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yandere-writer-momo · 8 months

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The final part of Mommy! First part

Yandere Short Stories: Mommy

Delusional Yandere Single Father x Teacher Afab Reader x Platonic Yandere Son

Jesse wrapped his arms around (your name)‘s legs, the small boy hummed in contentment when she ran her fingers through his black curls. Why couldn’t she be his mom? She was so warm and gentle… so much better than the woman who gave birth to him.

“Jesse? I think your nanny is waiting to take you home.” (Your name) smiled down at Jesse who only burrowed himself further into her skirts. She sighed at how clingy the young boy was, but she was sympathetic to his feelings. Jesse didn’t have any warmth in his home so he sought it out from her.

“I don’t want to go home… can’t I stay with you?” Jesse glanced up at her with his blue puppy dog eyes, his lips in a pout. “Can’t you just adopt me, I’ll be good…”

“Jesse, I can’t adopt you.” (Your name) felt her heart clench when he started to cry. “Jesse-“

“But all the other kids have a mommy and I don’t! I want to be read stories and I want homemade lunches. I don’t want to be alone!” Jesse buried his face into (your name)’s skirts. His little hands clutched tightly onto the cotton fabric in a death grip. “I’ll be a good boy. I’ll be quiet and I won’t ask for much-“

(Your name)’s thumbs instantly brushed away the hot tears that dribbled down his soft cheeks to smooth the young boy. Her beautiful face now in a frown.

“Shh… you can come hang out with me when you’re lonely at school.” (Your name) warmly smiled at Jesse. She ran her fingers through his thick curls as he sniffled.

“R-really? You’ll let me spend time with you?” Jesse’s voice trembled as he tried to calm his tears. “Can I eat lunch with you everyday? I like when you cut the crust off my sandwiches…”

“Of course, Jesse.” (Your name) reassured Jesse, who buried his face in her skirts once more. This sweet boy… he deserved love.

Unbeknownst to (your name), Jesse had a wicked smile on his sweet face that was hidden in her skirts.

Jesse may have been the spit image of Liam, but he was still his birth mother’s son… and (your name) would be his mommy one way or another.

Jesse often hogged (your name)’s attention from the other children. He’d rush to her first whenever class would start or end to hug her, he’d raise his hand for every question so he could be praised, and he’d constantly ask for help.

Jesse was not liked by the other children but he didn’t care all that much about them.

Because Jesse wanted his mommy to only have eyes for him.

Liam felt nervous at the florist shop he was in. The various floral displays of affection made his stomach twist into a knot. He was so nervous… to buy apology flowers for his son’s teacher.

Liam ran a hand through his dark hair with a sigh. This was an incredibly frustrating experience for him since he’s never bought a gift for a woman before. Especially not one as lovely as (your name). Liam couldn’t get her angry expression out of his head… she haunted his dreams and lingered in the crannies in his mind.

She was an itch he couldn’t scratch and Liam disliked this alien feeling she brought out. Liam didn’t know why his heart pounded in his chest at the thought of her or why his cheeks heated up. It made him anxious.

“And what can I help you with today, sir?” The florist smiled warmly at Liam who nearly jumped out of his skin. Liam had been so lost in his thoughts, the florist had caught him off guard.

“I think I would like a bouquet of roses…” Liam’s forest green eyes glanced at the red roses in interest. “The reddest ones you have.”

(Your name) would look lovely in red… Liam couldn’t help the image of her in a red dress that surfaced in his mind. He didn’t quite understand his attraction toward her, but he hoped it would fade.

Liam stood before (your name) in her classroom, his cheeks rosy as he studied her expression. Her arms held the fragrant roses in confusion.

“Mister Isbert? There was no need to get me roses-“

“I’m sorry for making presumptions about your character. It was unjust of me.” Liam bowed to (your name) in apology. “Please forgive me-“

Liam gasped when she moved closer to him, which and whom snap his head up in attention. His forest green eyes wide when she gave him such a warm smile… he’s never seen a smile like that directed toward him in his entire life.

“It’s perfectly okay. I understand you may have been through some trauma but I assure you I’m not after those sorts of things with you.” (Your name) then turned her gaze toward Jesse who peaked around the corner of the classroom. It seemed the young boy was eager to enter. “I’m just concerned for Jesse is all-“

“I do not know how to be a good father…” Liam shyly admitted, his forest green eyes focused on her confused expression. “I have never been taught warmth.”

“Well I have no issue teaching you how to spend time with a child… if you’d like of course, mister Isbert.” (Your name) smiled at Liam whose cheeks went aflame.

“I’d love to…” Liam cleared his throat and gave (your name) a soft smile. “And please, call me Liam.”

The two adults smiled warmly at each other which made Jesse perk up from his spot. Maybe he’d get her to be his mommy after all…

(Your name) laughed when Liam tried to tie Jesse’s shoe laces. The businessman was clueless…

“Here, let me help.” (Your name) gently took the shoelaces from Liam and slowly tied them in front of him. “The dragon goes under the bridge, through the loop, and into the castle!”

Jesse giggled at the rhyme, his eyes sparkled at his dad. “See! Mommy knows how to tie shoes!”

Liam blushed in embarrassment when (your name) and Jesse shared a laugh. He never knew how simple this was… how a family should be.

“Why don’t we read a book together?”

Liam glanced over at (your name) while she picked out a fairy tale. A ray of sunlight hit her at the perfect angle that made her even more angelic.

Liam never knew someone could be so beautiful…

Weeks went by of Liam’s ‘lessons’ of fatherhood. The two adults would laugh together as (your name) tried to teach him how to be more affectionate with his son, unaware that the businessman started to be affectionate with her as well… Liam came to terms that he loved her.

Liam loved the young woman who was eager to help him mend his relationship with his son and teach him how to love. To not take out his trauma onto Jesse and to be more open to change.

Liam became a better person by being around (your name) and he had no interest in going back to the way his life was before he got to know her better. The two of them were truly a power couple! She’s shown him a new side of life he never knew existed… who knew Jesse would indirectly introduce Liam to his soulmate?

Liam blushed as he sat at his desk, his head filled with thoughts of (your name). The image of her holding Liam in her arms burned in his mind.

How could someone look so perfect holding his child?

Liam dug into his desk drawer and pulled out one of the many drawing Jesse had made of (your name) and him. The three of them as a happy family.

Liam lit up a cigar and took a deep inhale of the smoke. Yes… he’d ask her to be his wife. To be Jesse’s mom.

Liam held the picture close to his chest. He needed to tell her how he felt… of how he loved her.

Liam upped security around the school as usual since he dropped by for the lessons. Liam wanted to ensure this entire ordeal remained private, he had no desire to add more stress onto poor (your name)’s life… today, they were gong to become an official family.

Liam sighed dreamily as he thought of what was about to happen today. (Your name) would be so beautiful as his wife and future mother of more children. He wondered how many siblings Jesse would like? To add onto their perfect family.

“Is there something wrong, Liam?” Liam perked up when (your name) softly called his name, she was careful not to disturb the sleeping Jesse in her arms. “You’ve been lost in space for a while now.”

“Would you be interested in dating me?” Liam’s blunt question nearly made (your name) fall over in shock. Date him? Where on earth did he get the idea that she wanted that sort of relationship with him?

“I don’t think we should.” (Your name) smiled warmly at Liam who frowned at her gentle rejection. “You’re a CEO of a big corporation and I’m just a measly kindergarten teacher.”

“I could take care of you.” Liam whispered softly. “You’d never struggle financially and you could be with Jesse every day. Don’t you want Jesse to be happy?”

(Your name) glanced down at the young boy who remained asleep. She did care about Jesse… but not enough to date his father.

“I’m sorry but I can’t do that.” (Your name) sighed softly as she handed Jesse to Liam to take. “I hope you find someone on your level to be with, Liam.”

Liam could only sit on the floor in shock when she walked to her desk to gather her belongings. She didn’t want him? Why didn’t she want him?

Liam tried to speak but he couldn’t find the words to stop her. How could he tell her he’s never felt this way before? That he wanted her? That he-

“I love you!” (Your name) froze in the doorway when Liam blurted out his declaration of love.

“W-what-“ Liam scrambled to his feet to try to stand before her. His lithe body hovered over her like a shadow.

“I love you and I’ve never felt this way before… please give me a chance.”

“I’m sorry, Liam-“

“I won’t accept no as an answer.” Liam felt his stomach twist but he needed to get her to be his… he needed her. “I’ll ruin your life if you don’t accept my love. I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much as I want you.”

Jesse stirred awake in Liam’s arms, the young boy’s eyes wide at his father’s words. “Become Jesse’s mom. I’m serious about being with you.”

“I-“ (your name) was cut off by Jesse who excitedly reached for her.

“Mommy? You’ll be my mommy?!” Jesse began to cry when he hands grabbed hers. “Mommy. Mommy!”

“Yes, Jesse.” Liam smiled down at Jesse as he pulled (your name) close. “Miss (last name) is going to be your mommy.”

“No-“ (your name) gasped when Liam suddenly bent down to kiss her which made Jesse smile brightly.

“We should head home, right?” Liam turned to Jesse who smiled brightly at his dad. “Like a happy family should.”

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dmitriene · 17 days

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being boss's john price sweet secretary, almost the only employee that doesn't drip on his nerves, not counting his trusting one's, as he keeps you constantly close, bordering on the thin line of professional relationship, but you think he's just nice to you, even when he purrs smokily for you to warm up his lap.

he doesn't gropes you, just traces his calloused hands over the curves of your body, they're heavy, hot, despite that you're fully dressed in your white button up shirt, tucked under your pencil skirt, too short, still for the liking of his eclipsed, cerulean gaze, albeit in need to be constantly covered up, when someone let their gazes wander, making john all growling and strict, tugging you behind him.

you feel embarrassed about it all, adorably shy at the fact that you have some special place of yours in john's mind, he doesn't let's you call him sir or boss, making you chirp his name shyly, and even through you squirm under his gaze and gentle croons, you still always end up at his thick, muscular lap, holding his cigar between your delicate fingers, letting the acrid, spicy smoky smell cloak around your form, perched close to his chest.

john's hands busy with paperwork you only recently brought him, so it's only normal for his secretary to help him, even if it's nothing but just letting him smoke from your hand, the scruff of his mutton chops tingling against your soft skin, as he enjoys the warmth and suppleness of your form, sitting pliable for him, and even if you squirm at his hand suddenly leaving the pen to brush against your lower back, he only purrs a hoarse chuckle.

it's only the matter of time when you get more responsibilities as his secretary, learning how to soothe him down when he's fuming after a bad work he received or a meeting gone south, and it's with you seating on his cold, wooden desk, with your pretty legs spread wide and your skirt rolled up, cotton panties dangling at your ankles, pussy already wet and on display for the blue eyes, edged with black.

your boss loves you all shy, with your face hiding in the crook of his neck, breathing in his prominent, woody musk, blending with the notes of his tart cigars and sign of whiskey, warm, tender with you, he doesn't let's his steam cloud his senses, taking you with long, heavy drags of his cock inside your spasming, gooey pussy, thrusts sloppy and slow, as he inhales at your hair, nuzzling his face in your temple.

listens to your breathy, squeaky keens, keeping his hips canting right to see the way your legs tremble, wrapping around his lower back, looping there tightly, as john moves to kiss wetly at your neck, needy, smudging presses of his plump lips against your smooth skin, holding his palm splayed over your coccyx, so you won't hurt while jolting on his desk, his precious girl.

main masterlist. quidelines.

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eddies-ashtray · 24 days

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white hot forever

Pairing: Logan “Wolverine” Howlett x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Most days exhaustion plagues him. But tonight, with his last dregs of energy, Logan cooks for you. Though he’s hungry for something far more enticing.

WC: 5.6k

Category: Smut (18+ ONLY, minors dni)

Content: Implied (non-specified) age gap, kissing, Logan throws reader over his shoulder/carries her, cunnilingus, unprotected pnv, reverse cowgirl, dirty talk, petnames (baby, old man, etc), beard burn, 1 single spank, some light nipple play, spitting, kinda dom logan/sub reader, light teasing/mocking, a dash of humiliation kink, lots of manhandling, an inordinate amount of animal metaphor/simile, mentions of logan’s exhaustion/aging due to the adamantium poisoning.

♡*♡*♡

His biceps strain against the thin cotton of his white button-down–the sleeves rolled up–as he finely chops a red pepper. His heavy hand lends to the particularly booming sound of the knife landing on the wood cutting board. But you don’t mind, content to observe from your ideal spot on the countertop of the island.

A half empty wine glass sits in your palm as your gaze lingers on the smattering of dark hair beneath the low-cut tank he wears under the button-down.

The kitchen smells of the sweetness of the cooking oil he used and the warmth of nostalgia. Faint memories from childhood of your mother bustling around the kitchen as she prepared dinner linger at the edges of your mind, brought on by familiar scents. When you breathe it in, you also catch lingering traces of Logan’s shampoo and, faintly, sweat.

“You ever…Ya know,” you pause, swirling the white liquid around. “Use the claws to chop an onion or something?”

Doing your best to suppress a smirk when Logan looks up at you from beneath his brows and pins you with a stern gaze, you hold his eyes.

You quirk a brow, waiting for his response as a snort threatens to bubble up.

A smirk cracks through his intense facade, crows feet deepening slightly. With an endearing shake of his head, he huffs a laugh through his nose. Logan’s a bit of a grump—even more so now that his hair has greyed and he’s let his beard grow somewhat unruly—but he’s not without a sense of humour.

“No,” his voice, though signed with a note of playfulness, is as gruff as always when he rests the knife on the cutting board. “But as you know, they’ve been useful for…other things.”

The word ‘other’ is loaded with intensity as the hand that previously gripped the knife handle lands deceptively gently on your right knee. It skates roughly up your thigh to thumb at the edge of your skirt.

You only hum in response. Despite the warmth of the kitchen, a chill runs up your spine and you shiver involuntarily. You’re not sure how he does that. Dial things up to 100 before you can even blink. It keeps you on your toes, even a few years in.

Now it’s his turn to quirk a brow–ever expressive–when his heavy gaze finally lifts from your legs.

Warmth begins to seep into your chest and stoke a small fire in your belly. But the growing tension dissipates slightly when a timer dings, shrill and intrusive.

Pulling himself away from your skin to tend to the sound, Logan bends at the knees to pull a steaming dish from the oven.

The crack of his joints is a quiet popping sound compared to the low grunt he releases when he stands back up to his full height to place the dish on the stovetop.

He tosses a worn out dish towel over his shoulder–the same one he’d used to pull the food from the oven.

Watching him carefully as he spins around in search of his whiskey glass, you remark, “You look handsome like this.”

You pass him the liquor, his large hand wrapping around the glass.

“Handsome like what?” he asks, a hint of a chuckle in his voice.

It’s not often Logan has the energy for this. Long days drain him now. Like sweet syrup from a tapped tree, a slow drip that takes and takes.

“Just–in the kitchen with me. Cooking…Taking care of me,” you say.

Another soft smile graces his lips and he presses a tender kiss to your cheek, a hand at your hip, and your face warms.

Gulping down a healthy sip of his drink, his throat bobs as he swallows the auburn liquid. When the glass clinks against the marble as he puts it down, you notice droplets linger in his beard. Once you’ve placed your own glass down you reach to thumb away the beaded liquid.

“Hm?” he hums, though it’s more of a growl when he does it, the sound rumbling up from deep in his broad chest.

“Just got some…” you trail off, expecting him to come to the natural conclusion himself when you lean in and cup his jaw. Feel the roughness of his beard against your palm as you swipe away the small droplet. “There.”

Logan leans briefly into your touch to kiss the soft skin of your palm in thanks. The gesture makes your heart ache.

You’re about to pull away, but Logan grasps your wrist in one strong hand, savouring your touch. He’s looking at you with an unexpected hunger behind his eyes as he feels the skin of your wrist beneath his rough palm. You can’t deny the way it revives the searing heat in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” The word comes out more breathy than you’d intended.

“Nothin’.” Logan shakes his head, holding your gaze. He releases your hand gently.

The word lingers in the air between you.

The way he says it–like it’s not really nothing–wires you right up again. You know he knows it too–his overly keen senses able to pick up the rhythm of your heart hammering against your ribcage.

You need to expel the energy or let the tension snap but can only think of the intoxicating scent of whiskey on his breath. “You know, I’ve never tried whiskey.”

He’s quick to respond. “No? You want to?”

“Okay.” It comes out in a whisper. The atmosphere feels too fragile for any other tone.

Logan grabs the crystal glass, just another sip or two remaining. He steals another as he steps in front of you, his left palm falling to your knee to push your legs apart so he has room to stand between them.

He lingers above you and you lick your lips in anticipation, catching the way hazel eyes darken beneath furrowed brows.

Then, Logan looks away and you watch as he places the glass down on the counter and his palms flat beside your thighs, effectively caging you in so you’re trapped in his space. Logan is all you can breathe, all you can see, all you can smell as your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths.

Eyes finally returning to yours, his head tilts to the side–cocky, challenging. “Then give your old man a kiss.”

A whimper nearly escapes you before you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and hungrily pressing your lips to his like it’s an order. It may as well have been, gruff as he is.

Logan grunts in response to your quick action, pulling your leg around his waist so your heel digs into the small of his back.

The roughness of his beard rubs your chin and cheeks, a pleasant sting against sensitive skin. Though you’re soon distracted when his hand leaves your calf in favour of greedily running up your thigh. They leave heat and tingling skin in their wake, and you gasp into the kiss when he gives the meat of your thigh a generous squeeze.

His desperation for you is matched only by yours for him as you wind your other leg around his hips to tug him closer. Grunting at your forcefulness, Logan finally slips his tongue into your warm mouth.

The whiskey on his tongue is overpowering as he kisses you like he’s starving for it–the meal he was making long forgotten. Warm hands brush up the length of your spine, eliciting a subtle shiver, before one of his large palms cradles your skull like you’ll shatter without the support.

His nose bumps yours as he deepens the kiss, licking into your mouth with fervour now. When his spare hand coasts over your chest to grab at your tits over your top, you arch into his touch with a moan like he demands it.

When you bite his bottom lip he growls, long and deep. A renewed sense of desperation claws at your skin as your kisses become increasingly wanton and sloppy. Tangling tongues generate sounds bordering on obscenity.

His claws may as well be dragging down your body, leaving bloody marks in their wake with the way his touch makes your skin sing. You hope he leaves bruises when he grasps at the flesh of your hips, pulling your lower-half flush against his pelvis.

You can feel him, hard and straining against his black slacks. It’s impossible not to moan, lips leaving his as your mouth falls open to release the breathy sound.

For a moment, you grind against his cock with your forehead pressed to his, using your hands wrapped around his neck as leverage. Feeling back muscles flex under your warm palms. The delicious slide of your soaked panties against his hardness is enough to drive you wild.

A gasp is pulled out of you when your clit catches briefly on his tip beneath clean slacks. Logan growls through clenched teeth, pressing you into him harder, fervently rolling his hips. The sound makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“Logan,” you whimper, aching for him as you pant into each other’s mouths. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he rasps before he’s scooping you up off the counter, hoisting you up over his shoulder. Squealing at the surprise demonstration of his great strength, Logan strides through the kitchen and towards the living room.

Desire burns deep in your belly as he carries you across the house like it’s nothing. He’s all broad chest, bulging biceps, and thick thighs. It makes you dizzy. You can’t help but reach out and pinch the meat of his thigh.

“Hey!” He barks.

Unsurprisingly quickly, Logan delivers a sharp smack to your ass and you yelp in shock, jolting against him. “So fuckin’ naughty.”

The lingering sting coupled with his gruff tone has you squirming in his hold, whining low in your throat.

In a single sudden motion, Logan manoeuvers you off his shoulder, dropping you onto the couch. And suddenly you feel deliciously small pinned beneath his hooded gaze. He towers over you. His staggering height emphasized from your perspective where you lay against the cushions.

He’s assumed that authoritative stance that has every atom in your body buzzing–his arms crossed over his chest. This paired with his hard gaze is a lethal combination. He’s got that look in his eyes, like what am I gonna do with you?

“Sorry.” Insincerity bleeds through your tone. You like to get him like this. To rile him up until he is more animal than man.

Hazel eyes narrow as he grunts, disbelieving your weak apology.

“You wanna be sorry?” He asks with a quick flick of his chin in your direction.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you nod. His chest rumbles with a deep sigh.

Unable to avert your gaze from his face, you bear witness to the glorious sight of Logan shedding his button-down. Your hips wiggle subtly in anticipation–though Logan would call it impatience. The cotton article is tossed carelessly over the chair by the couch.

He crouches down with a soft grunt, nods. “Okay.”

Swiftly, you are tugged to the edge of the couch by Logan’s hands on your hips. Your skirt gets rucked up your waist, exposing you to the warm air of the house. Though it feels far more jarringly cool between your legs where you’re hot and wanting, pussy weeping for the older man before you.

“So fuckin’ soaked already,” He mutters, more to himself than to you. The comment has pleasure boiling low in your belly.

“Logan.” He glances up at you briefly then returns his eyes to your cunt.

You watch with rapture as his nostrils flare, no doubt overwhelmed by your scent this close to your centre. A predator ready to devour its prey.

For the briefest of moments, Logan admires the wetness seeping through your panties, presses his thumb against the clothed, leaking well just to see your hips jump. Biting back a pathetic whine is far more difficult when his lips twitch into a faint smirk.

There’s a change in his eyes in a split second where brows lower and pupils dilate. It’s then that he rips your panties down your legs and you swear you hear the distinct sound of fabric tearing. Gasping, you toss your head back between your shoulders, panting and warm all over.

His chest rumbles with a guttural sound, savouring the sight of you spread open wide and dripping for him.

Logan’s rough hands rub up and down your thighs, hungry. When they pause you swear you can feel his gaze burning a hole into the column of your throat.

“Eyes,” He demands.

You obey, catching a glimpse of him stuffing your panties into his back pocket from where he kneels on the floor between your legs.

The anticipation eats you alive, hips flexing, unable to remain still. Logan pins them down in an instant.

Everything quiets. Tunnel vision casts out any and all sound or sight besides him.

“Don’t move,” Is all he says before he’s diving in and devouring you, tongue hot on your sensitive skin.

“Fuck!” you cry, hands plunging into his hair.

He’s groaning the second his tongue licks up your cunt, dining on your taste. He gorges on you like he’s been deprived of your taste for far too long and he’s hollow without it.

You’re drunk and dizzy on the way his beard scratches against your skin. The way the thick hair rubs against your cunt and sensitive inner thighs. A carnal craving satisfied. He’ll pull away after and be covered in you, unable to kiss you without smearing your desire across your own chin.

The rough tug you give his hair causes him to grunt into you. He eats you out with zeal, an energy that so often eludes him these days.

“Feels so good…Shit…So-” you babble on, only half aware of the praise spilling from your mouth.

For now, you are not sorry about his overzealous approach. But you will be. After, when the burn becomes a sting. When you are unable to walk for a week straight without feeling the roughness of his beard between your thighs. When he’ll reach over while he’s driving and squeeze your thigh meanly as a reminder.

For now, you moan unabashedly as he nips at your clit harshly. Free roaming hands find warm skin, grabbing fistfulls of you. Rubbing your thighs, grabbing at your hips, spreading possessively over your stomach. Soon, his hand snakes under your top to squeeze at your tits, and you gasp sharply when he pinches your nipple between thumb and forefinger.

The fire in your belly rages on, burning bright, spitting ash.

“Logan,” You whine, long and drawn out, when he shakes his head back and forth animalistically, coating more of his beard in your wetness, your scent. He grunts against your pussy at the sound of his name hot on your tongue, the vibrations it causes driving you mad.

His roughness makes your cunt throb. You derive as much pleasure from the sensation of his tongue licking up your slit and circling your clit as you do from simply watching him like this. His eyes shut in concentration, locked in as he laps up your juices like it sustains him. Like he is taking his fill of you before he hibernates for the winter.

Just the obscene sounds of his hunger, the slurping and the groans emanating from deep within his chest are enough to prompt your hips to grind up into the pleasure his mouth provides. And he accepts all of it enthusiastically.

You get lost in it, his wet muscle prodding at your entrance, licking up your slit to spread the wetness he’d collected over your clit. He sucks it between his lips, causing you to groan.

Briefly, Logan pulls away, and you whine in protest. But his pause allows you to glimpse the parts of his beard that are now matted down with wetness. The sight causes warmth to spread across your chest, equal parts humiliation and pleasure.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” he pants against your thigh, warm breath fanning over your puffy cunt. “Look at you,” he slurs, thumb rubbing over your pussy, spreading the wetness all over.

Your hips jump and you whine again. Logan growls a quiet, desperate sound before diving back in, practically making out with your pussy and inserting two of his thick fingers into your heat.

“Shit! Lo-” his name gets cut off with a girlish moan, a high sound only he could pull out of you, body completely overwhelmed by the excess of pleasure.

“There she is,” he drawls, voice muffled and thick with lust before enveloping your clit in the warmth of his mouth and sucking. Your grip in his hair tightens as your hips grind into his mouth and down onto his fingers. Fingers which curl up into the gummy walls of your cunt, languidly brushing that sensitive spot inside over and over.

Soon, slow movements evolve into quicker, but still consistent and deliberate, pumps into your weeping hole. It is precisely then that the ever-growing fire in your belly begins to consume you entirely. The moment Logan’s jaw goes slack and he begins to desperately lap at your cunt with a near entire loss of coordination, your vision goes white.

Your orgasm crashes over you, an all-consuming force as Logan continues to fuck you with his fingers. It’s like you are bursting at the seams, coming apart in his hands. Every cell in your body catches fire as you roll your hips into his hand, riding out the waves of your climax.

You’re panting as you come down, hips slowing to a stop as your body becomes over-sensitive to his touch. You twitch as Logan slowly pulls his fingers from you, his head falling to rest on your trembling thigh.

“You know…For an old man, that was-”

You suck in a sharp breath, hips jumping at the harsh sensation of Logan intentionally rubbing his beard over your already burning inner thighs. He chuckles lowly at your reaction, but is quick to soothe you, laying tender kisses across heated skin.

Your hands trail down from his hair, and stroke a thumb softly over his cheek. He allows the sweet touches to continue for several moments before he pushes off his knees with a grunt. Logan falls onto the couch next to you, legs spread wide. Eyeing him in your periphery, you can tell he’s just as exhausted as you; his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

You’re still panting softly as you watch him, your limbs like Jell-O, skirt hastily pushed up past your waist, and top askew. The sight of him licking his fingers clean of you makes your clit twitch despite its sensitivity.

Finally, he finds your eyes.

“C’mere,” Logan rasps, patting his thigh.

It takes great effort for you to crawl into his lap, and you don’t do it without some assistance. Logan’s hands grip your waist, pull you so you’re seated sideways over his thighs so as not to further irritate the burn.

You wind an arm around his neck, tenderly stroking the hair at his nape.

Logan rubs over the dough of your thighs, thumbs caressing between the split of them. Later, he’ll help you gently rub soothing lotion into them, but for now he’s all desire as he gazes down at where his hands press lightly into your legs.

“How’s that feel?” he asks quietly.

You can’t help but squirm in his lap a little, feeling him hot and hard beneath your thighs.

“Mmh,” you muse, staring down at his hands on you, legs raw and tingling. “Good.”

You can feel his eyes on the side of your face, the warmth of his body beneath yours. “Yeah?”

You nod, meeting his eyes before cupping his jaw and scratching softly at his beard, feeling the lingering wetness there. Briefly, his eyes drift shut and he groans quietly.

“How’s that feel?” you repeat his question back at him, teasing.

Logan growls, grabs the back of your head, and desperately presses his lips to yours in answer.

You moan softly into the kiss, holding his face in your hands as you lick into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue more than the whiskey now.

Then you’re trailing your hands down his chest and pulling away only briefly to tug his white tank off before your fingers deftly begin to undo his belt. The metallic clink it makes, the sound of leather sliding against cotton as it comes off, only makes your pussy clench around nothing as you whine into his mouth.

Your ardour makes Logan chuckle, breaking away from your lips in favour of kissing roughly down your neck. His hands now cup your jaw, allowing him to tilt your head back as his lips leave a trail of wet kisses across heated skin. You sigh as his beard tickles your neck.

“So needy,” he mumbles into your skin.

You groan and feel his smirk against the skin of your chest before he’s pulling your skirt and top off over your head and tossing them aside.

Wanting hands find their way into his hair again when he pulls away from your skin momentarily. He enjoys having you completely naked in his lap while he’s still mostly clothed. You can tell from the way his nostrils flare when he drags in a deep breath, the way his tongue wets his mouth before he pulls you close and latches onto your nipple.

He greedily licks and sucks and bites at one while palming the other in one large hand.

“Logan,” you breathe his name like a prayer, pulling him closer with hands locked in his hair.

His teeth graze your nipple, tugging it gently. Gasping in shock, your face twists up at the intense mix of pleasure-pain that swirls around in your gut. He releases your breast, breathing harshly over your now damp skin.

Impatient and needy, you can’t help but squirm in his lap, rubbing yourself over his hardness. Surely, you’ll leave a damp patch on his clean slacks. The thought only spurs you on, movements becoming desperate.

His cock twitches beneath you, tip probably an angry red and leaking sticky precum you selfishly wish to lick up. “Fuck, need to feel you, sweetheart.”

The whine his proclamation elicits borders on pathetic, and in a rush you’re helping him tug his slacks down just enough that his cock can spring free.

“So pretty,” you whisper, dragging your middle finger across prominent veins that run down his length, prompting him to twitch and hiss through his teeth.

Saliva begins to pool in your mouth, but you’re tugged back to Earth when Logan grabs your waist, ordering you to ‘turn around’.

Body buzzing in anticipation, you allow him to manhandle you into the right position, savouring the feel of his hands manipulating your movements.

“There ya go,” He praises, pulling your back flush against his chest. His hand sneaks up your chest. When it reaches your neck, he presses gently so your head falls against his shoulder.

Your eyes meet as your chest heaves.

“Open.”

Eyes remaining on his, you part your lips.

“Don’t swallow,” Logan instructs gruffly, brow quirked. He may as well have pointed a finger in your face, stern as he is.

You nod quickly, and he leans forward slightly to spit thickly onto your tongue. It’s so obscene a tremor wracks through your body as heat spills into your gut.

Hand below your chin, Logan closes your jaw for you, allowing his saliva to mix with your own before putting his hand in front of you, saying, “Spit.”

You obey a little messily, some ending up dribbling down your chin.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he says, smearing the sticky mess over your already messy cunt. You whine, all high and breathy. Still slightly sensitive.

Finally, he adjusts you, shoving you forward in his lap so he’s at the right angle to thrust into your wet heat.

Tandem groans are released into the air the moment he fills you. A millisecond to adjust. To savour how deeply he fills you before his hands are at your waist to help guide your movements.

Using your own hands on his legs as leverage allows for slow, deep thrusts that make your body quake. Those first sweet drags of his cock against your slick walls are enough to make you shudder.

Reaching a steady rhythm, you begin to pant, the exertion it takes to ride him like this tiring you out quickly. Though Logan is quick to help, supporting you with strong hands as he guides you up and down. Still, you’ve yet to lose your vigour. Entranced by the slow roll of your hips, the way his cock reaches the deepest parts of you in this position. His strong thighs bracketing your body.

“That’s it…That’s it.” Logan grunts lowly, nearly delirious and wholly mesmerized by how your body takes all of him. How you stretch around him to accommodate his size. Hypnotized briefly as he hungrily watches the place where you connect.

A gasp evolves into a moan as one of his hands leaves your waist in favour of seeking out the sensitive button at the top of your cunt. Clumsy fingers toy with your clit, slipping around messily. Flames lick at your nerve endings. On occasion he loses his place, unable to maintain a perfect rhythm from behind you, but just as quickly returns to circle the bud.

Another hand moves to your belly, pulling your body backwards, his sweat-slick chest now pressed up against your back. You wish you could drag your nails down his broad chest, watch as he loses himself in the feeling. But the closeness this position allows is worth the sacrifice.

Being nearly immobilized pressed up against him like this, giving him full control of your body, it feeds some deep desire. It’s the reason your head has gone a little fuzzy. He knows it too. He knows it when you let a whine slip past your lips. When you begin to grind back against him needily.

“Feel good, baby?” he rasps. At the same time, he rubs his middle finger over your clit in time with a deliciously deep thrust. All you can do is throw your head back against his shoulder, another wanton moan clawing its way up your throat, directly into his ear. That’s all the answer he needs.

Logan grunts in response. Pistoning hips setting a rhythm that is both intimate and punishing, making you dizzy. His closeness makes you dizzy. Those low grunts in your ear are enough to drop pearls of pleasure into the pit of your stomach. All of it contributing to the growing fog in your mind.

You writhe against him, an arm wrapping around the back of his head, keeping him close with a hand buried in his hair. Your other hand remains locked onto his forearm as it flexes with each rub of your sensitive clit.

Logan begins to grunt animalistically into your ear, unabashed about his desire for you. You feel it in the way his strong arms grip your body, ensuring your security. In the way he lets moans and grunts and groans rumble up from his chest, unafraid to let you hear what you do to him.

His hands all over your body, the deep strokes of his cock that reach the deepest parts of you, his soft grunts in your ear–it all feeds the flames in your belly.

“Fuck. S-so full,” you mewl, overwhelmed tears springing to your eyes.

“I know, baby. I know,” he placates, tone edging on mockery. His voice sends shockwaves through your body. The sweet humiliation it brings presses into your skin like a brand, leaving it white-hot.

More. You need more of him.

Desperately, clumsily, you grind back into him enthusiastically, writhing in his grasp. The rhythm turns staccato and messy as a result. But it doesn’t matter. You just need more.

You whine, turning your head towards him and he gets the hint, meets you halfway and licks hotly into your mouth the moment your lips meet. Your hands twist in his hair.

It’s messy and uncoordinated and your neck hurts twisted to kiss him like this. But then there’s the fiery taste of whiskey. And you. And him, his cigars. And the pain–it’s worth it. It’s necessary.

When you break away, only a thin line of saliva connecting your mouths now, it’s to gasp. Your brows furrow, pleasure twisting your insides.

You go cross-eyed trying to hold his gaze, and he grins. It’s a wolfish thing. A flash of his teeth, lips kissed red and puffy. The sight makes your pussy clench around him.

A smile tugs at your own mouth, probably fucked out and hazy with pupils blown wide. It only grows when the hand gripping your waist skims over your hot skin. On its journey, he grabs at your tits, pinches your nipple. Every sensation now blends together, overwhelming you with pleasure.

His hand pauses at the base of your neck where it grazes over the stretched expanse of skin.

A teasing squeeze. Once. Your brows knitting together. Twice. Your mouth dropping open. His grip not quite tight enough to cut off airflow and elicit that floaty feeling. But enough to make you whine low in your throat. You are at his mercy.

Eyes drifting shut, you cry out, feeling your climax building at the pit of your stomach. Breathy moans escape you with each rub of his finger over your sensitive bundle of nerves, edging on overstimulating. Each sharp thrust drives you closer to that edge, setting your body alight.

“Y’gonna come, honey?” Logan pants, voice hoarse.

These escapades exhaust him now. You’ve witnessed the way it sinks into his bones after. But there’s also the hint of a grin in his voice. Along with desperation. Desperation to feel you fall apart. An indication that the pleasure he provides, the pleasure he receives, is worth the exhaustion. It’s rewarding for him.

Your answer is the most pathetic whine, high and wanton as overwhelmed tears blur your vision, threatening to spill over. “Uhuh.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, and you swear his fingers were made to make you come apart at the seams when he rubs over your clit like that. Like it gives him pleasure too.

“Yeah,” you say, breathless, barely moving over his cock as he pounds into you from below, his strong legs beginning to tremble.

“Yeah,” Logan repeats. Mockery is thick on his tongue, a faux pout playing at his mouth. You lose it.

Everything else falls away. Tingling heat spreads beneath your skin as you finally let go. Your body thrums with your release, the feel of his damp skin at your back, his hands on your body, how full of him you are.

Logan has little room to be cocky. Because the moment you begin to clench around him–cunt pulsing with each wave of your orgasm washing over you–he’s grunting curses into your shoulder, leaving bite marks on the tender flesh as his warm seed spurts into you.

He shudders with his release.

“Fuck,” he growls, grinding up into you, his grasp on your body tightening.

In a flash, he removes his hand from your throat. And, distantly, past your post-coital fog, you hear the sound of metal unsheathing rapidly. You glance to your right.

Retracting claws reveal three deep holes pierced into the faux leather, showcasing thick wire springs and white stuffing.

Blearily, you drag your hand down his arm, running over hair and slowly aging skin. Reaching his wrist, you bring his hand up to your mouth, cup it in both of yours. You smooth your thumb gently over the edges of his knuckles, watch for moments as the holes very slowly begin to close.

You kiss his knuckles thrice. Once over each slowly healing wound.

Eventually, the skin will mend. The wounds will be nonexistent. They will heal in time. But his body is exhausted. And every time the claws come out, the cracks in his skin take longer and longer to repair themselves.

He collapses beneath you, rugged breaths pulled from tired lungs.

Carefully, he slides out of you and you help him tuck himself back into his boxers. Press a kiss to his forehead.

A whisper of, “Be right back.” against heated skin before leaving on unsteady legs to clean yourself up. His desire is a slow leak down your thighs now.

If he were a younger man, still full of strength and agility, he’d have done this part for you. You know he wishes he could. Part of you wishes he could too. But you like to take care of him too.

When you return, he’s still sunken into the couch, chest bare and sweaty. He accepts the glass of water you bring him, gulps it down thirstily.

Cuddling up next to him now, you brush the sweat-damp hair back from his face. You’ll allow him to pull you close. You’ll hold each other, stroke the skin beneath his eyes tenderly. The fresh dark circles there. And he’ll press soft kisses against the lingering bite marks on your shoulder, whisper praise into your ear.

When his honeyed eyes catch yours, you know he longs to spoil you. To scoop you up in his arms and take you to bed.

But this takes a lot out of him now. It will be days–maybe more–before you’ll be able to do something like that again.

So, you’ll take care of him. He’ll insist on having you underneath him. Begrudge the fact that the exhaustion will have yet to be leached from his bones. But acquiesce the moment your hands reach beneath his belt.

♡*♡*♡

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

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lovelyghst · 9 months

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ghost has such a vast array of names he calls his sweetheart in bed, but the one that won’t leave my mind is porn star. just listen ok—

he doesn’t even mean it in a degrading way, whatsoever. teasing, maybe, but never outright cruel. he just loves admiring you and your aptitude; your willingness to break a sweat when you’re on top of him, your resilience when he asks you if you need a break and you shake your head fervidly because he hasn’t reached his peak yet.

he absolutely adores all the noises you make. the soft and dulcet hums in your throat when he’s making love to you, to the rapid huffs of air being pushed directly from your lungs when he grabs your hips and uses you like how you begged him to. god, and your expressions? your smile as you unbuckle his belt, and your giggles when he flips it around on you and sneaks a hand beneath your skirt. even when you’ve been fucked utterly dumb, you’re still the prettiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on. it’s all so erotic to him, like it belongs on film.

and so he eventually comes through to just that, taking out a camcorder that happened to be lying around; one that he definitely didn’t purchase for the exact purpose of filming a little sex-tape with you, certainly not ordering it online behind your back or anything.

you happily put on a little show for him, with the lively energy in your voice turning sensual and your exaggerated reactions that soon become all too real. the lens staring you down from above as he takes his time with you, cooing at you the tenderest of praises whilst breaking you down to a shuddering mess beneath him before he even gives you his cock. slowly massaging your aching pussy, past your hiked up dress and through your cotton panties, just to drag his hand up your body and have you suck on the very thumb that made the soaked spot on your underwear. he’s such a mean, mean tease.

he’s enamored with the way your cunt stretches to fit his cock, especially how it shows up on the small screen of the camera. each ridge dragging against your soft flesh wrapped so tightly around him, to the point where his breath is hitching in his throat and he’s failing to suppress those faint groans and swears spilling past his lips.

“makin’ all these depraved noises for me, and no shame you’re bein’ recorded? already fucked you that stupid, ‘ave i, sweet girl?”

you moan unabashedly at that, words that should be demeaning only hitting you right in the sweet spot. you can no longer keep your eyes on the lens above you, reaching out to grasp at the wrist connected to the fingers circling your raw pussy as you plead with your brows. you’re so overwhelmed, though enjoying it far too much to quit.

wrapping your legs around his back and pulling him in closer, eyes rolling back. swollen lips falling further agape and making him chuckle lowly. he goes on ramming his cock into the sticky mess of your cunt, thumbing your clit to push you over so that the last thing your fuzzy mind will hear is him calling you his favorite nickname:

“my pretty, little porn star… takin’ everything she’s given, ‘n with no complaint. just like a good actress does, right, baby?”

he spurs you on, grinning huge behind the camcorder he holds when you hum and nod along with whatever he says. you pull his free hand into your own, lacing your fingers with his; he always grounds you so well after he’s spun you higher than a ballerina. dazed and content, and simple happy to give him something to watch while he’s away. you never have to act when you’re with him, but you can’t help the butterflies swarming your tummy whenever he praises you for it.

“there’s my good fuckin’ girl… now smile for the camera, princess.”

#ugh he’s such a man #cod mw #simon riley #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut

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buckyalpine · 9 months

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I want more mob bucky teaching a shy bambi to touch him cause she’s scared and hesitant and his sweet little princess has never touched a man before, not until she met him. (Disclaimer: all consenting adults here, reader is naïve and inexperienced but absolutely wants him just as bad)

“Are you sure?”

“Of course Bambi” Bucky purred, keeping you in his lap while sitting in his office chair. “You’re not doing anything wrong”

“But-

Your eyes flicked to his thick erection, the bulge in his pants making your stomach flip. You’d never admit out loud how many times you’d secretly glanced over, heat pooling between your legs whenever you’d catch a glimpse of his length pressing painfully hard against his pants.

You instinctively pressed your thighs together, biting back a whimper, struggling to ignore the pulse you felt between your now very soaked folds. Your parents told you over and over again that was a no no area. No one was ever to touch you there ad you definitely were not to touch someone’s private’s.

“I was told I’m not allowed” you shyly whispered, blinking innocently.

“Not allowed to what” Bucky smirked, knowing what you were talking about but he loved to make you squirm, “what are you now allowed to do baby”

“Touch-touch you there” you stuttered out, avoiding his darkened gaze.

“Awww princess, but daddy gave you permission, remember?” His nose nudges against your cheek, “I told you you’re allowed to touch me right here baby”

He guides your hand down to his clothed cock, letting you feel how hard he is for you. He presses your shaky palm against his length, holding it there while your fingers twitch with uncertainty. What if you did something that hurt him accidentally? Bucky could see the wheels in your head turning, tilting your face to kiss your lips.

“You won’t hurt me Bambi” he cooed, working at his belt buckle, letting it hit the floor before pulling his cock out. He was so thick and leaky, his silky pink tip wet with his arousal.

“But daddyy” you whined, worried you’d do something wrong, too nervous to touch him there. “That’s- we’re not allowed to touch that place, it’s your p-

“I’ll teach you, Y’know it feels good when you touch me there, C’mon, daddy’s cock is so hard baby, stroke it better, it’ll make me feel good” He’d told you countless times he’d love when you play with his cock and no one else but you is allowed to anyway. Only his Bambi can see and touch him there. You let him wrap your hand around this throbbing length as he guides your hand up and down while keeping you on his meaty thighs, the warm skin of his cock pulsing with each stroke.

“Fuck bambi” Bucky moaned, his head hitting the head of the chair, thrusting his hips up while he helped you jerk his cock, loving the way your eyes were fixated on his length, experimentally gripping him harder, "That’s it babygirl, stroke it nice and hard”

You whimpered at his words, the combination of his heavy breaths and raspy moans making that spot between your legs throb. Which didn’t go unnoticed by him the slightest. He let go of your hand letting you take over for a bit before moving you off his lap to stand between his legs.

“Daddy?- before you could finish, he hushed you, lifting you with ease to sit on his table in front of him. “Daddy, what are you-

“Shhh baby. Why are you all squirmy, hm? Are you all wet now Bambi?”

You whined in response, torn between wishing he’d do something and feeling conflicted over if this was okay. Bucky kissed up your thigh, sensing your hesitation.

“You’re not doing anything wrong baby, let me see princess” he moved you to lie down on his table while he spread your thighs apart, pulling up the dress of your skirt to reveal your cotton panties. “You’re such a good girl” he whispered, rubbing the soaked material up and down the middle of your clothed cunt.

“You made a mess in your panties baby” Bucky smirked, pushing them aside, the sight of your soaked folds too much for him to bother with restraint. He needed your pussy fully exposed to him, pulling them down your legs and shoving your thighs apart. "Look at that Bambi, my poor baby is soaking"

You pouted at him while he groaned at your sweet scent, leaning down to part your folds, pressing a soft kiss right onto your clit making you gasp. His warm lips were soft on your most sensitive parts, the sensation addicting as he kissed you there again. "Your little button is so precious baby, are you gonna let daddy play with you there?"

"P-please" you nodded, choking on your words when he sealed his lips around your bud, suckling with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the table.

He's actually such a menace though. Cause imagine he gets you to touch his cock whenever he wants. Doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing. He'll push his hips forward letting you know how hard he is for you, pulling it out and helping you stroke him till he's cumming all over your hand. You're always so shy about it and he gets off on the way you try so hard to not stare even though your mouth is watering.

He plays with your clit like its his own personal toy. Whenever you're in his lap, he's sneaking his hand into your panties, rubbing lazy circles around your silky skin. Sometimes its not even fast enough to make you cum. He just loves the moans you make when he's touching you somewhere no one else is allowed to, rubbing your most intimate parts like he owns you.

Imagine the day he lets you to put your mouth on him. His precious Bambi scared to suck cock but he's there to help her, parting her little pouty lips to slip his swollen tip till it hits her throat.

Don't even get me started on the day you first have sex. How much he's gonna coddle you in bed, reassuring you theres nothing dirty about the fact that his dick is stretching your cunt apart, all while playing with your clit making you squeal. Theres nothing filthy about how much cum he's going to flood you with. Nothing debauched about the way his heavy balls hit her ass or about the way it all feels so good, he's gonna fill you up again.

"D-daddy, are you sure?"

"Very sure Bambi, you're still my good girl"

After all how can something that feels this good be wrong?

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rashmitextile · 2 years

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raestromboli · 2 months

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𝒯𝒜𝐵𝒪𝒪.

𓂃 bf!matt meeting your parents hcs. ♡⁩

cw 𓂃 18+, smut, established relationship, vulgar language, not proofread, fingering, cunnilingus, overstimulation, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie, mdni.

𓂃 sfw.

bf!matt who wore his best looking collared shirt in hopes of impressing your father and spraying his sweetest smelling cologne to swoon your mother.

bf!matt who shakes your father’s hand and gives your mom a firm hug when he walks in through the door, warmly smiling at you from over her shoulder.

bf!matt who laughs and makes dad jokes with your father, and helps cook dinner with your mom while he makes conversation.

bf!matt who sets the table for you, grinning sheepishly at you when you teasingly praise him for being so respectful toward your parents.

bf!matt who endlessly compliments your mom’s cooking the second you place his plate down for him, his fork scraping against the white porcelain to savor the last bite.

bf!matt who waves your mom off when she tries to wash the dishes, claiming that he’s got it.

bf!matt who receives a tight hug from both your parents before they head off to sleep, offering that he’s welcome to spend the night in your childhood bedroom.

bf!matt who’s definitely not going to take down that offer—not when your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and you hurriedly suggest that sleeping on the couch would be better.

bf!matt who groans and tugs you flush to his side, his arm wrapping around your waist to lead you up the stairs and teasing you about the baby pictures of you hung up on the hallway.

bf!matt who’s not surprised to find how hyper feminine your childhood room is; frilly pink and white sheets with a baby pink canopy, a plethora of plushies stacked neatly on the corner of your bed.

bf!matt who tucks you both into your childhood bed after the long night, kissing your forehead and nodding off to sleep.

𓂃 nsfw.

bf!matt who almost fucked you stupid before you both left because he saw how you couldn’t peel your eyes off his ‘respectable’ outfit.

bf!matt who subtly brushes his bulge against your ass as revenge for your teasing when rounding the table to lay out the rest of the plates onto the table, a little smirk growing on his face as you glare at him.

bf!matt who played with your soaked pussy underneath the table all throughout dinner, his fingers strategically circling around your clit while he complimented your mother’s cooking. and when you came with his fingers buried deep inside you, he nonchalantly lifted his hand from beneath your skirt to place said fingers in his mouth, a cocky smile on his face while he told your mom what great work she did. that could only have as many reasons . . .

bf!matt who washes the dishes to ignore how you’ve been pouting at him all day, feeling your arms wrap around your waist to hoist yourself on your toes to whisper how wet you’ve been for him all night, how much you needed him inside you.

bf!matt who uses whatever he can to stall, making conversation with your parents before they go off to sleep—even teasing you about the baby photos on the wall while his hand disappears under your skirt, his fingers digging into the fat of your butt and making you whimper softly.

bf!matt who lays you down on your pink bed, kissing you deeply while he grinds his bulge against your clad cunt.

bf!matt who looks so out of place in your girly room, all dark colors with engraved rings and a tattoo sleeve.

bf!matt who pulls an orgasm out of you just from licking your sensitive clit through your sodden panties, a hand raised up to clasp over your mouth when you got too loud.

bf!matt who peels your panties off you, the drenched cotton being thrown somewhere around the room before he stuffs his face in between your thighs again.

bf!matt who grabs a tan teddy bear from the bunch, cooing at you to bite down onto it while he fucked your pretty pussy.

bf!matt who tries his best not to immediately dump his load into you when he looks down at you, all fucked out while you look at him with stars in your eyes, brows furrowed and meek squeals coming out your muffled mouth as you hug the bear for dear life.

bf!matt who rubs your sore nub with his thumb while you squirt all over his nice shirt and your bed, flipping you over until you were set in a deep arch before plowing into you deeper.

bf!matt who thinks you looked so innocent as you glance over your shoulder at him, teeth bared into the ear of your childhood teddy bear while you cream all over his cock.

bf!matt who cums deep insjde your soaked cunt, grabbing the teddy away from your grip to let your breathing regulate and come down from your high.

bf!matt who tucks you both into bed and kisses your forehead, wearing a proud smirk as he sees you immediately knock out with a satisfied look on your face as his cum drips out of your hole and staining your underwear.

notes: so basically the day i deleted all my shit was the day i got my period and ran out of my stash . . . so sorry y’all those old fics will be missed

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yanderenightmare · 3 months

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TW: noncon, yandere, omegaverse, subjugation, some type of sexism, angsty, also a little fluffy?

fem reader

Discussions about superiority and inferiority between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas have become more popular lately. It’s always been many people’s opinion that the weak should cater to those stronger than them—but a debate with that as its topic is unsavory. Unfortunately, they’ve found new ways to phrase it.

A resonating “Unmated Omegas are a danger to themselves!” garners much more sympathy…

And with the rise of people talking about it in the media, it was only natural to move the conversation into school as well.

You keep your head bowed in class as the chill runs down your spine. You feel the glare of thirty fellow students—the points of their teeth, too, and how they snicker under their breath. It’s always been rather scary being an omega, but you can’t say you’ve ever felt quite so alone.

The teacher’s an alpha, so why should he care how what he says impacts you? He’s preaching to the choir, and you’ve never had the right to sing. The three other Omegas in your class have all chosen to stay home. They probably have the right idea—wait it out until it all blows over.

But you don’t know when that might be… You don’t know if that will be.

Society is on the precipice of critical change—new politics, new laws, new systems, new rights that separate you from them. You wallow in fear of the outcome, lying awake at night and scrolling through the news under the safety of your duvet. The statements seem endless. You wonder, why are all politicians Alphas?

You don’t want any of the things they’re suggesting—mating homes to help you find the perfect Alpha to bond with, systematic pairings done from birth, auctions. Is no one going to suggest they put shock collars on all Alphas and Betas to keep them in check? They’re the ones who need to—

“Your scent is distracting the whole class—don’t you feel ashamed?”

It’s too easy for him to have you bent over the desk, your wrist on your back in his big fist as he wraps his tie around them. He and his goons stand around, all smiles—watching—enjoying it. It’s as if they’ve planned the whole thing, the way two of them peel away from the crowd to grab each their pick of your feet. Parting them, they use your own shoelaces to tie them to the desk legs.

The ringleader laughs. There’s an awful smell coming off him in waves—it makes you quiver. He flips your skirt up and whistles at the sight, showing everyone your ass and cotton undies. The bulge he presses against you is enough to make your tears spill despite how hard you’d fought to keep them at bay, knowing it only arouses them further.

“Aww, don’t cry, little bitch. You should be happy,” he coos, leaning over your trapped form to whisper right at your ear. “Don’t you know? You’ll never feel happier than you will bouncing on my big Alpha dick. It’s all your little Omega cunt dreams about, isn’t it?” He snickers, fiddling with his belt buckle—you flinch at every sharp clink as he jostles the metal. “Well, salvation is here—”

“Keep it to yourself.” Another voice breaks through the sounds of hollers and cheers.

Your eyes open to see him. You despise how your heart jumps in relief.

“Oi, you—” the guy at your back challenges, stepping away from you and toward the interruption.

“Yeah, me,” he states blankly, jaded. He eyes the rest of the guys with disinterest—five betas, zero threat—before telling them, “All of you. Scram.”

They all take a step to walk out as if his voice alone had compelled them, but then the previous guy interjects, making them stop in their tracks again. “Tch—you know what they’re saying. All unmated Omegas are free game, and I won this one. So back off.”

It was like watching a match of tug-of-war.

“Heh,” the intruder laughs. “That rule only counts for Alphas.”

You spot your aggressor's fists curl—there’s a growl rumbling in the back of his throat. “I am an Alpha, asshole.”

“Really?” he feigns, sizing him up with a cocky tilt of his head. “Couldn’t tell.” He doesn’t seem fazed in light of the aggression—actually, it seems to amuse him if anything. “To me, you smell no different from all these other Beta losers.”

He takes a casual step forward, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face—baring canines with grace.

“But if you wanna prove it, I’m ready when you are.”

It’s quiet after the declaration. The betas are unsure who’s side to pick, none of them eager to get caught in the middle. It becomes a competition purely between the two Alphas.

Without backup, your aggressor backs down and leaves.

“Thought so,” your savior jeers, showing the crowd out, closing and locking the door behind them.

It’s quiet after they’ve left.

You hide your face. Listening to his footsteps approach—he sighs when taking the place of the former guy. He doesn’t touch you, though.

“Y’know…” he starts. “That guy might be trash, but he isn’t wrong…” He picks up your skirt and drapes it back in place. “None of this would ever happen if you weren’t unmated.”

You speak through grit teeth. “Untie me.”

He chuckles familiarly at that, clicking his tongue at you. “What? Aren’t you gonna say please?” But he does what you say anyway. Squatting down, he starts with your ankles.

The scent of your fear still lingers in the air despite your tough act. You’ve always been so steadfast, ever since you were kids, even when it does you no good. He frees your feet—one, then the other, slowly—he even reties your laces into pretty bows before he’s done.

He remembers it being so obvious. The sun rose in the morning and the moon at night, and you were supposed to be an Alpha while he a Beta at best. You promised you’d be by his side to keep him safe forever, and he wanted nothing more.

But then puberty hit, and nothing was as you’d imagined.

He stands and unknots the tie keeping your wrists restrained.

You immediately push him off—already storming away.

“Do I get no thank you, no nothing? Always so stubborn—” He grabs your arm.

You spin around, an unnatural snarl on your face. “Let go!”

You’d have been a terrifying Alpha. But as fate has it, you’re not. And you shouldn’t act like it. It only lands you in trouble.

But he doesn’t say that.

“You been watchin’ the news?” he says instead, ignoring your cry and keeping a firm grip on your arm. “Seems like auctions are winning the voters. You know what that means?”

He feels you flinch, followed by a quiver. He can tell. No matter how good you are at hiding it. He can see—the way you’re fraying at the edges, barely holding it together. Always acting so strong. He can’t tell whether you enjoy torturing yourself or if you’re just that good at convincing yourself you’re fine.

“Pretty soon, new authorities are gonna come storming in here, roundin’ up every sorry unmated Omega they find, and put ‘em all on a farm where pompous Alphas can have their pick of the litter.”

He can never tell what you’re thinking, but he knows he doesn’t need to tell you any of this. You’re not stupid, you never have been. He knows you already know. But…

“You should decide now while it’s still your choice.”

You must be terrified. He understands. But truly… it’s obvious what you have to do, isn’t it?

“It’s not like you have many options.”

It’s obvious. It always has been.

You don’t meet his eyes. You haven’t for a long while. Actually, you haven't since both of you got your test results. He understands this wasn’t what you had in mind, but you can’t afford to mope about it forever—

“How am I supposed to choose any Alpha when you’re all such assholes…”

Your mutter stunts him. It wasn’t what he expected. Or, the words were more or less exactly something he’d expect from you, but that voice—quiet and soft, dangling on the brink of sweet. If you’d said anything else, he’d have taken it as a confession.

“Can't argue with that,” he ends up chuckling again.

You hate how easy this is for him. He would cry at every turn when you were kids. It’s unfair.

“But you can’t keep doing this, either,” he states. His voice is soft, paired with that ugly authority they all have when talking to you—talking down to you. “Just look where it gets you—scared and exhausted because of it. At least have the brains to stay home.” He says it as if it’s a joke, but you both know it isn’t. His chuckles are light—far from fullhearted.

He bends down, trying to find your eyes. He still holds onto your arm, knowing you’d sooner stomp away than listen to him. His other hand brushes your cheek gently, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You hear the call from the rafters—it’s not about what you want anymore. It’s about what you need.”

That’s what they say, isn’t it? What you need. You want to slap him. Scratch him with claws, bite his throat out—make him choke on his own words. Need? What you need is for them all to fuck off.

You mean to say it with the same sentiment, but something hard and rough in your throat makes all your words come out wobbly. “Mate an Alpha to stay safe from other Alphas. What a joke.”

You bow your head further. The tears return. They burn as they trail down the sore streaks from before.

He’s never seen you like this. He won’t lie, it makes his pants tight—feeling the urge to suck your cheeks, hold you close and comfort you. But knowing you right, you’d probably never let him. Your face would probably scrunch up in disgust, punch his gut, knee his groin, then turn on your heel and leave him on the floor wheezing.

You really would have made the most terrifying Alpha.

“The world isn’t fair,” he agrees. “But you get nowhere cryin’ about it—do it my way, and you’ll never—”

“Have any freedom,” you cut him off with a sniffle.

It’s about the most adorable thing he’s seen in his life.

He gets why you don’t like Alphas—they’re all gross. He makes himself sick sometimes. He can’t believe he’s getting off on watching you have a mental breakdown. There’s something seriously wrong with his side of the species. His throat’s tight, mouth watery with the urge to reap your vulnerability.

Suppressing it only makes his inner beast furious. Some of that aggression comes out in his next words.

“I’m sorry, but the world doesn’t give a shit about your freedom.”

The grip around your arm tightens, and you look up in shock—watching his narrowed eyes through your watery ones.

“What you need is safety—now more than ever. Or do you like being preyed on by every Alpha around the corner?”

Your bottom lip trembles at the reality of it—a little while ago, you were almost—

“One of these days, I'm not gonna be here in time, and you’ll be a slave to some fucking—”

He huffs and hangs his head. His hand loosens up—it trembles where he holds you in place.

“In all honesty, I think I’m more scared than you,” he whispers under his breath. “I think I might kill—”

He stops himself again. You don’t know if it’s in an effort not to frighten you or himself.

“Speak about needs…” he begins anew, now softer. “I need to know you’re safe. I need to—” He looks up. His eyes are back to being round. “I need you more than you need me, probably.”

There’s a desperation on his face. It almost looks like he’s on the verge of tears himself.

“So… please?” he begs. “Will you keep me safe like you promised and stay by my side?”

Your tears dry and prickle. Looking into his eyes now, you see the same boy you knew back in your childhood—that one who’d chase you all over even when you’d call him a sniveling crybaby. You realize, Alpha or not, he hadn’t changed all that much at all.

“It’s not like you need my permission,” you end up saying.

You’ve always been so hard-headed. He has to smile. “No, but I want it.”

You nibble your lip. You can’t believe you’re at the mercy of this big dumb hunk of… you don’t have the words to describe him. He wasn’t exactly a crybaby anymore.

“Okay. You win.”

His eyes widen as you bear your neck with a stretch. Head high and shoulders slack.

You swallow thickly. “Get it over with.”

He shudders at the sight. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but now it almost seemed too soon.

“We should be supervised by a professional—you know how wrong things can go—”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.” Your eyes remain shut, and your lips pursed.

His tongue grows thick in his mouth at your bark. A sudden stroke of performance anxiety makes his palms sweaty, hands heavy and shaking. But then the sight of your soft neck has his mood shift, becoming drowsy.

He has no control over the growl that begins rumbling from his gut.

But he doesn’t apologize for it either.

He bends forward—breaths on your chest before he licks your throat. You can’t help but whimper at the warmth. He watches you through hooded eyes—your usually angry face is now all cute, riddled with anxiety you try hiding paired with the grim anticipation of pain.

“Shh,” he soothes, kissing the spot softly. He sways you against him, then lifts you up on the desk for you to sit. Grazing your neck with teeth when feeling your hands tangle two fistfuls of his shirt. He expects you to push him away, but you don’t—you tug him closer instead as if silently telling him to hurry up.

But he doesn’t want to rush, doesn’t want to lose himself—that’s how accidents happen. So he sticks to sucking gently, only tiny nibbles that leave your skin hot and lightly bruised in their wake.

You give a moan once he finds the spot, and he growls in restraint upon the pretty sound—feeling you relax despite being threatened with his teeth right at your artery. He almost humps your leg in return, feeling the boil of blood pump him hot and heavy in his pants—breaths turning equally hot and heavy, each one laced with rust.

Drool coated your neck in a cool sheen, soothing the marks made beneath it, while his lips and fangs aroused pleasure in the spot that now ached for the sting of his bite.

“Please,” slipped from your mouth while tugging him closer.

His eyes, completely drunk on the pretty prayer, had only a slim rim of color left surrounding the hungering bottomless pits, blown full and black with opium.

No one could come and take you away from him now. Not with his print so pretty on your neck. You were his—just as you were always supposed to be.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Natsuo, Amajiki, Mirio ♡ JJK – Yuji, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ DS – Tanjiro, Zenitsu

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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cattolino · 5 months

Text

sweet angel.

pairing: lee felix x f reader. warnings: exhibitionism, skirt kink, fingering (f receiving), thigh grinding, teasing, dirty talks, profanities. genre: established relationship, smut. rating: explicit. word count: 2.7k.

Felix is the pristine epitome of joy. Radiance. A bright spirit.

One time Chan was told to describe Felix in a word on a post-it note for the younger’s birthday party and the dude ended up scribbling ‘the embodiment of warmth of the first light of day when you wake up on a Saturday morning, and the vibrance of the sundown when you walk along the shore until dusk takes over’.

Changbin and Jisung wrote ‘sunshine’.

And Hyunjin calls him ‘angel’ sometimes.

You wouldn’t argue. Because you believe that even the sweetest angel would carry the weight of their own deepest darkest secret.

And it was like a trump card when you accidentally found out the one thing that was able to coax out of another side of your angelic boyfriend you’d never seen before.

Two weeks ago when Felix had let you ride him for the first time, he’d shyly asked you to keep your mini plaid skirt on. The hem of the cotton fabric tickled your thigh every time you tried to sink yourself down onto his length that it had been uncomfortable.

But he’d begged… eyes coated with tears as they stared down at where you rolled your hips, his fingers digging deep into the flesh of your thighs. You’d never heard him growl so deep. And you’d felt his gloved cock inside you twitch uncontrollably.

Oh…

Who would have ever guessed that the sweet angel turned out to be that kinky…

And for some egotistical reason that was your own satisfaction, you wanted to verify your presumption.

“You’re not coming?” Seungmin inquired as you and Jisung strode over from the rented beach house with clean beach towels and a cooler filled with chilled canned drinks in hands.

His brows arched in confusion when he saw you in a white bra top and a pleated flowy mini skirt instead of your swimsuit.

At his side, Felix was peeling off his clothes to initially join the others on the shore. He tossed his shirt and sweats on a beach chair unceremoniously that they ended up falling to the ground.

The light freckles littering across his pale skin and the chiselled abs he always took pride in were exposed to view, whilst his lower half was barely protected by black swim trunks that were providentially too tight around the crotch.

Despite the glory of his frame, you almost laughed when you noticed the burning gaze he sent in your direction.

You perched on one of the beach chairs circling around a picnic table that had warped and bleached in several spots. A canned orange juice securely wrapped around one hand.

Your eyes flitted between Seungmin and the others whose laughter roared as the waves crashed into their bodies. You would’ve been tempted if you were to contemplate longer, but you shrugged, “nope. Not in the mood anymore.”

Seungmin wanted to say something about that but Jisung dashed across the beach still fully clothed, urgently taking part in what seemed to be an attempt at drowning Changbin whose screeches echoing through the air as the rest of the guys were carrying him into the ocean.

Seungmin followed closely behind, leaving you and your boyfriend alone.

You didn’t miss how Felix was practically burning holes into your skirt with a glare so fierce that one would’ve confused it with a look of hatred if they didn’t know better.

“You’re not swimming?” you tilted your head, as if you were genuinely curious.

He tore his gaze away from you, imitating how you shrugged your shoulders just minutes before, “nope. Not in the mood anymore.”

You snorted, earning a chuckle from him.

His fingers carded through his tousled, blonde tresses as he sat down on a chair beside you. He hunched over, grabbing a drink from the cooler on the table. The pad of his thumb twiddled upon the tab of the non-alcoholic canned cocktail before he swigged the refreshing liquid down his throat in a couple gulps.

“You look impressive by the way.” He spoke, twirling the can in his hand as he was blatantly staring you up and down. Gawking was probably more fitting since you knew enough to take notice of a hint of curiosity, adoration and lust all combined in the way his deep brown irises glinted in your direction.

His gaze lingered a little longer at your skirt, and he wasn’t being subtle about it. As though he wanted you to know.

And you surely did know.

Your cheeks bunched up towards the eyes at how wide your smile was at the complement. You leaned over to the armrest of his chair, grinning as you spoke, “you like my new skirt?”

A faint pinkish tint that unfurled across his freckled cheeks spread even wider to his ears. He smiled, “I love your new skirt.”

He tipped up your chin, planting a featherlike kiss on your bottom lip. He glanced down, fingers beginning to fiddle with the soft fabric of your skirt before they trailed down along the exposed skin of your thigh.

“Come sit in my lap.”

As if you couldn’t have seen it coming.

He carelessly put his drink on the sand below his seat as you got up on your feet. The other hand remained settled on your thigh, guiding you to perch down between his legs as he spread them wider.

But you looked down at him with a frown, “not in your lap,” you sighed, putting the word out carefully to emphasize your wish, “on your lap, please?”

Chan was right about the part of Felix being the epitome of ‘...the vibrance of sundown when you walk along the shore until dusk’ because he indeed looked lovely with the radiant glow of the golden sunrays gleaming across his freckled, flushed face. Let alone when his eyes sparkled as he stared up at you like a puppy staring at their favourite treat— as though there wasn’t anything obscene currently going through his filthy little mind.

It was unfair that the universe had granted him such a taintless facade.

His perfectly plump and heart-shaped lips tilted up into a grin of anticipation. His hand gripped your thigh a little tighter, guiding you to plump yourself down on his lap. “Of course. Anything for my baby.”

Anyone expecting this to remain an innocent cuddle session is a hypocrite. Felix never intended to keep it appropriate even when you were both in public, in spite of it being a private beach house, too.

But it was the way his palms clutched tightly at each side of your waist to keep you perfectly still on his lap that you knew he wasn’t at all expecting this— there wasn’t any form-fitting clothing whose current primary role was as a barrier between your bottom and his thighs. His swim trunks were mid thigh-length that he could right away take notice of the absence of underwear beneath your skirt.

His legs tensed. His smile faltered.

Your legs relaxed. Your smile widened.

It wasn’t like you meant to tug yourself away from him anyway, but he had his fingers dug into the flesh of your waist as if to entirely nail your ass into his thighs.

His hand led you to shift backwards, allowing your back to lean flush against his chest and your head to rest on his shoulder all while making your naked ass gently graze against the soft surface of his thigh.

“You cunning little vixen.” His voice went impossibly deeper. Something darker laced in his tone, “you’ve had this all planned out, haven’t you now?”

You giggled. Your palms gripped his arms as you moved your hips painfully slowly in an attempt to grind down on him. “But don’t you like it?”

“You’ve no idea.” His voice was nigh to a growl. You had to do more to pull a deeper, sexier one out of him.

His lips dangerously hovered over the juncture of your neck. One of his hands left your waist, shoving its way underneath the fabric of your skirt and kneading your inner thigh.

“But what’d you do if the boys decided to stay?” His mouth latched onto your neck, the hand under your skirt skimmer higher, careful not to touch where you felt hot (and undoubtedly damp) as you kept on grinding on him, “would you let me watch?”

“Maybe,” you responded through gritted teeth, having to hold back from bucking your hips up to make his fingers touch you. Your dignity wouldn’t let you give in first when the plan was to make him lose his mind for you. Speaking of dignity. “It’s good entertainment.”

A moan slipped past your parted lips when his fingertips suddenly pressed roughly against your clit. You arched your back, riding his thigh more impatient to get more friction. He grunted, “I wouldn’t tolerate that.”

“Oh, I know for certain you wouldn’t ignore me regardless,” you spoke in between ragged breaths as he planted open-mouthed kisses along the side of your neck, “not when I wear something you couldn’t resist.”

He huffed, but never said anything about that either. His hand on your waist ushered you to grind faster and his fingers on your clit rubbed circles in a sudden unforgiving pace that your thighs trembled. Fucking finally. “We’ll do this in front of a mirror next time… wanna see you so bad… you’ll look so beautiful grinding on my thighs like this…”

You smiled at his words. This wasn’t the only new cute skirt you’d recently bought for some special occasion. Of course there would be a next time with another brand new cute skirt. There should be a next time.

Nothing in the moment could triumph over what you were feeling. The sun was blossoming bold hues of red and gold across the skies as it was beginning to set below the horizon, representing a majestic reflection along the surface of the blue ocean. Its splendour, and the building pleasure in the pit of your stomach as he stroked his fingers on your clit, you thought of doing something similar next time. Because, fuck, was it nice to be taken care of while you watched the sunset.

He had yet to carry through what his fingers could do but you were already a mess. His thigh was soaked with slick that trickled down out of your entrance as you rode him more eagerly. You needed more to soothe the tingle in your abdomen.

“Fuck, baby, you’re always so good to me.” He grunted, very appreciative of the way you kept on just wetting his thighs.

You smiled dumbly, closing your eyes to fully relish in the pleasure, “I am. I always am.”

He pulled you back closer to his chest as if to completely mould your bodies into one. You squirmed when your naked ass landed on his clothed upper thigh as he was bucking his hips up to meet your pace.

But a whinier moan was coaxed out of your throat when you suddenly felt a protruding bulge dig right between your buttocks, slightly intruding your rim.

You weren’t the only one affected.

Felix sucked the flesh of your neck into his plump lips when his tip nudged against you, his moan muffled against your skin as he became more impatient. The hand on your waist travelled further up to grasp your clothed breast firmly in his palm, before sneakily slipping inside the bra. You gasped, mewled, almost screamed when his thumb and forefinger tugged at your perked, sensitive bud.

Before you could anticipate anything, his middle finger slid past your entrance without a word of waning, pulling a whine out of you so loud that Felix had to briefly look up at the others.

No one seemed to have noticed. But even if they had, he doubted he’d even do anything about it. There was no way he would be willing to stop his finger midway and push you off his lap just because one of them had heard your moan amongst the gentle waves. He could just pretend it was an innocent cuddle session…. Couldn’t he?

That would be fucked up.

Anyway.

He bucked his hips up again to gain more friction for his aching erection. The words coming out of your mouth was but a chain of incoherence. He could only get “please” “more” “Felix” out of it. He was proud.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Sometime amidst thrusting his finger into your entrance, his ring finger came in to assist, stretching your walls wider. You dug your nails into the flesh of his arms at your sides, seeking support as you felt your body slowly melt into the pleasure that was almost too overwhelming to bear.

Your curling toes were sinking deeper into the soft and warm sand, back arched, head thrown back, lips parted. Felix would love to see you through the mirror, what a shame.

His fingers curled inside you, looking for a certain spot that would bring you heaven. You almost jolted, if it wasn’t for his hand on your chest holding you down, when his fingertips ever so slightly prodded at that particular spot inside you. Felix smiled. Grinning, even.

Whines and moans and sighs and almost incomprehensible cries of his name were all combined as he plunged his fingers upwards at a faster pace and kept it directed at that spot.

For a moment there you couldn’t make sense of where you were. Your mind was hazy with utmost bliss, warmth was enveloping the whole of your body like a thick fluffy cloud, and electricity surging through your veins that you couldn’t help but tremble in his hold.

It was when his fingers reached incredibly deeper that the heat in the pit of your stomach suddenly exploded, its blaze proliferating within your body. You cried out his name one last time in a whiny moan as your body was quivering uncontrollably on top of him.

More slick dripping out of your entrance as you tried to grind down on his drenched thigh more. But it wasn’t the only thing that made his swim trunks damp. He, too, was releasing beads of precum as he bit down your shoulder to muffle his moans.

The raging flame in your abdomen slowly dwindled into as small as that of candle light, at the same time as when the golden rays of the spring sun were beginning to slowly dwindle into twilight.

You were sated. And Felix didn’t even have to take his shorts off.

It was completely dark when you let your body rest limp against him. The tide began to rise, and the rhythmic sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore helped you relax. Behind you, Felix was diligently cleaning up his fingers with his tongue whilst occasionally letting out hums of satisfaction.

But it was the sound of Chan’s squeaky giggles, Jisung’s dramatic whines, Minho’s blaring shrieks, and their inaudible chatters that made you jolt up in alarm.

Felix had his palm firmly gripped your waist keeping you still on his lap before you could get up. He pulled one of the beach towels from the table and spread it over your and his lower half.

You’d thought he was being considerate in case you were cold. But you had to grit your teeth to muffle any inappropriate sounds that were about to slip past your lips when he slid the elastic waistband of his swim trunks off his waist, not completely but low enough to release his fully erected length from restraint.

As though to torture you further, he pulled you closer by the waist until his tip nudge your swollen folds.

Inhaling a long sigh to compose yourself, you tried to sit more comfortably so as to appear normal for the others who were approaching. Though you hoped it was dark enough for them to notice nothing more than a mere disgustingly cuddly couple.

You wanted to curse at him. But whose idea was this in the first place anyway?

He kissed your shoulder before latching his mouth onto your neck, precisely at the sweet spot, making the hairs on the back of your neck erect.

“You started it,” he chuckled, half whispering, “you finish it.”

#skz fictions #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz felix #felix smut #lee felix smut #felix imagines

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bunnys-kisses · 13 days

Note

hi bunny!

I’ve been wanting to try the bakery and finally got around to it!

Could I get savory pastry(norris!reader), pull-apart bread, and root beer with carlos sainz!

the menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! it's still open (yay)! and i working away on orders, so please feel free to submit your own! we're open 6 days a week! i hope you love this order, anon! thank you for submitting it! i hope you're okay with me making the reader have.. big titties... i wanted to yearn for big titties tonight..

savory pastry ("let your brother find out.") + pull-apart bread ("i love you") + root beer (filming/recording) served by carlos sainz jr. (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, norris!reader, possessive behavior, mean!carlos, filming, ditzy!reader, soft!reader, implied mid to plus size!reader, sorry lando, unprotected sex, breast worship

rivals come and go. if carlos really hated someone however, he wouldn't fuck their sibling. carlos wasn't out fucking max's sister or one of charles' brothers, that was stupid and childish. it was a mind game reserved for people who thought they were smart

but that was until he saw your knelt down in the paddock trying the laces of your pretty pink sneakers and when you stood back up a slight breeze pushed up your skirt. and carlos caught the briefest glimpse of your panties. cotton, pink with little flowers on it. carlos stopped in his tracks, he hadn't realized the can of celcius he had was now on the floor.

you didn't notice his leering gaze, but instead burst into smiles when you went over and wrapped your arms around lando. he held you not like a lover, but like a sibling. oh, you were lando's fabled sister, the one who went to school in the middle of nowhere. was it canada? not that it mattered.

you could've been studying pottery in utah for all carlos cared, because he wanted one thing. those full breasts in his hands.

he remembered the first time he held them in his hands. the weight to them made his eyes bug out a little bit. it was about three months into the season and carlos was starting to feel the itch for sex. a lot of drivers got it, that was a lot of the reason why significant others would fly out for that weekend. but carlos has his right hand, something his left hand if he was feeling adventurous.

and one thing led to another and he ended up in your hotel room for the night. and then you were in his the next weekend, then followed by you in the ferrari motor home. eventually your behind was as red as the ferrari shirt that carlos got for you. he liked how the long was a little stretched across your pretty tits.

the rational thing would've been to tell your brother, lando. drivers dated other driver's siblings all the time! sometimes drivers dated other drivers, but carlos wouldn't get into those details. but something kept him reserved by telling the other driver.

you on the other hand were nervous about telling him. lando had scared off every boyfriend you had since your teens. you remembered when he chased a guy who had a crush on you off your family's front lawn with a hose. if lando found out about carlos....

"what if he finds out?" you squeak when he pulled you to ferrari's side of the paddock, you almost falling over yourself as you tried to keep up with him.

he shrugged, "let your brother find out."

your ferrari t-shirt (a gift from carlos) made you fit in nicely with the others on that side of the paddock. and carlos made sure that no one was looking when he got you into the driver's room. when he got the door closed and locked, he flipped up your pretty skirt. something a little more muted to go with the ferrari shirt, but short and carlos wanted to get his hands on you.

you ended up on the couch with carlos not even taking off the thing, only your panties underneath. he could feel the excitement in his blood stream. your knees up to your chest and your ankles in the air. carlos got his phone out after he got his cock out of his tight jeans.

"sorry, we're in a bit of a hurry." he said as he angled the phone towards your sweet cunt. it felt so good to be balls deep inside of you. even if it was messy quick sex.

carlos liked to film your encounters together. he liked to record your little noises, even if it was just recording your noises together. something to play back when he was alone. sadly, you couldn't be at every race. but carlos was hoping in a few years that would change.

he got his cock into you with ease. one hand on your clothed breast and the other on the phone. he got good shots of your pussy and face. he watched it change on the screen as he moved against you.

you tensed up for a moment then relaxed and carlos felt the cotton in his brain grow. he got addicted to your fast. he continued to grope your breasts as he moved against your achy slit. your legs kicked out a little and carlos pushed himself closer to you. he pointed the camera at the both of you and chuckled at the lenses.

"future carlos, remember this?" then started to lazily make out with you. you giggled as well. you knew those videos were often safe on his phone.

you squirmed a little bit and carlos put his face between your clothes breasts and rubbed his face up against them. he groaned against your heartbeat before he pulled away and got the camera right in your face before he leaned back a little bit to film your beautiful cunt taking him so well.

you yelped but quickly covered your mouth with your hands. he pout the camera in your face as he asked quietly, "so pretty. so good for me. i think about you all the time." he said almost sweetly.

you looked up at the camera, finding a moment to compose yourself before you said, "i love you."

he smiled down at you, the camera angled at your sweet cunt as he responded, "i love you too." he loved the feeling of your sweet cunt against him. he loved it so much. it made his heart leap in his chest at the idea of being able to fuck you.

usually he liked to tease his cock between your heavy breasts, but that would have to wait for another night. for now he just got a good shot of them bouncing as he fucked you. a half-assed mating press just to get to your pussy.

he could feel the heat burning in your core as he fucked you. you felt so good, were you always this good for him. or maybe the rush of today's race was what kept you bouncing on his cock like a good girl.

it wasn't long before you covered your mouth once more and shakily exhaled against your trembling hands. it all felt so good and it made you run hot all over. it was so sweet, it was so good.

carlos almost dropped his phone from the mere pace that he was fucking you in. his heavy breathing heard on the camera paired with your sweet little moans. it was hot, it made carlos' brain run a mile a minute.

with a few more bucks of his hips, he pushed himself all the way inside of you to finish. your voice got high pitched as you came as well, but kept your hands over your mouth to keep yourself quieter.

"there. you'll be having this again soon." carlos said to the camera. to his future self. he ended the video and like a gentleman he helped you start to get yourself dressed.

carlos gave one last squeeze to your breasts and said softly when he sat next to you on the couch. curled up at your side, "we'll tell lando soon." then placed a kiss on your cheek.

that night after carlos' grand weekend he was out drinking with the rest of ferrari and mclaren. you had left early because the you were very tried from the day. carlos had suspicion that it might have been from your escapade earlier that day plus the race.

it was a lot for you. carlos didn't mind, even though he missed you.

he was talking to lando, treating him like a friend more so than a rival (he'd eventually be his brother-in-law, might as well get on his good side). they had a few drinks and carlos mentioned that he had something to send the other man.

"yeah, just message it to me, mate!"

carlos laughed and with his thick thumbs he didn't send the right video. what was supposed to be a stupid tiktok, was instead the 10 minute uncut video of carlos fucking you. lando's sister. before he realized what he had done, lando's eyes were the size of dinner plates on the screen.

"uh... mate... carlos." lando said when he was able to find the words. he turned his screen to the other driver. the thumbnail wasn't the stupid meme, but rather a shot of your pussy on full display.

carlos' eyes went wide, realizing that he sent the wrong video. he chuckled nervously and said, "let me explain myself, mate!" he knew he'd be hearing about this for months from both norris siblings.

but, at least you didn't have to keep it a secret anymore. <3

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soov · 2 months

Text

𔓕　CUSTOM-MADE。ㅤ𝓨ang 𝓙ungwon

（命）fem reader 、15OO words　fluff ⋄ college au, fashion student ! jungwon, situationship　─　kisses, suggestive (?), pet names。

“Do you like it?”

The black pen that was being spun around between Jungwon’s fingers stopped its movements as he held it with a bit too much force. He tilted his head towards you and chuckled sweetly, “Love it, even. Give me a twirl?”

Doing as he requested, you smiled bashfully like every other time you tried on his pieces. “Feels a bit awkward to breathe in this shirt, Won. The right side’s too tight.” You took wary steps towards him, fiddling with the ends of the miniskirt carefully so as not to prickle your finger with the pins.

He hurried to your side with his measuring tape in hand, “Really? It looks perfect on you.” Jungwon frowned, worrying more about your comfort than having to redo the shirt.

“Yeah, but I don’t think you need to adjust it.” You commented as his tape encircled your ribs. You had to suck in a breath when he playfully squeezed your side to ease you up. “Did you wash it? The cotton could’ve shrunk.”

“Mm, yeah, I did. Must be it.” He nodded and wrote down your measurements before approaching you again with a cheeky grin.

Jungwon grabbed your hands into his soft ones and guided you to the studio’s mirror. “Look at you.” He went behind you so you’d have a better view of yourself. “You look so beautiful in this set.”

And he wasn’t lying when he said that. He had been working on the beige blazer, plaid skirt, and snug shirt for the past few weeks. Jungwon felt incredibly happy with the outcome and how it fits your body; after all, he knew it like the back of his hand, and it would be surprising if something — apart from the minor washing incident — went wrong.

”You’re flattering me too much, Won. You should be proud of yourself first.” Staring at your attire, you did your best not to react to how he wrapped you up in his arms, his broad chest glued to your back.

“Oh, I am. I’m getting better, right? But I’m not flattering you enough.” Jungwon spoke lightly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You look stunning. It would be a sin not to praise how gorgeous you look in it.”

You looked away from the mirror at how vocal the fashion student was. It was common to see him make a few nice comments and go back to grumbling about how he should’ve used a different kind of fabric, not kiss the ground you walked on.

His caresses, on the other hand, were too familiar, even when you two were stuck in a weird friendship with lover benefits. You didn’t mind it when one of you snuck a quick kissing session between his sewing and clothing adjustments, which also seemed to be his subtle plan for the day.

Jungwon dipped his curved nose to your neck, right before the collar of your blazer started, “I have a new project for my next class. Might make you that dress you wanted so much.” The boy mumbled, lazily pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck.

Holding the strong arms that were around your stomach, you tilted your head back to give him more access and gasped, “Really? You’re not joking, right?”

”Of course not.” He let out a small laugh and the sound reverberated against your skin. His plump lips pressed to the sensitive spot under your ear for a few seconds before pulling away. “You’ve been my model since senior year, I need to start making more of the clothes you want.”

The promise was so simple and stupid, but you still turned to latch yourself onto him.

“You’re the best, did you know that?” You cupped his cheeks and pecked his whole face, to which he replied with a satisfied hum.

After your kisses landed on every possible place but his favorite one, Jungwon raised his index and meekly tapped his mouth. “Missed a spot, doll.” He reminded with his eyebrows raised.

His tap on his lips made you laugh, happiness bubbling inside you. Jungwon didn’t even bother to move his eyes elsewhere when you caught his gaze, maintaining eye contact for as much as possible.

You took a moment to drink in the sight of him as he did to you. His bangs fell perfectly just above his eyes, and his mouth curled up in a small beam. He looked so cute when he was excited — you could see the stars in his irises just from knowing he’d get a kiss. Unhurriedly, you leaned in, your hands still cradling his face, and pressed your lips to his.

The act was tender and quite desperate, but there was no one to blame except the three weeks when the boy had been cooped up in his studio. Jungwon’s lips were so sweet that you swore you were going to get a cavity just from the kiss.

He was getting so lost into you, nearly whining as his hands squeezed your body, head dizzy. But then, almost as if afraid of crossing an invisible line, Jungwon pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His eyelids were still closed, his breathing uneven, and you could feel his nervousness in the way he held you.

“Relax,” you soothed despite digging your fingers into his strong triceps.

He responded with another hum, his palms slipping under the fabric of the shirt he had made, his fingers brushing against your warm skin. The tailor trailed his mouth along your cheeks, up to your temples, the sensation littering your skin in goosebumps.

You felt his hot breath on the side of your face as he mumbled, “You’re everything to me.”

Truth be told, he wanted to be yours, needed you, but didn’t dare to voice it. The fear of crossing the line, of changing everything, held him back. Instead, he let his actions speak for him.

Repeatedly, Jungwon pecked you and leaned back with a kissy face. Then, with a soft chuckle, he spoke, “I guess I should finish adjusting the shirt.”

“Yeah, you should,” still a bit dazed from the kiss, you agreed, though part of you wished you could stay like this forever.

As he went back to work, measuring and pinning with a focused look on his face, you couldn’t help but feel the urge to touch him. You moved closer again, your fingers brushing against his as he adjusted a pin. Jungwon glanced up, catching your loving eyes on him.

He smiled, a soft and genuine smile that made you feel like the luckiest person in the world. ”Thanks for being my muse,” he said quietly.

You took in the sight of him so close, his features soft in the dim light of the studio. The curve of his nose, how his thick eyebrows arched highly, and his feline-like eyes that crinkled with his beam, all didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Jungwon…” You whispered, not even sure what you wanted to say. No words felt adequate.

“I…” The tailor began, but his tongue seemed to fail him too. Instead, he cupped your jaw with his nimble fingers, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin in a gesture so tender it made your heart ache.

There were so many things you wanted to say, try and ask why you didn’t just get together, or why you were being so hesitant, but it was obvious that none of you had the answer for it.

While you leaned into his touch, you murmured a question, “What are we doing?”

Jungwon’s thumb stilled on your cheek as he pondered over your puzzle. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “I... seriously don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Jungwon’s palm slid from your cheek to your neck, creating a path down to your collarbone. The touch was almost imperceptible, however, your breath hitched at the sensation. He seemed to be remembering the feeling of you after being too busy with his projects.

Your own hands moved on their own accord, one slipping to the nape of his neck, the other resting on his chest, feeling the quick beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Neither of you spoke, but you could sense how the other wanted to open their mouth and address the elephant in the room.

Finally, unable to stay quiet any longer, your lips brushed against his once more in a kiss, filled with all the emotions you couldn’t put into words. Jungwon let out a soft groan, his hands tightening on your lower waist as he tugged you closer.

It was different from the previous one — not as urgent, but an attempt to communicate wordlessly. The boy backed you into sitting on his desk, knocking some of his precious utensils off to make you space and ensure your comfort. In all honesty, he couldn’t care less about them.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. Jungwon’s pupils were completely blown, his gaze holding yours in a silent question.

You smiled, fingers brushing through his messy hair. “We’ll figure it out,” you assured, “one piece of clothing at a time.”

Jungwon nodded with an amused laugh at your dumb joke. “Yeah,” he agreed softly. “One piece of clothing at a time.

STiCKY NOTES ⋄ i am NOT gonna lie i got too carried away with the word count (didnt even proofread this bai)

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