spit kink, exhibition kink, dirty talk, pet names for reader, brief mention of alcohol, generally extremely submissive reader so if you're into that this is for you! a/n: not pretending this is anything other than some little fantasy i had that i needed to write out. i'm really excited about this one shot series for husband!joel though, i have some really fun (and depraved) ideas planned for these two for future blurbs so stayed tuned if you like this one! reblogs + comments are always loved and appreciated! ♡

i've decided to start a kofi in case anyone wants to consider a small donation to support my work! ♡

How’s my pretty little wife today?

The words you look forward to each day, falling from your husbands lips in some form or another, whether it’s rasped tenderly in your ear, from between your legs as he smirks up at you, or from over your shoulder as he slams his cock into you, sending you to heaven and back down as soon as he can after walking in the door after work.  

Joel asks the question today after walking up behind you in the backyard, his mouth already next to your ear, warm breath tickling along your skin there as he brushes your hair over your shoulder. The wiry texture of his beard nuzzles right into your neck, sending a thrill down your spine as his arms slide around your waist and hold you tightly to him, swaying you back and forth. The motion is soothing, reminding you that you’re right where you’re meant to be.  

You can smell the workday on him - sweat and dirt and the outdoors, and the lingering scent of the cologne you’d given him this past Christmas. He’d sprayed it on this morning, as he does every morning since you bought it for him. Makes me think of you all day, he’d remind you while you’d watched from your bed with a teasing smile, sheet disheveled and draped over your naked body.

You breathe all of it in, savoring this scent unique to your husband, before touching your hand to where his rests around your belly and stroking it gently.

“Better now,” you answer. More times than not, that’s your response to his routine question, knowing it drives him wild, makes a long day of work ache a little less when he hears you say it.

“S’what I like to hear,” he says, a kiss on your neck leading up to your lips - a long, deep, ravenous kiss that already leaves you breathless. He pulls away so suddenly you nearly have whiplash, your head falling slightly into nothing, missing his lips.

“Smells good out here,” Joel comments, turning his nose up in the air slightly. “Usin’ the new pizza oven already?” 

When you’d made a passing comment about wishing you could make wood fired pizzas at home, just like the ones a restaurant in town serves, Joel seemed to take it seriously, as he did with most things involving your wishes and desires. The next weekend, he’d hauled in bricks and began his work. You’d stepped out into the yard when you heard all the commotion, giving him a quizzical stare, and he’d simply grinned and shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world that he should be building his wife a pizza oven. You’d nearly teared up, feeling grateful and giddy with excitement at your new toy to experiment with. 

Within a few weekends, Joel had finished his new project, always seeming to need one to have around the house, wiping the sweat off his forehead and gleaming with pride at it as he showed you the final product. You’d practically jumped for joy but settled on flinging yourself into his arms to show your appreciation. When that had turned into him fucking you on top of the kitchen counter moments later after he went inside to fetch a cold drink, you hadn’t minded one bit.

“I couldn’t wait,” you say with a grin. When Joel nuzzles your neck again you start to lose your train of thought. His lips press a gentle kiss right on your pulse point, and you sigh into it. “T-trying out margherita today,” you manage to squeak out.

“Hmm,” Joel says, seemingly contemplating the flavor choice in between latching his lips on your neck and sucking, marking you over and over. You’re sure the ones from mere days ago haven’t faded all the way, a smattering of them going right down to your tits, but Joel always needs a fresh mark on you as soon as they start to fade, a way for you to always remember you’re his. He grinds his hard length into your back on the next touch of his lips, and you arch into it a little, your cunt starting to ache more needily for him. 

“F-fresh basil… from the… gar-” you gasp as he pulls you completely flush against his cock, letting out a little, devious laugh.

“Sounds fuckin’ delicious, baby,” he replies. His fingers reach down and toy with the front hem of your dress, delicately sliding his calloused fingers up your thighs, bunching the fabric as he goes. The warmth of his hands on your bare skin blazes a trail up to the apex of your thighs, finally cupping a hand around your warm heat. You instinctively grind into the heel of his hand, and can practically feel Joel smirking behind you. His fingers brush the outside of your panties, starting to rub circles on the wet fabric. He lets out a low growl, deep and needy in the back of his throat feeling the evidence of how much you’d anticipated him coming home. 

“So wet for me already, huh, doll? Couldn’t wait f’me to get home ‘n take care of ya, I bet,” Joel taunts in your ear before sucking on the lobe, and you’ve gone breathless now, nodding your head. His fingers tease the edge of your panties again, finally slipping one underneath the fabric, feeling the obscenity of your wetness directly, and he lets out an impressed tut, sucking in air between his teeth. You nearly moan out at the smallest touch he’s giving you, the way his rough, worn fingers gently brush over your clit for just a split second. 

“She’s so needy, ain’t she?” Joel coos in your ear, swiping a finger to your entrance and back to your clit. You can feel how slickness quickly gathers on Joel’s digits as he teases you. You squeeze your eyes shut and lean back into him, letting your head drop to his shoulder as pleasure wracks your body already.

“Mhm… needs you,” you murmur, turning your head towards his where he meets your lips, continuing steady strokes on your aching bundle of nerves. His lips are softer than you’d think, looking at the hardened grump behind them, but like so many parts of Joel, they are only soft for you.

“Needy, needy girl… good thing I’ve been thinkin’ about gettin’ my cock in that little cunt of yours all day.”

“A-all day?” you say with a little smirk, rutting your ass back into his throbbing length, and Joel groans with the friction.

“Second I pulled out of it this mornin’,” he replies, low voice drumming against your skin, and you shudder, desperate for what you know he’s about to do.

Another routine of yours - Joel comes home from work, and more days than not, he fucks you. And you enjoy every second of it, basking in the attention and his cock filling you up in the way nobody and nothing else can. You crave him night and day, never having gotten your fill, wondering if you ever could. His hunger for you in return only fuels the fire, a vicious circle the two of you seem to have no intention of breaking.

Your weakness lies completely in the man standing behind you, burying his fingers in between your legs and making you moan out wildly before he’s even had his way with you.

“Fuck, gotta get this cock in you, baby, split you open f’me so good, fuck you stupid,” Joel grunts suddenly, interrupting your swirling thoughts, withdrawing his fingers in a flash and leaving you whimpering. It’s not fair, the way he affects you. 

Nobody should have this power over you, but the minute you’d met Joel, you couldn’t deny the way he’d made you feel. Masculine and warm, rough hands and broad shoulders that you’d clung to that same night you’d met him in a bar, fucking mere hours later in the bathroom. Even in your drunken haze you’d submitted to him fully, Joel having no problem ordering and throwing you around the bathroom like you were just a toy to play with, his little doll. You’d found that you could never look back after that night, the safety he represented to you, the adoration he showered you with, the way he fucked you like it was his last time every time. When Joel saw how willing you were to be his in the way he craved from a woman, there was no stopping the insatiable beast he became, hellbent on never letting another man feel your touch again. Joel promised you a good life, an amazing life, even, and in the last few years, he had more than delivered for you. 

“Hush now, you’ll have what you want in a second,” he says, running a quick stroke of his fingers through your hair, giving it a tug. On principle, you let out a little mewl at the sensation, too many instances of your hair being tugged and pulled with Joel involved to not recall those memories with the pain of it. You hear the jangle of his belt as he frees himself from his jeans, the familiar sound of Joel’s thick, heavy cock slapping against his hand as he fists it. You’re already cock drunk without having seen the damn thing yet, and it’s nearly laughable how pliable you are when Joel’s involved. It’s always been that way - you’ve been happy to oblige his every desire, no matter when, where, how he wanted it, or the frequency. You were his to use, to pleasure, to fuck senseless, and you got off on the way all of it steadily built his need for you just as much as it did with your need for him.

“Please…” you whine, trying to slip out of his grasp and start for the sliding glass door to the house, making the assumption that he’d be taking you inside at any moment to take what he needed from you. 

Joel immediately tightens his hold on you, a dark tut in your ear that goes straight to your clit.

“Not so fast, little doll,” he croons, hand grabbing your cunt through your dress again to hold you to him. “Right here,” he adds on, turning your body towards the outdoor dining table in the backyard. 

“J-Joel… right here?” you question, knowing you shouldn’t. It won’t matter anyways. “The… t-the neighbors…” you whimper quietly as Joel crowds you against the table, tearing your dress up over your ass, revealing your lacy little thong to him. He groans at the sight of your bare ass ready for him to claim before roughly shimmying your underwear halfway down your thighs. He places a rough hand on your back, pressing you down into the table so that you’re completely bent over, your hands splaying out into the wood to support yourself. 

“Let them see…” Joel says quietly, a heady murmur as he slips his cock between your thighs and notches himself at your weeping entrance. “Let them see how much I love fuckin’ my wife.” He pushes in on the last sentence, and you gasp at the stretch and burn of his girth. Your vision goes white for a moment with the mix of pure pain and pleasure, and your mouth hangs open, panting in delight as he fills you inch by inch. 

“Mmm… such a sweet little pussy, honey…” Joel says quietly once he’s seated fully inside of you. He’s just as lost in the bliss of it as you are. “Know I’d fuckin’ live right here if I could.”

You give him a little moan of satisfaction, wiggling your hips to give yourself any sensation of movement from his cock. He places his hands on either side of your hips, squeezing his grip tightly enough to bruise before starting to thrust himself into you. You cry out in a yelp, the noise passing though your lips before you can even control it. 

“Yeah…” you whimper, face pressed against the table, trying to peek up as Joel looms above you, like some higher being that has the power to decide your fate, to decide the pleasure or pain you’ll have to endure in this moment. And truthfully, you do worship him. The way he moves inside of you, makes you crumble underneath even the lightest of his touches. The way he spoils you in every regard - you’ve never wanted for a single thing for as long as you’ve been Joel’s, him vowing to take care of everything you ever need, and in return, you take care of everything he needs. 

To some, it might seem like there’s a lack of balance in the way you do things, but fuck do you love it, you think as you desperately cling onto the table, manicured nails digging into the wood as Joel’s cock rams back into you, pressing so deep inside of you that you see stars.

You let out a low, strangled sound, whining as Joel begins to press against your cervix, the front of your thighs bumping into the table with every new thrust from him. He grunts with the exertion, fucking into you hard, taking what he wants, leaving you both breathless with the need for more of each other. You let Joel take and take and take because of how much he gives in return - while he loves to use you, he always makes sure you get every bit of pleasure you deserve for being so good to him.

When you continuously moan louder as Joel fucks you towards your high, you glance around, the small sliver of your brain that’s still rational worried about you two getting caught by your neighbors. The thought is equally mortifying as it is thrilling, but you decide you’d rather not deal with the embarrassment today if you can help it.

“Still worried about the neighbors, hm, pretty girl? I’ve got an idea,” Joel says, responding to your sudden nervousness. Before you can even answer, his hands are wrapping around your shoulders, urging you up from the table. You follow along, breathless and dazed, letting him move you as he wishes, too deliriously starry eyed for him to care about anything else other than what Joel is gearing up to do to you next.

He accidentally slides out with the movement of your body, and immediately he’s grasping at your hips, practically clawing his way back to you as he pulls you tight to his body again. His throbbing, dripping cock slaps periodically against your ass as he shoves you forward, pushing your body towards the house. 

“Here,” he grits out, suddenly crowding your body from behind to press you against the sliding glass door. “That better?”

“I- yes,” you say, eyes wide from the way you’d been roughly handled by him the last few moments. Your cunt aches almost painfully, having been getting so close to your climax only to have it ripped away suddenly when Joel decided to move you.

“Good,” he snips quietly. “Couldn’t stand to keep this cock out of you much longer’n this.”

With his words he brings his lips to the back of your neck again, just his heavy breathing fanning across the skin there, making you wild as he repositions himself and nudges your legs apart with his knee. You feel the length of him tease between your legs, sliding up to your entrance again. He groans loudly, letting you know how badly he wants you, so you try to pop your hips up at just the right angle you know he’s looking for. 

He slides in effortlessly and with a renewed vigor, hips snapping into you, pressing you further into the sliding glass door with neither of you seeming to be worried about the way it’s suddenly shaking on the frame. It’s completely lewd, the way you imagine the two of you - your entire body against glass, tits being pressed out the top of your dress and bouncing, palms spread against the smooth surface, nails clawing and unable to grasp at anything.

Your body is shaking in his hold now, Joel’s cock hitting inside of you in all the right places. You can feel yourself tensing, almost like every cell is going taut, your core pooling heat deep inside of you with molten pleasure from Joel hitting the spongy bit inside of you. 

“Fuck, love it when you sound like that f’me, doll,” Joel punches out as he hears your moans becoming louder and more desperate the longer he continues to thrust against your g-spot. You can’t respond, only continue your lustful noises with a renewed vigor as you try to bounce your hips back into his thrusts, getting him deeper than what’s even possible, the length of him already burying up to the hilt each time he drives himself into you.

“Know you wanna come for me, baby,” he says right in your ear, voice hoarse with need, and you whimper in response as his hand snakes around your hips and in between your legs, circling a gentle pressure on your clit. 

You feel your hold on reality completely break, your eyes squeezing shut as you melt into the way your entire body is tingling with pleasure now, waves of it turning into spasms as you go practically limp with shaky knees. Joel’s hands hold you in place, his warm strength keeping you upright as you push down onto his cock, riding out your climax and screaming for him. 

When your movements start to slow and your body relaxes, Joel thrusts into you even harder, loving the way you’re so compliant and soft after climaxing, letting him move in you however he needs as you ride out the sensitive aftershocks with a few quiet yelps.

“This little pussy is all mine, y’know that, right?” Joel reminds you through clenched teeth, giving your ass a firm slap. You nod vigorously, eyes still half lidded and mind scrambled from the way he’d shattered you mere moments ago.

“Y-yes, Joel,” you say when he slaps your ass again, demanding an answer. Your breathy answer is enough to get him to his own climax, and he surprises you by pulling out suddenly, leaving your body lurching back into nothing, missing the fullness of him already. Before you can protest, say anything, Joel’s hands grip your shoulders and spin you around and push down, forcing you onto your knees in one fluid, swift motion. You watch, wide eyed, as he fists his throbbing cock, shiny and coated in your own slick arousal as he spreads it along his shaft in jerking motions.

“Be a good girl and open up,” he commands, and you submit to the words immediately, mouth hanging open, even sticking your tongue out for good measure. Joel smirks at that before giving himself another swift tug, and you watch in renewed wonder as he begins to spill himself all over your face, ropes of cum hitting your skin. You taste him on your tongue immediately, savoring it. Your eyes are glued up on Joel’s face, watching his glazed gaze taking in the scene below him as he groans in pleasure, trying not to tilt his head back and get lost in the moment so he doesn’t miss a beat of your beautiful surrender to him.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he watches the last bits of his release hit your tongue. “Don’t you dare swallow that, yet, doll,” he adds on quickly, eyes fluttering for a moment before he tucks himself back into his slacks. He continues to tower over you for a prolonged few seconds, looking down in satisfaction at the image of your glowing, angelic face coated in something so sinful, the milky substance starting to drip down your face, your tongue trembling slightly with the need to swallow.

“Hold still,” he says needlessly since as the words come out of his mouth he grabs your chin, tilting your head upwards and gathering spit, letting a long, tortuously slow drip of it fall into your open mouth. It lands on your tongue, combining with his cum and Joel smirks again, releasing your chin.

“Swallow, my little doll,” he says, voice starting to go soft, an indication that he’s feeling satisfied and finished with his enjoyment of you. You close your mouth, smile, and swallow obviously for him, licking your lips for good measure. 

Joel holds out a hand, helping you stand, your legs buckling slightly as you try to get your bearings. He carefully smooths your disheveled dress, flattening the bottom half and tugging the neckline back into place before fixing the straps to sit perfectly square on your shoulders, eyes roaming over quickly to examine his work with pride. His hands then move to your hair, brushing his fingers gently to put it back in its place, leaving every part of you like none of this had just happened besides your face, still dripping with his spill. Your smile widens, seeing him watch a particularly large spot of it sliding down your cheek. You see his composure fail for a moment before he strokes your cheek gently, avoiding any of the mess there, giving you soft, affectionate eyes.

“Good girl,” he says quietly, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Pizza’s probably ready,” he adds on, the casual tone taking you aback for only a moment before you blink yourself back to reality and nod dutifully.

“Of course,” you say, a genuine smile plastered on your face as you look at your handsome husband, admiring the way he’s looking at you with stars dancing across his eyes, the deepest love for you tucked away in his deep brown irises.

“After you get that, go clean yourself up, doll,” he says, and you nod again, the smile not leaving your face. You see out of the corner of your eye Joel settle onto one of the chairs at your outdoor table, leaning back casually as if he hadn’t just had you bent over that exact table, fucking you for the entire neighborhood to possibly see and hear.

You gather everything you need, serving utensils, plates, and two cold beers before bringing it to the table along with the pizza and a freshly tossed salad you’d made to accompany it. Each time you drop something off, the smirk on Joel’s face grows, watching the way you work with the evidence of his obsession with you still lingering on your flushed cheeks.

Once the table is set and your face cleaned off, you join Joel outside to enjoy the beautiful spring evening, and see he’s already served you two generous slices of the margherita pizza. 

He reaches a hand onto the table, taking yours delicately into his palm, dwarfing it with the size of his thick fingers as he absentmindedly runs his thumb along your knuckles, stopping to play with the large, gorgeous diamond on your ring finger. Another reminder to him that he has you all to himself, his pretty little wife.

“Thanks for dinner, baby” he says, eyes locked on yours as he uses a free hand to pick up the pizza and take a large bite, letting out a little noise in satisfaction at the flavor.

“Anytime.” You smile, genuine and tranquil, a fresh appreciation and love for the life you’ve found yourself so grateful to be living.

tysm to @jupiter-soups @huffle-punk @rensraptor for so much help with ideas and writing this fic! love u guys x

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Yoongi Fic Recommendations Part 2

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

part 1

Series

Miss Dial (s) by @versigny ⊹₊⋆ [11:31] You: okay so i’m texting you now like I promised instead of drunktexting yoongi and telling him how badly i want his cock tonight. Arent you proud?

[11:32] unknown number: this is yoongi, hi 

Please Be Naked (a f s) (ft. namjoon) by @floralseokjin ⊹₊⋆ Recently heartbroken, it feels like you’ll never be able to get over it. But a chance encounter with a guy you haven’t seen in months changes everything…  

One Shots

want a taste? (f s) by @suga-kookiemonster ⊹₊⋆ pretzel pro. most skillful tongue in the food court world. allegedly. that’s what yoongi keeps telling you, anyway. of course, you’re reasonably skeptical of his claims—but if there’s one thing that motivates the notoriously-lethargic man, it’s proving skeptics wrong.

take care of you (f s) by @kookslastbutton ⊹₊⋆ To keep your fiance from burning out you suggest a weekend getaway to Gapyeong, a charming town about an hour outside Seoul. You've specifically asked him to leave his work equipment at home but like a deep rooted habit, he still brings it with him. You're left with no choice but to find a way to get his attention back.

You Broke Me (f) by @7ndipity ⊹₊⋆ Just clingy, fluffy Yoongi after Reader comes home after a month-long trip

Shy (s) by @7ndipity ⊹₊⋆ You’re desperately craving your boyfriend's attention, but are too shy to ask for it outright. Luckily, Yoongi knows what you want anyway.

Sweet Spot (s f) by @cultleaderyoongi ⊹₊⋆ Three months into dating, Yoongi ponders what the perfect scenario for a love confession would be. There's no manual stating when and where and how is appropriate. It's only convenient when his body reacts faster than his brain, doing the job for him.

Eargasm (s) by @lavishedinjimin ⊹₊⋆ The idea of having your first ever orgasm by talking to a hot, random stranger through your phone scares the living hell out of you, but maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.

F*ck Christmas (a f s) by @sailoryooons ⊹₊⋆ Making hating Christmas your entire personality was never the plan. Then again, it seems bad things only ever happen around Christmas - like discovering your fiancé cheating on you, forcing you to move back to your sleepy hometown. But Min Yoongi happens to love Christmas, and if there is one thing your very stubborn childhood crush is going to do, it’s try to reignite your Christmas spirit. Even if he has to force-feed it to you with gingerbread cookies and too-sweet eggnog.

Workaholic (s) by @hobiwonder ⊹₊⋆ Yoongi needs to relax and Hoseok has many tricks up his sleeve to make him. None of them Yoongi thought included hiring a hooker to pay him a visit one stormy night. You were only trying to escape a crazed man chasing you down on a stormy night. Never was your intention to end up in an attractive man’s house. Definitely not one who thought you were a hooker. 

Backtrack (s) (ft. jimin) by @mapofthesea ⊹₊⋆ There’s no telling just how long you'd been stuck in the windowless studio, and you’re just about ready to walk out and forfeit your paycheck for the week, until your bosses strike up an interesting bargain.

the pink pill (s) by @dollfaceksj ⊹₊⋆ In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

all night (s) (ft. namjoon) by @axigailxo ⊹₊⋆ in which listening to music during a smoke sesh with your best friends namjoon and yoongi in the studio turns into much more

damn the charcuterie board. (s) (ft. jimin) by @bratkook