#it hurt me drawing them so... smooth..

[avocadoraisin]

I am not immune to mermay

[incognit0slut]

hi! could u write a fic about is the first time of the reader with spencer helps her and them made love so romantic *im sorry im so romantic 🙈* :)

I luv all ur writings <3

xoxo

(18+) soft spencer x inexperienced reader. 1.4k

Love was a foreign concept until he met you.

-

Spencer has savored the taste of chocolate, relishing its rich sweetness as it melts on his tongue. He's indulged in the smoothness of honey, its velvety texture spreading across his palate. And amidst his love for the sugar in his coffee—slightly bitter yet abundantly sweet—none of these flavors could compare to the taste of you.

Because you tasted so divine, it was the only way he could describe it. His hands were pressed on the back of your thighs, forcing you to spread your legs further apart as he worked his tongue over you, swallowing every drop of arousal that dripped down to his mouth.

The thought of ever going back to a life without the taste of you seemed absurd now—It was a crime against his senses. So he devoured you eagerly, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony, completely lost in the spell of your flavor and scent. He couldn't get enough, and honestly, he didn't want to stop.

He was hooked, addicted to the way you writhed and moaned beneath him; your fingers tangling in his hair, your desperate pleas, and the way your hips bucked against his mouth. And when he sensed you teetering on the edge of release, he doubled his efforts, sucking and licking with a feverish intensity, intent on drawing out every last drop of your bliss.

It wasn't until you gently pushed his head away that Spencer finally drew back, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. You couldn't help but giggle at the satisfied grin that spread across his face, his breathless chuckle mirroring your amusement as he crawled over your trembling body.

"That was..." you trailed off, running your hand up his arm as he settled between your legs.

"Good?"

You sighed.

"Amazing. Splendid. Marvelous."

With a soft laugh, he reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "Someone's been hitting the thesaurus."

You swatted at his shoulder playfully. "Shut up and kiss me again."

The smile on his face widened into a grin as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin before capturing your lips in a soft, tender kiss. He pressed himself closer to you and the unmistakable sensation of his cock brushing against your clit made you gasp in surprise.

"You're so perfect," he muttered, slowly grinding his length along your wet folds. He fought the urge to take you right then and there, but your comfort was his priority. He needed to make sure this was what you wanted. "Are you sure you're ready?"

You stifled a sigh. While you appreciated his concern, it was starting to get on your nerves, after all, it was just sex... You might be inexperienced, but how difficult could it be?

"Mmhm," you answered, though your voice came out a pitch higher than you intended. "Of course, I am."

He slightly pulled away. "You don't sound so sure."

You stared at him for a moment before finally letting out a sigh.

"Fine, I'm a little nervous, okay?" Biting your bottom lip, you voiced the question that had been weighing on your mind.

"Is it—" you suddenly sighed, or it was more like a moan that escaped your lips as the underside of his cock continued to rub along your wetness. "Is it... going to hurt?"

His expression softened as he reached out to gently cup your cheek. "It might be uncomfortable at first, but I'll be gentle, I promise," he reassured. "We can stop anytime you want."

"I don't want us to stop."

A surge of warmth flooded him at your words, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead. "Then we won't," he promised, slipping his hand between your body. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

You made a noise in the back of your throat as you watched him bring his cock closer, dragging it through your folds before he thrust his hips forward. The sensation was overwhelming and unfamiliar, and you couldn't help but tense up in response.

"Is this okay?" he asked. You nodded, though your breathing had become erratic. Your eyes fell closed as you started to feel him stretching you, the sensation both strange and uncomfortable. It was like your body was resisting him.

"Honey, I need you to relax," he murmured soothingly. "Can you do that for me?"

You winced when you felt him pushing further, a sharp pang of discomfort shooting through you. "S-Spence... it hurts..."

"I know, honey, I know," he whispered, his thumb continuing its gentle caress against your cheek. "Breathe with me."

You opened your eyes, meeting his reassuring gaze. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your racing heart, and he followed suit, matching your rhythm. In. Out. In. Out. Hold.

Breathe.

"Good, that's it," he encouraged softly. "Just like that. You're doing great."

Despite the initial discomfort, you focused on relaxing your body, allowing him to stretch your tight walls. He watched your lashes flutter against your cheek before his gaze dropped between you, taking in the stretch of your cunt, slowly allowing him to press deeper and deeper.

He then buried his face in your shoulder as he sheathed himself completely and you stifled a shocked yelp as you clung onto his shoulders for dear life, nails digging into his skin. You hadn't expected to feel so full, for him to reach that deep.

The room fell quiet, broken only by the steady rhythm of your breathing and the faint rustle of sheets. He waited patiently, his body pressed against yours, allowing you time to adjust. Then, he pressed a lingering kiss on your collarbone, his lips warm against your skin.

"Tell me how it feels," he whispered. You weren't sure you could form proper words, becoming so lost at the feeling of him inside of you. But you managed to take a moment to gather your thoughts.

"It feels... weird," you replied.

He lifted his head from your shoulder. "Do you want me to stop?"

You shook your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips as you stared up at him. He was beautiful like this, pressed against you, cheeks flushed with desire, damp hair tousled on his forehead—his cock finally buried deep inside you.

"You're doing so well for me, you know that?" he said, and the words made you sigh in response as his hips moved slightly back before rolling back into you, causing you to close your eyes with a quiet gasp the same time he let out a groan.

Something shifted after that. The air crackled with electricity. The blood in your veins pumped a little faster and your breathing deepened, each inhale filling your lungs with the heady scent of him. With growing urgency, your hips began to buck forward, eager to meet his slow, deliberate pace.

"Th-That feels good," you couldn't resist whispering to him. The initial pain you had felt had quickly faded, replaced by a rush of pure, hot pleasure that overwhelmed your senses.

"Do you think I can go faster?" He whispered, and you could hear the slick noise as he thrust his cock into your dripping walls. "Can you take it?"

A breathless yes escaped your lips and it was enough for him to get lost in you completely. His lips found their way to your neck, trailing kisses along your skin as he quickened his pace. The sensation was overwhelming, it was too much yet not enough, and all he could do was kiss every inch of your skin and tighten his grip on your body.

Spencer never understood the term making love, for love itself had often felt like a foreign concept to him. But with you in his arms, nothing else seemed more fitting, it was as if you were two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together.

He now realized that love wasn't something to be analyzed, it wasn’t something his big brain could understand—it was meant to be felt, deeply and profoundly, and his love for you was as natural as the beating of his own heart.

[grnherbs]

i need oscar fingering you for the first time and him just being gentle🙏

look at my face baby | op81

afab!reader, eighteen plus, mdni

thank you for your request anon! sorry it took so long to get round you

he had you laid back on his double bed, hands softly tracing over your shirt and leaving soft kisses along the corners of your lips, both of you were hot and sweaty from a prolonged make out session on the couch downstairs.

he’d picked you up, legs wrapped round his waist, head down, hidden into his shoulder as you feel yourself being carried to his room. you’d been in his room before but, something about the two of you being alone in the house, no sound, taking you to his bedroom, hot and heavy was just so intoxicating.

you look up at him as he crawls up the bed, leaning over and kissing your nose “hey sweetheart” he smiles as you blush in his direction, eyes closing, causing him to chuckle gently. you still weren’t used to the nicknames, the kisses and the love this early on in the relationship, but god did oscar love to tease.

he moves his hands down now, fluttering at your waist and leans to kiss you, softly on the lips with a shy smile still on your lips, whimpering softly into it, a giggle settling between you two at the sound.

“wanna try something with me?” he looks into your eyes with his sweet gaze, “i’ll be gentle okay?” he nods in your direction and you nod back, at a loss for words, his hands moves down, pulling your trousers down as he does. he slows at the frightened look on your face and kisses your forehead “is this okay baby?” he checks in and you nod, “y-yes oscar”.

when he has your trousers halfway down your thighs, he moves his hand back up to hook your underwear down too, slowly, as if to not frighten you at all, kindhearted and gentle as he goes, which you takes a deep shaken breath out to sooty yourself.

once your underwear had been quite literally flung across the room, he starts smoothing his hands over your thighs, warm and veiny from the innate amount of sexual tension between you, your eyes watering slightly as you usher out a “please osc..” which has him spreading your knees gently, hand dipping between them and letting out his own moan when he finds how wet you are for him.

“god… you feel so good angel, so wet for me” he clicks his tongue in his mouth, before biting his lip, one finger drawing down the slit to reach your opening, slipping it in slowly, almost unbareably. “just taking my finger so good baby, that’s it… one at a time, don’t wanna hurt my baby”

you grip his thick bicep and look up through your wet lashes at him, flustered and bucking your hips up slowly at the intrusion, feeling so full yet so empty at the same time, especially when he begins to thrust the finger in and out as a near torturously slow pace, but if you asked he would say he was simply ‘warming you up’.

you bump your hips up more again, and he places his other hand on the apex of your stomach, pushing you down lightly so you can move away. “you’re okay baby, i’ll give you more don’t worry” he leant down to kiss your forehead and you feel your heart pounding in your chest at his sweet actions. he was your boy, your sweet boy and you’d do anything for him.

he takes his finger out before submerging two in you, earning a gasp from you at this moment in time, your hand which rests of his bicep is squeezing tighter and he chuckles at this “i got you, shhh” he soothes and continues his movements, the feeling of fullness and euphoric bliss makes your head feel fuzzy and you drop it back against the pillow, a moan escaping your lips.

you see the blushed cheeks of the aussie before you, his hair messy over his forehead now, biting his lip in either concentration or to stave off just fucking you. but he wanted to treat you, wanted to be kind to you, wanted to give you pleasure before anything else. he rests his head against yours, eyes meeting your own and he smiles, warm, fingers moving deeper and at a quicker pace than before.

“you’re getting close aren’t you sweet thing?” he whispers at you and you nod, biting your own lip at this point, toes curling and you’re pulling him closer, needy for his proximity and closeness. “i love you osc, i love you” you say gently, and he looks overjoyed, fingers finding the pace and whispering back thoughts of adoration.

the feeling hits you like a freight train, you whimper out and shake under his touch, and he holds you close to him, hand which rests on your stomach coming up to hold the nape of your neck, letting you roll out your orgasm on his hand, “that’s it, did so well for me baby, so so well, i love you” he ushers to you and smiles sleepily.

“so sweet for me, doing so well”. and you close your eyes once more, head resting on his shoulder.

[astraystayyh]

Say yes to heaven

hyunjin x reader. seven minutes in heaven except you're heartbroken and hyunjin has a huge crush on you. angst and softness and slightly suggestive in the end.

cw: mention of drinking alcohol and cheating. reader has lipstick on.

part 2. say yes to me

Hyunjin's legs are aching from sitting crisscrossed for so long. The music reverberates loudly, bouncing off the walls in Changbin's house. You are all playing truth or dare, a gathering of twenty people or something. But he isn't keeping count of anyone around. His eyes are fixated on you.

You are downing your drink, nudging Chan's side so he'd pour you another shot. He understands why you feel the need to forget, to fog up your mind until the world around you blurs. Your ex Suho, the one you had just broken up with two weeks ago, is kissing someone else, right in front of you. Hyunjin doesn't care enough to see who it is, his heart clenching at the sight of the tears brimming in your eyes.

You are hurt, rightfully so. Hyunjin never understood why you've ever dated Suho. He never cherished you, never treated you the way you were deserving of. Because you were beautiful, so beautiful it rendered Hyunjin putty in your hands. Though that was merely the surface of everything captivating about you.

The bottle is spined again, and Hyunjin's breath catches when it lands on him... Then you.

"Seven minutes in heaven!" Changbin shouts and you roll your eyes, before standing up and heading first into the closet. Hyunjin follows closely behind.

He closes the door, plunging you both into pitch darkness. Your hands find his arms suddenly, gripping them tightly.

"You okay?" he asks, concern dripping from his tone.

"It's really dark," you whisper, and Hyunjin's brows furrow further.

"We should leave," he suggests, moving to open the door but you pull him back. "No, no. Let's stay."

"But you're scared."

"It's okay. You're here."

"Is this about Suho?" Hyunjin asks tentatively, after a few silent beats, and he can hear you suck in a deep breath. He knows he just hit a sensitive chord.

"Yes."

One.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he whispers, placing a reassuring hand on your back.

"Save it. I won't make out with you," you reply, sudden anger lacing your words. Hyunjin understands it's just your walls being put up so he wouldn't dare peek behind them.

"I know," he says softly, and your hold on his white shirt tightens. You're both so close, his chest is almost pressed to yours. Can you hear how wildly his heart is beating?

"Fuck, I'm sorry Hyune," the nickname slips from your mouth, sweet and familiar. He missed hearing it. Missed what you had before Suho came into the picture. "I'm just really really hurt," you admit, tears glistening in your eyes.

"Do you want me to fight him? You know I would," he tries to keep his tone soft even though raw anger simmers within him.

"You don't even know what he did," you chuckle weakly and he shakes his head. "He made you cry. That's enough for me."

Two.

You stay silent, but your forehead rests on his chest, as slight tremors shake your body. Your wound was still so fresh, and seeing Suho tonight only made matters worse. But Hyunjin's body is warm, and his arms tightening around you feel safe. You think you can face your ex again if he's by your side.

"Please don't cry," he says, hands reaching up to smooth down your hair, as his chin rests atop your head. He's so gentle with you, so sweet, more than Suho has ever been in your relationship.

"I'm sorry, this isn't what you signed up for," you apologize, but you can't find it in you to pull away. Instead, you wrap your arms around his waist, drawing him nearer to you.

"It's okay. This is nicer." You can't see him, but you can hear the smile in his voice. His smile is always so pretty, and his perfume is making you dizzy. You've drunk too much.

Three.

"How have you been?" you ask, fingers drumming gently along his back. Hyunjin doesn't know how he managed to speak normally to you up until now. Not when you've intoxicated him, when all he could feel in this cramped up space was you.

"Good," he finally manages to say. "And you?"

"I'm good. I missed you," you admit, and his heart seems to pause within his chest.

"You're drunk," he dryly chuckles but you shake your head against his chest. "I know what I'm saying. I'm sorry for taking my distance these past few months. The truth is... I didn't have enough energy to be a good friend, it was draining me to deal with Suho."

"Don't apologize. There is nothing to forgive."

"You promise me?"

"I promise."

Four.

You're full-on hugging now, arms tightly intertwined around one another, and hyunjin thinks this is his heaven- to bury his head in your hair, to smell the sweet scent of your shampoo.

"You smell nice," you mumble, cheek resting right across his chest. "Why is your heart beating so loud, Hyunjin?" you ask curiously, eyes closed.

Hyunjin thinks if he stays silent enough, then you'll forget you've ever asked. Because he can't bring himself to lie to you.

"You smell nice too," he settles on saying. "You look really pretty too."

"Thank you, Hyune." That damned nickname again. "I think... I think you're making my heart beat faster too," you mumble and Hyunjin shuts his eyes closed. You are killing him, stabbing him, and twisting the knife deeper inside his heart. And he's allowing it because it's you.

Five.

"Why do you think he cheated on me?" you ask, voice barely audible, and Hyunjin has to try his best not to storm out right now. He had guessed it was bad, but not this horrible.

"Don't. Don't ever think it was your fault. It wasn't. It could never be. It was his," he speaks the words firmly as if trying to drill them into your mind, erasing every wrong belief you held about yourself.

"Do you mean it?"

"I do," he leans away, cradling your face between his hands. He's so gentle. his voice and his touch and his existence. How could one be so gentle to you?

"You are everything someone would ever dream of. If I were him I would..." he cuts himself off, before saying something stupid; something that would tip the scale of your friendship.

"Finish it, finish what you were saying," you plead, voice shaky and he can't find it in himself to say no.

"If I were him, I would never let go of you. I'd do everything, anything to make myself worthy of you, of your love."

Six.

"Can I try something?" you ask tentatively, and Hyunjin feels as if the world stopped spinning around him. The outside world doesn't exist anymore, all he knows is you.

"Yes," he whispers, voice raspy, and you nod. Your shaky hands reach up to trace his face, cupping his cheeks gently. You're standing on your tippy toes, and Hyunjin can feel your breath fanning over his skin, feel goosebumps burst across his body. And then, the most tender kiss, placed on his cheek.

Your lips linger, pressing into his skin and marking it up for eternity. His hands find your sides, they're trembling, but they're warm and they feel nice to you.

You gulp, before kissing his cheek again. And then, you trail down, your lips finding the corner of his mouth. Hyunjin's knees buckle underneath him. It's too much, colorful dots cloud his vision and he hasn't even drunk anything.

Your hand curls around the nape of his hair, and then you brush your lips against his neck, slowly, deliberately, as if testing the ways in which you could drive him insane. You've succeeded, he wants to say. He's yours to do anything you want with.

Seven.

"Time's up!" Changbin's loud voice rings outside of the closet, and it snaps you both out of your haze. You stumble back, fingers brushing tentatively across your lips. It feels as if your entire body is on fire, even though your kisses were innocent, tentative. But you're feeling more than you've ever did with Suho.

"Hyunjin, I-" The door pulls open, sudden light flooding your vision. You can finally see the evidence of your kisses- crimson imprints on his cheek, trailing down his neck, giving way to a flushed chest. He's so pretty. And you've marked him up for everybody to see.

"We'll talk later, okay?" Hyunjin smiles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Okay."

Seven minutes felt like seven lifetimes for Hyunjin. And he'd live them all with you, love you in each if you'd let him. He'd do anything so you'd let him.

⁀➷✧･ﾟ

part two

[lovebugism]

Im a very indecisive person but I guess I'll go with “Surprise, I have feelings and you just hurt them.” with Eddie, if you have any inspiration for this prompt 💕

ty for requesting!! — you get mean when you like someone, so eddie thinks you hate him (grump!reader, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, shameless succession reference, 1.9k)

“Please, tell me you’re joking,” you mumble through the melting vanilla shake on your tongue.

Robin grins at you across the table and shakes her head. “Nope,” she says, popping the p. “You are officially looking at Vicki Carmichael’s latest odyssey.”

You and Eddie look over your shoulder at Steve. He stands at the front counter and fumbles with the straw dispenser — hitting the lever repeatedly, with an increasingly rougher touch when nothing comes out. He flounders when they all spill out at once. 

He’s lucky he’s so pretty.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Eddie announces from beside you after stealing a sip of your milkshake. He squints and fights off a brain freeze. “Why didn’t he just tell us? He’s screwing the hottest girl in town— it feels like something he’d brag about.”

“I’m sitting right here,” you scoff, mostly kidding.

“‘Cause he knew you guys would totally ream him for it,” Robin answers and pinches fry crumbs into her mouth. Through a mouthful of them, she says, “It’s not like you’re usually supportive about this kinda stuff.”

“I’m all for Steve being a slut, okay?” you defend with your hands up in surrender. “But I do draw the line at my best friend fucking the girl who bullied me in high school.”

“What’d she do?” Eddie asks. You can’t tell if he really cares or if he just wants something new to laugh at you for, but you decide to humor him anyway.

“She cut out the boobs of my gym shirt before class because she knew if I dressed out again, I was getting detention,” you explain, smiling when it makes the table laugh. “I had to run the mile with my bright pink sports bra showing, but at least my record was clean.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Steve wonders aloud when he returns to the table, carrying the only straw that hadn’t fallen to the floor. He slides into the booth next to Robin and looks at the three of you expectantly.

“Nothing.” the brunette girl chirps.

“You,” Eddie deadpans.

You squint. “Real smooth, Munson.”

“Wait, what?”

Eddie laughs. “I mean, Vicki Carmichael? Seriously?”

Steve gapes at Robin, features yawned in betrayal. “You told them?” 

The girl shrugs, taking a big bite of her burger and playing coy.

“She’s hot and everything, but she’s really not your type, man.”

Steve’s eyes narrow across the table. “What’s that supposed to mean, freak?”

“She likes bad boys,” you answer for him, shrugging like it’s obvious. “You know, the Billy Hargrove types. With tattoos and leather jackets and long hair. And, no offense, but you’re the furthest thing from that.”

“I think you just described me, doll,” Eddie laughs.

“Weren’t you screwing around with Billy Hargrove a couple months ago?” Steve wonders with a knowing, honeyed squint.

“Shut up, Harrington,” you bite.

Eddie grins with all his teeth, pink and boyish and proud. “Oh, so you’re screwing guys that are just like me now, huh? I’m flattered.”

“If anything, you’re the dollar store version of Billy Hargrove, Munson,” you retort with a roll of your eyes, turning your attention to the milkshake in front of you. You stab holes in the thick ice cream and try to ignore the sudden attention.

All the eyes on you make you nervous. You were never good at being the butt of the joke. ‘Cause when you get embarrassed, you get mean. Like some kinda hurt dog.

“You have everything but the looks.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie snorts and snatches the frosted glass away from you. He slides it over to his side of the table and sips from the straw that has your lipstick stained on the tip of it. “You can’t insult me—”

“Can’t I?”

“—Not when you’re fucking a carbon copy of me,” he scoffs and tries to ignore the jealousy burning wildfires behind his ribcage.

“He’s nothing like you,” you insist.

“He’s exactly like me. Just blonde. And watered down,” Eddie argues, face twisted with disgust. He smiles when it makes everyone else laugh but you. “I mean, it’s kinda sad, actually. I turned you down, so you had to try it out with Hargrove?”

“I didn’t try it, first of all, I fucking conquered it,” you retort, not exactly joking but grinning when it makes Steve and Robin chuckle to themselves. “And second of all, I never wanted you, Munson. So there was never anything to turn down.”

Your words sting somewhere deep in his chest. Like there’s a knife lodged deep in his heart that aches every time he breathes. He doesn’t know what to do with this hurt other than hurt you back. 

“So that night you told me you liked me after my show— that was all a lie?” he asks, smirking to hide his ache.

Robin’s eyes go wide as she bites into her burger. “What is this? A sleepover?” she scoffs with her mouth full. “Why is everyone telling each other’s secrets?”

“You started it, Buckley,” Steve quips before stealing one of her fries.

Your answer is immediate. A total lie, but instant nonetheless. No one’s gonna out-insult you. Rarely ever do you come out of petty arguments without having drawn the most blood.

“Yeah! You bombed, and I felt bad, and I wanted to make you feel better,” you confess with a sinister giggle. “What I really wanted to say is that I wish your mom had given birth to a can opener because at least then it might be good at something.”

Eddie meets your smirk with a glower, something genuinely pained that makes your chest sting. You refuse to show it, though. Not even when he slides out of the booth. “Yeah, okay. Fuck you,” he mumbles to himself as he goes.

“What?” you scoff a cynical laugh.

“C’mon,” Steve murmurs quietly to you. “That was a little too far.”

“Oh, so he can make fun of me, but I can make fun of him?”

“It’s different. You know that.”

You roll your eyes even though you know he’s right. Eddie’s a clown, but he means well. He’s a dumbass because he doesn’t know how to be serious about anything, but he’s hardly ever outright mean. 

You’re made of something more hardened than that. You set fires all around you, and only when a person walks through it do you know they really care. You don’t mean to be so mean half the time. It’s a defense mechanism more than anything. A time-bomb you never really learned to defuse.

“It was a joke, Eds!” you shout as he storms the short distance to the entrance of the diner.

“Well, surprise. I have feelings—” he grins, though there’s little emotion behind it. The door dings over his head when he shoves it open. He reaches for the crushed packet of cigarettes in his pocket. “—And you just hurt them.”

The diner feels strangely silent with him gone. The air feels noticeably heavy, too. 

You reach for the milkshake he left on his side of the table and slide it audibly back over to you. You don’t sip from it, though. Your stomach’s too much in knots now. You just busy your fidgeting hands with it, holding the frosted glass in your delicate palms until they ache.

“Stop staring at me,” you mumble, not meeting the silent looks Robin and Steve give you across the booth.

“Go talk to him before you give him a complex.”

“Yeah,” the boy hums with a knowing smile. “Go kiss and make up.”

“Shut up,” you bite with a scrunched-together face. You deflate with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll go— but not because you told me to.”

You hear them laugh quietly to themselves as you walk out behind Eddie. 

He leans against the corner of the old building and blows smoke from his lungs. He looks relatively unfazed despite the circumstances. You swallow down the worry that you’re embarrassing yourself by being out here at all.

Your shoes scuff against the sidewalk as you near him. “Eds—”

“I’m fine,” he interjects before you can say anything real. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Well, it’s too late. Steve and Robin already kicked me out here, so…” You trail off in a monotone, despite having already declared that you were out here not because you were told to be. He doesn’t need to know that, though. “…I’m sorry.”

He takes a puff of the cigarette between his fingers, then shrugs on the exhale. “Okay.”

“The can opener thing was stupid— I mean, it wasn’t nice either, but it was a really dumb joke,” you ramble without taking a single breath. You cross your arms over yourself in a makeshift shield. “You didn’t even bomb that night. At your show or whatever. I lied. You were… You were actually really good.”

Eddie turns his head slowly. He blinks at you with chocolate eyes sparkling with amusement.

You cower under his stare. “What?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he insists with a crooked smile.

“What?” you repeat, forcing a laugh.

“You’re fucking with me,” he chuckles and brings the cig back to his mouth. He mumbles through the stick. “But it’s cool, you know? I can cope.”

“I’m being serious, Eddie,” you argue. And then, when your chest starts to sting, it becomes impossible not to make a joke. “I think you’re a… super-talented superstar—”

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he interjects with a sincere laugh, like honey and gunpowder.

You giggle, and the foreign tension ebbs.

“I’m just kidding,” you assure and prop your back against the wall beside him. “Well, I mean, I’m not, but I…” You stammer when you can’t find the words. You gesture wildly with your hands. “I do think you’re talented, it’s just— It’s hard for me to be serious, okay? But I am sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, tossing the cigarette to the ground and snuffing the ash with his sneaker. “Trust me. I know what you mean.”

You swallow hard. “And I wasn’t… What I said to you that night, in your van after the show… I wasn’t lying.”

Eddie’s head snaps up. He blinks at you with a gaping gaze, even though you’re not looking at him to see it. You’re much more focused on the dumpster across the street, lest you meet his eyes and get embarrassed all over again. 

This is the realest you’ve ever been with him, you think — since you told him you liked him and he all but turned you down.

Being vulnerable has been impossible since then.

“Then why’d you never talk to me about it again?” he asks, then stammers over himself. “You acted like it never even happened— I thought I fucking— like, dreamt it or some shit.”

“Because you didn’t say anything back! I thought you didn’t feel the same way!”

“I was just— I was just shocked. You always act like you hate me!”

“Because I like you, you idiot!” you blurt before you mean to, then huff with impatience at yourself. “Fuck. Sorry. I don’t know… I don’t know how to be nice to people I like.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie laughs, shifting on the brick wall until his shoulder rubs against it. He looks down at you like he’s seeing you for the very first time — glittering with the hope of finally getting close to you, of finally having something real.

“Don’t laugh!” you argue. “I’m trying really hard here!”

“I know,” he murmurs lowly, leaning in until you can taste the nicotine on his breath. In a honeyed tone, he confesses, “It’s a good thing I like you mean, then, huh?”

Your heart lurches into your throat. He smirks when you freeze, and knocks his shoulder against yours when he heads back into the diner.

The game of cat and mouse continues.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally getting help (prt 9)

Masterpost

“So where’s the brother?” Jason asked as he followed Bruce down the hall. 

“He’s in Tim’s lab. It seems like they’ll be able to share it, which is good even with as big as this place is I don’t think we have room for two mad science labs,” Bruce said with dry humour, making Jason laugh in spite of himself.

“Tim must be thrilled to have a buddy huh?” He asked, still chuckling. No one in this family was stupid by any means, he often felt like the dumb one and objectively he knew he was still a fucking genius. But even with all of them being That smart no one could keep up with Tim’s innovative and scientific mind. 

“I think he might even learn a few things, which is a frightening concept. Danny asked for microwaves and toasters this morning so he could cannibalize them into anti-possession tech. The way that boy combines science and magic is going to give both me and Constantine ulcers.” 

Jason snorted, both at the joke and maybe a bit out of pleasure that someone was going to be giving Bruce a hard time. “Well if you need a babysitter don’t call me. I don’t want to deal with any of that,” he chuckled.

“Oh absolutely not, you would only feed into the chaos,” Bruce said quickly making Jason cackle, because he was right.

“Alright,” Bruce murmured to himself when they reached the closed door to the lab, it was almost lost in the banging inside but Jason heard it. Heard Bruce bracing himself for whatever was going to happen when Jason and Danny met.

He opened the door and across the room Jason saw who must be Danny. He was prime adoption bait with his black hair and blue eyes, but he was… absolutely beautiful, slight and elven, gently curved and wired with muscle. Jason froze, and it seemed so did Danny, staring at each other from across the room. Butterflies fluttered in Jason’s stomach, building till they didn’t feel like butterflies but something buzzing, trying to get out. He could hear the growl coming from his chest, not his throat.

Danny’s eyes swirled with green and he vaulted over the work table, abandoning the half finished tech he was working on to lunge at Jason. He collided with Jason with a snarl of his own, Jason growled and flipped Danny over his shoulder, the hall was a closed space so Danny twisted, running into the wall feet first and landing in a crouch. Jason twisted so he didn’t have his back to a wall anymore as Danny lunged at him again and Jason dodged, pushing off the wall to give himself momentum as he threw himself after Danny. 

Danny grabbed Jason’s arm and used his momentum to throw him over his hip, following him down to the ground, barely missing as Jason rolled away. He didn’t even think to draw a weapon, that wasn’t what this fight was about, they weren’t actually trying to hurt each other. Even as Jason punched down so hard he cracked the floor he somehow knew Danny would dodge, and wouldn’t get hurt. And Danny did, he got out of the way and lashed out in return, kicking Jason in the chest and sending him flying a few feet back giving Danny time to scramble back to his feet and chase after him.

This give and take carried them down the hall and to the landing by the stairs. Somewhere in the background Jason knew that someone was shouting at them to stop, and to be careful, but he wasn’t listening. He was too focussed on the growl emanating from Danny, and from himself which were starting to smooth out again, to feel less like desperate insects trying to escape and more like a cat’s purr, or some sort of song. They were reaching equilibrium, some sort of harmony. 

He didn’t realize how close they were to the stairs until Danny knocked him back again and this time when he stepped back he didn’t land on solid ground. The two of them tumbled down the stairs, rapidly switching who was on top as they fell. Jason could feel himself collecting bruises but he didn’t fucking care.

They came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs with Jason on top, his forearm pressed against Danny’s chest just below his throat. They were both breathing hard, staring at each other with wide blue-green eyes. The growling died down, lowering down into purrs harmonizing with each other as they caught their breath. Jason’s was lower and Danny’s a little higher, it was a hypnotic sound that made Jason feel… peaceful.

Danny moved first, reaching up slowly to touch Jason’s face, but before he could Jason realized what they had done and the position he was in. He had fought with Danny, and he was now pinning an abused teenager to the floor straddling his waist. This looked bad and now that he realized what was happening it Felt worse! He practically shot up off of Danny and was about to bolt before Danny grabbed his hand.

“Wait! Don’t go yet! Let me just, let me get you a specter-deflector so no one can possess you first okay?” Danny asked, sounding oddly desperate and even though Jason wanted to run he nodded.

Danny looked relieved and let go of Jason before suddenly flying up and through the floor above them. Jason blinked at the ceiling above him before looking around him. 

Oh dear, Bruce, Tim, Damian, and Jazz were all watching from the landing above. Damian looked like he wanted to kill Jason himself, Bruce looked disappointed, Tim impassive and Jazz looked… Excited? Why did she look happy?

Danny flew back down through the floor before anyone could think of what to say. “Okay! Here’s the specter-deflector,” He said, clicking something that looked like a watch into place around Jason’s wrist. “That’ll protect you, this is a blaster,” he said, handing Jason an odd sci-fi looking gun. “It’ll reload automatically from ambient ectoplasm, it works best against dead and undead but it can hurt humans too. And.. um, this is my number,” He said, blushing furiously as he handed Jason a slip of paper. “Please text me?”

When had Jason’s mouth gotten so dry?! He had to lick his lips before he answered, painfully aware of how hot his cheeks were and that he must be blushing too. He didn’t blush much, not since his death and resurrection, but he was absolutely blushing now, and he was still purring too if more softly now. He didn’t even know that he could purr, not really. “Ya, Yes, I’ll text you,” he promised before he fled the house. He would have to have some of Alfred’s lasagna later, just then he desperately needed to calm down and clear his head.

-----

Jazz was practically vibrating with excitement and as soon as the door had closed behind Jason she couldn’t contain it anymore. She squealed as she vaulted over the railing of the landing and landed in the foyer and sprinting over to Danny. “Danny what the heck! You have a crush?! I haven’t seen you that passionate in ages!” She enthused scooping Danny up under his arms and twirling him around.

“Jaaazz,” Danny complained even as he went kitten limp in her arms letting her hold him at arms length nearly a foot off the floor.

“I didn’t even know you liked boys! Why didn’t you tell me you like boys!?” Jazz demanded, shaking him a little.

“I didn’t really, I mean I always preferred girls. The only guy I ever really had a crush on was Dash and-” He cut off when Jazz made a disgusted face. “Exactly! That was never going to happen and he was an asshole so I didn’t want to talk about it!”

“Okay ya I understand- Wait you were making fun of me for having a thing for bad boys when your type is asshole meathead jocks!? Ohhh you’re never going to hear the end of this baby brother!”

“Oh my god No!” Danny groaned, finally squirming out of Jazz’s hold and dropping back to the ground stepping back. 

He turned towards the Wayne’s who had made their way down the stairs while the siblings were talking. “Is Jason an asshole?” He demands of Tim, he’s probably the fairest judge in Danny’s estimation.

“Absolutely,” Tim said promptly before realizing what he said and backtracking a little. “But I’m his brother, I'm supposed to say that. Jason’s heart is in the right place, he's a good guy, just kinda violent and a complete jerk,” Tim said. 

“Perfect,” Danny said his expression a little dreamy. 

“Why on earth would you have a crush on Todd?! You could do so much better!” Damian squawked indignantly, breaking the tension and making everyone besides Bruce laugh, and even he smiled just a little. 

“I want to say you did well Bruce, I know it was hard not to break up the fight but so? It was good for them, I hope it won’t be too hard on you if they do end up dating,” Jazz said, patting Bruce’s arm. 

He shifted from one foot to the other a little awkwardly but then shook his head. “No it won’t be, I mean it won’t be the first time, Barbra was as good as my daughter and she dated Dick, and Steph and Tim dated. It’s always a little awkward but I’d rather that than a Super,” He said, shooting Tim a look, he cleared his throat and looked away.

“Well good, we’ll see how this works out but really,” she turned back towards Danny. “This could be good! You’ve always been attracted to violent people but I don’t think that your ghost instincts realized that when Val was shooting at you it wasn’t bonding for her the same way it was for you,” she told him, her tone borderline accusatory.

Danny looked down and shifted from side to side, giving a little shrug. “I know, but she was a good girlfriend, when she wasn’t being Red Huntress and I wasn’t being Phantom. When we were just Danny and Val, it was good.”

“Oh Danny,” She sighed and pulled him into a hug. “I know, but he has the same instincts as you, I’m rooting for you Danny.”

“Thanks Jazz,” Danny said softly, hugging her back.

“Welp, I’m heading back to the lab,” Tim said, obviously uncomfortable with the genuine emotions he made a break for it before he could get roped into any hugs.

Next

[donatellawritings]

i think if rafe was dating a girl who had a oral fixation he would let her suck his dick or fingers to get rid of the habit of her putting other things in her mouth 🎀

you couldn’t help that you’d subconsciously end up with things in your mouth — whether you were biting down into chewy skin of your plump bottom lips, or mindlessly chewing on your acrylic nails, it kept your mind preoccupied. despite being a catalyst for all things pure and kind, you had your fair share of anxious moments, more often than not. rafe had caught on to how you’d bite the skin of your inner cheek when you were deep on thought, or how the tip of your cocktail straw would be left mauled from the onslaught of your sharp teeth, way after you’d finished your drink. i mean, he was even painfully aware to how you’d grind your teeth while you slept.

rafe lazily scratched at your scalp as the two of you laid on the bed, the morning news playing lowly from the tv as you laid with your head against rafe’s bare chest. a small yawn escaped your lips as you brought your thumb to your mouth, setting your acrylic nail between your top and bottom set of teeth. your lightly scraped your teeth against your nail for a few seconds, before the sensation of rafe’s hand patting your bare ass, ripped you from your trance.

“cut it out, y’gonna mess up those pretty nails,” he scolded blankly, pressing his lips to the top of your messy bedhead as he gently pulled your thumb from your overly eager mouth, earning a low huff from you, “i dunno why you get your nails done, just to fuck them up,” he comments, raising your hand to his view as he carefully examine the now chipped gel polish that was scraped from your nail.

you sighed sleepily with a curt shrug, “i get these, so i don’t bite my actual nails — it hurts if i bite too deep, papi” you mumbled, your curling closer into rafe’s side with a mischievous smirk, before softly biting into his chest. your sweet laugh vibrated against rafe’s skin as you bit into him once more, smiling cheesily at the sight of of your teeth imprint in his smooth golden skin.

rafe waits until you finish your assault on his chest, random hisses coming from him as you bite down harder and harder into his skin, nearly drawing blood, “a’ight mama, y’gonna make me bleed” he sighs, bringing his hand to comfortably grab ahold of your jaw, your swollen lips stretched into a giddy smile as rafe glances at your lips, seeing how you’ve nearly chewed them raw. “we gotta get you some gum or some shit, you’re always chewing on something,” he decides, lightly mushing your cheeks together with his barely-there grip on your jaw.

with a shrug, you pulled your face out of rafe’s hold, grabbing ahold of two of his long fingers as you glanced at your boyfriend with needy eyes, parting your pouty lips as you licked a long wet stripe up his fingers. rafe watched closely through hooded eyes as you continued licking at him, before he decided to speak. fuck, you could bring this man to his knees and you didn’t even realize it.

“y’want my fingers in your mouth, princess?” he asked, his voice carrying a condescending tone as you nodded furiously, eager to suck on rafe’s rings. your wet cunt ached at the thought of your tongue lazily lapping at his gold ring. rafe gently tapped your jaw, allowing you to open your wet and inviting mouth as he slid his fingers onto your tongue, allowing your slick, spit-covered lips to close around his signet ring.

now content, you hummed happily as you laid back against rafe’s chest, his fingers remained in your warm mouth as you allowed your preoccupied mind to rest. every now and again, you’d lazily suckle and nibble at the tips of his fingers as you lulled yourself into a mild sleep. rafe attempted to pull his fingers from your mouth, once he assumed you were asleep, earning a displeased groan from you as you snuggled yourself further against him.

pressing a kiss to the top of your head, rafe let out a sigh of defeat into your messy hair, “hopefully that puts your ass to sleep, y’been at it all morning,” he commented, making a mental note to ask if you’d rather keep his cock in your mouth when you woke up.

[puck-luck]

a new birthday tradition | jack hughes

warnings: extreme domination, spanking, spit kink, cockwarming, hair pulling, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, degradation (a bit), established!relationship pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader summary: fem!reader proposes a new birthday tradition to jack (based on the request: "jack hughes spanking and spit kink pls") wc: 2787

“Birthday boy,” you sing-song, tracing Jack’s nose. 

Your touch rouses Jack from his nap. He was sleeping on the couch, waiting for you to come home from work, having fallen asleep from boredom. It’s normal for Jack to fall asleep in the middle of the day, so this little touch has become part of your everyday routine. 

“Hi, babydoll,” you greet when Jack blinks his way awake. 

He finds you in his eyeline and sighs, the corners of his lips turning up. “Hi,” he says, voice thick with drowsiness. 

“You know what I was thinking about today?” You ask, smoothing back Jack’s hair. He nuzzles his face into your palm, dropping a kiss onto your skin.

“What?”

“There’s a birthday tradition that I thought you might like.” You wiggle your eyebrows. “I was thinking we’d put a little twist on it.”

Jack cocks his head to the side. “What is it?” He asks, voice wary. He immediately thinks of the first time Quinn told him that his birthday cake smelled like something but he couldn’t figure out what, and Jack leaned down to take a sniff, and Quinn shoved his head into the frosting. He’d rather eat a birthday cake than shove his face into it.

You drop your head so you’re whispering in his ear. “Birthday spankings.”

Jack pulls away from you, looking affronted. “You’re not spanking me.”

You roll your eyes. “Duh, dummy,” you drawl. “When have I ever been the one to spank you? Obviously, you get to spank me. One for every year you’ve been alive, plus one for luck.”

“Oh,” Jack replies. “Yeah, that could be fun.”

You roll your eyes for a second time. “Could you be less enthusiastic about it? You love my ass. You love spanking me. ‘Yeah, that could be fun?’”

Jack shrugs. “I prefer to spank you when you’re being a brat. This is, like, a gift.”

You blanch. You stare at him. Jack stares back. You blink at him slowly and set your jaw, your mouth straightening into an annoyed line. Wordlessly, you rise from the couch and pull your blouse over your head, drawing Jack’s eyes to your lacy red bra and the swell of your breasts. His hands twitch in his lap and he raises one to set it on your hip, to pull you back down to him, but you step out of reach.

“Where’s your sling?” You ask, toeing off your shoes and kicking them away.

“In the bedroom where I left it,” Jack says, snarky. He hates the sling. The angle causes his arm to fall asleep and he hates the numbness. It’s not like he’s moving his shoulder or hurting it any more– he’s going to rehab and PT, working with the best trainers in the NHL. He doesn’t want to wear his dreaded sling on his birthday.

You take off to the bedroom, returning shortly after with Jack’s sling. You hold it out to him with an expectant look on your face. 

Jack groans, but puts it on nonetheless. He glares at you once his arm is properly situated in his sling, his arm already prickling with discomfort. “You know I only have to wear this thing for like two more weeks,” he points out begrudgingly. “And the doctors said I don’t have to wear it all the time.”

You unbutton your pants and lower them, again drawing Jack’s eyes to the matching red thong you wore today, planning for him to see you like this. “That doesn’t mean you can take it off whenever you want,” you tell him. “We decided that you’d wear it when you weren’t doing anything. You’re sitting on the couch. You’re not doing anything.”

“I was napping.”

“‘I was napping,’” you repeat, mocking him. “What if you had laid on your arm wrong and set yourself back a few weeks?”

Jack’s nostrils flare at your words. “I didn’t.”

“Yeah, but you could have rolled over in your sleep. I don’t want you to have to miss out on pre-season stuff because you were reckless with your shoulder, Jack.”

“I don’t want that either, Y/N. But I’m also not a child, I know when I’m pushing myself too much. You’re being overbearing.”

“I’m trying to take care of you.”

“You’re acting like I’m helpless. I’m not fucking helpless just because I had surgery.”

You rejoin Jack on the couch and his eyes find your cleavage again, but he tears his gaze away from your breasts in order to continue this argument.

“You’re the one who pouts about your shoulder whenever I’m around to try and get attention from me. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too,” you argue.

With each one of your statements, you play Jack like a fiddle. He said it was easier to spank you when you were acting like a brat, so act like a brat you will.

“Yeah, but you know when I’m just trying to get attention. You play into it every time, don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn.”

Jack glares at you. “You only say that because you’re losing this argument.”

You lean forward, “accidentally” pushing your breasts together for Jack to see. He gulps, eyes flickering down then back up to your face. He tries to steel his face, but doesn’t do a great job.

“I’m not losing this argument,” you scoff. “You know I’m right. You’re just being difficult because you hate the sling. If I called your doctors right now, they’d tell us that you need to wear the sling more often.”

You move forward again, this time crawling over Jack’s lap until you’re sprawled over him completely, ass up for him to see.

Jack’s free hand palms one of your cheeks, resting on the skin. His thumb barely touches the lace of your thong where the fabric disappears.

You throw a glance over your shoulder and offer Jack a dazzling, smug smile. “Was that bratty enough for you?”

It dawns on Jack that you’ve goaded him into this, his hand itching to teach you a lesson still, even though it was a fake argument. He grins, letting out a little laugh. His head drops with the laugh and he pats your ass, frustratingly gentle.

“You got me, huh?” He asks. 

“You’re so easy,” You reply, giggling. 

Jack slaps your ass for that, barely a spank.

“That's one,” you tease. “Twenty two more.”

Jack closes his eyes and tries to bite back a smile. He tilts his head back, resting it on the back of the sofa. “Plus one for luck,” he adds. “Don’t forget that one.”

“Oh, how could I forget,” you say. You raise your hips and wiggle them invitingly, drawing Jack’s eyes. “You should punish me for it.”

Jack brings his hand down on your ass again, harder this time. “So annoying.”

“That’s two.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jack laughs, bringing his hand down again. 

You don’t– you continue to count and moan and each time you make noise, Jack spanks you again. His hand moves more harshly with each drop. Your skin slowly grows more and more red, starting to match your red underwear. It grows sore, but Jack doesn’t stop spanking you until he reaches the 24th. You’re a moaning mess, whining and squirming in Jack’s lap, eyes wet with unshed tears by the time Jack blows cool air over your skin. All of your wiggling over his lap caused him to grow hard while administering his birthday spankings, and he knows that if he brought his fingers down to your cunt, he’d find that you’re soaking through your panties.

Jack pulls you up but the straps of your bra, the elastic snapping back against your skin when he lets go. You arch your back and whimper, climbing onto Jack’s lap to straddle him. 

Jack smiles, wiping the wetness from your eyes with his thumb. “How do you feel, pretty girl?” He asks, bringing his thumb down to toy with your bottom lip. He moves it and, like a puppeteer, mimics your voice to speak for you. “So good, you always give me exactly what I need, I love you soooo much, Jacky.”

You laugh wetly, pushing his hand away. “You’re such a loser.”

Jack furrows his brow, humming in a disapproving way. “Now that’s just mean. Maybe I should spank you some more.”

You pout, glaring at Jack. “Yeah, and make me bleed? I don't think so.”

“How about this,” Jack muses. “Wanna give me another present?”

You nod, fingers tracing his clavicle. 

“Get on your knees.”

Jack helps you down, kneeling prettily between his legs. You sit back on your heels and look up at your boyfriend, waiting for his next move.

“Go ahead and take me out, honey,” Jack encourages, lifting his hips so you can work his shorts and underwear down his legs. His cock springs up and bounces back, pretty and weeping from his arousal. You go to take him in your mouth, but Jack stops you. “No, no. Warm me. I'm gonna watch a little TV and if you’re good, I’ll fuck your throat.”

You melt, feeling yourself grow so warm and wet that you might honestly drip onto the floor if you get any more turned on. You go to take Jack’s cock in your mouth, but he stops you again, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. You look into his gaze for a moment before his eyes drop to your mouth. You open your mouth, waiting for Jack to feed you his cock instead of taking it yourself. 

Instead, he drops a line of spit onto your tongue and closes your mouth. You swallow, eyes wide and blinking up at him. It’s humiliating and so good, making your head a little foggy and your knees spread a little wider. 

Jack’s eyes find your knees against the floor, your wet cunt. He purses his lips, smiling with his tongue against his front teeth, looking devilish. He knocks a pillow to the floor with his slinged arm, eyes hooded and daring.

“Pick that up,” he tells you.

You move like a machine, grabbing the pillow and ready to put it back up on the couch, to cushion his injured arm. Jack uses said arm to block you.

“Why don’t you put that between your legs,” Jack suggests, voice bored. When your eyes go wide and you freeze, staring up at him, Jack smirks. His voice drops, low and seductive. “I see how wet you are, baby. I’m giving you something to grind against while you warm me. It might not be my cock, but it’ll be good enough, right?”

You could come on the spot, feeling lost. With aborted movements, you place the pillow between your knees and press down on it, eyes fluttering at the friction.

“Good girl,” Jack praises. He fists his cock and taps the head of it against your lips. “Open up, baby. Let me take that dirty mouth.”

He thrusts his cock into your mouth, waiting until your throat adjusts around him to grab the remote and flick on the TV. 

You stare up at him, breathing through your nose. You rest your head on his thigh, the downy hair of his legs tickling your skin. You crinkle your nose, but keep your mouth fastened around Jack’s cock. Jack smiles down at you before turning his attention to the TV, placing a hand on your head and running his fingers through your hair absentmindedly.

He knows what happens when he tangles his hands in your hair, especially when his cock is in your mouth. It drives you to start moving your hips against the pillow, eyes fluttering when the seam of the pillow catches against your clit. You’re trying to keep your head still around his cock, but it’s hard to do when you’re chasing your own release.

Jack’s fingers tighten around your hair, tugging at the roots. You moan around him, the vibrations traveling up his cock.

“You can’t even last five minutes before you move, huh, baby?” Jack asks. He puts on a mask of disappointment, spurring you on when you open your eyes and plead with him. 

Your hips move faster, the pillow good but not quite enough to satisfy you. You whine, blinking up at Jack. Still trying not to move your mouth, you flex your tongue against him. 

Jack licks his lips, eyes trailing up and down your body. He’s taking you in, the way your cheeks are flushed and your hands are grasping the pillow beneath you, the way your hips are dragging in tilted bursts, trying to maintain the pleasure of your clit hitting the item between your legs. Jack bites his lip as he looks at the wet stain that you’ve left on the pillow.

He gathers your hair into a ponytail, twisting the locks in his hand and pulling. You let out a cry of pleasure, losing track of your volume, too overcome with pleasure. Jack’s pull tips you toward orgasm, your hole flexing around nothing and feeling neglected and empty.

“Jack,” you moan, his name garbled around his cock.

The uninterested look in Jack’s eyes contrasts the slight smile on his lips as he pushes his hips forward into your mouth, then pulls back. He starts to fuck you slowly, but quickly loses his control when you bring one of your hands up to his thigh, fingernails digging into his skin. 

His lip curls with a hiss, his pace increasing. You’re a mess, completely desperate beneath him. Your eyes are shining with tears as Jack uses your throat, his thrusts harsh and completely self-indulgent. You gag around him, your throat constricting, and Jack growls. He pushes your head down, your nose brushing against his pelvis and he releases into your mouth with a groan. His come paints your throat with white spurts and Jack uses his grip on your hair to pull you off of him.

A line of spit connects your mouth to his tip and Jack watches your eyes grow heavy, sated, when you swallow his come. 

“Gonna come for me?” Jack asks.

Your eyes find his and you nod. 

Jack tilts your head up and you open your mouth, showing him that you swallowed every drop that he awarded you. Jack spits a thick wad onto your tongue again, the weight of it heavy on your muscle although, in reality, his saliva would weigh next to nothing. 

The heat in his eyes and the taste of him in your throat pushes you to your peak, your hips erratic against the pillow. Your legs are shaking, trembling as you tip over the edge and release over the object between your legs. You’re boneless, quivering between Jack’s legs. He pulls you up onto his lap and coos at you, snaking a hand between your legs to rub over your clit with a teasing finger.

“Think you can give me another?”

“Jack,” You whimper out, shying away from his insistent fingers, but they just follow you and press into you wherever you go. 

Jack moves yout thong to the side, burying his middle and ring finger into your pussy and flexing his fingers until you’re squealing from the contact. He pushes his thumb into your clit and you grind down, wincing from the overstimulation but unable to stop chasing the pleasure.

“Look at my baby,” Jack marvels. “So pretty, so perfect. So slutty, huh, baby? You beg me to spank you, you fuck against a pillow until you come, and now you’re taking my fingers. So greedy. I’ve spoiled you.” He curls his fingers inside of you, relishing at the whimper that he steals from your lips with each of his movements.

You come again, the heat of it washing over you. You’re helpless to it, feeling like the orgasm is just rushing through you. You shudder on Jack’s lap, your wetness dripping down his skin and onto the fabric of the couch below you. Jack draws his fingers out slowly, not to overstimulate you even further, and kisses you softly.

“Happy birthday to me, huh?” Jack asks against your lips.

You nod, voice soft. You can barely move, so comfortable on his lap, feeling his skin against yours. “Happy birthday, darling,” You agree, and kiss him again.

“Is this going to become a real birthday tradition?” Jack wiggles his eyebrows, a smug look on his face. “Me spanking you?”

You hum, considering it. “Maybe not when we’re seventy-five and wrinkly.”

“This ass?” Jack reaches behind you and squeezes. “This ass isn’t ever getting wrinkly, not on my watch.”

“Okay, Jacky,” you snort with laughter. “Whatever you say.”

notes: *in a marilyn monroe voice* happy birthday... mr. president <3

this was meant to be a blurb. a short one. for jack's birthday. it did not STAY a blurb. that's my bad. i have a tendency to go overboard. hoping y'all enjoyed!

[twistyfish]

prompt~ non-mc reader feeling sad because she feels she lacks the relationship mc has with the lads. requested by anon!

Zayne

Her long, straight brown hair fell in front of her face, and she tucked it behind her ear with slender fingers. Her laughter filled your ears like sticky molasses, and you couldn’t wash it out no matter how hard you tried.

In front of her kneeled Zayne, wiping a cut on her knee with a wet tissue and bandaging it, kissing it gently. You watched as he chided her for being careless and getting hurt.

You wished he would scold you like that.

They stood up and walked away, his arm subtly resting around her waist to support her.

She rested her head against his shoulder. She was so brave. She got injured often because of her profession.

You were an accountant. Your last injury was a paper cut.

The wind blew her hair into Zayne’s face, and you watched him brush it away and arrange it neatly on her shoulders with a smile.

They walked away into the distance, and all you could do was watch.

Sylus

“Can you get my back?” Sylus asked, holding out the bottle of sunscreen to MC.

She nodded and began working the cream into his back, massaging his shoulder blades as she went.

Sylus smiled as she used her strength to massage him. “Nice arm, kitten.”

You sat next to your sandcastle, patting the wet globs of sand together into rough turrets. It was coming together, sort of.

Sylus crouched down next to you. “How’s the castle coming along?”

“It’s getting there.”

“Do you want to come surf with us?”

You hesitated. Truthfully, you weren’t very adventurous. You were a little nervous to ride the waves.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” MC smiled at you, her surfboard held under her muscular arm.

“Um, no, I’m okay,” you responded shyly.

“Alright. Have fun building, then.” She waved at you and they both turned, running into the waves. MC squealed as the cool water hit her legs, and Sylus laughed his deep, rich laugh. He splashed her, grinning as she made various high pitched noises in response.

You sat with your sandcastle, smoothing the sides with no zeal at all. Your focus was gone. All you could think about were her hands on his back, his grin as he splashed her, their shared laughter as they ran into the water.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Sylus shouting. “Hey! Come in, it’s nice and cool.”

You shook your head.

Rafayel

“Wow, your drawings are ass,” Rafayel remarked.

“Shut up, loser.”

“Look at __’s drawing. It has such a nice composition.”

You felt pride swell in your chest at his compliment. “Thanks, Raf.”

“Of course, cutie. I’m just telling it as it is. Ms. Bodyguard could learn a thing or two from you.”

“I don’t understand how you can get everything so proportional,” MC grumbled.

“Here, let me show you.” He stood up and positioned himself behind her, taking her hand with the pencil in it and mapping out rough lines.

“Just make the general shapes first,” he murmured, hand guiding hers across the paper.

You looked away, trying to focus on your own drawing. You could hear him softly instructing her, and you sort of wished you were a beginner too in that moment.

You mindlessly sketched, and you ended up with a lazy looking cat.

“Oh, is it sad?” Rafayel asked peering over your shoulder.

“No, it’s sleepy.”

“Sleepy all the time, just like you,” he said playfully to MC, elbowing her.

“I’m not sleepy all the time! You’re thinking of Xavier,” she argued back. They continued to bicker as you watched.

Maybe it was a little sad.

Xavier

You rang the bell out of politeness despite knowing Xavier’s door code. You had made some banana muffins, and you wanted him to try them. When there was no answer, you figured you would just go inside and drop them off in the kitchen.

You entered the door code and walked inside quietly. As you passed through the living room, you had to stifle a gasp. Xavier and MC were laying together on the couch, under the blanket.

You immediately looked away, setting the muffins on the counter and moving to tiptoe out of the room. Unfortunately, the rustling woke them up.

“__? Is that you?” Came Xavier’s groggy voice.

“No- yes! Um, I just came in to drop off some muffins. I’m leaving, don’t worry!”

Xavier sat up, the blanket falling off his shoulders and pooling around his bare chest.

Your eyes widened and you turned around.

“Hey, __. Where are you going?” MC was off the couch (wearing clothes, thankfully) walking towards you.

“Yeah, sorry about that. We just got back from training and crashed. We were both exhausted,” Xavier said.

Oh. They were sleeping.

“Sorry for waking you guys.”

“Don’t worry about it. Want to nap with us?”

You paused. “I’m good, don’t worry. I’ll just be going now.” With that, you awkwardly put your shoes back on and left the house. The image of them snuggling under the blanket was cemented to your brain.

That night, you slept hugging a pillow.

[delphi-shield]

SAY IT BACK ↪ letting them leave without an ily

finishing up some smaller things from my wip folder before i buckle down and work on the big stuff again. here's this doofy little fluff piece.

characters included: chris redfield, leon kennedy, jill valentine, ada wong

content: fluff. just fluff. established relationship. mildly ooc behavior for the sake of fluff (also known as being in a relationship and acting stupid)

You found it on TikTok - or maybe it was Instagram, or Facebook - doesn't matter. One of the media conglomerates had given you a horrible idea about how to tease your loving, devoted partner.

It's simple - when they said 'I love you' before they left for work, you just wouldn't say it back. What could go wrong?

Chris Redfield ↪

Did not notice. Secure. In his lane. Unbothered. Probably not moisturized. (Get him a nice oil, fragrance free. He'll like it more if you massage it into his muscles for him, spend a little extra time smoothing along the curve of his spine, up and over the tightness of his shoulders.)

If you're at the point with Chris where he's saying “I love you” in place of a goodbye, he doesn't need to hear you say it back. He's confident in your relationship. Hearing it is just a nice bonus.

You're going to get your own feelings hurt here. Sent yourself into a spiral. Like, damn, does he not listen? Does he not care? What the fuck is his deal?

Chris is legitimately confused when you bring it up to him later. Doesn't get the point of the whole thing. “Why wouldn't you just say you love me?” Head cocked to the side, so puppy-like you can practically see the velvety ears flopping over.

Really doesn't do the whole social media thing. Even when you show him videos as an example, he's just shrugging. "I'm pretty sure those are skits, honey. No one really reacts like that."

If only he knew. Hey - at least now you know that Chris is perfectly content in your relationship and won't let anything silly like this bother him. It's just a sign to ramp up the pranks - more practical jokes, less subtle, harmless emotional manipulation.

That's what you thought, at least, but when Chris flips the light off that night and sidles up behind you in bed, strong arms slipping around your middle and tugging you back to him, his voice rumbles in your ear - "You gonna tell me you love me, or is this gonna be a problem?"

And Chris is really good at extracting confessions. How badly do you actually want to get some sleep tonight?

Jill Valentine ↪

Doesn't seem to have noticed that you ignored her. Walked right out the door without missing a step, didn't even glance back. Her car pulls out of the garage, her sunglasses on - she seems entirely unbothered.

Oh, she’s bothered.

Jill Valentine is Not Petty™️. And she does not pout when her partner doesn't say ‘I love you’ back. She's in a pissy mood at work for a completely unrelated reason. She's not returning your texts because she's busy at work, not because she's trying (and failing) to give you a taste of your own medicine.

She definitely doesn't carry that storm cloud all the way home with her, doesn't rain on your parade when you cheerfully announce that dinner's ready and on the table.

You're trying everything you can think of to cheer her up. Asking about work got you a noncommittal shrug. You'd offered to draw a bath for her - or (preferably) for the both of you, but she'd dismissed the idea, talking about how it would take up too much time.

She didn't have the heart to shrug you off when you started massaging her shoulders. Despite your silence in the morning, you were clearly intent on taking care of her. Maybe nothing was wrong. Maybe you just hadn't heard her.

Her palm presses against your cheek, turns you to face her. She searches your eyes for a moment, her gaze unreadable. "Thanks for dinner. I love you."

Nothing. Fucking nothing. "You're welcome."

Jill knows that look on your face, that shit-eating grin that you're trying to cover up by glancing down, by pretending to be flustered. Her hands grip your hips. She manhandles you into her lap, chair scraping against the floor to make room for the both of you.

"Okay - spill. What's up with you?"

Once you explain, she's not mad about the whole thing, not really. But you can't help but notice that she's been withholding kisses lately, and-- wait.

Fuck. Now she's turned the tables on you.

Leon Kennedy ↪

Keeps finding new and inventive ways to double back inside the house. He's not going to outright ask you what's up - that would make him look desperate, which he’s totally not. He’s definitely not concerned at all that you didn’t complete your morning ritual and send him out the door with an ‘I love you’. He’s a big boy - this isn’t high school, this is his very mature, very adult relationship.

Excuse number one: “Sorry, forgot my keys,” as he makes a show of dropping his keys out of his pocket, onto the living room floor. His eyes are on you when he reaches to grab them. Leon tosses them in his hand, making as much noise as he possibly can. “All right, love you.”

You hold strong. Still no ‘love you’ back. He’s gone for all of 60 seconds when he comes back with excuse number two: “Ah, damn, forgot my badge. I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached.”

His badge is attached to his belt. You can literally see it. When you point that out to him, he makes a show of being relieved, goes so far as to press a kiss to your temple, and says, “God, what would I do without you? Love ya. Have a good day.”

But you hold strong. Until excuse number three:

“Babe, have you seen my gun?”

You laugh, which only makes him laugh - and then he hits you with ‘no, seriously’ while he leans against the doorway, hip cocked. He’s got you figured out by now, knows that if he can make you laugh then you’re not doing this because you’re mad at him or anything. He can't even be mad when you explain it to him. He can only warn you:

"I'm gonna get you for this. Now, c'mon - say it."

Ada Wong ↪

I don't know why you would do this to her to be honest. She just said ‘I love you’. You should be marking your calendar and turning this into a holiday.

She doesn't say it often, at least not while you're conscious. Whether she presses her sentiments into your hair while you sleep against her, drooling against her collar bone, is up for debate. You have no hard evidence and she'll deny the allegations.

It simultaneously is and is not a big deal. She didn't say it because she craved the validation of having you repeat it to her. She said it because she meant it. There's so few concrete truths about herself that she can share with you, but that was one of them. Does it sting a little not to have it returned? Maybe.

She turns the moment over and over in her head, letting it haunt her. You had given her time, she thinks, why can't she give you yours? But your silence is a specter that tinges every moment. It creeps at the edges of every thought, it–

“Hey, you forgot your coffee.”

She turns to see you in the door of your apartment, hanging from the frame with one hand, her cup extended to her in the other. She clicks back to you in her stilettos, and your press a kiss to her cheek when she claims her drink. The guilt of it all ate at you before you could let her leave your sight. “Love you. Be safe.”

She'd spiraled before she even got down to the parking lot. Total loser in love.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (21/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The truth comes under purple skies.

Warnings: angst, but mostly tooth rotting fluff because you deserve it

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: a little late happy birthday to me! sorry for the wait. I love you.

Although you keep your eyes closed, you know that it is still dark outside.

The air in the room is cool against your face, while your tired body is kept comfortably warm under the heavy comforter. It is just as warm against the free, uncovered parts of your body as Charles' soft skin.

His arm is wrapped around your middle, his fingers are tightly intertwined with yours and his thumb strokes gentle circles over your hand. A tender, loving gesture that you're not sure whether it's meant to calm your nerves or his own. 

You haven't changed your positions in bed since you fell asleep pressed tightly together a few hours ago. Charles's chest is still pressed against your back and if you were to focus on it, you could certainly feel his heart beating hard and steady. But you don't. Your thoughts revolve around breathing as normally as possible so that it still looks like you're asleep. 

You don't want to be awake. 

Being awake would involve thinking, and you definitely don't want to think about the last few days. You don't want to think about how Charles told you that you would jump into bed with Lando at the next opportunity. You don't want to think about Raphael coming to your front door last night and calling you a whore. And you don't want to be reminded that Charles jumped to your side and defended you without so much as batting an eye.

All you want right now is to lie here, in his strong arms, wrapped in his scent and warmth. Deep down, you know you can't be angry with him. Lando's words flit through your head again and again about how you both want to protect each other, and even though you've only known each other for a few days, you can tell Charles so well that it's exactly this part of him that makes him who he is.

But you still don't know why he treated you like that.

You breathe in deeply, take in his scent - a mixture of sandalwood, peppermint and a smell that you can only describe as Charles - and press your face into the soft pillow. Although you had been furious with him, you had missed his closeness over the last few days. 

The thumb that has been tenderly drawing figures on your hand pauses.

"I'm sorry." Charles' voice is little more than a whisper against your shoulder blade. As his warm breath brushes over you, your muscles tighten. "No apology in this world can make up for what I did to you. I betrayed your trust, hurt you, and left you thinking I didn't care about you." When you don't answer him, he continues. "I am so incredibly sorry. And I won't ask for your forgiveness or kindness, because I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. And I'm sorry I couldn't be better for you."

Your heart beats so fast against your ribcage that you fear it will break your bones and jump out of your chest. His touch feels like your skin is burning. When you open your eyes, you see purple clouds in the morning sky through the window. 

Carefully, you turn in his arms, whereupon his embrace loosens a little, but his arm remains on your hip. His eyes are closed, as if he doesn't dare to look into your face. His eyebrows are furrowed and there are a few wrinkles between them that you would love to smooth out with your fingers.

You decide to run your fingers over his bare shoulders. His muscles twitch under your fingertips. "Why did you do it?" Charles remains silent, so you tentatively place your hand against his cheek. You feel his stubble scratch your skin as he exhales deeply, as if he hasn't taken a decent breath in a long time.

He opens his eyes and there is an anxious gleam in the otherwise beautiful green. His gaze searches yours as he nuzzles his face against your hand. "I was jealous."

Jealous?

A small glimmer of hope flares up inside you. Maybe everything you've experienced together - the viewpoint, your movie night, the bookstore, the tiramisu - is based on something other than friendship. On something more. Maybe there was more to every conversation, every look and every smile than just the friendship you nailed down to protect your heart. Maybe you were just talking past each other the whole time. Maybe –

"I was jealous of how well you got on with Lando. I thought that if you got to know each other better and became more than just friends, then we wouldn't be friends anymore. I thought -" He pauses for a moment. "I couldn't bear it if I lost you because of your relationship."

You try to suppress the punch in the pit of your stomach and swallow the frog in your throat. "You hurt me and pushed me away because you didn't want to get hurt yourself?" Your heart breaks a little for him. You finally smooth out the wrinkles between his eyebrows with your thumb. His arm wraps around you tighter and presses you together. His fingers stroke your back and goose bumps spread across your body. 

That's exactly what Lando said. That Charles pushes the people he cares about away to protect himself. Something you can well understand, after all, you were planning to do the same to him. Only not so drastically. 

But Lando also told you something else about the Monegasque. "But that's not all, is it?" An image flickers in your mind's eye of Raphael holding out his hand to introduce himself to Charles. "You didn't just want to protect yourself. Or am I wrong, Charles Leclerc?"

As you say his name, a shiver jerks through his body, as if he's suddenly cold, and his hand freezes against your spine. "You're not." His tone is cooler, more distant than it was a few moments ago, and the tension in the room is palpable despite the purple clouds and morning calm as you place your hand on his bare chest. His heart is beating fast and strong.

"I - I think we both rushed into this friendship far too quickly." You try to put as much warmth into your whisper as you can, even though deep down your heart has caught quite a tear. "We've known each other for five days. And so much has happened in that time that takes some friends years. Our trust in each other went from zero to one hundred." You run your finger over his collarbone, your gaze following him.

Panting, he sucks air into his lungs at your touch. "What do you suggest?"

You purse your lips. "Maybe - maybe we should get to know each other better first. Get to know each other properly so that this doesn't happen again. So that our living together is easier."

Charles tightens his grip around your middle, his legs tangle with yours. "Living together? Does that mean you're staying with me?"

You nod slightly, but grab your arm with your hand to pull away from him. Something flits across his face, but as quickly as it came, it's gone again as you place his hand between your faces on the pillows. "But maybe a little distance will do us good. So we don't mess this up."

His fingers interlace with yours. "I'll do everything I can to make this work."

"That makes two of us," you smile, missing his touch on your body. You miss the warmth pulsing through your veins under your skin. But it's the right thing to do. At least that's what you try to tell yourself. You take a deep breath. "I - I'm unemployed, by the way." You look down at your hands. "I was fired from this magazine before we met. I'm looking for a new job so that I can continue to live in Monaco, because my savings won't last forever. That's why I'm so grateful to you for standing up for me with Joris. About the rent. I can't thank you enough for that."

"But you don't have to," he replies quietly. "Friends help each other. They're there for each other. I can understand why you didn't tell me. Nobody likes to talk about the fact that they've recently lost their job." 

"Thank you," you whisper back. You feel a weight fall from your shoulders. You suddenly find it easier to breathe. But now it's something else that's plaguing your thoughts.

And no one but Charles can give you the answer. "Can you please explain to me what happened yesterday? With - with Raphael?"

The Monegasque briefly lets go of your hand so that he can play with your fingers. He doesn't look at you. "Do you remember the night we watched Cars together?"

You nod. How could you forget that night? The wine, the movie, the flirting that apparently wasn't flirting. Ouch. 

"We talked about Formula One and how you used to watch it with your grandfather when Michael Schuhmacher drove for Ferrari." His gaze is literally glued to your fingers. "When we first met, I told you that my work had something to do with cars, and I wasn't lying."

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. If he's a mechanic or engineer for one of the racing teams, that woiuld explain why he has to travel so much for work. "Is that where all the cool photos on your phone come from? Because you fly across the globe with Formula 1 to work on the cars?"

Your flatmate purses his lips. "I don't work on the cars. I - I drive them." He licks his lips once. "I'm a Formula One driver for Scuderia Ferrari."

"Don't fuck with me," you reply, wanting to pull your fingers out of his grasp. But he holds on to them and when he lifts his gaze and looks you in the eyes, you know he's telling the truth. And his confession makes you see the last few days from a different perspective. 

The conversation between Charles and Joris, shortly after he suddenly appeared in the apartment, pops up in your mind. "When we met, that night - you were on the phone with Joris. You said something about headlines."

He nods slightly. "A few weeks ago, the season ended and Annika and I broke up. I stayed away from here as long as I could because I didn't want to be confronted with it. And when I got to my apartment for emergencies, there you were. With a valid tenancy agreement. I couldn't just throw you out the door. You could have gone public and then it would have made the headlines. Something like "Charles Leclerc throws poor woman out of rented apartment". It was a risk I couldn't take." He furrows his eyebrows again, but this time you hold back.

"You have a nutritionist."

Again he nods. "For the races, I have to follow a strict diet to make the car go faster. Unfortunately, pasta and thick sandwiches aren't part of it, so please don't tell him." 

Fragments of the last few days appear one after the other in your mind's eye, which you try to sort out and work through. "The bistro you went to after the bookshop had already closed, hadn't it?"

"Yes. But when do you ever have a Formula One driver on your doorstep who needs two sandwiches?" He shrugs. "One photo and we've had our dinner."

You lick your tongue over your lips and you don't miss the way Charles' eyes twitch to your mouth. "We went everywhere in my car. Why?"

"You've seen my car." He's referring to the fancy Ferrari in the parking garage. "With its stripes, it's not exactly inconspicuous. Especially since everyone knows the car is mine." He runs his thumb over the side of your index finger. "As soon as the car rolls down the street, everyone knows it's me. And everyone takes photos of it. I couldn't risk you getting caught up in all this because of a stupid car. And especially not because you couldn't choose it until now. Your sweet tin can was the only way we could get around the city together without attracting attention."

You clench your jaw. "The meetings in Italy. What about it?"

"The headquarters are there, in Maranello. Before the winter break, the team wanted to get together again and discuss what went wrong this season and what we can improve."

"And you could just leave like that?" you ask him.

He shakes his head. "Not really. But in my opinion, there wasn't much to talk about either. The season was a throwaway." He shrugs his shoulders. "I was actually a little relieved when Lando called and asked me to go home."

So you were right. The Brit did call Charles. "And what did he say?" 

"Exactly what I needed to hear." He smiles slightly. "He threw a lot of swear words at me and made it clear that I'd be the stupidest idiot in the world if I screwed up this friendship."

You don't know what to do with this information. The fact that Lando called Charles and made a slug out of him doesn't bother you much, because the Monegasque needed the push. But there's also something about the fact that Charles didn't come up with the idea of straightening things out himself. That one of his friends had to step in for you first so that he would get off his butt and stand up for this friendship. That Lando -

"What about Lando? And Pierre? And Kika? Are they part of Formula One too?"

Charles purses his lips into a thin line. "Lando and Pierre are also drivers. Kika is a model."

Bile rises in your gullet as you release your hand from his and turn onto your back, closing your eyes. Everyone knew, they even work in the same field, and no one thought to let you in on it. The whole thing could have gone down the drain. People could have recognized you both, taken photos of you and spread the word. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I -" Charles exhales. "I was just scared."

"Scared? Of what?"

"My job - my name - brings a lot with it. A lot of good things, like seeing the world, getting to know cultures and not having to worry about things like money. But there are also negative things, like a lot of pressure, fake friends, no privacy." He also turns onto his back. "I don't want you to choose something you don't want because of my name. I thought - I thought if we stayed in our little bubble, our little world, that - I don't know. It was just nice to have someone as a friend who wanted to be friends with me because I'm Charles. And not because I'm Charles Leclerc."

You have to smile. "Actually, I'm only friends with you so that I can live with you and save on rent."

"Haha."

You clasp your hands behind your head. "I can understand, I think. That you have to be careful who you surround yourself with. And that there are a lot of people who only use you because you're you. It sounds very lonely."

Charles snorts softly. "It can definitely be lonely."

"Then let me assure you that I don't want to be friends with you because of your money or your name." 

"But?"

"Do you really need reasons?"

"It certainly wouldn't hurt my ego," you can practically hear his grin. 

"All right," you reply. "I want to be friends with you because you're kind and considerate of your friends' feelings. Because you trusted me with your favorite place, even though you didn't know me. Because you introduced me to your friends because you thought it was inevitable anyway if our friendship strengthened." You take a deep breath and exhale. "I want to be friends with you because you're funny and make me laugh. Because you have a big heart. Because -" 

A feeling bubbles up inside you. You've felt it before - the day after your movie night, when you were reviewing the evening. In the not entirely innocent dream you had about Charles. And when you shared the bed after the bookshop.

It's warm, like a warm blanket, strong like a good hug and bright like Charles' eyes when the sun shines on his face. Charles is not just your roommate. Or your friend. Charles is so much more. Charles is your home.

Before you can complete the sentence, the Monegasque interrupts you. "That's good. That's good enough for me, thank you." He smiles. "It's nice to have you as a friend. Even if I don't deserve it, the way I've treated you."

"Mm-hmm." 

"Maybe you should sleep on it one more night and then decide if you really want it. There's so much more that comes with a friendship with me." When you yawn, he has to laugh. "You see? Maybe you're not even able to think straight right now. And then I push you into a friendship that you don't even want."

"I'm sure," you reply tiredly and you notice how your eyes get heavier. 

"But -"

Before he can finish his sentence, you reach for his hand and interlace his fingers with yours. You try to ignore the fact that this makes your heart beat faster. "I'm sure of it. Believe me." 

When you gently squeeze his fingers twice, he replies with the same gesture. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Then it's a good thing you don't have to find out," you smile and as you yawn again, Charles pulls you closer to him. Like a magnet, you slide across the bed towards him, unable to resist as your face finds its place against the crook of his neck. 

He lets go of your hand, but only to wrap his arm around you. His hand rests on the bare skin of your hip, while his other hand pulls your leg over him so that you're half lying on top of him. You are enveloped by him, fully and completely, and as you place your hand on his bare chest, you feel his heartbeat under your fingertips. 

You try to convince yourself that it's not beating for you, but as you snuggle even closer to him and your lips touch the soft skin on his neck, you feel it skip a beat. But maybe you're just imagining it. 

"I'll be better from now on," he whispers and tentatively presses a kiss to your forehead. Goosebumps spread all over your body, but not because you're cold like he thinks, which is why his arm presses you even tighter against him. "I don't want there to be another moment when you doubt how important you are to me, mon amour."

"You can teach me a little French," you reply. "Then you can hide less from me if I speak your mother tongue too," you joke. 

Charles feels your smile on his neck and he is glad that you can't see the blush on his face. 

"Anything you want. I'll go to the other side of the world for you if I have to."

"But not until tomorrow, all right?" You gently caress his chest with your fingertips and Charles draws in a sharp breath. "Now it's time to sleep. And don't you dare steal my blanket in the night."

Charles would love to pull you on top of him, kiss you and promise you that you're safe with him and that he won't let anything happen to you. But he holds back, just lets his fingers dance over your skin. 

He promises in the purple morning light. "Deal."

next part

[meazalykov]

goosebumps

lena oberdorf x reader

summary: your girlfriend is super touchy.

"you know how I get those goosebumps every time, yea?"

bayern munich vs wolfsburg, one of the most exciting days in the women's bundesliga.

moving to bayern munich from chelsea in 2022, you were adjusted into your new life.

this meant that you were prepared on going against wolfsburg-- and you were prepared of playing against your girlfriend of two years-- lena.

your mutual best friend-- lea-- put the two of you onto each other, lena and you had many similarities that didn't go unnoticed between your peers.

being silly, sweet, dedicated, and motivated were the top four personality traits in the both of you.

overly competitive is another.

during the rivalry game, you had the ball and were going to pass down to sydney. before your foot went to tap the ball, lena's body side tackled you-- which caused you to trip onto the ground.

you were not hurt, but you were concerned about wolfsburg aggressive approach this game.

staying on the ground, you clenched your teeth as you held your ankle.

lena stood up in horror, before she realized that you were trying to get her carded.

the german noticed how relaxed you looked, in comparison to times when you were injured. she looks over at popp and shakes her head before walking over to you.

you told the ref that you're fine to play and stood up to be checked into the game again. looking over at lena, she shakes her head with a smirk-- which caused you to give her one back.

a minute later, she was behind you when a corner kick was being taken for bayern-- conceded by wolfsburg.

"you know-- your acting might be believable to them, but not to me." lena whispered.

you rolled your eyes, playfully, before speaking--

"as longs the ref believes it, I'm calm." you say as you move forward to receive a possible header from your teammate.

suddenly, you felt a pair of hands holding onto your waist tightly-- and the familiar body of your girlfriend pressed against your back.

"your ass looks so good in those shorts, too bad its in the wrong color." lena whispers in german.

this time, you rolled your eyes seriously as you jump up to get the header. unfortunately, the ball was too high.

a wolfsburg defender conceded a corner kick again, so you were set to try and head the ball once again.

"do you think you're getting away from me?" lena asks, licking her lips but still paying attention to the game in hand.

"lena we are in a middle of a game." you scoff.

lena is very touchy, you are obsessed with it, but you were surprised that she would do it to distract you in a match.

"I am aware." lena blows on the back of your neck, goosebumps immediately appeared.

thirty minutes later at the end of the game, it was a draw between the red and green. 2-2.

by the locker rooms, in the privacy away from fans and cameras, you saw your girlfriend and gave her a wave.

you assumed that she was busy with her teammates so you didn't want to disrupt her.

however, lena waves her hand for you to come over to her.

your face showed a look of content and joy as lena wrapped your body with her strong arms-- her right arm holding your waist and her left arm around the back of your neck.

she kisses your temple a few times before moving down to kiss your lips.

you forced yourself to pull away and look at your german girlfriend with a smirk,

"well, neither of us won today." you comment in a low voice.

"yes but don't get too excited, we will crush bayern next time." lena's hands move up and down your waist softly as you scoff.

"what other methods are you going to use next time?" you ask, your arms going to smooth lena's freshly washed hair as her eyebrows knitted together.

"huh?"

"I thought your touches and comments on the pitch was a tactic to prevent me from getting a hat-trick after my second goal." you say as the taller girl is rubbing your back now, under your shirt.

luckily, everyone was in the locker rooms or already headed out to go home (or on the bus for the bayern girls).

"no not really, you're irresistible." lena smirks, leaning her head back on the wall as you gave her another kiss.

"same goes for you--i'm coming over tonight, so I'll see you later oberdorf." you smirk before exiting her arms, walking away as she watched you with desire.

<3

[luveline]

Feeling a bit emotional and would really appreciate something short but sweet with Steve telling reader he's proud of them.

You’ve been through a lot. It’s not nice to hear about all the bad things that have happened to you, how people have been cruel, or how you’ve been alone, but Steve is grateful to get to know these things about you. He feels entrusted with something very important whenever you retell a bad memory; he can keep it, help carry it, take some of the weight from your burdened levy. 

He’s happy to do it, even in the moments where you forget all that stuff. 

“You did,” you insist, face pressed into the couch, a tired hand to his cheek as you stroke your smooth nail up and down his skin. It tickles badly. He never wants you to stop. “Steve, you knocked him on his ass. He had bruises.” 

“I don’t remember,” he lies. He smashed into Dustin so hard during a game of baseball the poor younger boy didn’t wanna play, and Steve was very sorry for the bruise he got to the coccyx afterward. 

“No, you wouldn’t remember. That’s convenient.” You’re just teasing, caressing his face, in a world of your own that Steve gets to be in too when he’s lucky. 

He thinks everything of you —you’re so sweet, so kind. Even now you’re lamenting that Dustin got bad bruises and tapping up to the corner of his eye with your fingertip, gentle, loving. He wonders how someone who’s experienced the hardship that you have would be able to just walk it off, but then he remembers you don’t walk it off. You carry it. You’re carrying it as you speak, and you're smiling at him. 

You’re Steve’s best friend, his great love, all the heartfelt junk. 

“I felt bad,” he says with a little laugh. “Does that make it better? I did feel bad. He hit the floor so hard.”

“Your laugh makes me feel like you don’t have enough remorse.” 

“I’m super remorseful.” 

Your fingertips slide into the hair just atop his ear, and you start the motions of a small scalp massage. 

“You’re–” Steve searches for the right word. Skirts around sincerity, and doubles back when nothing else conveys what he means. “You’re pretty amazing.” 

“And amazingly pretty,” you murmur, tucking hair behind his ear and pulling it out again as you scratch his scalp, a repetitive motion. 

“I don’t tell you enough.” He slips down in his seat to be the same height as you, catching an eyeful of your soft jaw, your lips, every inch of you kissable.  

“That’s not the sort of thing you have to tell me,” you say. 

There’s some awkwardness there. He really should tell you more. “I’m serious. You’re amazing, you’re so kind. Everything that’s happened to you, and you’re unstoppable.” 

He’s aggrandising, a little, to get through it without sounding like a too sincere idiot, but then he notices your expression shift at his tone and decides he can’t do that to you, because he’s not joking. He clears his throat. 

“I didn’t have much to do with it, but I’m proud of you for everything. You’re a good person, and you didn’t have to be.” He holds your elbow to pause your ministrations against his scalp, leaning in to kiss your cheek gently, though he stays there, and his nose draws a line down to your lips.

You breathe in without saying anything. 

“…You’re proud of me?” you ask under your breath. 

Maybe it’s weird, but he is. “I just think you could’ve turned into, like, a huge dick. But you’re you.” He puts all the weight on it. “You’re amazing.” 

Your hand falls to his arm. “You think so?” 

“Of course I do.” He steals a soft kiss before he puts his cheek beside yours, expecting your hug before you give it. 

You wrap him up like a pretzel. “Why are you saying this to me?” you ask worriedly. 

“I just want you to know. I’m always proud of you, and I don’t know if I ever said it out loud. I think it’s– it’s hard to get hurt so much and get up again, but you do.” 

“I guess you’d know about that,” you say, curling into him. Your hug is without stress nor worry, just a want to be close to him, your voice laden with warmth. “We keep getting beat up. Maybe that’s why we’re good together.” 

“And another hundred different reasons,” he says pointedly. 

“Thousand reasons,” you correct yourself. “Thanks for thinking about me, baby.” 

With the way you say baby, Steve will be thinking of you for the rest of his life. “Can I rub your back?” he asks. It’s your turn for some affection. 

“Oh, no, please don’t rub my back, you know I hate that,” you say, sarcastic mumbling as you stretch against his chest. 

Steve hooks you against him. “I know. I’m the worst.” 

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Steve Harrington x Reader • Includes oral (f receiving) unprotected p in v sex • Utter fucking filth :) Wrote this because I’m so goddamn tired of Summer/the heat, and Steve Harrington raw dogging me on a cool kitchen floor would make it all better… 😆

Tagging @thosefuzzywordfeelings 💕

Steve nestles his cheek against your inner thigh. Sweat slicks your skin and his; it’s mid Summer, hot as fuck. Every room in the house is miserably hot, except for the kitchen, with its cold, tiled floor. It’s so hot that going out didn’t sound fun at all when you and Steve were deciding what to do with your evening. But fucking around on the kitchen floor in nothing but your underwear? That seemed like a perfect way to spend the night…

The cold, smooth tile feels refreshing against your back. You hum softly, stroking Steve’s hair as he rests against your thigh. He’s watching the sweat drip down your skin, the way it catches in the curve where your pussy meets your thigh.

He feels himself getting hard, but Steve decides that can wait. For now, all he wants to do is rest here, watching your pussy glisten in the heat of the afternoon, your scent stronger than ever and so close to his tongue he can practically taste you.

Steve’s tempted to bury his face in your cunt right now, but he holds back, drawing out the moment, building the tension in both your bodies. He blows a cool stream of air against your lips, watching them pucker in response. The air carries your scent back to Steve and he closes his eyes, savoring you.

His self control is faltering; he won’t be able to resist tasting you much longer. As if teasing him for his lack of restraint, you playfully wiggle your cunt in Steve’s face. If you can smell yourself, you know he can. And you know it’s making him crazy.

He gives your other thigh a playful swat, his big paw of a hand putting you in your place: “patience, honey-wanna take my time down here-,” he chides. His hands on you always get you riled up; you like it when Steve uses a little force. You roll your hips again, curving your pussy into Steve’s face, bumping the tip of his nose. His heart practically stops; you’re fucking destroying him. He’s so hard it hurts, the scent of you filling his nose and painting his lungs, a slippery string of your arousal clinging from the end of his nose to your cunt.

He can’t wipe it away, can’t bring himself to, no matter how long he’s trying to wait, trying to stretch this moment. He’d make it last forever, if he could. If Steve had to choose a place to die, it would be right here, in the soft bed of your thighs, surrounded by your most intimate scent, the warmth of your skin against his cheek.

He spanks you again, your pussy this time instead of your thigh. You gasp, a little giggle squeaking out of you at the same time. Your lips flutter in the wake of Steve’s palm, a soft vibration humming through your lower body, electric and warm. Steve’s teeth catch the supple flesh on your inner thigh; he nuzzles his nose into the bite marks he leaves, spreading the string of slick over your skin. His tongue accidentally catches it, rendering Steve defenseless. As the creamy musk of you sinks over his tastebuds, he loses all willpower and restraint.

Steve slides his hands under your ass, tugging you forward so your cunt is pressed against his lips and nose. You choke back a sob as Steve eats you, wet smacking sounds coming from where he’s sucking your juices, his head bobbing as he ruts between your thighs.

Steve’s groaning as loud as you are, filthy, shameless sounds of absolute gluttony, gulping at your release like it’s the only thing that can sustain him. The salt of your sweat mixed with the musk of your cunt is driving him beyond the point of being turned on; Steve’s coming in his boxers before he even realizes it. His hips start bucking as a wet patch of semen darkens the cotton over his crotch.

You watch Steve’s boxers fill up with cum, knowing that your cunt in his mouth is the reason he came without even being touched. It’s so fucking hot, such an ego trip for you, that you feel a surge of confidence and want to dominate Steve even more. You take a handful of his hair and hold him in place, swing a leg over his shoulder till he’s laying flat, with you straddling his face. Steve’s hands immediately find your ass again, groping the plump mounds of fat where your thighs and ass meet (his favorite place in the world) and he’s sucking your lips between his, while you grind your clit against the bridge of his nose.

You extend a hand behind you and place it on Steve’s crotch, feeling the gooey wet patch of semen spread inside his boxers. As you continue to hump Steve’s face, you bring your fingertips to your lips and suck his cum off of them. He watches you spread his semen on your tongue, the way you extend the soft pink pad and let him see, before swallowing it. Steve swears he could come again, just from watching you act like this. Something about the heat has turned you both into animals, acting on your most carnal desires.

Arousal pools in the contours of your body, trickling down your ass to the tile floor. Steve’s tongue finds every drop, pressing his hands against the backs of your thighs, bending your knees into your chest as he eats you. Your pussy is on fire, a beautiful burn that radiates to your center, a twisting spasm that catches you by surprise and unwinds through your body in waves. Your knees seize inward, fingers clutching onto Steve’s hair to keep yourself grounded. Your pussy trembles in his mouth, slippery cum spilling between his lips.

The puddle under your ass squelches as you twist on the floor, slathering the cold tile with your cum. Steve is hard again, his stiff cock dragging across your stomach as he crawls over your body. His mouth finds yours in a deep, wet kiss that’s all tongue and tastes like your pussy. He flips you over, one hand on your shoulder and the other gripping your hair, locking your body between his thighs as he mounts you.

You’re folded into a mating press, your breasts squished to your knees, Steve’s big hands cupping your ass as he sinks inside you. Your cunt swallows Steve whole in one slow, deep thrust. He growls inside your mouth, an open kiss connecting your lips, sweat dripping from the ends of his hair. You clutch at his shoulders, your fingers pressing into the contours of the firm muscles along Steve’s upper back. He rests his forehead against the puffy swell of your breasts squished together, rocking his full weight into yours, pinning you to the floor like conquered prey.

The sound of Steve’s heavy balls slapping your ass is deliciously sinful, a wet, thick sound that reminds you both how much cum he still has left to give you. Steve moves his hands up your body till his palms are pressed against the floor beside your head. You feel him tense, watch the muscles in his chest contract, hear the pretty, desperate grunts Steve makes as he begins to come. You seize on his moment of weakness, throwing all your strength into flipping Steve over. He’s on his back now, with you bouncing on his cock and absolutely ruining Steve in the most glorious way possible.

You drink in the subtle beauty of Steve’s features, each of them like brushstrokes made by an artist’s hand. His eyelids are heavy, half-concealing sleepy hazel eyes, his forehead wet with sweat and lined with concentration. The tip of his strong nose glistens with your sex still coating it, dripping down to pouty, kiss-bitten lips, rosy pink and slack as he surrenders fully to your control.

Closing your hand lightly over Steve’s throat, you slam your hips down against his, forcing his cock as deep inside you as possible. Steve moans, eyes lolling closed as he reaches to pull your lips to his. Whimpering as he empties himself inside you, a thick load of cum deposits against your cervix. You squeeze your pelvic muscles around Steve’s cock as tightly as you can, milking him. His body goes soft beneath you, all the tension draining from Steve’s muscles as the last of his cum drains into your pussy. You lift yourself off of Steve’s cock, watching between your legs as it lands thick and wet against his stomach. He tugs you into his arms, breathless and grinning, dotting your face with kisses and filling your ears with sweet, soft assurances of love…

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Zombie + Restoration Hobbyist Reader Blurb

-

"Blink once if you can hear me."

It calls to them from the darkness - a voice melancholic yet strangely robotic in its application. It's familiar - like something they've heard in a dream. They can't move. Their arms feel as though they're pinned beneath boulders. Their legs feel weightless. The place in their mouth were their tongue sat felt dry and... exposed. Left with no other choice, their eyelids flicker upwards. The flesh over their right eye feels to be constructed of foreign tissue - metal scrapping over the weight in the socket where their eye once was. The image of the figure standing over them is fleeting, lips pulled thin in an expression of approval.

"Blink twice."

Their eyes flutter open for a second time - remaining there as two finger pry apart the lids of their still functioning eye.

"Good. It's fortunate that you are still able to hear. At the moment, my fixes are merely cosmetic so I'm afraid you won't be able to see out of that eye of yours for some time. If you are like other patients I've had the issue will work out on its own."

Their eye rolls idly in their head - struggling to make out any features of the person through the blazing lights overhead.

"You must have questions. Forgive me- I wasn't expecting you to wake up before I had time to work on your jaw. Please use this to communicate if you wish, you can ask me anything."

Function to their left hand returns - their wrist raw and lacking the binding weight shacking it in place. Restraints? Smooth plastic rolls beneath their fingertip as they flex the stiff joints of their digits. Their fingers trace out the rectangular shape of the keyboard's space bar. Gliding gracelessly over the keys, a hand helps stabilize their moments as they begin to type. A computer monitor awakens from its sleep as words pop up on its screen.

"Where am I?"

A common question. "You are in my workplace. I repair things from time to time to keep myself busy. I found you in a creek nearby during a stroll the other night. Thankfully, you hadn't been in there long or I would've had to replace more than the skin of your eye."

Their hand draws up to their eye, feeling the odd texture over their eye. It's felt.

"I hate to bring up any bad memories from the past, but I need to ask in order to provide you with the care you require. Do you remember anything from the day you died?"

Died?... That's... honestly not the most surprising thing about this ordeal. A stabbing pain blisters at the back of their mind as they try to remember. A boat. A shotgun. Laughter. Tears. Please, no. It's not funny just put it down. Please. please-

"Boating trip. They said if I tagged along I could finally be apart of their group. I thought I could trust them. They said they were my friends. They said"

Their body lurches forward - fighting against the bite of their bonds. It hurts. It hurts so much. Why are they still here? Garbble wails ricochet off the bedroom walls. In their time of misery, another memory rushes to the forefront of their mind. Their body convulsing on an operating table. The gentle hushes of another as they pet back their hair - drying blackened tears from the corners of their eyes. A compassionate hand from the world that had abandoned them when they needed someone most.

"Hold me."

"What?"

"I remember.. Arms around me. A voice calling out to me. Promising me everything would be okay. That was you - right? Hold me. I don't want to be alone. Please, don't let me be alone anymore."

The hobbyist removes the glove from their dominant hand, wiping the leathery flesh were thick, congealing tears pool. You pull your newest patient closer - mindful of their stitches as you rub small circles along their spine.

"You can stay here as long as you like. While I'm not the most social person, I can't turn away someone who needs my assistance."

Their sobs are reduced to small whimpers as they cling into you - dying your apron in various fluids as their arm locks around your midsection in a vice grip. You grab onto their other wrist, preventing them from wrestling it out of their chains leaving you with more work in the future if their skin were to tear.

"I know this is a lot for you, but please try not to damage yourself further."

Their arm drops from your waist - fingers flying over the keyboard on a flurry.

"What's your name?"

"My name?... You can just call me Y/n."

[lingeriae]

Can you do a story where y’all getting ready to fuck and then you go to give him head but he tells you no and ladies first but your confused because all your exes said giving head is gross and he shows you how different things about to be with him

Can it end with smut plz

omggggg

smut below the cut, minors pls dni!

"bro stop looking at me like that." turning away from connie's stare of disbelief as you felt yourself begining to get embarassed from the sudden confession.

connie stared at you with his pink plump lips agaped and his eyes wide, eyebrows furrowing as your words rang through his head repeatedly.

the words self-explanatory, yet he mumbled over them. shock and confusion evident on his face as he leans back to look you up and down, his tongue coming out to wet his lips that had suddenly gone dry.

he rose an eyebrow, watching you as you played with your shirt, twisting the fabric between your fingers and refusing to look up at the man infront of you.

"nah," he drawed the word out, eyebrows coming together once more, a slender finger coming up to tilt your chin so you can look him in his eye.

for some reason he was always insistent on that—always insistent on having you look him in his eyes and you never understood why, but as you get captivated momentarily by his honey coloured orbs, you decide you can understand it a little.

still doesn't stop you from getting shy and looking away though.

"you playing with me right now, ma?" your legs tremble from the intense gaze he had on you, and the deepness of his voice. face growing warm and your body feeling flushed, bottom lip suddenly trapped between your teeth as you looked up at him from beneath your lashes.

he swears it takes everything for him not to shove you against the mattress and have you shaking under him.

his fingers caress your smooth sun-kissed skin as he awaits your answer, tapping your cheek with a 'hm?' and curious eyes.

"no...it just never happened I guess." you respond timidly, looking away from him again.

it goes quiet after that, dead quiet and by the time your head can turn to look back at connie, your suddenly sprawled out against the matress. connie's hand pressed against your belly, his eyes watching how your chest heaves as you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes .

his head hurts from how pretty you are, intoxicated by how good you smell, feenin off the thought of what you would taste like.

you begin to feel nervous as the silence only increased, a far off look in connie's eyes as he looked you up and down.

slowly, his pink plump lips quirked up in a pussy-wetting smirk, your thighs immediately pushed against each other at the sight as butterflies swarmed in your lower region.

"you gonna let me eat it?" he asks, pushing out his lips slightly as he traced the rim of your undewear, lips twitching at the gasp you let out when he allows his finger to slowly go lower, pressing a finger against your clothed entrance with a breathy sigh from how wet you were.

"huh, ma?" his eyes flicker from your cunt to your face, face flushed with a slightly pink hue as he bites on his bottom lip.

you suddenly get shy from his words, looking away from him while slowly nodding.

connie shakes his head, his fingers still toying with your pretty underwear and his eyes stayed trained on your face, "need you to talk to me, none of that shy shit." you squeak as he suddenly slaps your pussy, face warming up from how good it felt. "y-yeah, want you to eat it con." connie almost doesn't hear you because of how quietly you mumble the words, he decided he wont tease you about it—now.

"good girl."

with that your panties are removed from your body, exposing your gushing warmth to the male infront of you who tried his best to swallow down the whimper that rises to his throat at the sight, adams apple bopping as he makes an effort to contain himself.

slowly and tanataliingly, he leans down. his mouth an inch away from attaching itself from your pretty pussy, suddenly stopping when you place a hand against his chest.

brown eyes flicker up to you, they're so intense that your body shudders under them. "what if it's dirty? you don't gotta do this-" you start of shyly but get cut off from connie blowing on you, smiling with his dimples on display at the way your pretty hole flutters from the mere action.

"stop playing and lemme eat you out." as he spoke he wrapped an arm around your thighs, pulling you closer towards his face. your back arches instantly as his tongue makes contact with your pussy, the vibration from connie's moan trembles throughout your body as he continues to lick you up.

"connie, t-that feels good." you said as he did a swirling motion with his tongue, he repeats the motion causing your hands to grip the sheets beneath your fingers, body twisting and turning from the pleasure he was giving you. "mmm, don't stop!"

your eyes cross as connie's tongue flick your clit repeatedly, mouth making an 'o' as your hands flew from the sheets to the back of his head, nails scratching his neck as he continued to tongue fuck you,

connie only groans and shivers in responce, his movements never slowing or stopping but instead speeding up as you rocked your cunt in his face, greedy for the feeling of his tongue against you and high off the pleasure he was giving you.

his tongue moves to your hole, the wet muscle moving inside of you and out again quickly before it begans flicking back and fourth between your clit and the fluttering hole.

"o-oh." you whisper, eyebrows drawing together as you feel your stomach tightening, the grip you have on connie tightening. "w-wait, feels w-weird!" your whining is ignored as connie's mouth latches unto your clit and sucks—the hold on your thigh is gone as you feel a finger enter you unexpectedly, your back arching as a high pitched-moan leavess your lips.

"connie!"

"mhm?" the words are hummed into your pussy as his fingers pump in and out of you, his tongue swirling your clit feverishly. your walls tighten around his fingers as they continued to play peek-a-boo with your pussy, the way you grip connie's head has you wondering if your somehow hurting him.

"gonna cu-mmm! gonna cum connie gonna cum!" you say, words all jumbled and stuttered as you began to reach your orgasm.

as the words leave your lips connie speeds up his movement, moans leaving his lips as he slurps you up messily.

a moan of connie's name leaves your lips before your arousal floods out of you, thr clear goo running down connie's chin and on the bedsheets beneath you.

connie pauses to watch as your cunt flutters prettily, the brown skin glistening with a mixture of your cum and his spit. you shudder as he presses a kiss to it, slowly pulling his gingers out of you and then licking them clean.

he turns to you after he's done, leaning down to kiss you slowly and gently, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. when he pulls away he smiles at how daed you look, your arms crossing around his neck as you pull him down for one more kiss before releasing him. "felt so good connie." you say, gently brushing your fingers over the back of his neck, smiling at the way he shivers because of it.

"yeah?" he asks, fluttering his lashes at you so innocently you almost get caught of-guard by what he says next. "you taste so good I nutted in my pants."

you laugh, thinking that he was just trying to be funny only for him to continue blinking at you, his lips pursued and his eyes low. your eyebrows draw together before you look between you, seeing the dark patch that laid on the center of connie's pants.

"I can't stand you."

"good thing your ass is laying down then."