#damn my hands look so childish in this picture

[beloved-nyx]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 “𝐁” 𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 !

ᝰ.ᐟ Why does it feel like someone’s following your every move?

જ⁀➴ STARRING: 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 (𝐂𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍) 𝐱 𝐆𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

જ⁀➴ CONTENT: stalking, suggestive, reader is in college, reader is insecure, nothing to bad ??, not proofread (we die like kings), soft yandere (?), nothing graphic, mentions of jealousy and clinginess

જ⁀➴ FORMAT: 1.3k words, full fic

જ⁀➴ AUTHORS NOTE: This is my third time writing yandere ahhh! Anyway, it's been so long since I wrote something!! Um enjoy <33 also damn...reader really going through it.

“There,” You mutter under your breath. “Finished.”

You balance precariously on a wobbly stool, hands parting from a sleek, black camera. A security camera, to be precise. 

You would have never thought of putting a camera in your apartment, not because you were naively dumb, but because you had thought you lived in the safer part of the city. Friendly neighbors always alerted you when suspicious people even lingered next to your doorstep, but also because you were broke. Broke, broke, broke. 

Your rent was taking up more of your money than your groceries were. It had taken weeks of splurging on food to even be able to afford a security camera, much to your disdain. You were living on leftovers, and you were getting sick of week-old Chinese takeout. 

Stepping off the stool, you admire your handiwork, cringing at how gaudy it looked in your minimalistic (or in much harsher words, bare) apartment room. 

Your phone dings softly, and as you pick it up, you grin at the name displayed on your notifications. Caelan. 

Caelan is your crush. Your cheeks seem to grow hotter at even admitting it in your thoughts. You felt like some highschool kid, even using the word “crush.” But Caelan did that to you, you guess. Make you feel childish and absolutely hopeless, and sometimes you wish he knew that. But then again, if he did, you would probably self-destruct on the spot. You were fine with admiring Caelan from afar. 

Heard what happened U ok?

Ahh. That. 

The very reason you put that gaudy camera in your apartment in your first place. 

It had been a month ago, when you first saw the signs of someone breaking into your house. You were doing laundry, a perfectly normal thing to do on a Friday night while your friends were getting drunk and partying at a local club. Some of your underwear was missing, but you had chalked it up to your own clumsiness.

But then you saw the note, and everything changed. Written sloppily, penmanship atrocious. You had thought that the person was just bad at writing-but in hindsight, he must have used his less dominant hand to write it. Biting your cheek, you read it, and you wished you hadn’t. 

It was the most perverse, disgusting thing you had ever read. That night, you couldn’t even sleep, scared that the unknown intruder-stalker would come.

The next day, the stalker sent you pictures of you doing the most mundane things. Sleeping, eating, studying, doing laundry, and even changing.

You immediately called the police on the next day, when a bouquet of roses showed up on your doorstep. The police had said, “We’ll look into it.” 

They never did. 

It led you to ask for help from a friend, and you instantly regretted it. Because the next day, the whole campus learned of your supposed stalker. And even though their sympathetic, “You okay?” made you feel a little bit more safer, a little more secure in your tiny world, it still made you embarrassed, scared too. 

You type in a quick, I'm fine! And then wonder if you should put an emoji after that. After spending an embarrassingly long minute of deciding if you should, you just send it with no emoji. 

That’s good.  If you need anything just call me.

…

A few days pass by, and still no stalker appears on the camera footage. At first, you’re elated. But then another few days pass, and you feel silly. Maybe there was no stalker, maybe you were being overdramatic-but even then, those pictures? The note? You shiver. You hear a knock on the door, and turn to the noise, a small hum escaping your lips.

Must be the delivery man. You had ordered some new textbooks for college. You walk towards the door, and twist the knob. 

Caelan smiles, pale fingers holding a bouquet of roses. He wears a black turtleneck, gray pants and a black dress coat. You, on the other hand, were wearing your pajamas. 

If you could melt in a puddle, you would have. You wished you were buried in a pit. You wanted to be flung into space. Your cheeks were burning hot. You must look like a mess. Is it too late to be flung into space? 

“C-Caelan. What brings you…uh, here?” You cringe at your words. 

“For you, of course.” He laughs, taking a rose from the bouquet and putting it behind your ear. “I just wanted to check up on you. I hope I wasn’t intruding on anything, like your beauty sleep,” He muses, eyes wandering towards your pajamas. 

You never wanted to turn into a puddle so badly. 

“Hah-no, I just woke up!” You lie, ignoring the way he cocks his head to the side skeptically. Ignoring the fact that it's three p.m. 

“You should’ve called…I would’ve,” You gesture towards your clothes, “y’know, prepared.” 

“Oh shit!” His eyebrows furrow, a hand yanking at a loose black strand of hair that escaped his braid. “I’m sorry, I was just so worried–”

“No, no it’s fine!” You hate the way you sound-so, so desperate. “Um, do you want to come inside? I’ll go change and then we can talk.” 

You lead him inside, ignoring the fact of how oddly happy he is to be inside your home. 

…

After Caelan and you became official, he started to change. Slowly, like how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly. 

He became more clingy, and at first you thought it cute. You loved the way he doted on you, liked how he curled up into you in the mornings when he stayed at your home (more often than not) and begged you to stay in bed for just a few minutes. 

But he also became more jealous. Whenever you were next to someone, he always hovered close by, a suffocating presence that almost drowned you. Always insisted on going wherever you went. 

You sit on the couch, nestled closely next to Caelan. He hums softly, hands nestled under your shirt as you watch some shitty rom-com. A masterpiece. You called it. Caelan had raised a brow at that, but didn’t say anything except for a snort. You had elbowed him in the stomach after he jokingly (?) insulted one of your favorite moments. 

“‘m gonna get some water,” he mumbles, hands retracting from your body and making you feel cold. You whine at the sudden coldness, complaining about how you might die of hypothermia if he doesn’t come back soon. He scoffs at that, planting a kiss on your temple as he walks into the kitchen. 

And leaves his phone. 

You pick it up, grinning. Your intent was clear. Take a silly photo of yourself and make it his wallpaper. A perfect, opportune moment. 

You open the camera app, successfully taking a horridly candid shot of yourself, before curiosity takes a hold of you. You open the photo app, scrolling through his photos. Most of it was just pictures of landscapes, before you stop. 

A picture of you sleeping, drool leaking from your mouth. 

You stop, before groaning. Did you really look like that when you slept? You scrolled some more, before stopping again. Blood running cold. 

Was that a picture of you changing?

You frantically scroll through more photos, and with horror realize that most resemble the photos that your stalker took. You would never forget how disgusting you felt, at how you felt like your privacy had been breached. 

You choke down a scream, eyes wide and hands shaking. 

And then you feel something-a hand, on your shoulder. Tight enough to bruise, and tight enough to secure you in place. 

“Oh.” A single word escapes Caelan’s lips, and you turn. You can see your own, frantic expression in his black eyes. Black eyes that you thought were beautiful. 

“So you saw them, hmm.” It wasn’t stated as a question. No, it was a statement. A fact, indisputable. The most horrible part was that he wasn’t even trying to deny them. 

“Well, isn’t this cute?”

©beloved-nyx. do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[jollyimposter]

I took pictures with Red Plushie from Rainbow Friends.

Here’s me choking him.

[msbigredmachine]

Checkmate - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

The new Smackdown GM reminds the Tribal Chief who’s boss, in more ways than one. The aftermath of the highly entertaining WrestleMania 40 Press Conference.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning: Smut

Click here if you want to be on my tag list. If I’ve forgotten anyone please let me know so I can add you.

-----

Answer your fuckin phone.

She's been expecting his text message, to add to the half-dozen missed calls he's already deluged her phone with. His WrestleMania plans were thrown into disarray tonight and for some reason he thinks she has something to do with it.

Too bad she doesn't give a fuck what he thinks.

I'm calling you one more time. You better pick up.

So bossy. Always has been. But he knows damn well who the boss really is. When her phone springs to life again with his beautiful face snarling at her through the screen, she rolls onto her back with a heavy sigh, smooths down her oversized t-shirt and presses the green button, waiting to hear his deep voice on the other end of the line.

"What the fuck, Joy!"

Damn. Even when he's pissed, he sounds sexy as hell; it's the same menacing timbre he adopts when he's folding her up and turning her out. The memory makes her hot between her thighs.

"Reigns." Her voice is calm and steady despite the thumps of her heart, calling out to him even when she doesn't want it to.

"Why was Cody there tonight? Hmm?" he demands, his temper simmering beneath his words. "I coulda sworn he agreed to step aside for Dwayne. Why he change his mind? Did you have something to do with it? What'chu say to him, huh?"

She extends her left hand to inspect her ombre-colored acrylic nails. "Calm your tits. I don't control Cody's actions, I'm Smackdown's GM, not Raw's. He won the Rumble and he has the right to choose who he wants."

"Don't patronize me, Joy! Rock and I were a done deal!"

"You sound tense, Reigns. Paranoid, even," she smirks, "Worried you can't beat the American Nightmare a second time? Besides, you heard the fans...they wanna see you and him-"

"Bullshit!" he cuts her off. "This wasn't about no fans. You wanted this and I know why. You saw the pictures of me and Venita over Christmas and you been in your feelings ever since."

It's a predictable, childish response, and though there's some truth to it, she dismisses its immature delivery. "What you do with your bitch is your business. You are marrying her, after all," she says coolly, hearing him bristle at the other end.

"See? We ain't had a civil conversation since those photos got out. I know exactly how you feel about her, so tell me I'm lying."

"Don't ever question my ability to separate business from pleasure. You are walking proof of that," Joy warns him. "My problem is with you questioning my authority, with your silly little threats and your temper tantrums. You did it leading up to the Rumble and I'll be damned if I let it happen again. In case you forgot, I run Smackdown now. You work for me. The Mania match is scheduled, so your ass better show up in Philly, you understand me?"

A long, tense moment crawls by.

"Are you done?" he says, sounding bored.

"No. Whatchu gon' do about it?" Joy challenges.

"You looked hot as fuck in that dress tonight."

She rolls her eyes. Of course he deflects. But it's not going to work this time. She wants him to feel as frustrated as she has been over the last couple of months. "Ain't your fiancée over there with you?" she retorts, her tone clipped and snarky.

"She's in the Hamptons. And even if she was here, that ain't never stopped us anyways," he calls her out.

"Whatever." As flippant as she's tried to be about it, she is growing tired of the same old song and dance between her and Roman. She's allowed him to juggle her and Venita, and she blames herself for not leaving him alone when he chose to stay with her. Perfect, pretty little naive Venita. The IG influencer extraordinaire whose only two cares in life are her follower count and the picture-perfect aesthetics of the 'Roman & Venita' brand.

Whatever helps her sleep at night, I guess.

Joy had wondered just how perfect they really were the first time she saw the couple backstage in the Thunderdome, with Venita looking bored as hell the entire time she was there. It was clear that she had no interest in Roman's world, and Joy told him just that. Certain she would be fired on her first day for opening her big mouth, he had merely laughed and agreed, and it was then she found out she was his producer for the upcoming Bloodline saga. Onscreen, they created magic with the now legendary Tribal Chief storyline, but the magic they soon began making behind the scenes and between the sheets was even better and way too hot for TV.

She's never had time to be ashamed of inserting herself in someone else's relationship, mainly because her career has accelerated to the top of WWE's creative hierarchy. Plus, she's not about to give up such great sex, not with a stroke game that superb and a libido as high as her ambitions. Sometimes she wishes she doesn't have to share him, but she accepts that she can't have it all. After all, she already lords over the A-show as Smackdown's General Manager, meaning she is virtually unstoppable now, with money, power, and most importantly, the balls of the biggest star in the industry in the palm of her hand. Literally.

But he's pissing her off right now.

"Look, I want us to talk. Come see me." He's turned on the charm but Joy refuses to fall for it.

"What I want is an apology for your constant disrespect ever since I became GM," she replies, "I told you; I don't give a damn that we're fucking. Do not make an enemy out of me, Roman."

The Tribal Chief sighs heavily. "Look. You're right. Let me make it up to you. Come to my room so we can talk things out."

"No. You just want pussy."

"That too," he snickers.

Joy bites her lip as she idly circles her middle and ring finger over her pussy lips. She had no prior plans to touch herself, but listening to his deep, haughty voice has sparked a throbbing between her thighs that needs urgent attention. "Right. Well, I don't feel like leaving my room. This bed is way too comfy," she emphasizes.

"Mine is comfier. Are you alone?" he asks.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Woman, you better not be givin' my pussy to nobody else," he growls, making her laugh.

"You're hilarious. My pussy is mine and mine alone, no matter how good you beat it and eat it," she reminds him, her smile widening as she hears him taking deep breaths, trying to compose himself.

"I see that you get off on testing my patience. Does that turn you on, baby girl? Hmm? Does it make that pussy wet? I bet you wet right now." His voice drops an entire octave at that last part, and she bites her lip to keep from moaning when her slick honey pools around her fingers.

"I might be," she gasps.

"Then bring your ass over here and let me take care of it."

Joy huffs, determined to resist him for as long as she can. "I can take care of myself, Reigns. Matter of fact, I'm doing just that as we speak..."

"Aww, babe, don't be touchin' on my pussy without me," he grumbles. His frustration makes her grin in triumph. She holds all the cards and she's enjoying listening to him squirm.

"I wanna see you, beautiful. We ain't been together in so long. I miss you," Roman continues.

"Is that right?"

"Uh huh. Don't you miss me, Joy? Don't you miss this dick? It definitely misses you. Listen..."

The slippery, sticky sound that follows his words is unmistakable, and her heart pounds in her chest at his soft groan. The image of him lying in his bed, probably naked, jerking off to her, makes her stomach flip and her pussy spasm beneath her fingers. The tension crackles over the phone, simmering with the same intensity as though he were right there in person.

"Hear that, baby? That's how bad I need you. Come over." His silky-smooth whisper finally loosens the last thread of control she has held onto tightly up to this point. She knows that ultimately, she won't deny him...she never does because she can't, and he knows that.

"Gimme ten minutes," she relents.

"Make it five."

"I said, ten. Text me your room number." Cutting the call before he can respond, she leaves her bed and searches for a couple of accessories to wear. After a quick check in the mirror, she picks up her phone and sees he's already sent her his room number. The thought of what is about to transpire hastens her flight out of the room, the dead of night no match for her rapidly burning need for him. She has since accepted that she will always need him, too.

His door swings open seconds after she knocks, and a surprised yelp escapes her when he yanks her inside and tugs her flush against him. He is barefoot, in gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, and shirtless to show off the majesty of his massive, inked chest. Joy meets his loaded stare head-on as he drinks in her own appearance. She is in one of his old Nike hoodies that she swiped from him and never gave back, with the open zipper in the middle showing the swell of her breasts underneath. Long pastel-pink stockings run up to her brown thighs with gray Crocs on her feet. As his eyes crawl hungrily up and down her frame, her body thrums with realization at just how hard he is, his sizable erection poking her lower belly. Despite their back-and-forth, it's no mistake that she intoxicates him, and that power thrills her.

"Like what you see, champ?" she asks, staring him down for his response.

Roman's moan is ragged as he clamps his huge paw around her throat and covers her mouth with his, and she instantly melts in his arms, her nerves alight from his touch. She is swept up in the softness of his lips, the sweetness of his taste that contrasts erotically with his aggressiveness and the eager, hungry flicking of their tongues as the kiss heats up. He feels wonderfully warm and smells incredible like he always does.

Reluctantly, his mouth retreats from hers and he tucks his face in the hollow of her neck. He nuzzles his cheek against her skin and inhales the fragrance he's missed so much, her hushed moan caressing the depths of his senses.

"You a vindictive little bitch, you know that?" he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her throat.

"Only when I wanna be," she hums, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You musta loved watching me lose my cool tonight," he adds, "I saw the look in your eyes on that stage when I got into it with those two bums. That shit turned you on. Your nipples were hard through your dress. And I'm sure that pussy was soaked."

Truth be told, seeing his cool calm composure collapse, with his long hair flying and cocky countenance as he talked shit to Cody and Seth, made her so wet she had to run into a restroom stall to take off her panties, forcing her to go commando for the rest of the night. She'll never admit it though; she never likes to give him the upper hand. "How do you know?" she challenges.

"Cuz I know you. I know everything about your body, sweetheart," Roman brags, "I know what you like, and I know you love testing me cuz it makes me wanna fuck the attitude outta you."

"So what are you waiting for?" She licks her glossy lips, full and pouting, goading him with her bedroom eyes. But the Tribal Chief can feel her body trembling, betraying her bravado. This time he has the upper hand and he plans to exploit it.

He pulls her hoodie over her head and his eyes immediately drop to the thin beaded belly chain adorning her slender waist, accentuating her delicious curves. Desire gleams in his brown irises at the sight of her bare breasts, the fleshy mounds popping out at him, her nipples hard and aching for his touch. "Fuck, you're sexy," he murmurs. He massages each one then leans down to lick and suck on them, his tongue and hands working together to pleasure her.

"Ooh, that feels good," she moans, placing her hair behind her ear to get a good look at him feasting on her nipples. Ever the multitasker, he grabs her white lace thong at the hem, yanking impatiently until it rips from her body. Joy bursts out laughing at his savagery. "I knew you was gon' fuck up my panties," she jokes.

"I replace 'em, don't I?" He abandons her breasts and kisses her again, this time sliding both hands down to her round backside and lifting her up to press her against the wall. The friction of their bare chests pressed together, nipples grazing, her legs wrapping around his waist and bringing them even closer, builds the desire. He grinds his throbbing hardness against the open heat between her thighs, and she gets him back by reaching inside his sweatpants and grabbing his dick, stroking the turgid flesh as it jumps in her grasp. "Mmm, baby you're so hard. Put it in me," she orders.

"Not yet," he cuts her off, his huge biceps flexing as he carries her across the lavish suite. "Come over here, you little slut. Come suck my dick in front of this great view of the Strip."

Next to the expansive window is an L-shaped sofa large enough for a good trip to Pound Town. As he takes off his pants, Joy can't stop herself from drooling at his towering form. Six foot three, bronzed Adonis with chocolate eyes, luscious hair, massive and muscled and all man, with a long, hefty cock pulsing between those powerful thighs. He looks like a demigod in all his glory, and she venerates at the altar of his beauty.

Roman settles himself at the other end of the sofa and eyes her down with a smug smirk. Tucking his hands behind his head, he spreads his legs. "Crawl to me," he commands, his smirk widening when she advances towards him on all fours. Joy is a work of art, with nicely sized titties, round hips, thick, mouth-watering thighs and ass and that fat pussy he dreams about at least once a day. Every part of her is real and silky soft to the touch. It's been years since he first tasted her, and he is still drunk off it. She is a potent drug he can't wean himself off of, and frankly, he doesn't want to. He loves Venita, but for all her prowess in bed, she does not possess a fraction of the wild thrill that encapsulates the woman before him. He wants Joy, needs her like he needs to breathe, and he always will. He will seek his fiancée's forgiveness when that day comes.

Joy slowly slithers up the length of his body, ignoring his erection for now as she straddles him and plants a long, wet kiss on his mouth, the sound of their lips meeting and parting filling the suite. Her hands caress the tight muscles of his body, having memorized all the spots that make his breath quicken and his pulse spike. He puts his hands on her hips, but she seizes them and pins them above his head without breaking stride, laughing when he moans out with frustration. She catches his tongue as it slides into her mouth, and she proceeds to suck on it, her head bobbing like she is sucking his dick. Saliva quickly gathers around their joined mouths as she feasts on only his tongue. It's the messiest, sloppiest, hottest kiss they've ever shared, and the tension is reaching fever pitch as a result.

"You want me to suck your dick like this, baby?" Joy asks. When Roman nods, she tugs his lower lip between her teeth. "Say it," she orders, her fingers digging into his wrists. Her hips are rolling too, moving in a seductive, serpentine dance that short circuits every fiber of his being. He can't move even if he wants to; his senses are pinned down to the bed along with his body. The Tribal Chief is helpless, forced to endure the sweetest agony, with the head of his dick grazing her wet slit and driving him insane. An uncharacteristic whimper deserts his lips as his blood pumps with agitation.

"Yes," he responds breathlessly.

"What's the magic word?" Joy presses. The mocking smirk gracing her pretty features should infuriate him, but it only arouses him instead.

"Please," he concedes, knowing full well that she will drag out the torture until he succumbs. With a triumphant smile and one more intoxicating kiss, she finally takes pity on him and makes the descent down his heaving body, soothing his butterscotch skin with soft kisses. As she nears his groin, his eyes squeeze shut, and he takes deep breaths to remain focused.

"You think you're in control, toying with two women's lives." Joy shakes her head. "Hell no. I'm in control, Roman. I own you. You're mine to do with however I want. And you know the best part?"

She closes her mouth over the tip of him, giving it a gentle suckle before driving home her point. "Deep down, you love that shit."

Roman merely grins. The power has shifted back in his possession and she doesn't even know it. He shows her when he strikes with lightning speed, grabbing her and twisting her around so her legs are on either side of his head. Stunned, Joy grabs his thighs to steady herself, as he's already grabbing handfuls of her ass while using his tongue to part her lower lips. Her body jerks from the warm fat wetness of his tongue lashing around her sensitive crevices, softening her up with his saliva. Heady with desire, she just lays there with his dick in her hand, too overwhelmed to do anything else but moan with pleasure.

A sudden, stinging smack on her left ass cheek jolts her back to earth.

"You gon' suck me off or what?" Roman demands impatiently before refocusing on his own task.

Regaining her senses, her mouth engulfs his length, her head bobbing with her wrist twisting around the base. She cups his balls and rolls them in her other hand, making him groan wantonly. Her mouth is warm and her pouty lips are tight around him, sliding up and down with her tongue trailing saliva along his hard flesh. He retaliates by spreading her pussy open and holding her down on him, sucking and licking her folds with rapid strokes and enjoying her sexy throaty sounds that mingle with the sloppy slurps of his mouth on her. The increased pressure on her sensitive pussy has her moaning and squirming against his face, which in turn floods his tongue with her taste. His appreciative groans while licking her in rhythm with her rolling hips sends shivers down her spine.

Mustering all the strength she possesses, Joy frees herself from his clutches and crawls back down his body, her juices smearing a slick trail along his torso as she guides his length inside her with impressive quickness. She moans out loud as he fills her, her head tipping forwards as his big palms paw at the supple flesh of her backside. Roman groans at the wetness that welcomes his dick as it disappears into the warm canal of her pussy. "Yeah, fuck me good, baby girl," he growls, slapping her ass in encouragement.

Holding onto his ankles, she rocks up and down his erection, winding her hips with each drop down to take him as deep as she can. His husky moans and his tight grip on her waist empower her. Joy seizes every chance she can to turn him into putty in her hands. Because the motherfucker never likes to relinquish control, always determined to break her down into submission; whether it's with his God-gifted tongue, or his huge hands choking her, or with that big ol' dick, fucking her against the wall of her office, bending her over the table in his locker room at TV, or making her ride him in the bowels of his private jet. It's fun taking control from him and showing him who's boss, on the job and especially outside of it.

"You love it when I ride this big dick dontcha? Got you deep in this pussy just the way you like it," she purrs haughtily, upping the ante by reaching down to grip his cock.

The Tribal Chief realizes she's on demon time to be stroking his dick while riding him. She looks so sexy on top of him, in them pretty waist beads and stockings. Her thick hips roll back lavishly, her even thicker ass presses down on his pelvis, grinding and twisting and nudging him all the way up in her creamy pussy. Damn. He loves the way she fucks him. Baby girl has mad skills and a juicy pussy, and he is glad to be the one she uses them on. "Go faster, baby. Bounce on my dick," he cajoles, massaging her ass cheeks and groaning softly when she obeys, "Uh-huh, just like that, babe, unnnh..."

She can almost see the look of pleasure on his face. She can definitely hear him as he tugs at the soft flesh of her butt, lost to the depths of her warm wetness, in the erotic sounds of their sex noises and their slapping skin filling the big room as she bounces on his dick. Another moan escapes her, her head tilting back as he angles his hips to make his dick reach that oh-so-sweet spot inside her. He smacks her ass again, earning yet another whimper from her lips as her juices trickle down his length down to his balls. Her thighs are starting to burn from her efforts, but she can't stop, not when she's so close...

"Uhhhn baby, I'm comin'," she gasps, leaning back to rest her hands on his chest as she gyrates her ass on him. Roman's breathing is as heavy as hers, his fingers digging into her hips to steer her movements. The sensations are overwhelming as her walls contract around him, her pussy moistening as she leans forward again and rides him even harder. Seconds later, a flooding orgasm bursts inside her with such power that it wracks her entire body with tremors. Through the thick fog of numbing pleasure, she hears Roman's surprised grunt as her cum leaks all over his groin area.

"Damn baby, you nuttin' all over me. I knew you been needin' this dick," he taunts her.

Truth be told, she wasn't expecting to come this hard, but fuck it always feels so good when she does. "Oh my god," her voice trembles, her hand clutching the headrest to keep from collapsing in a heap.

Roman spanks her again. "I ain't tell you to stop. Keep goin'..."

"Hol' up, you got me shakin' so much," Joy groans, her thighs still quivering. He is still deep inside her, his dick throbbing impatiently inside the warmth of her tight walls.

"If I take this shit over, you won't be able to walk in the morning, that's a promise," he threatens.

"Then quit talkin' and do that shit," she bites back, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"A'ight then." He pulls her backwards on top of him, with her back to his chest. He grabs her legs and holds her up by her knees, thrusting upwards into her, reveling in her surprised yelp that quickly dissolves into loud moans. This new position feels so good that she's whining and making noises that only seem to turn him on as he strokes in and out of her pussy from underneath, making her body react and remind her exactly why she's not leaving his trifling ass anytime soon.

"Uhnnn yes, Roman, fuck me," she whimpers over and over, her mind spiraling, her eyes rolling back. He is relentless, pulling her legs further back and pounding her faster, sparking another intense orgasm. She squirts so hard that she's left dizzy and boneless, causing her to slip off his sweat-slick body, a shivering crumpled mess. She curls up into a fetal position and gives in to the intense euphoria of her release. With a proud snicker, the Tribal Chief caresses all over her body, then rolls her onto her stomach, spreading her thighs to observe the damage he's inflicted on her pussy.

"We ain't finished," he informs her, tapping his hard, slickened dick against her soaked, puffy folds. She tenses and arches her back on instinct, anticipating his invasion. He smiles behind her, grabs her hips, and drags her limp body up and onto his hard, waiting dick. The moans they exhale together is a symphony that serenades the pair as he continues his hard, deep thrusts. With her hips in the air and her backside in his calloused palms, she is at his mercy yet again, and her vision swims at the feeling of him practically in her spine. She knows just how deep that big ass dick of his can get inside her, but it never fails to wipe her mind blank when it does.

"Oh, fuck," she mumbles into the couch, her face sinking further in it as he drills into her hard and rough. It hurts so good that it's quite literally taking her breath away. "Shit, fuck Roman, wait, wait," she pleads, reaching behind to push his thigh and forcing him to halt his movements.

"Too much?" he asks, laughing as he presses gentle kisses along her spine, feeling her body shiver from the contact. "That's what you get when your pussy is so good. You was talkin' all that shit earlier, best believe I ain't lettin' up, baby girl. Who owns who now, huh," he says, swatting her ass and starting again.

"You're a cocky asshole," she moans shakily, defiance swirling in her lust-filled gaze.

Roman's smirk is diabolical and panty-wetting. "And don't you forget it. Now shut up and take this dick."

Joy winces as his hand curves around her throat, the other clutching her lower hip as he fucks her prone body into the sofa. She clings to the cushions and her sanity with everything she has, tears filling her eyes as he pummels her with hurried, lethal thrusts, making her ass jiggle and her pussy drip some more as she's dragged dangerously close to the precipice. He pushes the arch out of her back and flips her around, sliding right back inside before she can regain her bearings and dropping his body weight on her. His intoxicating cologne surrounds her as their mouths crush together in a hungry, toe-curling kiss. Incoherent moans leave them both as he rolls his hips against hers, nestling his dick right there, eking a sob out of her as she falls apart again.

"Aww, f-f-fuuuck..."

"I know baby, I know it feels so good," He kisses away her tears and then her cheek, his fingers curling over her breast in a light squeeze which in turn squeezes her walls around his pounding thrusts. "Mmm, this pussy so tight and wet. Keep comin' for me, baby, gimme all that nut."

His sultry command sends another wave of pleasure crashing into her like one of his trademark Spears, and her jaw drops from the force of her orgasm, her pussy clenching painfully around his dick. Her pitiful moans that she struggles to muffle against his tattooed shoulder are music to the Tribal Chief's ears as his own body is moments away from the same fate.

"Shit," he groans gruffly, shuddering breaths tearing from his lungs as his balls tighten and his strokes become sloppier, heavier, "Fuck, I'm boutta buss..."

Joy lifts her left leg up and rests it on his shoulder, digging her other heel in his lower back to pull him in deeper and finally take him down. She runs her hands all over his sides, his back, his ass, her moans mingling with his as his hips snap harder and faster. Their foreheads touch, and a devilish smile forms on her face at the helplessness in his glazed eyes, licking his lips in between throaty gasps of pleasure. She has him right where she wants him. "There you go baby, pound that fuckin' pussy, fill it up," she coaxes.

"Unhhh, shit," Roman's whines disintegrate into a whimpering cry as his big body trembles viscerally against her own. Joy's toes curl as he lodges his dick all the way inside her, making her feel each throbbing spurt of his warm seed spilling generously in her pussy. She never minds him coming inside her; her IUD is always in place, mainly for his benefit and hers. His deep, sexy grunts as he rides out his nut with stuttered ruts of his hips wash over her, leaving her breathless and weak-kneed for him.

Kissing her leg and letting it down, Roman finally pulls his dick out with a hiss and strokes out the rest of his cum onto her softened, battered pussy lips. Joy stares dazedly at the ceiling, her body humming from the last vestiges of her orgasm and a touch of pain. She feels his big arms slide around her waist and draw her in so their lips meet, savoring their collective taste with their tongues as they bask in the afterglow. He takes her arms and winds them around his neck before picking her up, transferring her from the sofa to the king-sized bed a couple of feet away. He lays her carefully on the bed and sits at the edge, watching her snuggle against the soft sheets and pillows with a satisfied sigh. The outdoor lights peeking through the window cast a glittery shadow over her nude body, making her look even more beautiful. And speaking of beautiful...

"I got you something," he announces, taking a small gift box labeled Van Cleef & Arpels sat on the nightstand and handing it to her.

"What's this?" she questions, slowly sitting up.

"Just a lil' sumn I thought you'd like," he simply shrugs. "Open it."

Eyeing him suspiciously, she unties the ribbon at the top of the box and removes the lid. Nestled in navy-blue velvet are an eighteen-carat yellow-gold Alhambra bracelet and matching earrings. She wishes she disliked the warmth that blooms inside her at the sweet gesture. She meets his eyes, noting his cocked eyebrow and cocky smirk as he gauges her reaction.

"This a good enough apology for you?" he asks.

Joy smiles gratefully and kisses his lips. "They're beautiful. But I keep telling you, you don't have to buy me anything," she says.

"Well, I want to. Sue me." He goes quiet for a few seconds, contemplating his next words. "You got tickets to the SuperBowl, right? Let's go together. We can hang out in my skybox."

"And have people talk about us? We got reputations to uphold. And what about Venita?"

"She'll be there. She's still clueless about us. And I told you, ain't nobody gon' say shit. Between your lawyer and mine, all them NDAs are water-tight." When he speaks again, his voice is much softer. "I just miss spending time with you. I miss when we weren't at each other's throats like we are these days."

"That's only cuz you make my job harder, Reigns," she points out, scooting over when he rolls into the bed and sits up against the headboard next to her.

"And you, mine. But despite all of that, I would do anything for you. You know that, right? That's why I agreed to that damn match. For you," he adds, biting his lip as he caresses her chin and gazes tenderly at her. Joy feels her heart flutter as his chocolate-colored eyes gleam with that familiar, intense passion that the two of them have been sharing for almost four years now...

"You're so cute when you get all soft and sweet on me, champ," she smiles, leaning in for another kiss that lingers pleasantly this time. It's little moments like these that try to con her, even to this day, that their affair has veered towards the romantic side. She thanks the cynical businesswoman in her for swiftly kicking that childish notion to the curb every time the delusion attempts to rear its ugly head.

Their embrace is interrupted by the grating sound of his phone vibrating, forcing him to pull away from her with a tired sigh. On the nightstand, a text message with Venita's name lights up his phone screen.

Countin the minutes till I touch down in Vegas 🥺😍 Can't wait to see you again! Love you Baby Boo 😘

"Aww, poor baby," Joy's giggle is dark and mocking as she looks over Roman's shoulder. Snatching the phone out of his hand, she opens up the message and begins typing.

"Don't start no shit, now," he sighs, but makes no move to stop whatever havoc she's causing through his device.

"Relax, Baby Boo," she teases, pressing Send and holding his phone up to his face to show him her response.

I'm waiting for you babe. Can't wait to see you 😍 Love you sm.

"See? I was nice," she says, putting away his phone and climbing on top of his big body.

Roman rolls his eyes and runs his hands along her thighs. "I guess I should thank you, then?"

"Oh, no need to thank me. I'm just being a good, caring boss," she replies, bending to kiss his lips, trailing her tongue along his bearded jawline and tasting her dried juices. "You're my star employee, so it's important that I always give you what you need. And I always give it to you, don't I?"

Roman groans into her mouth as she kisses him harder, her dainty fingers stroking his dick which immediately pulses in her grasp as though it hasn't been touched all day. "Yeah, you do," he rasps, his body heating up as she starts to descend on him. "Oh shit, baby, you feelin' generous tonight..."

"Mmm, more like selfish..." She sits all the way down with a gasp, making both their hearts race with each twitch of his cock inside her. "Cuz I want that dick again, and I'm taking it..."

She is already moving, hunched over him, her titties in his face, sucking them both back into that sensual place of pleasure they like to visit together. He answers to her, in more ways than one, and he won't have it any other way. "Anything you want, boss. Anything you want," the Tribal Chief croaks out, allowing himself to sit back and enjoy the ride, quite literally.

THE END

--------------

Please leave feedback/comments. I appreciate them as they help me improve my writing.

Thank you all so much for reading!

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[st7rns]

𝐋𝐈𝐏 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒, m. sturniolo

✿ IN WHICH, everytime matt messed up his girlfriend’s lip gloss

✿ WARNINGS, black!reader, fluff, swearing, kinda suggestive at the end??

✿ RORA SPEAKS, i hope ygs like this! ik it’s kinda short but i js wanted to write smth quick n easy and im a literal lip gloss addict so.

NO. 1

i’m standing in the mirror, layering my lips with my favorite pink lip gloss. my lips were already lined with my signature brown lip liner and the lip gloss just added the cherry on top. me and matt were going out today for lunch, so of course, i wanted to look good.

in the reflection of the mirror, i see matt walk into our shared room. “you look really pretty, baby” he compliments me which makes me smile and reply with a shy, “thank you.” even though me and matt had been dating for almost 6 months, he still made me nervous.

“so pretty i wanna kiss you” he leans in and gives me a sweet, but long kiss. i break away and pout, turning to look back to the mirror at my smudged lip gloss.

“matt!” i whine, “i literally JUST put this on.” i give him a stern look. he only laughs and wraps his arms around my waist from behind, “i’m sorry i just can’t help it when your lips look so damn kissable”

i roll my eyes in reply before reapplying my lip gloss and saying very seriously to matt, “that was your only chance of kissing me tonight, because i’m not about to be putting this back on a thousand fucking times”

matt unwraps his from around me to throw them in the air. “what the fuck? that’s not even fair!”

NO. 2

i was getting ready to record tiktok’s and take pictures because my hair looked good as fuck today and i didn’t want it to be for nothing. i add the final touch, lipgloss, before smiling at my reflection and heading to the triplets’ living room.

their living room literally has the best lighting in the whole house. i scroll through my saved tiktok sounds and land on nicki minaj’s black barbie song, the lyrics saying “i’m a fuckin’ black barbie. pretty face, perfect body.” and instantly smile and choosing it.

as i’m fixing my necklace so it fits just right, i hear the triplets walk through the front door. i lock eyes with nick first, who smiles at me “damn, you look fucking good!”

matt sets the fast food on the counter before looking me up and down, “my girl always looks good” he says proudly. chris snorts and mocks him in a childish voice before saying, “what the fuck did you expect? her to look bad?”

nicks punches chris in the arm, making him grab his shoulder in pain. “stop trying to start arguments cause you’re fucking miserable”

matt laughs and kisses me on the cheek, “she could never look bad” i smile and before i could say anything, he grabs my chin and kisses me on the lips. i immediately break away and groan, “matt, my lip gloss!”

“just put it on again” he shrugs, not even feeling bad. i throw my head back in annoyance, “it was the last of it! i can’t just put it on again” i grab my phone and storm off to the bathroom.

“you know i can just buy you another one?” i hear him yell but i ignore it and slam the bathroom door.

NO. 3

i’m laying on matt’s bed, scrolling through pinterest. we just got back from filming a car video, that lasted longer than usual because chris had to pee a hundred times. that kid needs to really stop drinking pepsi so much.

matt comes in the room, fresh out the shower. he lays down next to me and i can smell his cocoa body wash. i give him a soft smile as i run my hands through his hair. i can’t help but admire him. everything about him. his blue eyes. his pink lips. his stubble above his lips.

“what?” he laughs, staring back at me. i shake my head and quietly say “nothing. you just look so handsome right now” he smiles back at me and snakes a hand around my waist, pulling me closer.

he stares down at my lips before back up at my eyes. i feel him trace patterns on my waist. i look at his lips as well, which only gives him the confirmation he needs to kiss me. it’s a slow and sweet kiss but quickly turns heated, his tongue exploring my mouth.

he breaks away to gasp and cover his hand with his mouth, “i forgot about you’re lip gloss” he giggles. i laugh with him and playfully roll my eyes, “for the first time, i don’t give a fuck about my lip gloss,” i hook my leg around his waist and flip myself on top of him.

“now kiss me” i say against his ear. matt wastes no time connecting our lips and dropping his hand to my ass, squeezing the plump skin.

[hanniedream]

Hi there, i was thinking “will you please just come back to bed?” with Cheol? I can only picture his big brown eyes staring back at you while saying that 🥺

cheol and his big, wet, brown, baby cow eyes will be the death of us all!

seungcheol flips his body over then jumps up from bed when his hand touches the cold sheets instead of you.

"is it 6am already?" he thinks as he unlocks his phone, squinting at his bright screen to see that it's almost 2am. he clearly remembers you coming to bed with him and him holding you tightly in his arms just a few hours before but now your side of the bed is empty.

he staggers out of the bedroom with his messy bed head and groggy eyes to search for you and finds you sitting in front of your laptop with only a small desk lamp lighting up the corner of the office. there's paper scattered all over the table and you're so focused on the screen that you don't even notice him standing at the door.

"why aren't you in bed?" you jump at the sound of his raspy voice.

"i just need to make sure i have everything ready for the presentation tomorrow," you quickly type something on your keyboard, not sparing him even a glance.

"it's already 2am, you have to be up in 4 hours." he nags and you don't even have to look at him to know there's a pout on his lips. "will you please just come back to bed?"

"i know cheol, but this is important. i have to make sure i'm prepared." you keep typing away, "i'll go to bed in a bit."

he walks towards you and the sound of his bedroom slippers dragging across the wooden floor fills the room. he stops when he reaches the table, "how can you be focused at work if you don't get enough sleep."

"i'll be done soon, i promise."

he continues standing there, sulking with his arms folded across his broad chest, watching you work.

"go back to sleep, cheol." you tell him, "i can't concentrate with you staring at me."

"good," he leans down until his face is right above your screen and he's looking at you through his long lashes with his big brown eyes. "then you can stop working and come back to bed."

you laugh at his childish antics then sighs dramatically, "if i don't do well on this one i might lose my job."

"that's fine. i think i make enough to support you anyway." he pushes your screen down until your laptop closes, "and you already know my money is yours."

you throw a playful, flirty look his way, "are you saying you want to be my sugar daddy?"

"if that's what you want to call it," he shrugs nonchalantly but there's a clear smirk on his lips.

"i'm not going to live off you," opening your laptop up again with a chuckle and a shake of your head. "i don't want to be a freeloader."

he moves behind you. "you won't be a freeloader," wrapping his strong arms around you and resting his chin on the top of your head. "your job will be to stand next to me and look pretty and you're already doing a pretty damn good job at it."

you spin around to give him a smack, "that's not a real job and you know it."

he laughs as he rubs at the spot on his arm you just hit, "it is in my book. my hr will be in contact with you."

[lxmine]

can i request how diluc, xiao, scara, cyno and tighnari confess to the reader?

❝i love you.❞ + diluc, xiao, wanderer, cyno, tighnari x gn!reader

+. fluff

+. summary ; them confessing to you

+. A/N YES NONNY I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT THANK YOU SO MUCH MWA MWA MWA and I JUST KNOW TIGHNARI ALSO ONOWS VARIOUS LANGUAGE JUST LIKE AL HAITHAM TOO, NOT MANY AS AL HAITHAM BUT U KNOW HE’S A SCHOLAR TOO HE’S GOTA KNOW OTHER LANGUAGES TOO

wanderer

sitting somewhere in vanarana, you didnt know such place existed, though you couldn’t see the children of the forest, you could still feel their presense near. kuni insisted on taking you here. you chuckled as kuni bashfully took the flower crown off him, but you kept on placing it in his head. “stop, this is so childish.”

“you look beautiful!” you complimented, cupping his cheeks making him look at you but he avoided eye contact. he sighs, how can such a mortal he calls his friend make him feel like this. though without a heart, he could feel something beating fast in his chest, he doesnt understand.

he clears his throat. if you were to embarass him, he too shall embarass you. confused when he so suddenly grabbed your face closer to him. “i… i’d destroy teyvat for you.” he says with a faint blush on his face. “if you are ever to be taken away from me… i’d gladly be the villain again.” he says softly caressing your face.

you smile painting your face. “is this your way of telling me you like me?” you chuckled letting go of his face, letting him just jold you. “wow, you’re not too dumb to not notice.” he jokes looking at your face. “i’d do anything for you, if you ask me.” he smiles, slowly leaning closer and closer. “kuni…” you whispered as your lips touched his.

“arapacati thinks it’s a happy ending!” says the aranara who’s beside them. “arakavi thinks arapacati should cover arapacati’s eyes.” arakavi says peeking over to the two lovers and then covering his eyes once again.

cyno

sitting at the tavern along with tighnari, kaveh and al haitham while cyno pours out drinks for kaveh. they both seemed drunk already. and cyno really does seem different while he’s drunk. “you know, you know al haitham?” asks cyno while a hand placed on kaveh’s shoulder. al haitham beside you gives them a side eye.

“of course, he’s my roommate after all.” kaveh chuckles. “oh god, i regret joining. they are so embarassing.” says tighnari who’s already dying of embarassment. “why is he always so close with yn!? are they together or something?!” cyno slams his fist on the table making you, tighnari, and kaveh startled.

“you know, you should keep your boy in line kaveh! i’m telling you, the next time i see him so close with them again… i… i will gut him!” he says giving the table another slam. “holy shit, cyno can you stop doing that, my ears are sensitive you know!” tighnari complains kicking the general under the table, but cyno’s eyes are glued to you. and you’re a blushing mess too.

“oh there they are. hello yn.” he smiles giving you a wave. al haitham chuckling beside you. “you, green man! get off, they’re mine okay?” says cyno standing up from his seat, swiftly pushing al haitham off. “yn~ i love you so much.” he mumbles clinging onto you. “im so glad i bought this kamera.” al haitham says before snapping a picture to black mail the mahamatra.

diluc

diluc didnt know what to say nor how to react. looking at you smiling at him unapologetically. “how… how the hell are you even smiling right now?” he asks sternly, looking at you with an intense glare making you feel really scared. “look, i’m sorry okay? it’s just… i thought i was of help so i jumped into the scene!” you explained.

“havent i told you to not act so impulsive!? look where that got you!? you almost fucking died!” oh no, diluc is cussing. that’s when you know you messed up real bad, because he too is screaming now. “i told you to stay back, protect yourself from harm while i do my damn job. i could’ve lost you!” he says almost in tears slowly walking over to you.

falling onto his knees in front of you. “‘luc… why do you even… worry so much?” you asked placing a hand on his cheek. he looks at you with his adoring gaze. “i would have thought you caught on by now.” he chuckles, holding your hand that is caressing his cheeks and kisses your palm. “i love you, yn. i always will.”

he held your hand tightly but softly, as if you’d slip away from his grasp the moment he lets go. “i love you, so please? i know your will to help, i adore that. but i don’t wanna lose you.”

tighnari

“wrong.” he chuckles looking at you work on your sumerunian essay. you aren’t from sumeru after all and just moved 3 months ago and still working on the language of sumeru. gladly tighnari became your friend as soon as you moved in to gandarva ville and he also knew how to speak your native language.

“huh?! but isnt this how people confess!?” you asked looking at your paper. “your worded it literally, you have to change some words in order to make it look appealing, don’t just short cut it. how do you say my darling you are so beautiful?” he asks, leaning his cheeks onto his palms as he watched you think. a smile painting his face as he watched. “jamil habibi!” you said proudly.

“close but not quite. it’s habibi ant jamilat jidana. you short cut it again.” he flicks your forehead lightly. “hey.” he calls, looking at him with a small pout. “Je vous aime.” he says which means i love you in fontaine. “i think i’ve heard that before. let me get my fontaine dictionary.” you said taking out a huge book out of your bag. “go on, i’ll wait.” he smirks

(i just got these translations from google translate idk how to speak french and arabian pls T-T)

xiao

“i see you collecting trinkets here and there, i didn’t know you’re one to be fond of them, xiao.” zhongli smiles as he looks at the yaksha from behind. it is surely a surprise that the yaksha has come to liyue harbor without any occasion. “re- mr. zhongli… i actually came by to see you…” he asked hesitantly. “would you wanna talk it over some tea? it helps with calming down, helps you express yourself more too.” he smiles.

now there the two are, inside wangsheng funeral parlor. “i believe people would call this as love, xiao.” zhongli smiles at he looks at the yaksha. “am… am i even capable of having such feelings? am i deserving of it?” he asks playing with the but butterfly shaped crystal on his hand. “of course.”

“even the evilest of creatures has one they love. don’t be harsh on yourself, child. everyone is deserving of love.” zhongli puts a hand on his shoulder. “i suggest you face it. love is a beautiful thing, it’s special. don’t waste it.”

and now here he sits outside your home at the shade of your tree while he ate almond tofu. he admires you while you looked through the stylish box of trinkets he had given you. “why don’t you just put it in a simple box, it’s much more easier that way.” you chuckle as you put the small compass necklace inside the jewelry box.

“it’s because it’s special.” you smiled taking out another one, this time, a hair pin that seemed to be from inazuma. “how so, they’re just things i found from the wilderness. i thought… you’d like them because i see you collect stuff like that.” he looks away before munching in the last bite of his almond tofu. “it’s special because it’s from you, xiao.”

gosh that look on your face. it makes his heart beat fast and his cheeks go warm. “love is bothersome.” he grumbles, earning a chuckle from you. “but then i guess, if it’s you whom i’ll love… i don’t mind.”

RAAAAGGGGHHHG OMG I JUST MADE A BOUQUET OF PAPER FLOWERS IM SO NERVOUS I GOT DARED TO GIVE IT TO THE PERSON I LIKE T-T

[oldfashioned-lovergirl]

Can I suggest a lewis hamilton fic where the reader is their teammate they've basically been through through thic and thin and they have an argument abt lewis not tell you abt going too ferrari and they confess their feelings and let their frustrations through sex??? (( THIS IS LITERALLY SOO MUCH TOO ASK FOR SO UF YOU CAN WRITE IT ITS FINEEE)) - anon 🌺

lost in the fire — LH44 x reader

cw: switching control, sexual tension, angry sex, dirty talk, age gap

note: first ff I write in a while, please y’all be kind with my english :3 hope you like it, I thirst way too much for this man

masterlist

The way the evening is ending is making you nervous and you’re not very good at hiding it. Well, you didn’t expect to discover the worst news possible in the middle of the after party of a fashion show in Paris and above all you didn’t expect to hear that from a stranger and not from the person concerned. Such person concerned is now driving you back to your Paris hotel because according to him you are “too upset” to take your own car.

Now, while you’re looking outside the window without saying a word, you hope he told someone to take your car to the hotel, or you swear to God you’re gonna scream to his face. You want to scream to his face so bad.

The city night lights are magical but you can’t think about anything that isn’t what you had just discovered. The atmosphere is awkwardly silent. Lewis is keeping his sight straight on the road, hands on the wheel. His profile is a picture you know way too well. It’s obvious he wants to say something. Anything.

“You know we’re still gonna see each other every week, right?”

“That’s not the point.”

He lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

“Then what do you wanna talk about?”

“Nothing.” You miss the awkward silence.

You already had arguments during your friendship/coworking/whatever that is, but never like that. That’s different. You feel hurt.

He finally reaches the hotel. He can’t stop right in front, so he parks in the next street. You open the door.

“I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to.”

He gets out of the car anyway. You’re not surprised he’s acting like a gentleman even when you’re so angry you could punch him. “It’s 2 AM and I won’t leave you alone.”

You walk alongside him, trying not to look at his open jacket. The fact that he’s wearing absolutely nothing under it isn’t helping. Damn this man and his impeccable fashion sense. “You weren’t so kind when you lied to me about your new contract.” At this point you don’t even care if people hear you argue.

“I didn’t lie.”

“Oh right, you just forgot to tell me.”

“I was going to.”

“When? When you’re already driving a Ferrari car? Don’t worry I’m not colourblind.” Great, now you reached the point where you can’t keep your mouth closed. And he’s following you to your room because he’s just like you, he has to have the last word.

“Soon. And stop using that sarcastic tone with me, I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Of course, my bad, you’re always right about everything. You’re so selfish and childish, running away from the things you love just because you’re scared.” You ask yourself if you’re provoking him too much. No, he deserves that. You’re about to open the door with the electronic key when he takes you wrist and pulls you away. He stands right between you and the door, preventing you from getting in. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m not scared, I don’t like to be ignored. You are the selfish one here, not trying to see things from my point of view. You think it’s so easy for me?” He’s raising his tone. He never did it with you and now you find yourself holding back the tears. “You can’t even imagine what does it mean to leave my team, to leave my friends, to leave… you. But I can’t stay anymore, it’s dragging me down and you know it.”

Those words touch your heart. You feel sorry for him but you just can’t forgive him. You simply can’t stand the thought of racing without him as your teammate. “Then why didn’t you tell me? We can fix this, we can make changes and…”

“I don’t want change, I want to be myself and I want to be listened to. I would have told you sooner but I didn’t want to hurt you. See, now you’re hurt and I don’t know what to do because…” You’re eyes are on him but he’s looking down. He’s still holding your wrist and you bet he feels your heartbeat going faster than him in a Mercedes. “Because I care about you and I don’t want to lose you.”

You try to release from his grasp but he pulls you close. “Well done, now you lost me.”

“You sure?”

“I hate you.”

He kisses you, immediately moving his other hand to your neck to pull you even closer. His dreads brush your shoulder. You try not to shake for the emotions filling you. You lose yourself in the kiss. You can’t think about anything else than your tongues tangled, so you completely forgot you’re still in the hallway. Lewis takes the electronic key from your hand and unlocks the door. He brings you in and closes it behind your back, pushing you on the door. It frustrates you that he always has you under his thumb, no matter how much effort you put into escaping it.

He wouldn’t force you to do anything, ever. You know that he will keep away his hands if you won’t make a move in that direction. However the moan you let slip makes him inevitably smile. You lick the gap between is teeth and proceed to kissing him more passionately.

He shouldn’t dare to laugh at you right now, not even if you’re probably about to explore each other bodies. You put your hands on his chest and push him on the wall of the bedroom so violently that you worry you’ve hurt him. Bold of you to even think you can hurt a F1 driver’s back. A seven times world champion F1 driver’s back.

Your hands travel under his jacket, brushing his nipples and causing him to hold his breath. His naked chest feels smooth. There’s no better feeling than having him finally in your hands. It’s a dream coming to reality.

“Oh you hate me so much.”

Can he read your thoughts? Or did he just say that because you’re mapping his upper body with your fingers? His kisses continue on your chin, then on your jaw and then on your neck. They’re soft yet so hot. You want to reply but you’re too worried to make another sound. His strong hands are now on your hips, they slide up to your waist, stroking it up and down, his mouth now reaching your naked shoulder and leaving marks on it.

He’s definitely now in control of the situation, as always. You want to regain it, but he’s good at making you melt under his palms. You want him in you so bad and you’ll have him. You take him by his jacket and drag him in front of the bed, quickly getting rid of his jacket. You push him on the white bed sheets, climb and sit on top of him. You can feel him hard.

He has the body and the face of a young god, he’s so flawless that makes your almost 20 years age difference look 0.

“Take off your clothes.” He commands.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

You pin his hands on his sides and begin slightly moving your hips. His eyes turn to the ceiling for a moment and his breath becomes louder. “You can’t torture me like this.”

“I think you deserve that.”

You stop and sit back in his lap. He looks up at you with his dark bambi eyes. They’re the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. You take a moment to appreciate the sculpted inked chest he likes posting on instagram so much, thinking about all the times you spent trying to hide how jealous those fuckboy pictures make you feel. Maybe the jokes you always make on the topic betray you.

“Does this mean you forgive me?”

You’re unsure about that, but what you’re definitely sure of is that you’re falling deeply in love with this man. Those puppy eyes are making you regret all the bad things you said to him.

That doesn’t change that you’re still mad. “We’ll see.”

He helps you unzip your dress, moving his hands across your back and slowly down on your ass, and you let him. The straps of your dress fall down on your arms and he stands in order to press his mouth on your collarbone. He takes your dress off, it falls down on the moquette. “I want you.” He gets rid of your bra and begins kissing your breasts like they’re the sweetest fruit on Earth. “I want you so bad.”

Years of friendship colliding into that moment. You want to shout, insult him, hurt him because it hurts you so much watching him leave, but the only words that escape from your mouth are: “L-Lewis I–“. You bite your bottom lip.

You can see through his pleased smirk that he couldn’t wait to make you eat that “I hate you”.

He takes advantage of your moment of weakness to take back control. He flips your positions and frees you both from the last clothes. God, his arms are perfect. “Open wide for me, darling.” His hands on your thighs are making you unable to speak. “Good, just like that.” He licks his lips at the sight of your wetness.

You can’t take it anymore. “Stop playing Lewis, just… just do it.”

He bends over you, a few centimetres from your mouth. “Pretty please?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

And so he does.

[macabr3-barbi3]

Alastor x Reader who has temperamental issues and decides to throw something at him which leads to him fucking the tantrum out of her.

well shit, I’m fucking obsessed with this idea lmao to the top of the adhd queue it went! I tried to keep it a little more bite sized, sometimes the plot does get away from me lol

As usual the ending is rushed once the smut is over but I hope this works with what you were looking for 🖤

Tags: light bondage; vaginal sex; just a tad bit of begging

Everyone else in the hotel knew it was easiest to just give you your way when you were pissy; except Alastor apparently. You came home after a rough day to spot him in the kitchen with the last chamomile teabag in his steaming mug; you asked him to trade for something else so you could have what was currently steeping in his ‘Oh Deer’ cup, so you could sleep.

“You don’t need it to sleep; really all that one needs to sleep is a bed and silence! You have your own bedroom and everyone else is asleep so I think you’ll be perfectly fine.” 

Some childish part of you decided that the best course of action upon his refusal would be to throw your own empty mug directly at his head in retaliation.

The sickening crack you heard almost made you think you had hit your mark- but no, that was just his fucking neck snapping as he cocked his head far enough to the side to avoid the ceramic projectile. The mug shattered harmlessly on the floor and Alastor turned to look at you, his eyes black, red dials in place of pupils. “Surely you can’t be so foolish,” he had growled, and the kitchen faded into darkness as he transported you to his bedroom.

How exactly that led to where you were now- hands suspended above you by shadows, Alastor’s claws digging ridges into the flesh of your hips while he bounced you on his thick cock- was a bit beyond you at the moment. You were overwhelmed with the feeling of it, the sensation of his hardness inside you, the smell of his sweat and your arousal combining into some olfactory aphrodisiac that served to hurtle you closer to the edge of orgasm than you had been since dying.

“Have you remembered yet, darling?” Alastor’s eyes are lidded, cast low enough to watch your pussy swallowing him. “What do we say when we want something?”

Ahh, that’s what it was. Reintroducing the concept of manners, he had said, though he failed to mention that he would be fucking it into you. You had honestly thought he was going to kill you, shadow tentacles wrapped around your wrists, his eyes dark and dangerous until he noticed the embarrassed flush to your cheeks, the subtle dilation of your pupils and sharp intake of breath when he trailed his claws down the bare skin of your arms. “Perhaps there’s a better way to get the idea across, hm?”

“P- please,” you whisper, your voice strained.

“Mmm, and when we do get what we want?” He accompanies this with a hard thrust, and your head drops forward with a moan, gaze captivated by the flex of his stomach muscles while he grinds up into you, his shirt discarded when you had climbed onto the bed.

“Oh, fuck- thank you.” 

His smile is pleased. “Lovely, chérie. You know, I’ve kept that cup of tea nice and hot on your desk over there- I could be persuaded to part with it if you can be polite.”

He thought you still wanted the tea? “Don’t care,” you gasp out. “Just- fuck me.”

His hips still, hands leaving your waist to fold behind his head, the picture of casual patience, like his prick wasn’t twitching inside you. “That’s not how we ask, dear- whether it’s for tea for pleasure.”

“God damn- please, Alastor.” You can’t stop the roll of your eyes as you try to grind down, the shadows around your wrist pulling you up at the last moment to prevent you from gaining any of the delicious friction you were seeking. 

“I think you can do better. Keep in mind that I’m being merciful, darling- I’ve killed greater demons for lesser crimes than trying to crack my skull open, you know. I’ve certainly never rewarded whining and demands in such a way before.” He reaches a clawed finger out, trails it down your neck and between the mounds of your breasts, continuing down your frame until he reaches the sensitive juncture between your thighs. The hard press against your clit has you groaning and trying to press down, only to be stopped by the grip of his shadows still on your wrists. “Once more- try for some sincerity this time!”

“Fuck- please, Alastor.” You make it as saccharine and earnest as you can, and you’re rewarded with being lowered back down onto the Radio Demon’s cock, slow and sweet. The pleads fall from your lips unbidden then, his hands coming back to your hips and pace picking up with every repetition; “please please please, oh God, fuck, Alastor-”

“Beautiful, dear,” he says, and he guides you over the peak with a gentle finger to your sensitive clit and an angle of his hips, driving into you with a frantic fierceness that has you wishing you could dig your nails into the flesh of his chest to ride it out. 

Like he can hear the thought, the shadows on your wrists release and you fall forward and sink your fingers in the way that you want to. You want to demand that he finish, that he follow you over the edge, but this whole thing started because of you demanding something from him, and pitching a fit (and a mug) when he didn’t comply. You could take his lesson to heart- show him just how effective a method of teaching it was.

“Please,” you moan in his ear, and his fingers tense against your skin. “Cum for me, I want it- I’ll ask nicely, Al, please?”

He groans against your neck, dragging your hips down into his and grinding up against you, the clench of your body pulling him into the abyss along with you.

There’s a moment of quiet filled only with the sounds of your panting before Alastor clears his throat. “So, darling, what have we learned?”

You sigh, still irritated at the reprimanding but satisfied with how it turned out- your eyelids are dropping shut. “Mind my manners, I suppose.”

Alastor hums into your hair. “That’s right. Now, the offer does still stand for the tea- what do you think?”

“I don’t have the necessary equipment or angle to throw a cup so I guess I’ll be polite. Can I please have the last cup of chamomile?” Despite the request your mind is fuzzy, eyes harder to keep open.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says, and you hear the gentle clatter of ceramic on your nightstand. “I did tell you that you didn’t need the tea to sleep, darling.” The soft vibrations of his voice are the last thing you hear before dropping off into blissful rest.

[megamindsecretlair]

Thinkin' 'Bout You, Part 1

Pairing: Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Infidelity. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), teasing, cum play, dirty talk, degradation kink, breeding kink if you squint, all consensual. Use of n-word. Referring to female anatomy as "she".

Summary: As a sneaky link, Stunna is highly demanding of your time. He doesn't care if you get caught; when he wants you, he wants you. He texts you when you're hanging with your girlfriends for some late night fun.

Word Count: 3,637k

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: As with everything else, you can blame @planetblaque for my depraved brain! She encouraged me to watch All Day and a Night since @blackerthings pointed out that Yahya needs more love. He was definitely the best thing in the movie. Grills flashing, hood shit. Yeah, just yeah. I'm also feral and avoiding going to sleep for work so enjoy! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: (let me know if you don't want to be tagged, tagging some usual suspects) @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh

Satan: Come outside 😛🤤

You: Boy nooo 🙄

You rolled your eyes at your phone, not believing the audacity of this nigga. Your girls are laughing at the TV but when they see you on your phone, your girl Brooke smacked her teeth.

“Yo ass always on that damn phone!” She said. She leaned over as if she meant to take it from you but you held on to it for dear life. She gave up and looked towards your other friend, Nandi. 

“Girl, you know that man got her on a short leash. Stay checking up on her,” she said. 

Satan: come on girl, damn 

You: I’m with my gfs!!! 

Satan: Satan sent a photo

You had to sit there with a straight face while you stared at a picture of Stunna’s dick. He was so long and thick and veiny. You could picture him sitting in his car, licking his grills while he pulled this out just to take a picture for you. And damn him, you couldn’t resist. 

Your thighs were tingling already. Brooke and Nandi were still going off at your expense, poking fun at the idea that your man was constantly on you.

“Like a pimple!” 

“Naw, like white on rice!” Brooke said and they howled with laughter.

“Whatever! Ya’ll bitches just mad ‘cause my nigga want it,” you said. You threw a throw pillow at Nandi. She barely dodged it, her large blue bonnet swinging with the movement. 

“Look, let me deal with this nigga outside. This conversation too grown for ya’ll childish mu’fuckas,” you said. You tapped on the phone as if you were truly going to call your man. He was out running the streets per usual instead of kickin’ it at home with you.

“Mhm, that dick must got gold on the tip or somethin’,” Nandi said. She continued to howl with laughter, slapping Brooke’s hand in agreement.

Little did they fucking know. You practically skipped your ass outside, the cold chill of the night hitting your bare legs in your booty shorts. The slap of your slides seemed too loud in the quiet neighborhood. 

Brooke stayed in the section of the hood where the old folks’ held onto their homes. Sure, hood shit happened around them but rarely on this particular block. Up the street, Stunna’s car was still running with the lights on stark against the night.

He parked away from the street lamps but still you scurried to his car and got in. You were out of breath with worry and adrenaline coursing through you. You hoped and prayed that your girls wouldn’t come looking for you because you had no valid excuse for why you were down the street.

Stunna smiled at you when you got in the car, smelling damn good. Like soap and spice and everything nice. His grills flashed in the low light from the car console and you turned towards him, rubbing your hand on his thigh.

“You are so crazy,” you said.

He pulled away from the curb. You weren’t going far. Just around the corner and down the side alley where the streetlamps didn’t work and the City was too busy to come fix it. Who cared if the hood needed street light? 

“Crazy for you, baby,” he said. He pulled over and turned off the car and headlights, already reaching for you across the seat. His hand was hot as he laid it across your thigh, squeezing it. 

You were already leaning up, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him closer. Sucking on his sweet ass lips as your body tingled all over. Hurt all over. You shouldn’t want this man this much. Not when you were willing to risk discovery like this. 

You don’t even know how you got here, kissing on Stunna. One day your man had just made you so fuckin’ angry you could spit. You were out one night with your girls at a takeover, enjoying the music and drink as you passed by a fine, tall man with a wide smile and gold in his mouth. 

You fought hard not to do a double take. Because how was this man out here walking freely? He needed to be locked the hell up looking like that. He had asked if you had a man. You told him yes, reluctantly. He had licked his lips and looked at you sideways, “Bet I can do better than that nigga.” 

And here you were, months later, still risking it all for the motherfucker. Stunna didn’t care where you were or what you were doing. He sent dick pics at all hours of the day and night. Sometimes he sent videos with him cumming and moaning your name. 

Those you kept to get yourself off to. There was something about that needy voice drawing your name out that got you so hot and bothered you couldn’t stand it. You knew it was wrong. You knew he was whole ass married and you were whole ass taken. But you were weak where Stunna was concerned. 

Stunna stopped kissing you and moved on to your neck. You moaned but pulled at his dark jacket. “C’mon Stunna, I can’t be gone long. My girls gon’ wonder where I’m at,” you said. 

“Let them wonder. You know how long I been cravin’ this pussy?” He asked. 

“How long you been cravin’ this pussy?” You asked. 

He licked your collarbone, eliciting a ragged moan from your lips. “All fuckin’ day, beautiful,” he said. 

He got out of the car and came around to the passenger side. You were kicking off your slides when he pulled your door open. You only had eyes for him as you were unbuttoning your shorts and yanking down the zipper. He licked his lips as you began to shimmy out of them.

He was usually impatient, not waiting until they were at your ankles before he was already pulling you down on his dick. Tonight, he was content to watch you pull them down for him, inch by slow inch over your thighs and down to your feet. 

His golds flashed in the low moonlight. He was haloed by the thick foliage behind him. Gravel crunched beneath his boots as you finally got out of your shorts. “Turn around how I like,” he said.

You got to your knees in the seat, struggling a bit to make sure you didn’t fall and bust your ass. He steadied you with strong hands on your hips. He lined you up how he liked and then slapped your ass.

“Fuck, that recoil. Look at that shit,” he said. 

“Stunna, come on,” you said. You hated when he got like this. It always felt like all his delaying and talking would certainly mean that you would get caught. 

He slapped your ass, hard. You gasped as the sting blossomed into wet hot pain. Your pussy throbbed as you caught your breath. 

“Fuuuuuu-” 

“Don’t rush me,” he said. You heard his zipper get pulled down and his pants shoved down. You were clenching and unclenching around nothing. You were moving back and forth, ready for whatever he was going to do to you. 

One of his hands pressed down on your back until you were leaning forward on the arm rest. Your ass went higher in the air and he groaned as you exposed yourself to him. He groaned and smacked your ass again. Between the sound and the pain, you were going to combust and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

“What I say about that attitude?” He asked. His other hand went underneath, trailing a finger through your wet folds until he found your clit. He dragged his finger around lazily, never actually touching the damn thing. 

You whined, unashamed as he teased you. “Please, please, Stunna,” you begged. 

How the nigga gon’ get you horny and then tease you? You didn’t have all night. There was the distant sound of cars driving and dogs barking. That cold chill was hitting your back and damp pussy and you shivered with anticipation. 

Somehow, Stunna was able to get under your skin. It was like he wormed his way into your nerve endings. Everything he did turned you on. Somehow, all it took was a smile from him and you were a dripping mess. 

“Please what? I’m over here tellin’ you I missed you and you got a mu’fuckin’ attitude,” he said. 

He moved his fingers faster, circling and circling until you were shaking and trembling. You were so close but it was just out of reach because he wasn’t touching you where you needed him.

“Please, Stunna. You gon’ get me caught up,” you whined.

“Good. I should send yo ass back in there full of me. Ruin these mu’fuckin panties with my cum dripping out of you,” he said. He ran his hands along your sides, his long fingers trailing against your rib cage. He moved them higher, gripping and pulling on your titties until you were crying out from the pain. 

Your pussy throbbed thinking of going back into Brooke’s house full of his cum and trying to act normal. Sitting there laughing at trashy reality TV, drinking wine and pretending like you didn’t feel every single ounce of his cum slipping out. That you would have to go home like a nasty little slut and clean it all up before your man found out.

You moaned at the visual. Of being so thoroughly claimed by him that you’d feel him all night long. “Shit,” you said.

“Oh, my little nasty bitch like that shit huh?” Stunna asked as he lined himself up with your entrance. He slowly dipped in and you reared up, your hand flying behind you to land against his solid chest.

He was on the thin side, with a basketball build, but hella muscles. His abs flexed as you grabbed him. “Oh, too much!” You shrieked.

He didn’t say anything. He just grabbed your hand and moved it as he continued to push into you, getting himself wetter with your juices on every slide in. You shrieked again, whining that it was too much. He was too big and he needed to go slower. 

He pulled you up until your back was flush against his chest. He felt even tighter going in this way and you moaned, trying to push away from him. He slid one hand under your shirt to grip your titty, squeezing the nipple hard.

You moaned, the shoot of pain going straight to your swollen clit. His other hand went over your shoulder, grabbing your throat and pulling you even more flush against him.

He hissed in your ear as he started to move more. From this position, wrapped up in his arms, you had no wiggle room to push him off of you. You didn’t necessarily want him to stop, it just felt too damn good. Too good. 

“Stunna!” You begged but he refused to listen. He started stroking deep within you. His strokes increased in pressure. His thighs were slapping against your ass. Clapping like a crack of thunder on the horizon. 

“Oue, look how well she take that dick,” he moaned in your ear. He kept up his painful assault on your nipples. 

You were beyond speech as he kept stroking, his dick stretching you out deliciously. It was like he was made for your pussy the way he fit so perfectly. 

“Oue, baby, you feed me so well,” you moaned. One arm was trapped by his, but your other floundered until you rested it against the top of the car. Your fingers desperately scratched against the fluffy interior as he pounded into you.

The wet smack of your pussy made you moan louder, higher, and you were cumming before long. You shook and moaned on his dick while he continued to pound into you.

“Flood that fuckin’ dick, babygirl,” he groaned. 

It was like you were just a vessel for him to fuck. A fleshlight. He kept up that brutal, near punishing pace. “Filthy fuckin’ bitch, ain’t you?” 

“Mhm,” you moaned. 

“Next time I say come outside, I mean that shit. I don’t care what you doin’,” he said. He groaned and shook his hips, finally releasing his fat, hot load into you. 

“You gon’ get us fuckin’ caught!” You moaned as you felt him pulsing inside of you. Your body bowed and trembled, feeling so fucking complete you had no thought to how to describe it. 

Your mind was always racing, burdened with this terrible secret. You couldn’t stay away from Stunna and hell, he wouldn’t let you. But you lost all rational thought when it came to him. Here you were, having dirty car sex while he calls you dirty names.

His hands had you enveloped in his arms, hand across your titties and the other around your throat. You were able to breathe because he allowed you so. You were able to cum because he was in charge of them. 

“Let us get caught then. What yo bitch ass nigga gon’ do?” He asked. He licked the shell of your ear and your eyes rolled back. He was still pounding into you. Still groaning. He rested his forehead against the back of your neck and you felt a drop of his sweat hit your back. 

“Huh? What he gon’ do?” He seemed to pound into you harder as if he had something to prove. As if with the force of his hips, he could fuck all the memories of your man out of your mind. That you never forgot who it was that had you crying, begging, and screaming on his dick in an alley behind your girls’ house. 

“‘Cause the way this pussy talkin’, she know who the fuck got her actin’ up,” he moaned in your ear. 

“Fuck you, nigga,” you groaned. 

Your knees were quivering as you threw it back on him. His dick was so long and thick, you were pretty sure he was kissing your cervix. He moved both hands to your nipples and pinched them. He rolled them between your fingers.

Your hands pushed against his chest. “Stunna, shit!” You cried out. 

“Gimme another one,” he said. 

“I can’t, baby,” you said. 

He slammed you back on his dick anyway, the fat tip of his dick sliding against your walls. “Sure you can, babygirl. ‘Cause you my nasty bitch. You always cum when Daddy come around,” he said. 

Fuck him, he was right. It was why you were still here, still answering whenever he hit you with that text message. He knew what the fuck he was doing when he sent you that dick pic. You had to quit this man somehow. Block his number or tell him that he couldn’t come around anymore. 

You were risking exposure every time you let him take you like this. In his car, in the park. At his place when LaTrice was gone. At your place when your man was out in the streets. In the back of your job when he’d eat you out and send you back inside proper. You couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. 

Knowing Stunna, he’d just track your ass down. Man or not, he wasn’t going to be deterred. If he needed to be sheathed inside you, feeling you clenching around his dick, then he would slip a damn nugget. He would get bolder, driving past your house and job. Bangin’ on your friends’ door until he could track you down and fuck some sense into you.

That type of behavior was not sexy. Yet knowing that Stunna couldn’t quit you was intoxicating. Knowing that you made him so horny, he was tugging his meat to thoughts of you, filming himself in the bathroom while his girl took a nap in the other room, was an aphrodisiac all its own. You were drunk over this type of power over him but you didn’t need this getting in the way of your life.

You were weak. You did not need your peoples knowing how weak you were. 

“Stunna, goddamn. Oue, shit, ouueee shit, ouueesshiit,” you moaned as you came on his dick again, shaking and twerking uncontrollably. Your choppy moans made him groan.

“You gon’ make me fuckin’ nut,” he groaned. Right after, he moaned in your ear, tugging your ear between his teeth. The bite of pain did nothing to stop your orgasm from flooding your system like the sweetest drug. 

His cum painted your insides as he slammed his hips one last time, shoving his cum deep within you. You both huffed and panted as you came down. Your legs were veritable noodles, wobbly beneath you. You couldn’t hold your weight up anymore. 

Stunna kissed along your neck and ear as he shook himself inside of you to make sure you got every single drop. He pulled out with a strangled groan that made your pussy clench. 

He helped you step back into your panties and shorts, making good on his threat to send you back to Brooke’s house full of his cum. You rubbed your sweaty hands on your thighs as he leaned against the car and helped you twist around to face him.

His tongue was long as he dived in to kiss you stupid. He licked your bottom lip and tugged it into his mouth with a hiss. “Fuck, babygirl. You don’t know how long I been needin’ that,” he said. 

“Gon’ get me in fuckin’ trouble,” you said. But you couldn’t resist kissing him back. You cupped his face and brought him closer. You remembered once when he told you that he liked when you did shit like that. When you kissed him so sweetly and clung to him like he was the most precious man on the planet.

You didn’t know if this worked because this was so damn toxic or if you two were really that in sync. Should’ve stayed your Black ass at home. Neither one of you could quit each other. 

“Thank you, baby,” you said. He kissed your lips slowly. Your phone rang and you groaned, fishing it out of your pocket.

Nandi’s name flashed and you rolled your eyes, answering it.

“Girl, where’d you fuckin’ go? To the moon? Tell that nigga to ease up off your titty and come back inside. This is girls’ night!” 

“Yes, momma,” you said and giggled. 

“Shit up, bitch, come on,” she said. 

You hung up with her and stared up at Stunna. The moon light made his mini afro shine. His wide smile made your heart melt. A bit of his cum leaked out of you and you moaned in the back of your throat. 

“There’s no way I can go back in like this,” you said. 

You were worried that your girls would smell him on you. That somehow they could smell that you had been out like a little hussy. A giant red A would be painted on your forehead and they would see it on you. Judge you. 

You couldn’t tell anyone about this and it was killing you. You wanted to talk to someone about it. Ease this burden you set up for yourself. It was also hot as hell that you had such a naughty secret. That you were regularly getting your back blown out and it wasn’t by your man. 

“Yes you can. When you get home and that nigga sleepin’ in yo bed, I want you to take a picture of them panties for me. I wanna see how badly I bullied that pussy,” he said. 

You slapped at his chest. “You so bad! Let me get back before they start looking for me.” 

He dived down for another kiss, slowly pulling at your bottom lip. “Till next time, babygirl,” he said.

He got back in his car and pulled out of the alleyway. He pulled up back on Brooke’s street, across the way and down from her house. You didn’t see your girls and you hoped that they didn’t look outside for you. You had been gone for quite a while but you also told your friends how your man needed constant reassurance. You could be on with him for five minutes or fifty. So far, they hadn’t called bullshit but it was only a matter of time. You gave him one final lingering kiss before hopping out of his car and scurrying across the street.

Your slides slapped against the ground and then the tile of Brooke’s house as you ascended the stairs. You went back inside, feeling weirdly full and uncomfortable as you went back into the living room.

Nandi and Brooke made no comment about not seeing you outside. Instead, they continued with their jokes about your man. You felt like you were soaking right through your panties and shorts and onto Brooke’s couch. 

You spent the rest of the night reliving the backshots you got from Stunna. Nasty nigga. He couldn’t keep popping up like this. There had to be some kind of code or boundary for this shit. He couldn’t keep showing up unannounced. 

Satan: Miss that 😹 already 

You: Bye nigga 😤

When you went home that night, however, your man was snoring in bed. You immediately went to the bathroom to freshen up. You felt dirty as you snapped a picture of your ruined underwear. You sent it to Stunna. It was late, you weren’t expecting him to answer. 

But your phone buzzed with a series of emojis that made you giggle. 

You: Nasty ass

Stunna: Should’ve bullied that throat. You got a potty mouth. 

Your thighs clenched together as you finished getting ready. You fell asleep against your man with thoughts of Stunna ruining you in dreamland.

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 2 | Part 3

[sunshine-theseus]

Meme Girls | Zecira Mušovic x Reader

Words: 2.7k Summary: doing a video with Zecira leads to a lot of unnecessary angst Warnings: angst, poor early a.m. writing request for - @wosofanfics note: y'all i'm sorry if this sucks. it has been proof read but i'm literally half asleep and it's 1:15am. i hope it's good.

“Welcome back to another episode of Meme Girls.” Laughter breaks out across the room as Zecira tries to introduce the video, tripping over her own tongue.

Aggie and I are sat on bean bags facing each other, Zecira between us. We were supposed to doing a football challenge with some of the other girls for someone’s YouTube channel but whoever was supposed to be joining the goalkeeper here had to pull out. That left us.

“To my- stop laughing! To my right side, Agnes Beever Jones!” I give a small cheer and clap as Aggie throws her hands up in the air, all of us laughing simultaneously. The camera man gives us a dirty look, a sign for us to hurry this up.

“And to my left,” I give her a wink when Zecira turns her head to look at me.

“Y/n, the hotshot, L/n!” I can hear some of the girls outside the door, cheering on as well as they pass by, some even whistling.

“Why does she get a cool nickname? That’s not fair.” Aggie complains, adjusting herself in her beanbag to look at me.

“I’m simply better.” A cheshire grin is thrown her way.

-

“When Emma tells you training is cancelled because of the rain.” The prompt is arguably quite easy but we both spend some time contemplating which photo suited it best. Aggie holds up a relatively old picture of Fran, clearly walking off the bus for a game, her thumbs are up, and earphones are in.

“Completely chill. A day to relax and have no worries, spend time with friends. Whatever you want.”

“Nah it’s time to celebrate. That call is rare and I’m appreciating every damn second.” I rather aggressively pull my photo from the stack of cards. A picture of me from last season after a UWCL game against Lyon, my shirt clutched in my hands as I knee slide into the corner after scoring the winning goal.

“Wow. You look really good there.” Zecira’s voice is pretty alluring as she compliments me, and I turn a fiery shade of red.

“This isn’t fair. Z is going to pick you because you’re in love or whatever.” The young striker whines.

“You and the fans with those stupid speculations. We’re just best friends.” I avoid looking at Z as I try to jokingly tell Aggie off, her eyes rolling at my denial. What I do miss is the light that dims in Zecira’s eyes as I say it.

“Whatever you say.”

We’re given a few more prompts before the media manager calls time. I end up winning 3-2, Aggie tossing a fit by throwing her cards at me. Her fake childishness is scolded by one of the onlookers, clearly too serious in comparison to us, but we only continue to laugh as we stand from the bean bags. I take hold of Zecira’s hand to help her up as well but pull too hard, the Swede falling forward as I rush to catch her. My hands slip under her shirt as I grab her hips and both of us blush a deep red as I try to apologise, trying to forget the feeling of her skin beneath my hands.

-

The next few days between Zecira and I are awkward. Between the tripping situation and the comments from Aggie, our relationship had been strained and neither of us wanted to bring it up, so we didn’t talk at all. The things fans had to say under the video didn’t help.

‘Zecira and Y/n are definitely dating right?’

‘Find someone who looks at you the way Z looks at Y/n’

‘New favourite friends to lovers.’

They were funny, sure, but untrue. At least that’s what I told myself whenever I looked at my best friend, dark hair tucked behind her ears while laughing at something Guro said, and I felt jealous. Or when I go to score a goal in training and she dives for the ball, her shirt riding up and the tight muscles of her abdomen flashing briefly, and I can feel my face heat up and my stomach tighten.

And eventually, due to popular demand, I’m back in another video, facing Sam in a ‘Meme Girls Championship’.

“Welcome to the Meme Girls Championship. Today we have the two winners of the previous games, Samantha Kerr and Y/n L/n. Are you ready?” Sam lets out a guttural scream and I simply nod, trying not to freak out about the tingle in my leg where Zecira and my legs touch.

“Here we go. When you make a tackle outside the penalty box, but the other team still get the penalty.” I flick through my cards, searching for the best one, but Sam is ready in no time.

She holds up a picture of Zecira and Ann-Katrin, standing side by side with sour looks on the faces. It’s good enough for a chuckle but I’m certain I can get a better one. I eventually land on a picture of Jessie. She’s dressed in an old training kit, hands covering her face, clearly disappointed in something.

Zecira takes a moment, looking back and forth between the two photos we’re holding up.

“Zecira. You’re in it.” Sam gives her a side eye, hinting at the fact she thinks she should win.

“Wifey Z. You know this is the better one.” The nickname had been a running joke between us for some time, so neither of us think much of it, despite the obvious fact we probably both wished it meant more.

“Mmmm, I have to go with Y/n’s.”

“No! These cards are unfair! I used that last time and you picked Jessie’s one of me breaking my shoulder!”

“Get wrecked Sammy.”

-

The comments under that video are unexpected. I don’t remember doing anything that would elicit any ‘couple’ comments, yet they were full of them.

‘I think Y/n just accidentally exposed their relationship at 1:17’

‘WIFEY? She knowwws. They’re definitely together, you don’t just call someone your wife.’

So apparently, I did imply we were a couple, but it was from a simple misunderstanding. The issue that comes with that is the inability to deny it. If you deny it, fans assume you’re hiding something, and obviously there was nothing to confirm, so we had to live with it.

Turns out it was hard to live with. Anytime either of us posted, those comments would pop up, asking us to confirm it. At games there were fans shouting it out. Even the girls began speculating whether we’d been secretly hiding a relationship for who knows how long. It was beginning to get tiring, especially when I have feelings for her.

I wanted nothing more to just go up and kiss her and tell her how much I like her, then the comments could be true, and I’d know that. Hopefully it’d also mean I’d get to hold her hand as we walk side by side and kiss her good morning every day. But I was certain she didn’t feel the same, so that was that.

~~~~~

It took a week after the video was posted for things to go back to normal within the team and between Zecira and I. Occasionally Millie or Jess would jokingly ask us ‘how the married life is’, or something along those lines, and we’d all just laugh.

It was a tradition between me and Z, that after a London derby, we’d pick a nice restaurant and go out for dinner. Both of us get dressed up and walk out of the stadium together, sign a few things and go. It started in 2021 and we hadn’t missed a dinner since. So obviously that’s what I prepared for when we had a derby coming up.

I had a new rusty orange, satin dress that I’d brought in preparation for the dinner. Hanging it on the rack in my cubby before I got changed into our warm-up kit always made me a little nervous, aware of the casual outfits that adorned everyone else’s wracks. I didn’t bother looking over at Zecira’s space, expecting her outfit to be hanging like it always was. Perhaps I should have.

-

The game was tough as always during a derby, and very physical. The likes of Katie McCabe and Caitlin Foord made it difficult to stay standing if the ball was at your feet and I knew I was likely to come out with bruises from the start. I must say I didn’t expect the black eye that began swelling after an elbow to the face from Lotte.

By half time I looked a wreck, and Emma was prepared to sub me off if they didn’t let up by 60 minutes. I’d lost count of the number of bruises that had begun developing on my legs and arms, even my torso was sure to be black and blue, and admittedly my eye was somewhat hard to see out of. I was also limping, a studs up tackle from Katie landing on the inside of my right ankle making the tissue rather tender.

“You’re going to look like that blueberry girl from Willy Wonka soon.” Zecira jokes as we make our way back out to the pitch.

“Heh yeah, dinner might be a little awkward for the other people around.” I get a smile back before she makes her way to the goal, and I head to the middle of the field to meet with Erin to do some short drills again.

-

The game ends in a tie. 2-2 across the board. I gathered more injuries as the game went on but nothing that wasn’t more than superficial, and I was buzzing to sign a few things and take some pictures with the fans before heading back and dressing up for dinner with my best friend.

Then I see them. Zecira is only a few people away from me at the barrier, talking to a guy. The conversation seems very interesting and sweet, nothing more than a footballer meeting a fan. Until they kiss. So, as her best friend, I make my way over. Why had she never mentioned him?

“Hey Z! Who’s this?”

“This is Tom. We’re dating, nothing official yet. He’s going to take me out for dinner tonight.” It’s hard to be upset when you see the smile that spread across her face. Her dimples were showing and there was a sparkle in her eye. But I wasn’t one to just let someone break a tradition after 2 and a half years.

“Tonight? What, after we go to dinner? You know, at the restaurant we’ve been waiting for a table at for months?”

“N- no I mean right after I get changed.”

“We always do tonight Z.” I start to seethe through my teeth.

“Well can’t you go like tomorrow or something?” I understand Tom was trying to help. I can only assume he wasn’t aware about the years long tradition between the girl he’s dating and her best friend. But I could imagine that if we were in a cartoon, steam would be coming out of my ears and my arm would be swinging, getting ready to knock him out in one hit.

“Uhhh, no. No we cannot. Because not only does it take months to get a table, we have to go tonight because it’s tradition. Routine. We’ve never missed a derby dinner once Zecira and like damn I’m going to let us start now. Not for some guy.”

“Common it’s just one. It’s not that big a deal. I’ll make up for it I promise.”

“Make up for it? There’s no making up this dinner. But have fun with Tom. I guess I’ll go get real dressed up, eat portions that are far too small and drink much too expensive wine by myself and be thrown looks all night. See you in training.” As I storm off, I catch glimpses of the remaining crowd that is yet to trickle out and realise perhaps I should have waited.

Now embarrassed as well as angry, I run down the tunnel in desperate search for an empty room. I eventually stumble into one and slam the door closed and lock it. The walls rattle and I hear something fall off one of them, but I find it hard to care as I search for the light switch.

Once I find it, it’s hard for me to hold back all the emotions that have been building up over some time. I rip my boots of and throw them at the door with all my might. I’m surprised the window doesn’t shatter.

“Stupid fucking feelings. Stupid fucking dinner. Stupid fucking Tom. Stupid fucking game.” The list goes on for some time as I cry, broken up every now and then by a scream.

Eventually I slump to the floor in the middle of the room and sob. My chest heaves and I struggle to breathe as I cry into the ground. The bruises and black eye are long forgotten as my lungs struggle to expand, and I begin to panic.

‘This cannot be fucking happening right now no no no.’ a panic attack is the last possible thing I need and I’m in a random room all alone. No one knows where I am. Everyone could have gone home by now.

My head is pounding. Or maybe it’s someone at the door. I’m not sure. I don’t have the energy to figure it out.

‘I hope someone finds me soon’ is probably the last thought I’m aware of having. But then someone’s arms wrap around me. Their perfume is familiar, but I can’t quite place it as they hook an arm beneath my knees and another behind my back. Most of my surroundings are lost, sight blurred and hearing fuzzy as I try to draw in more air, so I don’t know where I am until I feel a mattress beneath me.

I could identify the medical room beds in my sleep, and this was definitely one. After a few minutes of just resting there, my breathing started to slow and I came around. Newly aware of a hand gripping my own, I turn to the person beside me.

“Zecira? What are you doing here? You have dinner with what’s his face.”

“You’re more important. And, what you said on the field… you’re right. I was wrong in breaking tradition for some guy I’m not even really into. It’s- it’s just…” she trails off with a sigh.

“It’s just that, I needed something to take my mind off you.”

“Off me?”

“Yes. Look, after those videos we did on media day, and the one after, I couldn’t fathom the idea of me telling you how I feel and you rejecting me. I like you so much but I know you don’t like me back so I started going on dates. Tom was the only bearable one.”

“Wait wait wait wait. You think I don’t like you? Zecira, there aren’t enough words to express how much I like you. Seeing you with Tom, it, it made me mad about the dinner sure, but I was also jealous. I want to be the one kissing you and taking you on dates, holding your hand, celebrating a win.”

“What?”

“Kiss me you fool.” The angle is poor but despite it, we lean toward each other until our lips are connected.

It becomes quite a hungry kiss, but I pull away before it can get too heated, smiling at the girl in front of me.

“If we get ready and leave now, we could still make that reservation. Make it our first date?”

-

That’s how we end up hand in hand, waiting to be seated. The satin gown hugs me perfectly and compliments Zecira’s sage green dress.

“I’m really sorry for bursting up on you. Especially on the pitch.”

“I deserved it.”

“No you didn’t. Maybe you should’ve told me in advance but it didn’t warrant that reaction.”

“I should’ve spoken to you about what was going on.”

“Kiss me and we call it even?” her hair falls around our faces as she leans down to kiss me. It’s gentle and sweet and tastes like her vanilla lip gloss. Life feels good when you’re in love with your best friend.

[whiskeynwriting]

Part 2 to eyes on me, pretty please 🙏🏼😩

I freaking love Bones

Welllll if you insist.

(I'm so flattered that you love Bones, and that you adored "Eyes On Me" so much omg)

Lucky

Simon “Ghost” Riley x OFC “Bones”

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Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Smoking, mentions of alcohol use, angst (only in the beginning), size difference, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), mentions of spanking, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex

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A/N: Here's part two to "Eyes On Me" (;

Also dear Jesus I just love this picture of him

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

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Heartbreak isn’t the right word, it’s too childish and naïve for you to use. You’re… surprised. Surprised and a little hurt, honestly. And sad. Definitely sad. But what were you expecting? A boyfriend? A fucking wedding? Just from a one-night stand? Because that’s all it was. And you should really start coming to terms with that. 

Three days after you and Simon had sex, he was gone. During those three days, you didn’t do anything else, didn’t touch or kiss the other. But it was still friendly between the two of you; you still enjoyed each other’s company. But when he’d healed fully from his injury he just… left. Without a trace. He didn’t say anything to you, and you haven’t heard anything since. Through the grapevine, you learned that 141 had gone out on a mission. No one knows where to or for how long, which was normal. Their whereabouts aren’t really anyone else’s business. But inside, you’d hoped that he would have at least told you he was leaving. But maybe that night didn’t mean as much as you thought it did.

Feeling a bit foolish, you decide it’s best to just push it aside. You have better things to do, like your job. And with the boys gone, work was easy. Mainly, you filed paperwork, restocked supplies, and cleaned, making sure you were ready for their return. They didn’t always come back with injuries, but it wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, either. So, it was best to just be ready. Especially if you were needed for a rescue mission. Those were extremely rare. The only recovery assignment you’d ever been on was to recover, well… Simon. 

“Bones?” 

Lifting your head, you see one of your coworkers standing in the doorway.

“What’s up?” You’re still filing paperwork, but you’re finishing up. 

“Are you coming tonight? We’re all headed out for a drink.”

“Wait,” Swiveling around, you glance at your clock. “It’s already five?”

“Yep,” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he says, “We all really want you to come.” But then, he takes it a step further. “I want you to come.” 

Turning around, you grin. “I know you do.” It’s not a secret that he’s had quite the little crush on you. Maybe with Ghost gone, you could entertain it. But it feels so… fresh, whatever happened between the two of you. So, you decide you better not. 

“I appreciate the invite. Maybe some other time.” 

“Are you sure?” He prods, taking a step in. “I could pay for your drinks.” 

“Really,” Laughing, you nod. “I’m okay. Thanks.” And then you turn away, satisfied when he retreats. 

And as soon as he leaves, you feel that familiar sting rushing to your eyes. Why do your emotions have such a tight hold in you right now? Why can’t you just push this shit out of your head? He left, he’s gone. And he chose to not tell you. You got your answer; he doesn’t want to see you. 

Before you can think any further on the topic, you hear your coworker come back. His steps are firmer this time, causing you to assume he’s returned with more gumption than before. 

“Look, I said I don’t want to go tonight, alright?” But he doesn’t say anything. Fuck, can’t I have some privacy?! Quickly, you stand, spinning on your heels to face him. “Why do you -”

But it’s not your coworker. It’s him - Ghost. 

“Oh.” Is how you end your sentence, your tone dropping off. 

He’s standing in your doorway, taking up damn near the entirety of it. His arms are at his sides, and he’s still dressed in full gear. His tactical tools still hang on him, his belt looped around the expanse of his midsection. He’s armed, too, guns and knives in their holsters. And it must have been cold where they went, because he’s wearing a light gray quarter zip and gloves, too. 

“Um, can I… can I help? With anything?” You ask hesitantly, trying to remain professional. “Do you have another injury?” You’re closing up shop soon, but you’d still help him if he needed it. Of course you would. It’s why you live on base; you’re here day and night for whatever medical help the task force needs. 

Yeah, I figured you’d react this way. 

All he does is shake his head, taking a couple steps toward you. And the closer he gets, the more your head tilts, looking up, up, until he’s right in front of you. Pressing your lips together in a nervous line, you look at him, unable to see his eyes. He’s wearing his mask of course, but with sunglasses this time, too. 

After a long moment, you see his chest rise and fall, taking in a deep breath. And then he lifts his dominant hand, incredibly hesitantly. You look to the side, watching him reach out to you. He lowers it briefly, but eventually decides to continue, stepping forward to slowly, tenderly, wrap his arms around you. Closing your eyes, a wave of emotion washes over you, your arms sliding up his body to wrap around his neck, pulling him further in. Now, he fully embraces you, squeezing you tightly while you do the same to him. You have to stand on your tip-toes to fully wrap your arms around his neck, and that makes him grin. 

Simon breathes out a heavy sigh, bending down even further and securing his hold on you. His hands slide down to the backs of your legs, and when he brings himself up again, he’s lifting you with him. Naturally, your legs encircle his center, arms keeping their hold on his neck. And when you’re fully clinging to him, both of Simon’s arms wrap around your back again, hugging you tightly against his sturdy frame. Then, his masked face finds your shoulder, and you swear, you fucking swear, you can feel the small indent of his lips against your neck. 

There’s a ton of tactical gear in the way, pressing uncomfortably into your body, but it’s worth it. This is so worth it. A tidal wave of relief washes over him, thrilled to feel you accept his embrace. 

“Hey, Bones.” He says calmly, affectionately. 

“Hey, Ghost.” You return, smiling giddily. 

Just a few minutes ago, your emotions ran angry and blue. But now, you’re filled with nothing but joy. You want an explanation, that’s for damn sure, but right now, you’re letting experience this contentment. Because he really does make you happy. 

“You’re not hurt?” Sucking in a breath, you release your anxieties with a deep exhale. Even if you were unsure of where you stood, you still thought about him and his recently healed wound while he was gone. 

“No.” Comes that deep, rumbly voice, his head shaking gently. “I didn’t mean to leave.” He mumbles into your ear, his tone low and tender. And it makes you sigh, his words offering you solace. “I didn’t, I…” And now he releases a harsh breath, sounding frustrated. “I didn’t have time to find you.” 

It feels so nice, hearing his voice again. He’s speaking so calmly to you, making the moment feel soft, special. And once he says this, you nod your head, still resting in the crook of his neck. 

You don’t want to come off clingy, but after hearing him tell you this, you feel he’s allowed you to be open with him. “I missed you.” 

Things like this aren’t easy for Simon. He doesn’t express emotion like this, at least not verbally. Saying things like ‘I miss you’, it’s not… him. But while he was gone, he thought of you, and he knows how he feels about you. And he wants to reassure you, so he comes up with a response he hopes you’ll like. 

“I… thought about you.” 

His words make you smile, giggling briefly. He sounds nervous, like he isn’t sure what to say. And honestly, you find that incredibly cute. 

“Will you come back with me?” He then asks, satisfied with your reaction. Now that he’s returned, he wants to go back to how things were before he left. He wants to spend time with you. 

Furrowing your brows, you question him. “What?” 

One of Simon’s hands drops down to your thigh, his other staying looped around your back. Slowly, he bends down again, releasing you. And when your feet meet the floor, your arms release him, too. 

“To the barracks.” Rising to his full height, he towers above you. It makes you release a small, shaky breath, staring up at this man. 

“Really?” You then ask, “Am I… am I allowed to do that?” 

He shrugs. “Probably not.” 

“I don’t know; I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

He smirks at this. “Don’t worry about me, love.” That word sends a genuine tingle right through you. “The boys are out for a drink.” Simon explains, reaching out for your hand. Looking down, you accept his heartfelt advance. 

“Or have you got work to do?” He then asks, knowing how important both of your jobs are. But all you do is shake your head, looking back up at him. You’re displaying that pretty, genuine smile that he’s so badly missed. You’re looking at him with so much kindness. 

“Then come back with me.” Ghost says, fingers wrapping around your hand. 

Nibbling on the corner of your lip, you do your best to hold back your growing grin. But then you nod, unable to deny your excitement. And under his mask, he’s smiling, too. He’s hoping you’ll stay the night; he knows he could get away with it if he tried. And the excitement stirring inside him from the possibility of sneaking you into his room is making him feel like a goddamn teenager. Truthfully though, he likes it.

Simon waited patiently while you closed up shop. It only took a few minutes, organizing a handful of papers and wiping off your desk. And when you were finally ready, he took you by the hand, leading you to the barracks. They’re on the other side of the complex, but Simon still held your hand. With the guys gone, and it being a Friday, he wasn’t worried about anyone seeing the two of you. 

He’s the last door on the left side of this barren, dimly lit hallway. It’s getting dark outside, but it’s even darker in his room. And Simon realizes this, stepping forward to turn on his desk lamp once he shuts the door behind you. The small light illuminates the small space, offering a much more amiable atmosphere. You can see more of his room now, too. 

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re still surprised by the emptiness of his room. There’s a bed in the left corner, a trunk at the foot of it, and a desk with a chair off to the right. It’s a small space with no windows and only one overhead light. 

“I’ve gotta shower. Bit grimey.” He tells you, walking over to the trunk. “Will you be alright here until I get back?” 

He’s already undressing, taking off his belt and disarming himself. Kneeling before the wooden chest, he unlocks it, setting each of his weapons inside. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You reassure him, walking over to sit on his bed. 

“Sorry to make you wait, love.” He grunts, bending over to untie his boots. “I came to the med. room as soon as we got here.”

Now that warms your goddamn heart. “Really?” 

“‘Course I did.” Standing, he takes a step over to you, gently tapping your chin with the knuckle of his pointer finger. “Didn’t want you thinking I skipped out on you.” Humming at the pretty smile on your face, he then stands. “Be right back, sweets.”

While he’s gone, you take this opportunity to look around. Not going through his things, of course, but just glancing over his room. There are some files laid out on his desk; clearly nothing too important, or else they’d be locked away. There’s a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on the desk too, not exactly a surprise to you. What does come as a surprise, though, is the way he walks through the door. 

Jumping a little, you turn to face the entryway, your anxiety telling you it would be someone else coming in. But it’s just him, a slightly damp, still-masked, shirtless, Ghost. He’s wearing dark gray sweatpants with long socks tucked underneath, his body still glistening. His dog tags are visible too, something you’ve never seen. And Jesus Christ, is every muscle along his body on display. It’s like he’s even more defined than he was before. The scars you’ve seen time and time again litter his body, the most prominent mark being the one near his heart. 

“Happy to see me?” He asks with a grin. And even though you can’t see it, you can tell he’s smiling.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff. “You’re so fucking cocky.” Just like that, the air between the two of you is light and familiar again. It’s like he never even left. 

“Well,” He gives you a small shrug. “After getting that kinda treatment from you, how could I not be?” 

He’s stalking towards you, quite liking the view of you seated atop his bed. And you watch as he walks, eventually coming right up in front of you. Leaning over the side of the bed, he presses his palms into the mattress. His presence urges you back, resting on your forearms before him. And just like that, he’s in your space again, those icy eyes staring into your own. Your heart rattles inside your chest from his closeness; he’s barely an inch away and you can fucking smell him. It’s fresh, his scent filling your nose with hints of spearmint and eucalyptus. 

After a moment of gazing into those dreamy eyes, your own dip down, falling on his covered chin. It was so exhilarating to see him before. Maybe he’ll let you do it again. 

“I am happy to see you.” But he doesn’t say anything, because you’re starting to lift his mask. “And I’m so happy you wanted to see me…” 

Closing his eyes, he inhales a steadying breath, allowing you to lift his mask. Letting go of all his worries is a hard thing for him, but he does it in an attempt to trust you. You told him before that you’d never take it off all the way, that you respect his privacy. He’s waiting for you to prove that now. And the trust that’s currently wavering in the air is suddenly placed into your very hands when you lift it, revealing only his lips. Along with a small, growing grin. Immediately, you lean forward to kiss him, and he meets you with a bout of eagerness.

Simon’s mouth moves against your own, slowly, firmly. He’s enjoying you, his smooth lips a satisfying sensation now that they’ve returned. And when both of your hands find his face, he fully moans, releasing a heated sigh against you. He wants so badly to reach out and touch you, slide his hands over your body again. But his broad palms are still holding him up, preventing him from doing it. And that’s fucking killing him. 

With slow and calculated movements, he drops to his knees. And you lower your head, moving with him, but you’re forced to stop when he pulls away. Shuffling forward a bit, he settles his midsection right between your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist. Pulling you in, he hugs you to his body, pressing his face to your chest. This makes your heart pound, now entirely full of emotion. You can’t believe he’s being so sweet. 

“I thought about you, love.” He repeats his words from earlier with much more intention this time. One of his hands retracts, moving to your waist and squeezing you kindly. 

“Really, baby?” Embracing him, your arms lift to slide around his neck. And when you do, he releases a contended breath, nuzzling further into you. He missed this, missed how you touched and cared for him. He needs that in his life; he needs you. 

There it is again, that affectionate word. The sound of it makes his chest tighten with emotion, with a sense of utter elation. He thought things were ruined when he left. But they’re not, they’re just like before. Hell, it’s better than before. 

“‘Course I did,” Comes that low tone, his accent thick and gruff. “I thought about your pretty face, the way you kissed me.”

You can’t believe that a man like him is saying these things. He’s being so loving with you, and in ways you never expected him to. 

“You’ve got me to fancy you.” He murmurs against your chest, his eyes closed as he relaxes. His words make your face heat up, absolutely overjoyed to hear his admission. And ever so slightly, he rubs his face into you, right in between your breasts. 

“Yeah?” Fingers running over the back of his head, you discover soft bumps beneath his mask. They’re no doubt from his hair, and you find yourself wondering what color it is. 

“Yeah,” He nods. “You’re pretty, sweetheart.” 

“Oh,” You sigh out, replying cockily with, “I always knew you loved me.” 

Chuckling deeply, he lifts his head, looking up at you from between your breasts. Tilting your head down, you meet his gaze, grinning. 

“Pretty fucking annoying.” He finishes in a cheeky whisper, feeling your thumbs swipe over his covered face. 

Looking down at him, you can see so much of his body, the muscles in his shoulders and biceps more than prominent even in the dim light of his room. Some of his back muscles flex, showing themselves off, too. And the sight alone makes you drop any and all attitude. 

“Baby, you look so good.” Eyes leaving his own, they roam his figure, making him laugh. 

“Okay,” He declares, dominant hand reaching up to grab your chin. “I’ll say it.” Yanking you down with a gentle sense of dominance, he meets your eyes with a passionate gaze.“I fucking missed you.” 

That’s all it takes for you to kiss him again, hands holding his head while he leans into them. He’s so much taller than you know though, that even on his knees, he doesn’t really need to reach up to meet you. The hand he’d had on your chin holds your cheek, his other wrapping around your lower back and pressing you to him. 

“You know what else I thought about?” He asks between heated breaths. But you’re still kissing him, feeling him smile against your lips. 

“What, baby?” He’s happy you asked. 

Hand sliding around to the back of your neck, he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I thought about your pretty pussy.” 

That sends a shiver right through your very being. Closing your eyes, a harsh breath is forced out through your nose, trying to control the arousal that is suddenly building. And while your lids remain closed, Simon’s mouth eagerly returns, tongue sliding over your bottom lip. Easily, you open for him, feeling the wet muscle glide over your own. 

You can’t seem to get a grip on reality; it’s like you’re drunk on him. “How do you know it’s pretty?” He pulls back, chest rising and falling rapidly. “You’ve never even seen me.” 

“What do you think I’m asking for?” He returns immediately, now moving. 

Simon’s arms hook beneath your legs, bending forward and urging you back in the process. You fall onto your forearms with a small, surprised breath. His hands come to rest on the tops of your thighs, bulky biceps now beneath them. It’s at this moment that his fingers find the hemline of your pants, tugging gently while kissing the inside of your covered thigh. 

“Can I see you, darling?” Simon asks, lips running over your thigh. And you nod, already breathless from him. 

Lifting your hips, you allow him to slide your clothes down your legs, leaving your bottom half bare before him. Easily, he drops your garments to the floor, eyes trained on your now naked skin. It takes the breath from his lungs, the sight of you, of your pink and sensitive lips, the delicate space of your sex. And then he moves in, lifting your legs to rest them over his shoulders, holding your thighs again. 

“Perfect little thing.” He mumbles, groaning quietly. “Felt so good wrapped around me…” 

“I want that again.” You admit to him, earning his immediate response of, “You’ll get it again.” 

Broad shoulders spread you wider than before, a feeling of exposure creeping across your skin. Already, your heartbeat is pounding in your ears, washing waves through your sex. You’re nervous, full of anticipation, but you’re also unsure. Has he done this before? What if he doesn’t like it? And suddenly, you’re more worried than you are excited. 

“Don’t go rigid on me.” He can immediately sense your anxiety, his fingers wrapping under and then caressing your thighs. It makes you breathe a sigh of relief, settling into his hold. “That’s it,” Simon praises happily, exhaling over your very center. “That’s good, love. I like that, much better.” 

“Simon…” Hearing his praise makes your eyes roll back before closing entirely, fingers reaching for him. They find his hands, and then his forearms, wrapping around the muscles there. And he hums happily when you do this. He loves the feeling he gets when you hold onto him. 

Leaning in, he gives your very center a kiss. It’s heated and firm and you can already hear him moaning. He likes your smell, inhaling it deeply. The subtle action makes your back arch, his arms fully wrapping around your thighs when he sticks his tongue out to give you his first real lick. It’s tender, running up your seam and just barely nudging your clit. And then he grins. You’re already shaking for him. 

“Relax for me.” He coos sweetly to you, dominant hand rising and sliding beneath your shirt. It rests over your stomach, fingers stroking you lightly. “Let me taste it.”

Your thighs tense around his head when he licks you again, and the hand not on your tummy squeezes your leg, his mouth humming against you. The hot muscle of his tongue moves languidly over your sex, that deliciously wet noise already growing in the room. It’s only now that he gets a true taste of you, his tongue slipping between your sensitive lips. He licks into you with deep and heated strokes, his hurried breaths repeatedly forced out of his nose. 

“Simon,” Involuntarily, your hips buck up against him, body shivering when his tongue dives inside again. 

“Missed the way that sounds,” He mumbles, turning his head and kissing the inner skin of your thigh. “My name comin’ outta your mouth.” 

“I missed the way you touch me.” You breathe out in response, a high gasp then leaving your throat when he lays that wet muscle over your clit.

Simon flicks the tip of his tongue over it, feeling you jerk in his hold. His head rocks rhythmically as he begins to truly mouth at you, lips and tongue now focusing on your delicate pleasure center. When he wraps his lips around it, he leans in even further, rubbing his face against you. He wants to be as close as he possibly can to you. 

Every swipe of his tongue feels electric, his moans sending wave after wave of arousal through your hips. And by now, he’s practically drinking from you, lapping at your cunt’s dripping entrance with a sense of voracity you’ve never before seen. But in the same sense, he’s slow with it, taking his time in showing his passion. 

“Oh my god…”

“Sh…” He then hums, slowing down to talk to you. His breaths are heavy, and when you look down, you can see his eyes. From between your legs, they’re staring right back at you. “Don’t know when they’ll be back, love.” 

“I can’t help it.” You reply in a slight whine, and he can’t fight the groan he releases when you look at him with those pretty eyes. 

“Well, you’re gonna have to.” And then, while keeping your gaze, his tongue lays out, running a firm swipe over you. With a dramatic moan, your head returns to the bed, hands still holding onto him. Your hips buck up against his face, eyes drifting shut as you enjoy this. 

“Fuckin’ love your pink little pussy.” He grunts out, stopping the movements of his mouth entirely. Listening closely, you hear him suck a finger between his lips, the thick digit now prodding at your entrance. 

“Ohhh my god,” It enters you slowly, the small stretch making you moan until it’s in entirely. 

He keeps his finger still until his tongue returns, small kitten licks stimulating your nerves. And when he begins these motions, he moves his finger, too, pulsing the tip of it up inside you. It forces your hips to move, rolling pleasurably as you experience him. You never would have expected him to be so good at this. 

“B-Baby,” You try to whisper, telling him, “You’re gonna make me cum.”

Simon doesn’t respond, he’s too focused. His eyes are closed, his breaths even quicker than before. That finger glides seamlessly into you, curling every time it’s fully inside. And his tongue doesn’t let up, either, now completely suctioning his mouth to you. He intends to keep this pace, but then you moan his name. It’s so sweet-sounding, so light and airy. Simon, please. And now, he’s ripping his finger from you, both palms finding a place beneath your thighs and shoving your legs up. Knees pressing into your chest, you gasp, having not expected him to do this. And with this new position, Simon dives in. The sounds he’s making are loud, fucking lewd, his tongue incessant and moving much quicker against you. 

Your face burns from the brazenness of it all, of being so exposed and experiencing this new side of him. Tongue running over your clit once more, it sinks into your entrance, curling slightly and gathering your slick. He then drags it back up to your tingling bud, circling it. 

“Simon, f-fuck.” With your fingernails digging into his forearms, he grins, purring pleasurably against you. He’s still holding onto your thighs, enjoying the reactions you have in response to him. 

“Tell me what you want.” His voice is gruff and rumbles over you, your hips rolling up to chase his face. Immediately, he complies, returning his mouth to your center. But when you don’t answer, he taps your thigh, reminding you. 

“I want to cum, baby.” It comes out as a whisper, your back arching. “I want you to make me cum.” 

The hand that tapped your thigh now squeezes it, a pleased moan vibrating from between your legs. With practiced motions, he sucks on you, mouth working hard to overstimulate you. And you’d count his actions successful, because within seconds, you’re crying out for him. He’d tell you to be quiet if he didn’t overtly adore every single sound that’s coming from you. Hell, who cares if the boys hear? As long as it’s not Price, he’s in the clear. 

“Fuck, Simon!”

His entire body weight is pressing into you, pinning you down. Your hips rut over his face, feeling his head move with every motion. The incredible sensation of your high rolls through you, the muscles in your body tensing before they inevitably unwind. The sparks flying through your system make you gasp, make you fucking sing, hands now reaching out for his head. You hold him against you, and he lets you, moaning from your taste. It washes over his tongue, a sensation he happily accepts. And when you finally release him of your intense hold, and he pulls away, he smacks his lips. 

You don’t even have to see it to know what he just did, the noise more than noticeable. Smiling breathlessly in the near-darkness, you shake your head. “Cocky.”

“Sassy.” Comes his instant return. 

And then he’s crawling up between your legs, his body hovering over you. His covered nose runs along the curve of your jaw, wet lips kissing your skin. With your body still feeling limp, you rest beneath him, smiling from his affectionate kisses. 

“You ever tasted yourself?” He wonders aloud, turning his head and breathing against you. 

“Mm-mm,” Shaking your head, you turn and lock eyes with him. 

Immediately, he leans in, dominant hand taking hold of your chin. His open mouth meets your own, his tongue sliding in. And now that he’s close again, you reach up to hold him.

Simon drags his tongue over yours, the roughness of his taste buds clashing with your own. And his tongue and spit are laced with you, the tanginess of your arousal coating his entire mouth and his chin, too.

“You like it?” He asks huskily, pulling away. 

“Yes.” Nodding eagerly, your hands bring him in again. “More, please.”

He chuckles, his lips already returning to you. For someone that wears his mask like it’s his second skin, how is he so damn good at kissing? How is he so good at everything? 

“Lay down for me, gorgeous.” Already moving you is the strength of his broad hands, sliding you further up on his mattress. 

“Dang, this is your pillow?” You tease, wincing dramatically. “You need something softer than this to sleep on, shit.” 

“Well,” He says, cocking his head. Moving his legs to the inside of yours, he spreads you with his knees, resting his pelvis over your own. Those wonderful hands slide up your form again, this time paying special attention to your midsection. “You’ve got some pretty nice pillows there for me.” 

Furrowing your brow, you’re confused for only half a second. He smiles when he witnesses it, your realization, his palms now on your covered chest. 

“Maybe I’ll get to sleep on those tonight.” He continues on, mumbling. “Lean up for me.”

You do as he says, but not without your mind wandering. Did he… did he mean what he just said? Does he really want me to sleep here with him? But then you’re plopping back down, thoughts bouncing right out of your head when you hit the mattress again. 

“Look at that…” Now that you’re entirely naked for him, he can’t tear his eyes away from you. His calloused hands smooth themselves over your breasts, cupping them while he inhales deeply above you. 

 

When you look up at him, you feel like you can’t catch your breath. When standing in front of him, it was obvious how much bigger he was than you. But right now? Right fucking now? He’s dwarfing you.

“Simon…” Reaching up, your hands slide along his abdomen, feeling his muscular skin. 

He’s towering over your smaller form, eyes full of passion and intense focus as they rake over you. His dog tags are hanging forward, just barely off of his chest as he leans over. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his tattooed forearm, the muscles bulging as he fondles you. 

“Fuck,” Hissing out the curse, he squeezes you briefly before sliding down. Now, his firm, naked chest is pressing into the softness of you, holding himself up on that tatted forearm. Impatiently, he mouths at you, hand sliding around to hold the back of your head. 

“You want me again, yeah?”

“Yes.” Your feet slide up on his bed, soles planting firmly on the mattress. It encases him between your thighs, feeling his hips sway against yours in response. 

Before Ghost can say anything else, the two of you begin to hear noise. Specifically voices, many of them, four of them. 

“Ghost!” 

The booming voice and pounding knock on his door make your body jump beneath the weight of his. Usually, he’d be annoyed, but your reaction distracts him. He finds it cute, chuckling above you. 

“C’mere,” He then says, climbing off of you and standing. “I’ll take care of this.”

There’s nowhere for you to hide in his room, and the knowledge of that makes you nervous beyond belief. Where are you going to go? Where is he going to hide you? 

When you look up, he’s reaching his hand out to you, and you take it. With one gentle yet firm tug, he hauls you up, leading you over to the door. Holy fuck, is he going to let them see me?! But then he proves your anxious thoughts wrong. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he maneuvers your body into the corner beside the door, leaning in right beside your ear and whispering, “Stay here.” 

While reaching for the knob, he keeps one hand on you, an affectionate gesture. His palm is on your face, thumb stroking your cheek. And when he opens the door, his teammates can barely even tell that his left arm is stretched out to his side. Before opening the door, though, he remembers to pull his mask down, not wanting to draw any suspicion. 

“Yeah?” Simon answers questioningly. 

“Where’ve you been?!” Soap asks loudly, clearly drunk. “We missed you!” Staggering in, Ghost’s broad palm in the center of his chest stops him.

“You just now comin’ home, Johnny?”

“Nah, we’re coming back to get you!” Suddenly, Gaz pops on the scene, right next to him. 

“Fuckin’ pulled my muscle, you did!” Soap jolts to the left and away from Gaz’s arm, the one he’d just swung around his shoulders.

“Alright, boys.” Ghost intervenes. “Better get some sleep.” 

“You reckon that lass is still around?” Johnny asks, ignoring his friend. And at this, your eyes widen. Is he talking about me?

“Lass?” Ghost repeats, raising a brow. 

“Oh, Bones!” Soap finally remembers. “Heard she’s called Bones.”

“Yeah, our medic.” He almost sounds offended. They should all know your name by now. 

“She’s a cute one, isn’t she?” Turning to the side, he offers Gaz a wide grin. 

“Stop thinking you have a chance, pendejo.” Finally, Vargas chimes in. (Dummy)

“She lets me in on those ice baths,” Johnny continues, looking at Ghost with a wink. “Think she’d give me a sponge bath, too?” 

When he says this, the hand on your jaw tightens, almost protectively. And immediately, you lift your hands, holding onto his forearm and giving him a reassuring squeeze. 

“You might wanna keep your comments to yourself, Johnny.” 

Furrowing his brow and frowning childishly, he asks, “Why?” 

Simon wants nothing more than to haul you away from that corner and show each and every one of them that you’re by his side. You’re such a pretty thing and right now, you’re entirely bare for him. Wouldn’t that be a sight for them? But he won’t do it, he won’t ruin his reputation or more importantly, yours. Honestly, he hasn’t had a woman in years, hasn’t really cared to. But you? He’s not letting you go. 

Clenching his jaw and releasing an aggravated huff, he decides on responding with, “Don’t get your hopes up on that sponge bath.”

“What? You don’t think she finds me sexy?” He asks, moving back to flex. But then the idiot winces, feeling the pulled muscle in his shoulder. 

“It’s time for bed!” Price snaps loudly from further down the hall.

“Yes dad!” They all four shout back, and you almost release a chuckle when you hear that. 

“Come out with us next time, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ghost nods, thumb brushing over your cheek. Maybe he’ll bring you. 

Johnny reaches forward then, giving him a pat on the shoulder before turning in. Vargas and Gaz wish him a good night, Ghost just nodding in response. He waits until they’re all out of sight, making sure none of them have plans to return. And he counts himself lucky that he didn’t hear from Price. 

When he shuts the door, he doesn’t let go of your face, using his free hand to lift his mask as he instantly returns to you. In a flash he’s on you, mouth covering yours and hands now sliding down your naked waist. Closing your eyes, you sigh against him, palms gliding up his chest and onto his broad shoulders. Passionately, he paws at your lower curves, his tongue diving into your mouth to tangle with your own. 

“Sorry about that, love.” And then he’s picking you up again, wrapping your legs around his waist and pushing your back up against the wall. 

“Simon,” You breathe out, stopping for just a moment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m more than okay.” 

While he mouths at your neck, you slink your arms around him, smiling. “Did you not like what Soap said about me?” 

“Johnny can have his fun,” Ghost mumbles over your skin. “He’s all talk.” And then he looks up at you. “I’m the one gettin’ lucky with you.” 

Rolling your eyes, you can’t help but grin. Falling for his cheesy words, you bring him back to you for another kiss, his covered hips grinding into your pelvis. 

“I want you, sweetheart.” He tells you, knocking your head to the side with his covered nose. Harshly, he bites into your neck, sucking on you. “Been waitin’ a fuckin’ week for ya.” 

“Baby, you’re gonna leave a mark.” You’re trying to stay quiet, but the way he’s biting you is making you squeal. Your hands find either side of his head, lightly pulling him back, but he shakes his head loose of your grasp. “You think I fucking care about that?” It comes out as a growl, his mouth returning to your bruising throat. 

“They’re gonna see.”

“Fuckin’ let them see.” He grunts out in response. “You know I want them to.” 

This makes you perk up, shaking you out of your lusty haze. “You do?” 

“Yeah. I do.” Leaning in, he brushes his lips over your cheek. “Want them all to know you’re with me.” 

“I… am?” You ask in return, heart pounding in your chest. 

Lifting his head again, he looks into your eyes. You’ll never get tired of that frosty gaze. “Do you wanna be?”

After a moment, you breathe out your anxiety. “I do.” 

And then he smirks, briefly chuckling. “It’s not a marriage yet, sweetheart.” And this makes you smile, eyes darting to the side. “But for now,” He continues, that gravely voice absolutely mesmerizing. “You have me.” 

Adjusting his hold on you, he breathes out a rough sigh. “Now,” He says, briefly grunting. “Think you can be quiet for me?” 

“I’ll try.”

But he shakes his head. “That’s not good enough.” He’s met with another whine, a small and frustrated one. “Sergeant's right down the hall, sweets.” 

“Okay, I promise. I promise I’ll be quiet, I’ll be good.” That last part comes out as a slip.

“You’ll be good, eh?” He teases, the arousal in his body heightening upon hearing your small admission. 

“Simon,” You groan out, a bit louder this time. “Please.” 

You don’t care that he’s teasing you, not anymore. All you know is that right now, in this moment, you want him inside you. For days after your first time together, you felt a delicious burn between your legs. He filled you so completely, especially since you had been sitting on him. But his cock wasn’t the only thing that felt good, it was his entire body. His smooth skin, his firm and flexing limbs, his strong hands and talented lips. 

“Shit,” He hisses, taking you off the wall and fully into his arms again. 

In two strides he’s at his bed, leaning down to set you on the mattress. What he really wants to do is just throw you down on the sheets, toss you around like the little rag doll that you are to him. But he’ll save that for another night, for a time when you won’t have to worry about making too much noise. 

“Fuck me.” His eyes are glued to your soft breasts, gaze unwavering as he undoes the ties on his sweats. Sliding his pants and boxers down, he discards them, taking off his longer socks, too. 

“Baby…” You’re leaning up and reaching out, the hand not holding you up touching his abdomen. And slowly, your hand slides down, fingertips brushing the side of him.

Simon’s palm falls over your hand, urging you to wrap your fingers around him. “You like that, love?”

“I fucking love it.” You wholeheartedly admit, no longer concerned with holding yourself back. “I love it…” 

Slowly, he guides you to pump him, and you’re nearly drooling from it. You didn’t get a great look at him before, but now, you can see the entire length of him. How he felt accurately represents how thick he is, the veins running up the underside of his shaft making you nibble on your lip. His tip is dripping slightly, and his hips jerk when you run the pad of your thumb over his slit. 

“Alright,” He then tells you, breaths picking up again. “You can gawk at me later, sweetheart.” Grunting, he takes your hand away so he can crawl over you on the bed. While positioning himself between your legs, he says, “And don’t you dare roll your eyes at me.” Looking up, he makes locks in your gaze. “I know you want this.” 

While holding his stare, you smirk, rolling your eyes anyway. And then he reaches up, grabbing your chin. “You can be so goddamn cheeky.” 

“Yeah, but you love it.” 

Your sarcastic comment and the smug look on your face make him groan, ducking his head down. He really does love it.

Resting his head in the crook of your neck, he maneuvers his forearm to rest beside your head. His other hand then drops, wrapping around his erection and holding himself at the base. Lifting your legs, you encase him, feeling him settle even further against your pelvis. Gently, he taps his tip against your sex, about a handful of times. And the last time he does it, it hits your clit. 

Sucking in a loud gasp, your hands instantly wrap around his neck. “Sh…” He coos to you, turning his head. “Sh…” 

Closing your eyes, you quiet yourself, taking a breath to calm down. And that’s when he starts to slide in, head notching at your entrance and throbbing upon feeling the familiar warmth of you.

“You’re still so wet.” He comments, humid breaths washing over your neck. 

“Fuck,” Comes your quiet gasp, arms tightening around him. 

Halfway in, he pauses, inhaling to steady his own breaths. All too easily, he knows he could get carried away. After feeling your beautiful body and then being gone for a week, you’re all he’s been craving. And now that he has you, he feels like his mind is fucking reeling. 

“Keep going,” Lifting your hips, you pulse around him. “Please, baby.” 

Forcing a deep sigh through his nose, he does, shifting forward even more as he continues sliding into your heat. “Love when you call me that.” He admits to you, pectorals flexing to keep himself quiet once he’s fully sheathed inside.

“Mm,” Pressing your lips together, you muffle your whine, feeling the slow but firm grind of his hips directly into your pelvis. The feeling of fullness you get from him is like no other. “You like when I call you baby?”

“Yeah,” He nods, already panting beside you. “Nobody ever calls me that.”

And inside, you’re thinking, well who the hell would? The main people in his life are his team. But you know from the way he says it that he’s confessing something heartfelt to you, something you don’t want to make fun of or tease. 

“I’ll call you baby,” Cooing sweetly to him, you run your hands over the back of his head, sliding down his mask. “For as long as you’ll let me.” 

“Jesus,” He mutters, rotating his hips before pulling out slightly. Gracefully, he dives back in, huffing out over your skin. “How do you have such a hold on me?”

And then he moves his head, dropping it to your chest. Emotionally, he feels something snap, mouth opening to lay his tongue over your soft curves, flicking the tip of it over both of your pebbled peaks. And as soon as he starts doing this, his hips pick up their pace. 

“Simon,” 

“Quiet,” He pants, “Quiet, love.” Wrapping his lips around your nipple, he sucks it inside, now swirling his tongue around it. 

“Jesus Christ,” You’re lifting your hips with his thrusts as they continue growing in pace and strength, feeling the heavy drag of him against your delicate walls. And he’s stretching you again, just barely feeling that little burn. The way he’s thrusting into you makes you feel every inch of him, his erection long enough to reach the deepest parts of you. 

“That’s it, love.” Simon praises, smiling from the movement of your hips. “That’s it.” 

But just as he truly begins enjoying your combined rhythm, the bed starts creaking, and rather loudly. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, hips slowing until they’re completely stagnant.

“Bloody fucking bed.” He mutters harshly, lifting himself from you. 

It surprises you how quickly he slides out of your insides, stepping away and leaving you by yourself on the bed. But he doesn’t go far, dropping to his knees and leaning over to grab your sides. He pulls you off the mattress and onto his lap, his free hand yanking the blankets onto the floor. 

“Get on your hands and knees.” He orders, placing a hand on your back to guide you down quickly. 

He’d put the blankets down for your comfort, watching you get into position for him. It’s shameless, it’s brazen, not even questioning it as you bend over for him. Instantly, his hands find your ass, smoothing his palms over your curvaceous cheeks. 

“This good for you?” He asks quietly, fingers pressing into your plump flesh. 

“Yeah, baby.” His heart throbs when he hears that word. Both from affection and excitement. “Yes.”

You’re leaning down on your forearms, shifting your hips even higher into the air for him. And he seems to enjoy this, because he grips you harshly in his hand. You’d bet anything that if you didn’t have to be quiet, he would’ve smacked it. 

Easily, he enters you again, feeling even bigger this time as he slides in from behind. Muffling your cries is the scratchy blanket beneath your face, your body experiencing his now returning pace. It’s even quicker than last time, the strength of his hands holding your hips as he fucks into you without an ounce of regret. He’s fully giving into himself, shoving himself into you as hard as he’s always wanted to. It rocks your body on the ground, his impressive physique towering above your submissive form. From this angle he can see some of the marks he’s left on you, one on your shoulder and neck. 

“G-Ghost,” It’s getting hard to hold back your shrill gasps and small squeaks, and you can tell he’s struggling, too. The noises he’s making are no better when considering their volume, his grunts and groans echoing in the room. 

“Uh-uh,” He puffs out, shaking his head. “That’s not my name.”

“Oh my god,” He’s ramming himself into you from behind, and by now, the sound has got to be too loud. 

Huffing out a brief laugh, he says, “That’s not my name either, love.” 

“Simon,” You groan, blood draining from your knuckles as you grip his bedsheets. 

“There you go, sweetheart.” Leaning down, he kisses the center of your back, right on your spine. The action makes you shiver, rolling your hips back against him. “Atta girl.”

“Fuck me.”

“Almost there, princess.” He promises, “Almost fuckin’ there.” 

Unfortunately, he knows he won’t make you cum with his dick, not this time around. He’s gonna blow too fast to let you do that. 

“Where do you want it, sweetheart? Tell me.” His voice is rumbling behind you, hips unrelenting in their brutal pace against you. “Right now.”

“Fuck, b-baby, you know I like it inside.” You’re stuttering, your voice high and damn near delirious at this point. 

“Yeah? That wasn’t just a one time thing?” Simon inquires, truly curious. 

“Mm-mm,” You whine, shaking your head against his sheets. “I want you inside me.”

“You safe, sweetheart?” He then follows-up, knowing this will now be a regular thing. 

“Yes, I promise.” You’re panting beneath him, feeling the full brunt of his body’s weight repeatedly rut against you. “Please, just cum inside me.” 

Doing as he told, he allows himself to let go, jaw dropping as he feels the euphoria of his high shoot through his insides. He’s staring down at you, gawking at the way your ass jiggles every time it’s shoved back against him. And the way he tries to hold his breath makes him feel like he’s about to pull a muscle in his chest. Abs and arms flexing, he holds you against him, keeping you flush against his pelvis. Instead of thrusting into you, he keeps you close, grinding himself in as deep as he can get. 

Allowing him to rock you gently along the sheets, your fingers loosen the grasp they once had. Breathing through your ecstasy, you wiggle yourself back against him ever so slightly. And when you do, his hands grab onto your hips, holding you steady. 

“Easy, sweets.” Comes that ragged voice, clearly catching his breath. And then he smoothes a hand down your back, sighing. “Such a beauty.” 

“You care if I smoke?”

Glancing up at him, you display your graceful grin. Calmly, you shake your head. “You know I don’t.” You respond quietly, having been around him far too often to care about that. 

He doesn’t want to leave you, but does so briefly to grab the lighter and pack of cigarettes. Slumping back into his bed, you lift yourself, allowing his arm to slide beneath your head. Slouching, he allows you to cuddle into him, placing your hand on his chest. It’s similar to how the two of you slept. He’d held you through the night while sleeping on his back, his gentle snores lulling you to sleep. Last night, your fingers felt his muscles. Right now, they’re tracing his scars. It makes him smile, your tender touches, those icy eyes lowering to watch you. Once the cig is lit, he inhales a breath, exhaling the smoke upward toward the vent in the ceiling. 

“You sure you don’t have to go soon?” It was already past his normal wakeup call, and you were starting to worry for him.

“Nah,” He takes those worries and brushes them right off. “It’s my day off, sweetheart.” 

When that door closed behind you last night, it’s like an entirely new man was revealed. He’s starting to let his guard down, and only around you. He let his emotions feel free, allowing himself to be soft with you. And you feel lucky to have seen him this way. You doubt even his teammates have. In a way, he’s given his faith to you, placing it in your hands and is now trusting you to handle it carefully. It may take some time, but you’ll show him that you’re worth having. You won’t ever be a weakness for him, you’ll only be an addition to that lengthy list of strengths.

[bad-decisionsot7]

Their reaction to you being demanding.

SEOKJIN

Jin would be on the couch, reading some book when you'd come in, hands behind your back. you two had gotten into a fight last week and you'd had enough of his childish, petty nature. "jin. bedroom now." he gave you a look but quickly stood up, making his way into the bedroom. "if you're going to continue on with that childish attitude it's going to be even worse." you warned him, his cheeks reddening at your words. you intended on teasing him until he was practically begging for you. jin was already hard, obeying you by stripping and laying on the bed. he knew he was in for it.

NAMJOON

Joonie would be cooking when you'd come behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist, your fingers trailed across his naked abdomen, goosebumps covering his tanned skin. "baby what you'd shush him by kissing his shoulder blades, a soft whimper escaping his lips. "meet me in the shower in ten minutes. no sooner. no later." you'd whisper, earning an eager nod from him. he was already picturing everything the two of you would do. something about shower sex with you being in a demanding attitude was what he dreamt of.

HOSEOK

Hoseok and you would be hosting a housewarming party, all of your friends and family present for the event, something about him in that damn silver suit he had been wearing was making you panties wet, the feeling making you uncomfortable. you'd get your way, you always did. hoseok would be shocked when you'd press your body up against his, leaning up to his ear only to whisper seductively, "I'm soaking wet baby." he gulped, looking down into your eyes only to see no joke, of course, he'd fulfill your needs in the upstairs bathroom while everyone wondered where the two home owners skipped off to.

JIMIN

Jimin and you were both switches but today you were feeling particularly dominant, especially seeing him look so damned cute in his grey sweats, you wanted to leave dark hickeys all over his flawless torso, so that's exactly what you did. jimin would be a moaning mess, your teeth marks practically engraved into his collarbones. he knew you could be rough but today it was over the top and he loved it. "what do you want baby boy?" you'd tease him while grasping his bulge. "y-you, please. you." what your babyboy wanted, he always got.

YOONGI

Yoongi and you would be snowed in, the weather driving the both of you mad. yoongi wanted to go to a party tonight but now he was bummed, you wanted to cheer him up but couldn't think of anything, until. you'd looked at him, slyly climbing onto his lap. he'd give you a look of confusion but it'd go away as soon as you'd grind down onto him. "I have an idea but you have to be willing to try it out, are you down?" already interested with the way things were currently going, he'd nod, consenting to whatever you wanted to do, boy was he in for quite an enjoyable ride.

TAEHYUNG

Tae would wake up to you kissing down his throat, your right hand lightly palming his head of hair. he loved waking up to you but now this was entirely different and my oh my was he excited. "baby-" he'd raspily whisper, your pussy throbbing at just his tone. "ssssh, let me take care of you for once. lay back little boy," you never called him that. he knew he was in for a surprise, you could be demanding but never like this, your tone so sassy, whatever you had in mind, he was prepared for.

JUNGKOOK

Jungkook would be playing his video games, practically ignoring you all day. "aw no!" he'd yell into his headset as you watched one of his teammates die. you were annoyed. he'd pay for this. you stripped, your clothes coming off, hair let down. you intended on showing him who's boss and not in a nice way. you walked behind him slowly before slipping in front of him, your naked body exposed. he'd be shocked, a sly smirk on your face. you'd crawl onto his lap, his cheeks turning a crimson color. "don't make this harder than it has to be baby. be quiet while i do my thing. make any noise and you'll regret it." you'd whisper into his ear, nipping it afterwards. you'd make him pay more attention to you, driving him insane as he tried not to make any noise into the headset where all of his friends could hear him.

[daliyla]

Polaroid

"What is that?" Regulus asked.

"A muggle thing" James answered "it's a polaroid. We can take pictures with it"

"Pictures?"

"Yeah. Small paintings"

"I know what pictures are, but muggles know how to do that?"

"Apparently. Their photos don't move, but they're cute. I like them. It takes the moment, and nothing else"

"Mh" Regulus smiled and kissed him "and what moment would you like to take?"

James kissed him again, a hand on his hip, the other one holding the camera.

That was their first photo, and James keeps it in his diary. It's a beautiful photo- a bit unfocused, but their smiles and the dimples on Regulus' cheek are clear.

Their second photo was taken a bit after the first one. James has it in his wallet. It's just Regulus, actually, holding a cat they found in the garden- he looks so soft, simply cuddling the cat, who seems to enjoy it.

Their third photo was taken on a cloudy saturday during Christmas holidays- it was about to rain, so they remained in James' room. It's him and Reg, under a blanket, holding two cups of hot chocolate; Regulus' face is hidden in the crook of James' neck and James is hugging him. James has that photo in one of his favourite books- a book Regulus gifted him, about a girl who loves other girls and can't seem to find her happy ending.

Their forth, fifth and sixth photos are all in James' drawer. The forth was taken on a sunny spring day and it's Regulus' hands holding a flower with such carefulness James melts everytime he looks at it.

The fifth was taken in may, a night they decided to go outside, cast a fire and eat marshmallows the way James saw muggles do in a movie, and it's them kissing in front of the fire.

The sixth was taken during summer and it's Regulus flying on his broom, laughing. Oh, looking at him James can almost hear his laugh, joyful and innocent.

The seventh, eighth and ninth photos- Regulus has them, cause he complained that he had no photos at all.

The seventh is only James- Reg took it- wearing a strange yellow hat he found in a muggle shop. Reg says he finds James' stunned face comical. He also says he finds it fitting, seeing that he always calls James mon soleil.

The eighth is them hugging: Reg took it during a storm- James is afraid of them, so he used that escuse to hug his boyfriend and hide in his chest- and looking at it you can see Regulus' chin, his arms, his red jumper- that he had actually stolen from James- and then James' face, looking a bit scared but mostly satisfied from being in his lover's arms.

The ninth one was taken in a september day and it's just their hands holding, really, but it's so intimate, somehow, and personal- Reg's silver rings, James' string bracelets and a small, golden ring on each pinkie.

They both hid their photos well, so James is admittedly a bit surprised when he comes back in his dorm after Quidditch practise- and some hidden kisses behind the stands- and he finds his best friend on his bed, looking angry, with one of their photos in his hand.

Oh. Right. That photo.

Of all the pictures Sirius could have found- because there are way more photos than just nine, those nine were just the beginning- that's the worst. It's the tenth they took, on their first anniversary.

It's a dark photo, so it's hard to understand what it is- but once you have it, you can't mistake it. It's Regulus, on James' bed, arms open and thighs spread, wearing only his underwear, so... Yeah. It's exactly as it seems. He's saying something- a pout on his lips and his cheeks flushed- and James can perfectly remember what he said and the tone he used. He dreams it sometimes.

"Jamie" Regulus said, childish "take away that damned thing and fucking kiss me"

It's one of James' favourite photos, but that's not exactly the thing you would like your boyfriend's brother to see.

"Could you please explain to me why I found a picture of my baby brother during a... intimate moment in your wardrobe?"

Yeah, so- James is in trouble.

[here4kpopfics]

Coming Home | Joshua

Pairing: Joshua x (f)reader 

Genre: smut, fluff

AU: established relationship, idol!au

Wordcount: 4.4k

Summary: Your boyfriend’s flight is delayed and he won’t be home for Valentine’s Day. Your boyfriend is also a notorious liar. 

Warnings: Language, pet names (pretty girl, baby) oral (f receiving), fingering, overstimulation, squirting, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), Shua’s a little shit but we love him

Rating: M/18+

AN: HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY @baljinciaga I hope you enjoy Shua loving up on you. Thank you @playmetheclassics for beta-ing & @classicscreations for the banner. 💜

Masterlist | Taglist | AskBox | Coffee?

“Say that again?” Your voice trembles just a little, enough to let him know you’re upset. You almost drop the moisturizer container on the counter. 

“My flight is delayed until tomorrow evening.”

“You can’t just take another flight?” You’re being irrational, and you know it. You’re fully pouting, and although he can’t see your childish behavior, he can picture it correctly, so he lets out a breathless laugh. 

“I’m sorry, baby. The weather got worse, so they delayed every flight until tomorrow.” 

“But this was gonna be our first Valentine’s Day together, Joshua.” The container makes its way safely to the counter as you scoop out enough moisturizer, staring at it in your hand, still pouting. 

“I know, y/n. And it’s killing me that we won’t be together. But hey, I remember you saying you never liked the day anyway. So we can have Valentine’s Day the day after. We’ll get all the chocolate for half off, and make a day of it. We’ll go out when there’s not a million people with reservations. We’ll go for a walk, come home, have a spa night, I’ll tell you how much I love you over and over. It’ll be perfect.”

It does sound perfect, but you’re still an irrational child right now as you huff a breath out in annoyance, rubbing the moisturizer across your face. 

“I only said I didn’t like Valentine’s Day because I didn’t have someone to spend it with. Now I have you, and I was looking forward to it…” you take a deep breath, temper tantrum dying as the moisturizer melts into your skin. “It’s okay. You can’t change the weather, and you’re right. We can have the day after be our day.”

“I’m sorry, pretty.”

“It’s fine. But next year. Next year, you are doing the whole nine yards of cheesy Valentine’s Day.” The laughter from the phone’s speaker makes your heart flutter. You love that laugh so much. You love everything about Joshua. It’s a little sickening. 

“I promise, my love. The whole nine yards.”

“Good.”

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you the day after tomorrow, okay? And then we can celebrate in our own way.” 

“Okay. I love you, Shua.”

“Love you too, baby. Bye.”

“I also bought a sexy lingerie set for tomorrow. Sucks you won’t see it. Okay byyyyeeeee.” Your words stick together as you say it all in one breath, leaving just enough time for him to start saying what before hanging up on him. You go back to getting ready for bed, giggling at the influx of text messages from your boyfriend.

Shua🧸: you bought a what now?

Shua🧸: I wanna see.

Shua🧸: Pretty Girl. 

Shua🧸: Answer me pls. 🥺

Oh, the damn pouty emoji with the nickname wins every time. 

You take the set out of the bag, laying it on the bed and instead of getting into it like you know he probably wants you to. But it’s late, and that’s just too damn bad. 

You send the picture of the set off to him, and not even a second later, your phone is a mess again. 

Shua🧸: …

Shua🧸: Baby please put that on and let me see. 

Y/n: no

Shua🧸: 🥺

Y/n: nah nah nah. The pouty face won’t work twice in a row. Come home and maybe you’ll see it. 

Shua🧸: I’ll fucking fly the plane myself if it gets me home sooner. 

Y/n: good luck with that, Shu. Goodnight 😘 

You silence your phone, getting settled into bed with a smile on your face. You’re bummed about not seeing him in the morning, but it’s always fun to tease your boyfriend. Maybe you can wear the set and send some photos tomorrow. 

You fall asleep thinking of ways to make a shitty situation better. 

The next morning, you decided to follow through with the plan, getting ready for work and wearing the pretty little lace thing you bought underneath your pencil skirt and a flowy blouse. You took a few photos before finishing getting ready and sent them off to Joshua, and left for work. 

Work sucked, however. 

Until today, you were unaware of how many of your coworkers were in relationships. And until today, you were not aware of how horrifically stereotypical some people could be about Valentine’s Day. It really wasn’t that many, but it felt like every hour, a flower delivery would happen for a few of your coworkers at a time. But it grew more confusing each time because it was almost always a dozen roses for each coworker. 

Except when the delivery person comes by your cubicle with a small vase with a few beautiful sunflowers in it and a tiny card attached. 

“We’ve been trying to reach you about your car’s extended warranty.”

~🧸

The sputtering laugh was completely unintentional and surely scared some of your coworkers, but you didn’t care. You whipped out your phone and took a photo of the flowers and card arranged nicely on your desk and sent it to Joshua with a few heart emojis. As it was sending, however, you noticed he never responded to the lingerie photo. It just said it was seen. 

You toss your phone in your desk drawer, feeling self-conscious, and ignoring it the rest of the work day. 

The bus ride home sucked more than work did, with couples holding hands on their way to their crowded dates, and couples on their way back home and being a little too handsy with one another. You stay seated, annoyed with yourself for forgetting and leaving the sunflowers at work. 

You check your messages again to find nothing from Joshua. The stupid read receipt shows under the photo but no replies. You put your phone away, instead focusing on the city outside the window the rest of the way home. You start to zone out until you hear a small voice. 

“Excuse me, lady?” You turn away from the window, finding a little boy, at least five or six years old, smiling ear to ear. 

“Hi?” How the hell do you respond to children? Especially stranger children? 

“This is for you!” He exclaims, handing you a single rose. 

What?

“Oh?” You hesitantly take the rose from him, eyes scanning the rest of the bus until you find what you assume to be his mother sitting across from you, smiling at you and her son. You smile back, nodding your head to her before looking back at her son. 

“That’s so sweet of you. Thank you!” You grin, nodding your head to him as he does to you. 

“I don’t have a Valentine. Will you be mine?” He asks, and you have to bite back a laugh, sharing another glance with his mom, who just shrugs with a laugh. 

Well, he did give you a rose. 

“Sure! What’s your name, Valentine?” 

“Min-su!”

“Ahh, nice to meet you, Min-su! My name is y/n!” 

You two talk for another ten minutes. Or, rather, you let him excitingly tell you about his day at school and all the things he and his friends did while you and his mom share looks of amusement. When it’s time for them to get off the bus, he quickly reaches in his backpack and takes out a small pack of Sour Patch Kids, shoving them in your hand. 

“Thank you for being my Valentine!!” You laugh, thanking him back and waving at him and his mother as they get off the bus. You sniff the rose, holding it close to you and smiling the rest of the way home. 

You climb the stairs to your apartment, still playing with the rose in your hand, and come to halt at your doorstep once you unlock the door. 

You didn’t leave the lights on, did you? 

Why does it smell like the oven is on? 

Why are there candles lit?

Before you can do or say anything, someone rounds the corner from the kitchen and into your living room. 

“Ah, crap! I thought I had more time!” Your boyfriend. The boyfriend that said he wasn’t going to be here until tomorrow. That boyfriend. Is somehow standing in your living room, wearing a simple white shirt loosely tucked into his jeans. 

“I don’t suppose you can, like…go back outside for ten more minutes so I can get everything set up, right?”

You glare at him, still not moving an inch as you try to figure out what the hell is going on. 

“No. I can’t. It’s like 10 degrees outside.”

“Right, right. Okay…then uh…” he looks around the room for a second. “How about your room? Wait, no. I didn’t finish setting up in there. Please don’t go in there.”

“Setting up?”

“Maybe the bathroom?”

“Josh.”

“Yeah, the bathroom…”

“Shua.”

“It’ll only be like a few minutes, I promise.”

“Joshua!” You yell, finally silencing him. His mouth parts in shock, switching back and forth on his feet, hands playing with one another. 

“What the hell is going on? You said your flight was delayed.” 

“Oh…uh…” he fidgets in place before looking at you nervously. “I lied!”

“You lied?”

“Yeah?” He can sense you getting mad, remembering how much you hate when he lies, even if it’s as a joke or surprise, and switches into defense mode to quickly explain himself. 

“But it was part of the surprise! I was gonna have all the cheesy Valentine’s Day stuff ready to go when you got here. I have your favorite meal going and your favorite wine. I was gonna put out a bunch of rose petals leading to the table and the bed. I was gonna light more candles, but then it got too stuffy in here, and I know you hate that. And then I got you a teddy bear, one that looks exactly like the emoji one you use in your phone for me. And I got a heart-shaped box of chocolates, I sent you the flowers…whe- where are the flowers?”

“I accidentally left them at work…” you both look down at the rose in your hand. 

“Oh. Why do you have a rose?” 

“My Valentine on the bus, Min-su, gave it to me and a pack of sour patch kids.” You pull the candy out of your pocket, placing it and the rose on the table by the door.  

“You’re cheating on me?” You roll your eyes, kicking your shoes off. 

“He’s like five, Shua.” You groan, hanging your purse and jacket by the door. 

“You’re cheating on me with a five year old?”

You scowl, giving yourself a moment to calm down. 

He’s here. On Valentine’s Day. He lied to surprise you.

Your heart’s going to burst. 

“Shut up and hug me before I start crying.”

“Say less!” He rushes over to where you’re still standing, wrapping you up in his arms.

God, you missed this feeling of his arms tightly around you, keeping you safe. You tuck your face into his neck, breathing in the scent of him, and you don’t want to cry, but when you take another breath, a soft sob escapes you. 

“Is this why you didn’t respond to me all day?” Your question gets muffled against his skin. 

“Yeah, my love. I’m sorry.”

You pull away from his neck, quickly wiping the tears from your cheeks. His hands drop to your hips as he kisses your forehead.

“Okay. I was worried you didn’t like the photo.” You hiccup, face flushing in embarrassment. 

“Oh, pretty girl,” his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you flush against him. 

“That was the first thing I saw when I got off the plane,” his hands riding up your waist, “and it took everything in me not to just go straight to your office and have my way with you there.”

Your breath catches in your throat when his hands stop, his thumbs pressing against your rib cage just below your breasts. He can feel the wire lining of the bra and he sighs almost in relief. 

“Are you still wearing it?” You nod slowly. “You wore this even though you thought I wouldn’t be here?”

“I wanted to feel good. My boyfriend wasn’t going to be home to do it.” You smirk, and he’s the one glaring now. 

“I really want to take this stupid skirt and blouse and throw you on the bed, but I made your favorite meal and so it’s gonna have to wait.” 

“What a shame.” You joke when he gives you a quick kiss, letting him lead you to the kitchen. 

He makes you wait at the table for him to finish preparing everything. You smile watching him dart from one room to the next and back and forth to the kitchen to make sure everything is cooking correctly. You offered to help various times, but he ignored you, telling you just to sit and be pretty while telling you how he planned this whole thing and the shit he had to go through to travel here unnoticed. 

When he wasn’t looking and fiddling with the Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen, you snuck away to your room, trying not to look at the over dramatic Valentine’s Day set up he made and just heading straight for the dresser, pulling out a little fabric bag, stuffing it in your bra, before quickly returning to the table before he noticed. 

The dinner was amazing, and you insisted on helping him do the dishes, saying you could go to the bedroom a lot faster if he let you help.

Of course, that worked, and he was soon practically dragging you to your bedroom, no shame in being ready to rid you of your office attire. 

The room is straight out of a romance movie. Valentine’s Day decorations everywhere, rose petals leading to the bed that form a giant heart across the mattress. There are a few candles lit, both real and fake, but most of the light is coming from the fairy lights you had painstakingly put up when you moved in.

He doesn’t give you much time to admire his work, hugging you from behind the moment you step into your room. His lips attach to your neck while his hands wrap around your middle, teasingly pulling your blouse from your skirt. 

“I’ve missed you, pretty girl.” He pants in your ear, “I’ve missed being able to touch you, I’ve missed the sounds you make when I do, I’ve missed this fucking body and the way it reacts to only me.”

You whine when one hand grabs one of your breasts, pulling you closer to him. You rest your head back against his shoulder as his hands continue to wander your body, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. It’s when he gets to the last button that you remember the bag. 

“Wait. I have. A present for you.”

“What?”

“It’s in my bra.”

You look up at his confused expression with a grin, your hand pulling the little bag out from your cleavage and handing it to him. 

“It’s not much, but I thought you might like it. It’s subtle enough that you can wear it without suspicion.” 

His hands leave your body, opening the bag and letting a small bracelet fall into his palm. It’s thin, silver, and has two very small gems on it that you would only notice if you actually looked.

“Are these?”

“Our birthstones? Yes. It’s crazy amounts of cheesy, but I suck at getting gifts, so I don’t know. I thought this would be cute? You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. I can try to get a refun—”

You’re cut off by suddenly being turned around and lips crashing against yours. His big hands, still holding the bracelet, cradle your cheeks as he deepens the kiss, backing you towards the bed. 

Your body is eased down onto the bed, one of his hands quickly scattering the rose petals from under you, laying you down in the center as he positions himself over you, lips barely leaving yours for more than a second. 

“It’s perfect. And beautiful. Thank you, my love.” He peppers your face with his lips, both of you being sent into giggle fits as he sits up, straddling you as you help put it on his wrist. 

“I have a matching one, see?” You raise your wrist, shoving off the matching bracelet as he puts it on. 

“I didn’t even see it earlier.” 

“Exactly. It’s perfect for us.” His fingers wrap around your wrist, bringing it to his lips to kiss where the bracelet sits. He looks down at you, lying underneath him, your blouse unbuttoned, and finally showing him the bra you sent a photo of earlier today. A small groan escapes as he leans forward again, pinning your arm above your head, your other arm naturally following without being touched or told. 

“I like the sound of that.” He whispers above your lips. 

“What sound?”

“Us.” He kisses you deeply, nipping at your lower lip before leaving a trail of kisses down your throat. “You. Me. Us. You’re mine, and I’m yours. I like it. I love it.”

You don’t fight back the moan he coaxes out of you when he finds the sensitive part of your skin between your neck and shoulder. You arch your back to try to get closer to him, desperate for his touch against your skin. 

“Shua.” You whine, feeling his lips curve into a smile. 

“What do you need, pretty girl?”

“You.”

“You have me.”

“Touch me, please.”

“Only because you said please.” He lifts himself from you, sitting up and finding the zipper to your skirt, slowly pulling it down. 

“You know your hands aren’t actually tied up, right, baby? You’re free to move.”

“No,” you shake your head as you lift your hips. “You get angry when I do.” 

He smirks, harshly tugging your skirt down your body, tossing the fabric off the bed. 

“Only when you’re being bad. Right now, I just want to love you.” He hums, ripping your stockings and laughing at your gasp.

“I’ll buy you new ones.” He quickly says before you can yell at him. 

His hands slowly slide up and down your thighs, gently pushing them open. His eyes dart straight to the wet patch of your matching underwear. 

“Baby, you’re soaked.”

“Please.” You rasp, your hands no longer above your head as you try to reach for any part of him. He notices your grabby hands and offers one of his, and you take that perfect opportunity to pull him back on top of you. 

“Just fuck me. Please, Shua. I need you inside me, or I’ll lose my mind.” It’s almost embarrassing how fast he reduces you to begging as you bring his lips to yours, molding together perfectly. 

“You don’t want me to prep you?” He asks with a hint of nervousness. “I don’t want to hurt you, pretty.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you shake your head, completely ignoring one of his hands sliding between you both, “just want you right now, plea- fuck.” You curse when two of his perfectly long fingers move your underwear to the side and immediately start to finger you roughly, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. 

“I’ll give you whatever you want, pretty. Just fall apart for me once first.”

His fingers curl inside you, pressing in exactly the right spots to make you shake underneath him. Part of you thinks it’s embarrassing how fast he can make you come, but then you see how happy and proud it makes him. How that cockiness makes him a little less gentle with you because he knows his pretty girl can and will take it. 

A jumbled mess of words and curses escapes your lips as he continues his attack with his fingers. 

“Too much, Shua. Too much,” you whimper, but he doesn’t stop, his open mouth hovering above yours, the evil smirk barely showing. 

“You can do it, baby. One more for me.” You lift your head up to kiss him, but he leans back just far enough.

“Nuh-uh. Come on, baby. Focus.” He chuckles when you whine again, leaning down to kiss your neck again, his fingers hitting inside you a little harder.

“You said only once first,” your voice raises in pitch, your fingernail digging into his biceps. 

“I’m feeling a little greedy tonight.” He rasps against your throat. 

“So just one more, and I promise,” your back arches as his fingers somehow get even deeper inside of you. “I promise I’ll give you what you want.” 

This orgasm hits harder than the first and without warning. He has to smother your screams with his lips, fingers leaving you, quickly rubbing the tips of his fingers against your clit, coaxing you to continue to squirt. Your hips raise, desperate for his touch to continue as the rest of your body shakes. 

“You’re okay, pretty. You’re okay. Come back to me.” His fingers slide back in, slowly pumping as you come back down. “You did so good for me.” He leaves a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“Shua,” you pant, grabbing his wrist and pushing it away from you. “Please.”

“Okay, okay.” He chuckles, bringing his fingers to your lips. You lock eyes with him and wordlessly open your mouth, allowing his fingers in, and suck the taste of you off him, your tongue swirling around his digits. His other hand slides under your back to unhook your bra, pulling it off you and tossing it aside. 

“Fuck, you’re everything and more, my love.” He murmurs, quickly kissing you after removing his fingers and then shedding his clothes. You reach out for him, letting out a small groan when your arms start feeling heavy. 

“Hold on.” He laughs, crawling onto the bed, fist stroking his hardened erection, smearing his precum along the way. 

“Can you get on your knees for me, pretty?” You make a fuss, both of you smiling as you flip yourself over. Your arms and knees wobble slightly, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Joshua. He grabs two pillows and tucks them under your stomach, and hands you another to hold onto. 

He leans forward, kissing the spot where your neck meets your back. 

“Just relax, baby. Let me take care of you.” He murmurs against your skin, sitting back up when you relax more in the position, the pillows helping keep you up. 

He pulls your underwear to the side again, one of your arms reaching back to hold it. You moan at the feel of his tip sliding against your folds, gathering your slick and rubbing against your clit. He doesn’t wait for you to beg for him before he’s sliding in in one thrust. 

“Fuck, Shua.” You cry out, the feeling of him stretching you so perfectly adding fuel to the fire burning inside you. 

“You take me so well every time, y/n. Such a perfect pussy. And all for me and just me, right?”

“Just you.” You think you say it coherently, but it’s more of a muffled moan into the pillow as you try to raise your ass to meet his hips. 

His fingers dig into your hips when you press against him, trying not to come already and letting out a low groan. His grip loosens as his pace picks up, one arm reaching around your waist, the other reaching for your throat, pulling your body up to him. 

“You okay, baby?” His lips find your ear, his panting making you clench around him. He hisses in your ear, adding a little pressure to the hold on your neck. “Talk to me, pretty girl.” 

“I- ah, I’m okay. Feels so good, Shua.”  You whine, reaching behind you to grab his hair, your other hand’s nails digging into the forearm around your waist. 

“Gonna come all over my cock, right baby? Give me a third?” 

You nod, biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from being too loud. 

“Come with me, Shua. Please, baby.”  

“Where do you want me?” He growls in your ear, but he already knows your answer, his hips snapping to yours a little harder when you mutter the word inside. 

“If that’s what the pretty girl wants.” He grins, kissing the space under your ear. 

A few more thrusts and you're warning him of your impending third orgasm.

“Let go.” He whispers, and you do. You lean your head back on his shoulder as he buries his face in your neck, and you clench around him. It takes three more sharp thrusts before he buries himself deep inside you, groaning against your skin as he fills you up, your walls milking him for everything. 

You feel yourself go limp in his arms, allowing him to maneuver you to lay back down on the bed. You both groan as he pulls out of you, his fingers quickly taking over to shove any escaping cum back inside. 

“You keep that in there for me, so I can taste it later, yeah?” You grunt in response, an exhausted smile forming as tired arms reach for him. He’s quick to give you what you need, laying beside you. You run your fingers through his hair, caressing it softly at the base of his neck and giving him goosebumps. 

You adore him. You love him. He’s yours, and you’re his. There is no better feeling than being loved by Joshua. 

“I love you.” A whisper escapes your lips, and he hums, his head leaning into your palm. 

“I love you, too, pretty girl.”

“I’m still mad that you lied, though. Don’t think you’re getting away with that by being a perfect boyfriend.”

“Oh, I’m aware. And I will do whatever you need me to do to make up for it.” You scoff, pulling your hand away from him. 

“Oh, you will. Later though. For now, I want my Valentine to cuddle me.”

“Min-su? He’s a kid. I don’t think that’s appropriate, y/n.”

“Ugh. You’re the worst.” You grumble, flipping over on your side so your back is facing him. He doesn’t hesitate to respond, curling up against you and kissing any part of your face he can reach, making you giggle. 

“I’m the best, and you know it. Min-su could only dream to be even as close to the best as I am.” 

You don’t respond, not wanting to entertain his bit. You reach behind you for his wrist, the bracelet wrapped around him perfectly and hold his hand close to your chest, enjoying the visual of the two pieces of jewelry connected. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He whispers it in your ear as you fall asleep, the happiest and most in love you’ve ever been.

[starfxkr]

Rafe who buys reader a bunny plushie, like the jellycat Brown bunny or sth like that, and she is just so excited! Acting all childish and carrying her bunny everywhere with her, she just can't stop saying "bunny" all excited, and maybe she shows it to everyone and someone (probably Ward or maybe Topper) starts saying how immature she is, and she just gets upset but Rafey is there to defend her

he can be so sweet when he wants to :(

imagine he gets it for you for your birthday like of course he splurges and buys you mounds of clothes and jewelry and makeup etc but he knew what you wanted. right in the center of your bed arranged in a little display was a Jellycat Bunny and a note.

a bunny for my bunny - r

you walked around with it all day, and for once rafe didnt look annoyed. in fact he looked pretty pleased with himself. “i knew i got the right one, looks just like you kid.” he pinches your cheek and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

it was like nobody could ruin your day, until you ran into topper while shopping.

“what’s uh— what’s up with the rabbit.”

you could barely contain your giddiness, “its not a rabbit top, its a bunny and rafe got it for me! its my birthday!” you were absolutely beaming until he said his next words.

“thats sweet and all but dont you think youre too old to be carrying it around? just keep it in your room this is kinda weird.”

your smile faltered, “oh…yea maybe. see ya top.”

you met rafe back in the parking lot and he noticed your bunny now sitting squished in your little bag as he helps you into the truck.

“woah kid what happened? you got your girl all smushed.” he reaches in your bag and pulls her out, smoothing the stuffed animal’s fur before giving her back to you.

you pouted and thumped your foot against the dash, cuddling her close, “topper said it was weird to carry her because i’m too old for that.”

rafe leaned against the car door, gaze hot as he watched you settle in, “he fuckin told you that?” he looked pissed, jaw ticking as he ran a hand over his mouth.

“yea…but its not a big deal i guess hes right—“

rafe interrupts you, “nah, nah he doesn’t tell you shit about what you should or shouldnt do y’hear me? you wanna carry 10 damn bunnies around you can.”

you giggle, picturing yourself with a wagon filled with stuffed animals, “okay rafey.”

“alright now give me a kiss,” he leans in and buckles your seat belt, “me and topper gonna have a little talk.”

[sgiandubh]

I want to ship SC, trust me I do and I love them together, but I just can’t fathom how far they stretch a fake relationship (her and T). Like for example the recent picture of them holding hands- now it’s not an insane gesture but definitely one we haven’t seen before. So maybe they truly are just a private couple. But in my heart of hearts I just love her and S together so much, and don’t know what to think because on one hand they are simply everything together and on the other it seems like she really is with T. I’m confused 🥲 what’s your take?

Dear Confused Anon,

I will be brutally honest: no, I do not trust you and I do not care about your crocodile tears. Not a single bit. In fact, once I will be done with my answer to you, you are most probably going to press CTRL+C, then CTRL +V. And run to the nearest Mordor sweatshop, in the hope one of the Three Sopranos will insult me again.

You see, to trust you, I would have to speak with at least a handle, not a coward in disguise. And then, even DMs are neither always safe, nor always honest - I have recently learned it the rough way, despite my best efforts, tried (and up until now failed) to forgive and will never forget.

By now, I suppose everyone got a good look at this splendiferous picture:

Take a long, quiet, hard look at it, Shire.

So organic it could kill a moth colony on the spot.

So heartfelt - she doesn't even look at him.

So sentimental - that icy smile of hers. A happy couple, indeed.

A general round of applause, all across the Nation.

You are very wrong: it is not the first time they are holding hands, I mean, sort of. The much touted London marathon pic immediately comes to mind - although you'd have to admit, I looked and looked and he seemed to be checking her pulse, rather than being lovey-dovey.

A real private couple would never stoop as low as a cheap, laborious retcon, in retaliation for a couple of thousand people speculating on a niche blogging platform.

It took four years, a month and four days after that Remarkable Week-end to see McSideburns clumsily try and claw her hand. Remarkable, indeed.

And are you trying to tell me the MC didn't shake your beliefs and this does?

This perfunctory, formulaic, scripted AF, blip?

Wow. I have no words, Anon.

That unkempt, bland person - for God's sake, mister, tuck that damn shirt in your pants! - looking like the elephant in the china shop at a carefully curated event celebrating the supreme form of French refinement?

This is insulting, to say the least. To her (and her prized image), to Chanel, to this fandom, to S and believe it or not, to himself, too. Granted, the Berluti shoes are showing some improvement and are now clean. Hmph.

So here is what I think, Anon (and I know people are going to shriek and guess what, I do not care, for once):

It's been at least one year this fandom has been asking for this specific pic and for this specific whiplash. A childish tantrum, as she is regularly throwing. Mind you, that doesn't even come close to the painfully slow, monumentally boring Flukenzie Floozy Saga and looks as staged as the Ochoa & S London sighting (ah, patterns!).

This is the reaction to our scriptwriting ineptitude.

This is also the reaction to some underground shenanigans, directly related to a birth certificate apparently being peddled around. I will not discuss this, yet know just that: this is a legal claptrap, right there. I can, and if needed I will prove it. With the cold, surgical precision Mordor is so afraid of.

But she is a mother, for Christ's sake!

A mother!

As I said, I am not a mother and never will be. I do not wish this trial on anyone. But if I know something about life, I can guarantee you a mother would do whatever it takes to protect her child(ren).

Including taking precisely this kind of sad and forgettable pic.

So, there's that. We choose and we choose now: we fall for it once more and let the playbook fiddle with our insecurities once more and post endless trails of old pics once more to soothe the searing indignation.... Or GROW THE FUCK UP and show to whom it may concern we're not buying this shit anymore.

I know what I'll do. You're on your own, Anon: my tough love took you only this far, down the road. Sorry for the length. It was needed.

For the moment, I just booked an appointment with Miss Fotoula (roughly Claire, hehe), my genius hairdresser. I will ask her to refresh my dirty blonde mane.