#press x reader

[luvrlou]

Get Out Of Your Own Way

Pairing: Matt Press x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, drug use, underage drinking, Matt is a warning in itself

Summary: Matt Press can never seem to get out of his own way.

A/N: Why is there no Press imagines!

Word Count: 2.1k

If Y/N L/N was asked who she most hated in the entire world, she would answer with Matt Press in a heartbeat. Where to even start with him? Some would say he's a dick others would be straight up and label him a sociopath. Conventionally, he was attractive, tall, had dark hair and always had this mysterious glint in his eye, that's what caused the girl to dislike him even more.

"Halloween, the one night of the year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it," the iconic words of Cady Heron projected from the small tv in Diana's bedroom.

"Di! Is this too much?" Y/N questioned, twirly around the room in a pair of black spandex shorts, a black crop top with purple zip and a witch hat placed messily on her head.

"Some would say not enough babe!" She replied, "put these on," she instructed chucking a pair of black heels towards her friend.

Tonight the two girls were headed to a Halloween party thrown by some kids in the year below, it was in this boy, Brodie's, basement. The pair were invited by a close friend of his called Abby Littman, Y/N didn't know her that well but Diana had known her since she was one year old.

"So what are you being?" Y/N asked the ginger girl sitting on the floor across from her.

"An angel!" She smiled grabbing the wings and halo next to her and placing them on. She stood up and did a spin, "tada!"

"Get your heels on so we can leave," the H/C girl ordered, switching off the tv, "we'll just walk, yeah?"

"Sounds good!" Diana grins, grabbing her friend by the hand and running down her stairs, locking her door behind her and heading in the direction of the party.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"Mothers lock up your sons!" Y/N yells as the pair enter the party hand in hand.

"Y/N and Di are here!" The other girl finished, receiving a chorus of cheers from the massive amount of teenagers in the basement.

"Di, come get a drink with me!" Y/N shouted over the noise.

The pair slipped through mountains of intoxicated people and poured themselves two cups of vodka, lemonade and blackcurrant juice. They clinked cups and downed their drinks giggling softly to each other before pouring themselves the same again.

"Let us mingle!" Diane croaked in a weird voice causing her friend to burst out laughing, they both parted ways and went to mingle.

"Glad to see you embracing your true self as a witch!" A male's voice boomed, followed by an obnoxious giggle.

"Lovely to see you too Matt," She pulled a tight-lipped smile, "Samantha," she nods towards the other girl.

"Awe, don't be so jealous of our Sam," he taunted, pulling a faux pout.

Y/N rolled her eyes, "I'm not jealous, I just don't like her simple as that."

"Don't need to be so rude!" The girl on the couch complained.

"Shut up Samantha," Press quipped before turning to glare at the girl in front of him.

"I'm away for a drink, bye Matty!" Y/N teased, grinning.

"And I'm joining you!" He added, clearly trying to wind her up.

She groaned and made a break for the kitchen.

"So Y/N, you do realise that you're meant to dress up as something for Halloween?" He laughed as she grabbed a bottle of vodka.

"Matt, you do realise that being a dick doesn't need to be your only personality trait?" The girl spat back, filling up her cup with vodka, and adding almost equal part lemonade.

"Woah, you have enough lemonade for your vodka?" Press asked taking the bottle off of her as she attempted to add even more into her cup.

Y/N smiled, "aren't you so cute caring about me," her smile dropped, "now fuck off and play with your little toy, she's waiting for you!"

He grunted in annoyance before walking off with a beer.

"It's shot o'clock!" Abby's voice rang through the small basement. All of the drunken teenagers gathered around the table tennis table and started to pound on it.

A chant of "Tiny sips, tiny flips!" bounced around the walls of the basement as Abby walked around pouring everyone a shot, Y/N stood oppisite Norah, a girl she knew fairly well.

When it came to her and Norah's turn Norah sent Y/N a quick smile before they both grabbed their shots and downed them, they tried to flip their cups, both messing up and sending the cups flying.

"Better luck next time sweet cheeks!" Press cackled his arm hooked around Samantha. Y/N sent the boy a middle finger, causing Diana to burst out laughing from behind her.

"Holy shit Di! You scared me!" Y/N drunkenly chuckled, embracing her friend. The pair walking off, "let's get more shots."

"You know how glad I am to have picked you to be friends with!" Diana commented, stumbling over to the kitchen, Y/N on her arm.

The girls grabbed a bottle of tequila rose and two shot glasses, pouring shots and linking arms, downing them.

"I could drink this all day!" Diana dreamily exclaimed.

"We can!" Y/N cheered, taking the bottle by the neck and pouring some of it down her throat.

Diana snatched the bottle drinking it wistfully slipping to the floor, Y/N joining her. Despite the partygoers coming and going from the kitchen, no one really paid much attention to the two girls tanning the bottle of creamy alcohol.

"Shit it's done," Y/N whined, sliding herself to lie down on the cold floor.

"Oh my, what have I walked in on?" The dreaded man said as he entered the kitchen.

"Oh Matty, be a doll and pass me down one of the vodkas," the intoxicated version of Y/N slurred.

"Absolutely not, get up!" He commanded reaching for Diana's hand, who gratefully took it and stumbled to a stool. Press then went to grab Y/N and haul her to her feet.

"Don't touch me, Matt Press!" She screamed.

"Come on Y/N, work with me, " he muttered, watching the girl submit and grab onto him. "There you go," he softly whispered as she reached her feet.

Matt turned to leave and Y/N went to sit next to Diana, "I wish he wasn't such a cunt," she stated, making Diana whip he head around.

"Y/N! Oh my god!" She screamed, and then they smelt it, the weed-infused aroma of a bong, "I think I know what time it is, do you know what time it is?"

"Bong time baby!" Y/N yelled, grabbing Diana's arm and stumbling towards the couch, "pass the bong sophomore!"

Y/N lit the end of it inhaling a big draw and passing it to Diana, Y/N reached over to Press and blew the cloud of smoke straight into his face, "oh you want to play that game huh?" He smirked, clutching her by the hips and pulling her onto the couch. "Hand it over Diana!"

Press took the bong and inhaled, grabbing Y/N's draw roughly and connecting their lips, the smoke travelled into her mouth. "Press! You animal!" Jordan shouted.

Y/N watched grinning as Samantha ran off into a bathroom, she stood up snatching the bong of the raven-haired boy, "Is there any weed that's not in here, I want a joint," she announced.

Abby sprinted off and came back with a small baggy filled with weed and a box of rolling paper, you took them out the girl's hands and kissed her forehead, "you're a gem."

The girl grinned and chucked herself onto the couch, on top of Brodie. Y/N stumbled towards the table to roll two joints, one for her, one for Diana.

"Come get one Di!" She shouted, the skidding and crashing indicated that the girl had arrived.

She picked one up and inspected it, "I love when you roll them!" Y/N tossed the lighter at her which she caught surprisingly well. Y/N placed hers between her lips and waited for her friend to light it.

The pair walked over to the people on the couch, the two girls mentally deciding to through themselves on Abby, the party had noticeably gone quiet, as the time had hit around half one. The only people who were left were the group of nine huddled around the couch.

"You know how much I love you, Abby, you're so cute and pretty," Y/N mumbled, cuddling into the girl she hadn't properly talked to since about five minutes ago.

"You two are definitely drunk!" Abby laughed, pushing both Y/N and Diana off of her onto the space next to her.

"We're not drunk we're just appreciating life!" Diana shouted, taking another long draw of her joint.

"While you guys appreciate life, me and Norah are away to have sex!" Jordan slipped into the conversation, causing everyone to groan.

"Shut up Jordan!" Norah reddened, pulling him away and up the stairs.

Everyone sat and talked for a while, despite never really hanging out with the group Diana and Y/N were fitting right in, laughing like they were old friends who hadn't seen each other for ten years. Diana had especially warmed up to Brodie who she was now all over in the corner of the basement.

"Perhaps we should take this to my room, what do you say Diana?" Brodie suggested to the ethereal-looking girl on his lap who was layering his neck with the red lipstick she had swiped on only an hour or so prior.

"I say that sounds great!" She beamed, grabbing the boy's hand and leading him up the stairs as silently as they could.

"I'm heading, I refuse to hear two couples going at it." Abby groaned kissing Y/N on the head before she leaves, waving a small goodbye at Ginny, who was cuddled into Hunter's side pretty much comatose.

"I better get Ginny home, sorry guys." Hunter pitifully smiled.

"No please don't leave me here with Matt!" Y/N pleaded making him burst out laughing.

"I'm not that bad babe!" He answered, giving her a side-eye. Hunter sent you yet another apologetic look, assisting a stumbling Ginny up the stairs.

"I need another drink," Y/N declared, standing up from her spot on the couch. She could sense him following her to the kitchen, which bothered her a ton but she was too interested in getting some more fiery liquid down her, instead of pouring something she just grabbed a bottle of vodka, slugged some down and trudged back to the couch.

"Stop hiding that you like me, it's honestly pathetic." A voice spoke behind her.

She whipped round, and finally he had well and truly pissed her off. "Oh my god, will you ever get out of your own way?"

"What's your deal, why are you being such a bitch to me lately, do I mean nothing to you," Matt shouted taking a step closer to the girl.

"Well fucking done Matt! You finally get it!" She yelled back at him. "You aren't as stupid as you give yourself credit for."

Matt laughed, "look at yourself Y/N, you're a mess, just admit it the only way you are happy with yourself is when you're drinking or smoking your dumb fucking joints!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She questioned getting even closer, making him step back into the table.

"I stopped being close to you and now you cry by yourself in school and act like you don't give a flying fuck about anyone! Other than Diana? Tell me that isn't true." He demanded looking the girl up and down.

"You don't know the first thing about me Press." She spat, prodding his chest with her dainty finger. "I mean you can't even go by your first name and you call me pathetic, that's funny!"

He only grunted in response, shoving the drunken shell of a girl out of the way, this only annoyed her even more.

"Matt for the love of god, just let me hate you." She whispered.

He huffed, "I don't want you to hate me Y/N but we'll never have whatever it was we even had again."

"God Matt! Stop!" Her distraught voice begged, his complexion softened a bit before advancing towards her, "Matt, don't speak."

Y/N pondered her decision, looking at the tall body who is towering over her, in one swift movement she pulled the boy closer, her hands wrapping around the back of his neck.

Matt's warm breath fanned over her face, "are you going to kiss me or what?" He smirked.

"Shut it." Y/N reached up and placed her lips against his, him instantly wrapping an arm around her waist, his other falling firmly on the side of her neck, he started to walk her so his back hit the cold table.

"Jump," Matt grunted, breaking the kiss, his arms came down to the back of her thighs, lifting her onto the table. She wrapped his legs around his waist, letting him kiss down her neck.

[mr-inkslinger]

ARTHUR MORGAN has an impressive cock. You'd always figured a man who carries himself so surely would have one like that. Thick and heavy, crowned with hair a bit darker than what was on his head. The way it would always be half hard anytime he was around you was flattering. The way he'd take up all the space in that hotel room, striding around, parading naked, he'd steal the air from your lungs. The way it'd pat against his thighs as he took heavy steps through the room. You'd stare and he'd look away, flush in the face. There was an inherent sense of boyish charm about him, how he could be so rough and callous, but the second he was alone with you he was nearly shy. Intimacy with Arthur was earned, a privilege, not a thing to trifle with. He'd given it to you and you hadn't even realized how hard it was to earn this from him.

He blushed bright red when you'd seen it the first time, that breathy "Oh, Arthur.." had sent a chill down his spine. Arthur was extra careful with you, fearing he'd split you right in half on his cock. There was no hiding it. The way his ranch pants would be fuller around you, the obvious bulge of denim stretching around it. He loved that you could try to swallow it all you wanted and you could still grip fingers worth of it as his tip touched the back of your throat. He loved being able to have you seated on top of him and see his dick fucking you from the outside. A firm hand pressed against you, making you tighter and he could feel the way he so lovingly damaged your sweet pussy.

He would torment your guts almost effortlessly. He'd have you gripping the sheets, choking back moans and sobs and all manners of pretty noises in a hitched tone without even trying. He wasn't an egotistical man, but he knew it couldn't be like this for every man or no job would ever get done in the world. It'd come to a stand still as everyone would be lined up to fuck the next man. No, no he had to have something special with you. He was easily enamored with you and how you'd feel wrapped all warm and tight around him. How snug you were.

Each time felt like the first with Arthur. The way he filled you and would have you swollen and sore the next day. Even after the bath you'd end up in together, he'd keep you there, wet and sudsy against him and his thick member until you had pruny fingers. He loved that you were a whiny mess just from being near his cock.

You were made for him by God, he wasn't religious but he was sure of it. You fit better than any glove or shirt or saddle he could have tailor made. You were just as addicted to him. The way his flared head could take up residency inside you made you know that there was some higher power and they were merciful in such a way for you to have a taste of heaven on earth with your Arthur.

[needypisces]

there's only so much a body can work out, a body can do

Art Donaldson was exhausted.

He was playing tennis for hours a day, exams were coming up, and with Patrick calling from a new time zone every week, he was barely getting any sleep. Even sliding facedown onto the bed next to you offered little relief for his aching muscles.

You let out a sympathetic cluck at his frustrated sigh, dropping your book and winding a hand into his shaggy hair to scratch reassuringly at his scalp. “Poor baby,” you said. “You’re wound up way too tight.”

He didn’t reply, but you could hear his exhale into the mattress. “You need to relax.” You continued, twisting a loose curl around your finger.

“I’m not so good at that.” He admitted in a muffled voice.

“You just need some help.” You paused for a moment, eyeing the tension in his shoulders, the slight arch of his back. “Why don’t you lie down?”

Art tilted his chin up to look at you. “I am lying down.”

“On your back.”

He scanned your eyes briefly before obeying, shirt riding up his toned stomach in the process. “Like this?”

“Yeah, just like that.” You agreed. You sat beside him and he shifted slightly to maintain better eye contact, bringing up an arm to rest behind his head. The movement drew your gaze to his taut bicep, and you couldn’t resist bending down to bite it, just barely hard enough to sting.

You smiled into Art’s skin at his surprised inhale, but you were the one caught off guard when his other arm swept you seamlessly into his lap.

“Hey!” You said, sitting up straight. “Hands to yourself.” He pouted, hand still gripping your hip, but you weren’t joking. When you started to lift yourself off, he caved.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He said, propping himself up with both arms now. “You’re in charge.”

“Don’t forget it.” You warned. He watched, chastised, as you dropped your own hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up until it bunched at his collarbone. Then, finally, you leaned down to kiss him.

Art was a needy kisser, always waiting for you to guide him, chasing your mouth with his own any time you tried to pull back, whimpering when you licked at the inside of his mouth. You loved kissing him, loved how much it worked him up. He was still a teenage boy, after all.

Once you could feel him properly hard beneath you, you began to descend, teeth scraping his jawbone, his collarbone, his nipple, followed soothingly by your tongue each time. Art’s abdomen was tense beneath your mouth as you pressed open-mouthed kisses to his ribs, his navel, his hips.

The tip of his cock was already sticky when you pulled down his boxers and grasped him in your fist, and you wasted no time in leaning down to tongue his slit. Normally you’d tease him much longer, make him beg, but right now, you just wanted to make him feel better. Art could hardly believe his luck.

You pumped the base of him with one hand and cupped his balls with the other as you suckled at his head. A whine escaped from high in the back of Art’s throat, and it only encouraged you to swallow more of him down.

“Oh,” he gasped, hips bucking into your mouth. “Fuck, please, please.” You moved a hand to rub his thigh reassuringly, a wordless promise, and lowered yourself further until your nose nestled against his pelvis. Art was panting desperately above you, the noises so sweet you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding down against his leg. He moaned at the feeling of your wetness, which only spurred you on more. For a while, the only sounds in the room were your slurps and gags against Art's cries.

Before long, you could feel the familiar signs of his impending orgasm, and you popped off. It took Art a moment too long to comprehend that you were speaking, too mesmerized by the string of drool connecting you to his dick.

“Where do you want to come, baby?” You asked again, hand continuing your work. “Hmm?”

“Is this a trick question?” He asked between shallow breaths.

You couldn’t help but laugh, and Art’s chest flushed pink. “No.” You promised, ducking to mouth at his balls. “Anywhere you want. Do you want to come in my mouth? On my face, or on my tits?” His face was beautifully unforgettable when you glanced up, eyes dazed and cheeks glowing as he tried to form a thought. “Come on, princess, use your words.”

At that, Art’s cock twitched in your grasp and you took him back into your mouth, tongue working at the underside. “On your face,” he finally said above you, and your stomach swelled. “Wanna come on your face.”

“Okay, baby,” you murmured. “Anything for you.” You pulled off long enough to soak two fingers in your spit, simultaneously gulping him back down and pressing the pads of your fingers behind his balls. Art clenched down and let out a strangled moan as you rubbed over his hole. You teased him with the tip of a finger, nudging at the muscle but not quite penetrating him, soaking up the mewls that fell from his mouth.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna- you’re gonna make me come,” he panted. His thighs were quivering; he was so close, the tension ready to drain from his body. You gave an encouraging hum, swallowing around his cock, and Art’s gasp broke into a sob as he came. You kept him in your mouth for a moment, letting yourself swallow just a little before pulling off to let him splatter onto your face. Art’s whimpers were delicious as he watched himself coat your swollen lips, your long lashes.

“Good boy,” you cooed, fist still working his cock even as he began to flinch from the overstimulation. “That’s it, does that feel better?”

Art’s head was tipped back as he struggled to catch his breath, but even still, his eyes refused to move from the mess on your face. You kept your eyes on his as you lowered your mouth once more, lapping at the dribble of cum down his cock. He started to whine in protest, it was too much, but you took pity and let him go, rocking back on your heels.

“So much better,” he whispered. “That felt so good, I needed it, thank you."

“Good.” You said, licking your lips. “That’s what I like to hear.”

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: Your apartment floods. Inspired by and for @liliumbosniacum

"I need to take leave."

Simon's phone is pressed against his face, one hand holding the device, the other with a canvas bag in his hand, it's contents overflowing: blankets, baby clothes, your pillow.

"Everything alright?" Price sounds suspicious, but more curious than anything, and Simon sighs.

"Neighbor's flat flooded. She's got nowhere else to go so I'm letting 'em stay with me for a while." Price, thank fucking god, doesn't push it any further, disconnecting with a rumble about checking in with him next week, wishing him a happy holiday, and a parting good luck.

When he hangs up, you're standing hesitantly in his doorway, pile of clothes in your arms.

"That the last of it?" He asks, and you nod.

"Are y-you sure this is okay?" You're still upset, shaken, and he doesn't blame you. You were terrified when you woke up to bone chilling, ankle deep water, frantically shouting about a burst pipe into the phone over Emmaline's shrieks.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I've got plenty of room." He does. His flat is larger than yours, and though they're both two bedroom floor plans, his bedrooms are bigger, and he has two bathrooms, compared to your one. "I got the crib reassembled in the guest room." He motions to the door that's half opened, a few bags of Emmaline's stuff collected on the floor.

"Thank you." you murmur, and then step forward, burying your face in his chest. He holds you there, rubbing your back, working his thumb into the knot that sits at the base of your neck. “At least we saved the tree,” you laugh, wet and sad, and he hums, bowing to press his lips to your forehead.

“I’m sorry love.”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Nothing I could control.” You’ve got a point there, and he appreciates the approach, marvels at your ability to not be angry or frustrated with your neighbor, even though it wasn’t really their fault as well. He’s irritated for both of you, anxious over visualizing what would have happened if the chunk of the ceiling that fell was misplaced and landed on you, or Emma.

You pull away, face twisted up into something that looks painful, tears on your lash line, and he frowns. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart, c’mon. It’s alright.”

“I know.” You cry, clamping your hand over the bridge of your nose and trying to turn away. “It’s just all her gifts we-were in my room and now they’re ruined, and-“

“Okay, so we’ll get more. We still have plenty of time.” He reassures, rubbing his palms up and down your arms until you come back to him, letting him fold you back into his embrace. “We’ll fix it. Don’t worry.”

“We will?” You sniffle, and he nods.

“I’m on leave, until after the holiday, so I’ll be around, we can go shopping and replace everything. It’s going to be alright. I promise.” That word slips out of him again, promise. I promise, just like he told you this morning when you were frantic and he said it was okay that you stayed with him, I promise, just like he assured last night when you apologized for Emmaline crying for most the evening. “Okay?” His chin rests on the top of your head, and he turns to kiss you, the touch as soft as he can manage. You hum, and then sigh into him.

“Okay Simon.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No.” His refusal is immediate, and you look at him in near exasperation.

“Simon I can’t kick you out of your bed! You’re too big for the couch, anyway, and I don’t mind, I’ve slept on a couch plenty. Plus I’ll be able to hear better, when Emmaline wakes-“

“Sweetheart.” You’re in the living room, bouncing Emmaline in your arms, walking back and forth in front of the fireplace. She’s wearing a red and white striped onesie, like a candy cane, and Simon chuckles when she makes grabby hands at him as he approaches. You sigh, and he tucks his hands under her, lifting her away and into his arms, pleased at how you instantly relax and stretch your back and shoulders in response. “Think you’re getting too big for mama, baby girl.” You roll your eyes, playfully knocking your elbow into his side, and he grunts. “You’re not kicking me out of my own bed.”

“No?” You turn with a hand on your hip, other one holding a half full bottle.

“No, well. I mean-“ he falters, suddenly losing his confidence. “I’m happy to let you have it, or…” He can’t get the words right, can’t communicate what it is he wants to tell you, too worried about scaring you off or being too forward, pushing you too far.

“Or?” You look so pretty, standing in his flat, your belongings, Emma’s, strewn about, just your presence alone making this place feel more like a home than it ever has before. He feels dizzy, overflowing with emotion when Emma lays her head down on his chest, and you smile at her, looking back up at him, delicate, sweet smile on your lips. He bends, tilting your face upwards to meet his, lips ghosting against one another as Emma coos from his arms.

“Or… we can share it.”

[veryberryjelly]

i would stay forever

art donaldson x gn!reader

prompt ; 'wait, don't go, please'

[ please excuse the fact that i know nothing about tennis XD. also, my first attempt at any kind of smut !! ]

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

you could feel arts frustration from your place in the crowd.

this had been the match he had been most anxious about. and as much as you had assured him he could kick cole friedman's ass on the court, it didnt take away from the fact that the guy was good.

and that much was proved by the score of today's match.

c. friedman - 4

a. donaldson - 2

you watched as your boyfriend stalked off the court, heading through the doors and back into the building.

manoeuvring out of the rows of chairs was difficult when everyone was taking advantage of the break between matches to get drinks and go to the bathroom.

in other circumstances you would've been with your boyfriend a lot quicker. you knew how in his head he got after he lost a match and you wanted to be there before he could get himself into too deep a spiral.

you managed to push your way through the crowd to get to the changing rooms where you swiftly pushed the door open, immediately met with groans of protest from the few other players that you completely ignored.

you spotted a familiar mop of strawberry blonde hair and your legs carried you towards it.

the closer you got, the more details of your boyfriend revealed themselves to you, and the more your heart broke for him.

he was bent over on the bench, his head in his hands, his shirt discarded beside him showing off the bruises he often got from practicing.

" oh, pretty boy " you muttered quietly, moving to kneel infront of him and get his focus on you and get him out of his head.

your hands rested on his knees and the contact seemed to be the thing to grab his attention and bring it to you.

a weak smile twitched at his lips and his arms dropped to rest his hands ontop of yours.

your hands turned to grasp his in yours and you pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.

" you did so good, baby. 'm so proud of you " your voice was quiet enough to keep this conversation between the two of you, but you made sure art could hear your voice.

you needed him to hear you over the voices in his head.

a soft nod of his head and a squeeze of your hand was enough for you.

" c'mon, i'll take you back to my place " you stood from the floor, your hands remaining clutched in art's grip.

when he tilted his head up to meet your gaze you could feel your heart breaking for the boy infront of you.

after a quick kiss pressed onto his forehead, you walked out of the changing room, giving him a couple of minutes to collect his things and change if he wanted to.

you leant against the wall just outside, ignoring the few glances you got from the guys walking out of the changing room who had seen you waltz straight in.

but you didnt care about them, you cared about the boy who came out and his arm went straight around your shoulders.

it was almost a reflex for your arms to wind around his torso, and the looks from the guys coming out of the changing room didnt cease.

" ugh, get a room " you heard from one of the players which usually would elicit a soft laugh from you, but today you just unwound one of your arms from your boyfriend and began leading him towards your building.

the walk was short but by the time you both arrived outside your door you could practically feel the exhaustion radiating off the boy beside you.

once the for was open you moved swiftly inside and art fell down ontop of your bed with a soft *thud*

you walked straight into your bathroom and knelt down to turn on the tub.

you could only imagine the amount of pain art was in right now, both physically and mentally. to your knowledge he hadn't slept in over two days and every spare minute had been spent on the courts, practising.

you knew he needed to relax, now more than ever.

after adding a soak to the water along with some salts you made your way back to your room to coax art into the bathroom.

at the sight of him already curled up on your bed ready to sleep you almost caved and let him stay there, but you knew he would thank you for making him get up.

you could let him lay there for a few minutes while the bath filled up.

and you spent those few minutes perched on the edge of your bed with your fingers running through the small knots in his hair enjoying the way his muscles seemed to relax at your touch.

getting him into the bathroom took a little bit of convincing, namely including bribery in the form of little spoon cuddles with a movie.

you pulled him through the bathroom door and reached down to pull his shirt up over his head.

this routine was both usual and unusual. after a loss art was usually a bit down, and he's both end up in the bath or shower at one of your places before just relaxing with you the rest of the afternoon.

but with the loss, ontop of how exhausted he was, you didnt mind doing that little bit extra.

you turned to drop his clothes into your laundry hamper while he climbed into the bath and when you turned back to face him he was coming up from the water after wetting his hair.

you couldnt resist leaving a kiss onto his forehead.

" i'm gonna go and get us some food, i'll be back in a little bit " you said quietly, moving to stand before you were stopped by a hand on your wrist.

" wait, don't go...please " his voice was quiet, but the raw edge on his voice pained you.

you didnt need to be asked twice as you knelt down beside the tub again.

" ok, i won't go " there wasn't a question about it. if he wanted you to stay, you would stay.

his head rested back against the wall behind the tub and his gaze was locked on you.

" will you get in here " it wasnt a question so much as a request.

but you recognised the look in his eyes. a tired need that often appeared in the dark of night along with a quiet whisper of ' just need to be close to you '

who were you to deny his gorgeous baby blue's.

you released his hand to strip yourself of your clothes and drop them onto the laundry hamper across the bathroom.

art offered his hand out to you to help you into the water and you sank down onto your knees, your arms looping to wrap around his neck.

you hovered slightly in the water while art lined himself up at your entrance.

once you felt the head of his cock pushing you open, you sank down onto his lap, shivering slightly at the whimper that escaped his lips.

his hands moved to rest on your hips as you both got used to the feeling of him being inside you.

you could tell when he was settled because his head dropped back against the wall and his arms tightened slightly around you, pulling your chest against his.

his nose nudges at the side of your neck and you tilted your head to the side to press a kiss onto his damp skin.

" 'm so proud of you, sweetheart. y' did so well. " a soft mewl interrupted you when you felt him twitch inside you.

" keep talking t'me, baby " he rasped in your ear, his fingers digging into your hips a little.

a soft smirk twitched at your lips. you knew his intentions had been pure, but your words seemed to have tripped something in his head.

" i know you're so tired, handsome. haven't slept in days. i just want to take care of you "

as you continued, you felt yourself slowly rising and falling on his length at a pace that caused the water around you to create small waves up the side of the porcelain.

his whimpers spurred you on.

" y'gonna let me take care of you, baby? want to shut your pretty brain off for a little while ? "

his answer was almost instant

" yes, please sugar " his voice was rough against your skin and you could feel the movement of his lips against your shoulder.

" ok, pretty boy. just relax f'me " you hummed in his ear, your lips moving to pepper kisses from his shoulder up to the spot behind his ear that you knew drove him crazy, all the while never ceasing the movement in your hips.

you could feel yourself getting worked up alongside the boy beneath you, but you tried to focus your mind elsewhere.

this was about art.

you recognised the slight tensing in his shoulders and the stiffening of his neck and your last few movements against his hips were a little more vigorous, to the point where a bit of water splashed over the edge of the tub.

but it was worth it to hear the groan that rumbled in your boyfriends chest and erupted from his mouth as he finished, a recognisable warmth spreading in your stomach.

your hips slowed to an eventual stop and you remained entwined in each others limbs for a few minutes.

eventually you pulled your head back to look at the boy in your arms.

his eyes were half closed, his hair sticking to his skin. he was truly a vision.

with a soft kiss to his lips, you made that reluctant move to ease yourself off of art and out of the tub all together. you wrapped yourself in your robe and pulled the spare one off of the back of your door that exclusively belonged to art.

somehow the boy climbing out of the tub now seemed to be even more exhausted than the one you had found in the changing room, and yet he looked better.

he looked...calmer. less plagued by worry as he took the robe from you and slid it onto his arms.

his arms wrapped around your waist and held you close to his chest.

" thanks, gorgeous " he whispered before pressing a kiss to your neck.

" y'don't have to thank me. go put some clothes on, there's some of yours in my top drawer " you turned in his grip, practically ushering him out of the room so he could change and you could pee and give your hair a quick brush.

when you emerged from the bathroom you found your boyfriend in a pair of boxers and one of your t-shirts. not one you'd taken from him, one of yours.

this must be how he felt to see you in his clothes. if it was you were never going to stop wearing his shirts.

he had pulled your laptop from your bag and opened it up to netflix, ready to argue with you for the next five minutes about a movie and then cave and let you watch whatever you had suggested first. after changing into one of his t-shirts and some underwear, you deposited the robes back in the bathroom and crawled into bed beside him, laying your head down on his chest when he guided you into his side.

" so, what're we watching ?"

———————-

y’all, let me know what you think. should i start writing more smut or cut my losses at this XD

[lunarmoves]

"what." moon's voice is a low drone somewhere beneath you, vaguely amused. "are you doing?"

"nothing," you respond, a hint of a laugh in your voice as you press your cheek harder against him. you'd just gotten out of the shower, and the coolness of his smile is a stark relief against the warmth of your face.

"this is not nothing," comes his flat reply, and you feel the way his face tilts slightly. your head moves with the motion. slim, metal fingers come up to grab at your hips, pressing into the softness of your flesh. you can feel the way they flex slightly against you and have to suppress a snicker.

"i don't know what you're talking about," you say, arms wrapping tighter around his slim shoulders. you are precariously perched atop him, knees keeping you upright from where they are positioned on either side of his thighs. your chests are nearly pressed together, a breath of space between them.

he huffs. "your hair. is in my mouth."

"no it's not." you huff back and only press your face even harder against his static smile. "you can't even open your mouth."

"says who."

"says me." your voice is slightly muffled, yet his rings clear even with you splayed over him. echoing slightly in the moonlit space of your living room.

"will bite you one day," he retorts, and you can feel the way he sinks back into the armrest of the couch you're both on. it makes your own body lean deeper into his own, causes you to eventually sit atop his slim abdomen.

"will bite you one day," you mimic his voice, then decide his smile is not cool enough anymore to bring you relief. you pick your head up slightly and move upwards before resting your cheek back down on his faceplate. better.

"ow," moon immediately says without emotion. you bite at the inside of your lip to hold in a laugh. "my eye. ow."

"oh stop being such a baby," you say, squinting your eyes down at him—or what you can see of his face, anyways, with how close you are to him. "you can't feel pain in your eye."

"ow," he only repeats. "can't see. big head."

"you're the one with a big head."

moon makes an indignant sound. "unbelievable. first you obstruct my mouth. then my eye. now you say i have a big head? unforgivable."

"you'll survive," you giggle out, and moon only grumbles incoherently in a manner that you know is lighthearted. he gives your hips another gentle squeeze.

a silence—comfortable, relaxed—elapses between the two of you. it's fitting, with the late hour. you are growing ever more tired with each minute that ticks by, soothed by the quiet whirring you can hear coming from moon's internal fans. the way his face presses reassuringly back into your own. the warmth of his palms. a content sigh escapes your lips.

"do you think," you eventually murmur sleepily, dancing between consciousness and unconsciousness, "if i press you close enough, i could absorb you into my body?"

moon snorts and you smile with the absurdity of saying that question out loud. and yet, he indulges you.

"not doing it right," he tells you in a quiet voice, no louder than the ticking of the clock you can hear in the distance. you make a questioning sound. "here. like this."

and before you know what's happening, you feel your entire world flip.

your back comes into contact with the cushions of the couch, your eyes snapping open from where they'd been half-lidded. you are pressed into something soft yet firm, held tightly within sturdy arms that wrap firmly around your back. your legs automatically hook around his waist, ankles crossing.

you grin up at moon, the way he has pressed his face against yours—except, it's a little strange, with your nose poking up between the two of you. there's barely any contact between your faces apart from the tip of your nose and your forehead that he tilts his faceplate forward to meet with his own. it's silly, but you do not find yourself minding. ruby light washes over your cheeks from his optics, warm and all-encompassing.

like this, moon's lithe body covers your own completely, your arms dangling over his shoulders as he gives you a gentle squeeze. "see? now i can absorb you."

"yeah," you breathe softly into the minute space between your face and his, a grin mirrored back at you. you give him a gentle squeeze back. "just like this."

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part three.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, edging, pet names, sex toys, multiple orgasms, mentions of body image Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. / part four. | masterlist

“Hel-lo, is the idiot in the room still with us?”

A slender hand waves back and forth, back and forth, until you awake from your everlasting daydream.

Annie Leonhart sits across from you at your favorite coffee shop looking like the cat that caught the canary.

That knowing smirk hasn’t left her face since she sat down.

Curling her fingers, she pulls her arm and returns her hand to join the other under her chin once she’s finally caught your attention.

The small blonde squints her icy blue eyes, observing, deciding on what you’ll say before you launch your defense.

“That good, huh?”

Embarrassment is your first folly.

"I— What?!”

“I know a blissful climax cloud when I see one.”

“Annie.”

Sometimes Annie could be an ass, too smug for her own good, but she was a fiercely loyal friend and colleague.

Everything is meant in jest — at least, to you. Not many others got to avoid her wrath.

You lean over the table, reaching your hand out to cover her mouth.

She manages to duck your advances, expertly so, and rears her head with a small chuckle.

“Relax, no one’s listening,” she chides.

“That’s not true,” you argue under your breath. “It's a small shop. You know the vultures circle this place.”

“Not since the old thirsties got busted for their smutty book club — which, quite frankly, I resent losing.”

"You resent?" you repeat, mirroring her squint. “But you never ended up joining the old lady book club.”

“Mm, I didn’t,” Annie agrees, picking up her coffee cup to sip leisurely. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. I looked up a couple of those titles for myself. In retrospect, they had good taste.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead.”

She pauses, setting the cup back on the table.

“So… are you going to make me work for the details, or what?” she finally leads, getting to the point while you skate around it with imaginary triple axels. “Did you call again after Friday?”

You did.

In fact, you've called several times — almost every night since last Friday with the exception of Tuesday, since you’d fallen asleep as soon as you hit the couch after working overtime.

It’s now another Friday afternoon, one week from the first time you’d called the hotline, and you’re wondering what constitutes bordering on addiction.

“I have,” you confirm. 

“That’s all you’re going to say?” she chastises with a grimace. “Boo — tomato, tomato.”

“What?! What did you want me to say?”

“For starters, who the guy is.”

“Not happening.”

“Loser.” A beat passes. “But it’s not Bert?”

You shake your head vehemently.

“Definitely not Bert.”

“Thank god,” she exhales. “I like you, but I don’t know if I like you enough to be calling up the same dude to get our rocks off.”

“Jesus, Annie.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude.”

You pick up your own tea, sliding it across the table before taking a tentative sip.

“I don’t know how you freely talk about this like we’re trying out restaurants.”

“Because it’s not real?” she suggests, and your stomach flip-flops. 

You know it isn’t. 

It’s a job.

It’s his job.

“I don’t know,” Annie continues, sitting back against her chair with her arm draped across the curve. “It’s no strings attached and hot. I’ll never meet Bert, and he’ll never meet me, and it isn’t like he’s going to ask to hold my hand and beg me to meet his mom.”

“You’re such a commitment-phobe,” you comment with the roll of your eyes. “You won’t ever meet anyone’s mom.”

“Yeah, because I’m not a psycho,” she replies with a snort. “I take it you went premium?”

You nod once. “Levi suggested it.”

Her eyes widen, delighted, and you scowl at your own stupidity.

“Levi?”

Ah.

Fuck.

"Wait." You sit up taller. “Don’t—”

“Oh, that’s a hot name.”

“Annie, I swear to—”

She sours to herself. “Damn, that’s so much hotter than moaning Bert.”

The tea in your cup bubbles from your chortled breath. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, not my favorite name ever, but that’s fine — because it’s more like he’s moaning Annie.”

Paired with a wicked grin, your friend winks at you.

“We have two very different wants.”

You squint, and her grin widens. “Wait, do you—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh my god, Annie.”

“What?!” she chirps with a chuckle. “You like the bossy ones, I like being the boss. You’re not allowed to kink shame me. We’re in this shit together.”

“Who said I like being bossed around?!”

She points her finger at your facedown phone.

“Porco Galliard bosses people around. I’m not stupid. And you scream ‘I don’t like being assertive’.”

Great.

The same observation Levi made over the phone without ever meeting you in person.

“Whatever, that isn’t the point,” you wave off, deciding to try and swerve the subject. “I wanted to ask: how many times do you call a week?”

Annie presses the tip of her tongue against her cheek as she considers.

“A week? Maybe two, three at most. It used to be a hell of a lot more, but I’m working a lot of late nights.”

“When you say ‘a hell of a lot more’, do you mean—?”

“Daily?” she finishes for you then tries to recall. “Why? Are you daily right now?” 

You hate yourself for a second. 

“Sort of? It’s only been a few days, but—”

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She reassures in that randomly serious way Annie can pull on a rare occasion.

Making fun of people might be her favorite pastime, but if she can sense true withdrawal from her friends, then she’s quick to stop. 

The blonde reaches over the table to pat your hand, but it’s hardly a comfort.

Annie is about as comforting as raw-dog wearing a hand-knitted sweater by an amateur: it's itchy, too tight, and you want it to stop immediately. 

“You’re a grown woman with grown woman money. If guys can go get blue balled at the strip club, then why can’t we call a hot guy over the phone?”

Again: not comforting at all.

With reluctance, you nod.

“You have a point.”

“I know I have a point.”

“Then again, I don’t know how long term this fix can be,” you reason. “It’s very expensive.”

“Yeah, but you know what’s more expensive?” Annie retorts. “Hooking up with a stranger at a bar who’s abysmal in bed. Maybe not so much for your wallet, but definitely for your ego.”

“And your sanity,” you agree, “if they’re weird.”

“Or a creep.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“A weird creep that happens to be a serial killer.”

You both give each other a look, an unspoken conversation of two delusional women saying ‘exactly’ in a singular gesture, as you sync the sips of your drinks.

.

.

— —

.

.

  “Do you ever — ha — use to — oh — ys?”

You’re not sure why you’re so chatty with your rabbit vibrator barely hovering over the hood of your clit.

A week ago, you would've been trying to smother yourself with a pillow for talking.

However, with each night you’ve called Levi, the more comfortable you’ve become.

More bold, if openly using toys tells him anything.

The avalanche that brought you here was quite swift.

Traffic lights no longer remind you of the cars on the road but the man waiting for you on this hotline.

A willing striptease; a compliance to do what you wish but let him take the lead.

All you had to say was ‘my hand’s getting tired’ during an edging session.

All Levi had to reply with was ‘if you had a toy, I’d allow you to tag it in’.

Allow.

Like you’re completely under his spell.

Like you couldn’t have been using one from the get-go, but you listened.

You said you did.

He said grab it.

(God, you always listen.)

Now you’re here, legs spread in the center of your bed with your phone sitting between the valley of your breasts as you talk to him through the speaker.

“I am right now,” Levi replies in that diplomatic way of his, the lift of his voice telling: he’s amused by the way you try to speak to him, even when you’re ready to scream with impatience.

“I meant on yourself,” you exhale shakily.

“On myself?”

“Like on c-calls,” you stammer, forcing yourself to focus.

He loves when you lose your mind.

You refuse to cave so fast tonight.

“A mystery for another day,” he teases, before adding in a firmer tone: “You earned it. Touch it to your clit, but don’t go inside yet. I want you wet and ready for me, understand?”

“You’re so mean.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he softens for just a moment. “And don’t talk back.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you joke, before pressing the device against your clit.

The vibrations surge pleasure down your legs, causing your toes to curl.

You’re not sure if it’s the ‘sir’ or the moan you emit that makes him groan in return.

“The answer is no,” he finally states.

For a second, you think you did something wrong.

Then you circle back, remembering what you asked in the first place.

Right.

The toys question.

“You don’t?”

“Not on me, no.” He exhales, slow and steady. “Too busy making sure I’m hitting the script.”

That’s the funny thing about these calls:

The fourth wall? 

Broken.

He doesn’t pretend to be your boyfriend for the night, just as you don’t pretend he’s only yours.

You’re aware he’s a sex worker, just as he seems to open up about his profession when speaking to you.

At first Levi wouldn’t — it was meant to be a fantasy — but each night he’s divulged more.

Like how he used to be in the military. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he has an affinity for tea, going so far as to have a mild cup with you after a session in lieu of a cigarette. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he’s a Capricorn. (Unrelated to sex — kind of.)

In the midst of learning about him, you’ve learned about yourself.

You’re less vanilla than you originally thought.

With Porco, things felt regimented.

Scheduled.

You weren’t willing to open up your heart, much less your legs, because he was too cold behind closed doors.

Focused.

Driven to his work and passions.

Levi, on the other hand, will suggest leaning against the wall with your hand in your underwear, eyes forced to watch yourself in your full-length mirror.

To worship yourself, when he can’t.

To pump your fingers into your weeping core, when he can’t.

To give over complete and utter control with the promise that you’ll come as many times as he asks you to, because if he could be in this very room — this very apartment — he’d easily do it himself.

With Levi, you’re bold.

With Levi, you’re in.

So you’re not shy to arch your back, moaning into the receiver when you feel your first orgasm approaching you like the incoming tide.

“Levi,” you whimper his name, “can I—”

“Shit, baby, you know you can,” he practically purrs, already knowing what you’re going to ask. “C’mon. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours, huh? Just for me?”

“Just for—”

The last word is garbled by the way your teeth clench, legs snapping together as the first climax hits after a relentless twenty-minute edging session.

It’s unreal.

It’s pain.

It’s bliss.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

(Freedom.)

You pant, pulling the vibrator away from your body for a moment to catch your breath.

You hear him hum with approval on the other end, a low rumble against your chest.

“That’s a good girl,” he says after a beat. “Feeling better?”

“So much,” you confess breathlessly.

“You sound better.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Didn’t do much.”

“Oh shut up,” you scowl before laughing.

Turning off the toy for a momentary reprieve, you allow yourself to catch your breath as you grin up at the ceiling.

“Always so goddamn modest.”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffs, shifting on the other end of the line. “Can’t take a damn compliment to save your life.”

You make a face like he can see you in the dark, but you decide to continue the conversation.

That’s a new thing the two of you have picked up — talking.

Lots of talking.

You get off, sure, but he knows your work drama, your chore schedule — your mailmen even have the same first name, funnily enough.

“I’m serious, though,” you exhale. “Do you ever like… get off? Without toys, obviously.”

“During a call?” he clarifies, and you nod. He answers like he can see it. “No, not — not typically.”

“Wow, so you’ve faked an orgasm with me,” you tease with a blissed out snort. “Shame, shame, I know your name.”

“I what?”

“Faked it,” you clarify, fluffing your pillows behind your head as you situate yourself on your bed. “As if I don’t hear you breathing all heavy and shit over there.”

Then something unusual happens.

The man grows quiet on the other side. 

Nothing shuffles.

No huffs or ‘tchs’.

Just… silence.

“Levi?” you ask, brows knit.

A beat passes, but he answers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you good over there?”

“I— yeah, fine,” he clears his throat.

Uh-oh.

You frown immediately, blinking twice. “Sorry, was that a weird question?”

“Not at all,” he clarifies, gruff this time, “just… I said not typically, not never.”

…oh.

Oh.

Suddenly you abandon the rabbit and sit up in bed, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Wait.”

“Scarlet.”

“No, did you actually—”

“I already said too much.”

“No, wait, you can’t just imply that you’ve gotten off with me then abandon ship here, Levi!”

“I’m not abandoning ship — why do you say such weird shit sometimes?”

“How many times?!” you yelp.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Holy shit,” you exhale, “I’m so mad I didn’t pay attention.”

It’s like you can hear Levi squinting, narrowing his eyes with uncertainty on the other end of the phone. “...why would you be mad?”

“Because maybe I want to hear you get off, too?” you suggest simply.

Another agonizing breath of silence.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you place your phone on your sheets and pick up the vibrator, contemplating your next move.

“Because I would totally love to just… I don’t know, make you moan, too? See what you taste like? Feel you lose control, pull my hair, hold my head down while I wrap my lips around—”

“Baby.”

Two syllables shoot out of his mouth, as if overwhelmed with shock.

Huh.

An Uno reverse in your favor.

You’re no Shakespeare, but what you say is as honest as words can possibly be.

“I picture you all the time,” you confess softly, pressing the rabbit vibrator’s first function.

A low rumble begins, and you guide it between your legs.

You’re already soaked from your session.

There will be little give to the toy.

“When we’re not on the phone together, I wonder what it would be like. I could be at work. I could be at a coffee shop. Like, holy shit, I was meeting with a friend today and all I could think of is how badly I’d love to just take you to it — maybe disappear in the back hall, find a bathroom? I’d bend over a sink. I don’t wear skirts all the time, but I’d wear one for you.”

You hear shifting on the other end of the line, but Levi is deathly silent.

Mindlessly, your hand takes hold of the vibrator and you press against your entrance.

With a tiny whimper, you push in, deliciously enveloped in a sea of vibrations.

“You wouldn’t need to wear a skirt.”

Suddenly his voice appears, and you accidentally push the vibrator further in, causing a strangled moan to exit your mouth. 

“Le—”

“Pants are just as easy,” Levi cuts you off, a thread of a whisper. “Couldn’t take that much effort. Wouldn’t give a shit if anyone saw your damn clothes at your ankles.”

Suddenly the room burns.

“I just know you’d fill me up so good,” you whine, and there’s a sharp hiss on the other end.

“Jesus Christ.”

There.

You hear it: the waver in his voice.

“Yeah, baby,” he concedes. “I’d fill you so fucking good.”

You whimper, a pathetic little noise at the base of your throat, and he exhales a large breath — as if he’s been holding back this entire time.

“Promise?”

“When have I ever led you astray?” he challenges, a bit more strained now.

It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” you breathe, ragged and wrecked, and there’s a small groan on the other end of the line.

“You already do, baby.”

“Not how I want to,” you argue in return, body pulsating with the growing need to release a second. “You’re so good at making me cum, but all I want is to take it how you want me — bend me over and fill me up, push me to my knees and stick my tongue out—”

“Fuck,” he curses sharply. “You’re so good for me. So, so fucking good, not fuckin’ fair.”

“Wanna cum with you.”

He groans, louder this time, and inhales the most deliciously jagged breath you’ve ever heard.

“Right there, baby,” he forces out. “C’mon. Give me one more. Just one more.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You purposefully bite your tongue when you come a second time, squeezing your eyes shut with all of your senses focused solely on your ears.

A grunt, as if he’s holding back just the same before exhaling, slow and languid.

In your mind’s eye, you see it: how he uses his teeth to hold up his t-shirt, painting his abdomen with streaks of white as he holds himself back from climaxing too loud. His whole body trembles. He squeezes the tip, milking himself for all he’s worth.

Pulling the vibrator from your body, you turn it off and toss it elsewhere on your bed. Your body curls around your phone, trying to stay quiet so you can listen.

Shaky.

Exhausted.

Not typically, not never.

You say nothing, can’t, but a small giggle of euphoria emits from your throat.

Surprisingly, Levi chuckles back with that drugged slowness that comes with exhaustion.

“You’re too damn giddy after two orgasms,” he chastises, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Uh-huh, Huff ‘n Puff,” you tease right back, and he tsk’s right against the phone.

And in your heart, you know—

Know you’re in deep shit.

Know that you like Levi, even if it’s impossible to like a stranger.

Maybe when you get this month’s credit card bill, you’ll sober up from your crush.

But not right now.

Just not right now.

.

.

— —

.

.

  The next morning, you’re up bright and early.

Skip the elevator to the apartment lobby.

Walk down the stairs to kickstart your adrenaline.

Skip the coffee at the local shop.

Choose a small cup of chai instead.

By the time you make it to the gym, you’re more ready than you ever have been in your life to take on the day.

.

.

— —

.

.

  Forty-five minutes later, your sweat even has sweat.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, the endorphins from a tough workout only make you feel that more excited to get your shit together. To be more mindful of your time.

(Totally not because your last call with Levi was unreal. Nope.)

Overall, you went from hating your life to — well, this.

Whatever this is.

Owning your self agency and worth after a pitiful breakup?

Unfortunately joining this gym had been Porco’s idea — he’s a treadmill hamster, and you got swindled by the sea of abs under his tank tops.

A ‘couples activity’, whatever that meant.

(Being sweaty and tired without an orgasm to finish it off never did feel rewarding.)

After the breakup you considered trying to get out of your 6-month contract, but Porco dipped first.

He joined Pieck’s crossfit endeavor somewhere else in the city, leaving you and this dingy little gym to commiserate together.

Now?

Now, you excitedly get ready in the morning to the gym — not to get thin or look a certain way to appease anyone else. A revenge body is bonafide stupid.

No — you don’t want to be anything but stronger.

Because Levi would probably think it was hot if you were stronger.

Maybe the next time you call, he’ll be impressed that you’ve taken to strength training. 

Maybe he’ll give you some pointers — one more topic of conversation to be had.

Setting down the free weights back on the rack after a thorough cleaning of the equipment, you step out of the way of the other regulars gearing up for their workout and head towards the locker rooms to shower.

In the small pocket of your leggings, you hear your phone vibrate. 

Digging your hand in to fish it out, you see a familiar name on your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Yo [A. LEONHART]: We’re all going out Tuesday for drinks – u in?

All.

All means the department.

All might mean Porco and Pieck.

Annie must sense your apprehension, before adding:

[A. LEONHART]: Porky probs not going, Pieck’s got a family thing

 

Well, that’s two positives.

[ME]: I’ll think about it. [A. LEONHART]: Think about it????

[A. LEONHART]: 🍅🍅🍅

Her and her fucking tomatoes.

You snort and begin to write back—

But not before accidentally slamming chest to chest into a stranger.

The phone flies out of your hand like a bar of wet soap.

Like a Scooby Doo short, it alley-oops to the sky then smashes down against the black-speckled rubber gym floor.

Before you can even react, the person you’d bumped into is bending to crouch on the floor.

“Shit. My fault.”

Every cell in your body freezes.

Time ceases to exist.

They scoop your phone into their hand, flipping it over checking for damage. 

Luckily, the screen is intact. 

No fall damage.

But that isn’t why you’re frozen.

As they rise to full stance, your eyes are still downcast. 

From their sneakers your eyes crawl up, up, up — noticing the basketball shorts that cut just above the knee with compression under armor peeking beneath.

On his torso is an emerald green tank top, clinging to his flexing abs, the fabric speckled with sweat. 

His collarbones are defined; chin just as sharp as his cheekbones.

Then you meet his eyes.

A blue-ish gray.

The man standing before you runs on the shorter side — under average height for a man.

His ebony hair dangles and sticks to his sweat-slicked forehead, the ends pointed and shaggy.

It takes a moment until you realize you’ve seen that hair before.

While you’ve taken to walking on the treadmill for your warm-up these last several weeks, he’s typically nestled in the strength training corner of the gym alone. 

Every morning that you’re here, he is also here diligently working on his physique.

He’s always in some squat position or lying on a bench, so you never paid attention to his face—

He’s fucking gorgeous.

“Looks like it’s fine,” he says casually, and your stomach falls out of your ass.

Baritone.

Smooth like honey, low like a rumble.

There’s no way.

There is absolutely no way it’s—

“Here.”

The man holds your phone out for you, brows knitting curiously. 

You can’t speak. 

Hell, you can barely breathe.

He shakes his hand to wake you from your shock.

“Take it.”

You know that voice like the back of your hand.

Wordlessly, you reach a shaky hand towards the phone to take it back.

You part your lips to speak, but no words exit.

All you can do is grasp your phone and pull it to your chest as you catch the scent of his deodorant with a mixture of musk when he passes by, none the wiser.

By the time you turn to say something, anything—

Levi from Scout Services Hotline dips into the men’s locker room.

.

Author's Note:

...oops.

Thank you for reading part three of P4! I continue to be blown away by the response. Because of your encouragement, I wrote one of the fastest updates I've made in ages. How are we feeling now? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

[animatedrapture]

— bet on stones. / suna rintarou x f!reader.

— fluff. all fluff. (a lot of flirting and teasing.) established relationship. some cursing. pro-player!suna. post timeskip suna.

— teasing sunarin for his short hair. ggez btw.

"rin," your voice is barely above a whisper, but the corners of your lips are twitching, trying your hardest not to laugh.

and listen, while suna has the softest spot for you, the glare he gives you is well-deserved.

"don't start," he says—all warning and frowning.

"what'd—" the giggle escapes you, it can't be helped, "what'd you do to your—your hair, oh god," you almost whimper, trying to reign it in.

suna groans, reaching a hand to his hair and running over it in a ruffle. his hair—so short and barely framing his face—and he's still pretty, but it's a sight to see.

especially when he just walked in your apartment this way, avoiding your gaze the moment he stepped foot inside because he just knew; he knew that you'd be there on the couch waiting for him and for the life of you, you won't be holding back your laugh or any quick-witted comment on his hairstyle.

but then, you're standing from where you were, walking towards him by the door.

a grin decorating your face, the urge to laugh still evident by the crinkle of your eyes, and your hands reaching to cup his face. "hi, pretty boy," you greet him, thumbs over his cheeks.

he sighs. narrow, green eyes looking back at you with some exasperation, some hint of softness, all at once. he leans in, pressing a fleeting kiss to your lips, before he speaks, "learn to shut up more often, yeah?"

you immediately pout, "what?" you sound offended. "i'm flirting with you, rin," you tell him cheekily, "short hair, weird-looking you—"

"ooookay," he cuts you off. it's all monotone, the way he says it. and you can't tell if you've truly annoyed him yet but with a pinch to your waist and a hand over your mouth, he's moving you, turning you over and backing you up against the door.

your eyes widen as he leans in—all six foot three and broad body over you, still in his ejp jersey—he levels his gaze with yours, watching your reaction.

he licks his lips before speaking, "y'got somethin' more to say, babe?"

you shake your head slowly. truthfully, if your weakened knees and your hands now on his arms on a tight grip is any indication; suna, even in his weird short hair, is still the prettiest person you know.

he hums in thought, like he doesn't buy your answer, but he keeps a straight face as he removes his hand from your mouth, only raising an eyebrow at you with some sort of challenge.

"who did your hair, babe?" you opt to ask instead, biting your lip to prevent a giggle.

suna's responding glare is quick, but sighs in defeat at his answer, "fuckin' atsumu miya."

the snort you let out is enough for suna to tease you for, but he lets you have it instead. besides, you let him tease you more often and let him get away with it more than you should.

you reach up to his cheeks again. with his hands still on your waist, it's a picture right out of a romcom, were anyone else to see you two.

"you lost a bet, didn't you?" you ask, already knowing the answer, "but why would you trust atsumu with your hair, rin?"

"cause," suna answers you, "he would've turned his hair rainbow—that's funnier."

"how did you lose the bet, anyway?" you tilt your head, cause you know that despite how careless your boyfriend could be, he rarely loses these.

this time though, instead of answering you, he shakes his head and picks you up—it's effortless, the way he does it, bringing you back to the couch.

"is it that bad?" he mutters while he's peppering kisses all over your neck. it's overwhelming, the sensation of his lips and his larger body over you, the clean smell of his shampoo and his skin against yours because he likes taking a shower before coming home to you.

he takes your breath away, really.

"no," you sigh, because he's lingering a kiss right against the pulse on your neck.

"actually," you start, moving to try and meet his gaze, your hands finding his soft, dark hair, massaging against his scalp. "i have a boyfriend but maybe you can tell me your name and we could go on a date?"

suna's chuckle vibrates against you, his lips tugging with a small smile. "mm, 'm not sure you're worth gettin' a fight over."

you gasp dramatically, faking offense, "i'm asking you out on a date!"

"don't you have an athlete boyfriend, though? suna, yeah? pretty sure he can fight."

you shake your head, "hmm, he likes making me happy, though. i think we can just break up if it makes me happy, right?"

he hums in thought, not too worried about his too-short hair and your teasing anymore, "don't know if you'd be a good girlfriend, though."

it's your turn to make it physical this time, tugging playfully at his hair, "that's offensive, rin. i bring a lot to the table!"

suna smirks, trying not to laugh at you, "yeah? like what?"

"well, i can cook out of love for you. i'll wear your jersey proudly for your games. i'll wait for you to come home every day. in bed—"

the list goes on. this, suna knows the best. on his end, it's the only reason why he lost the bet anyway, because there's a ring hidden in the box in his training bag he thought he would've given to you by now.

atsumu, six months ago, told him he's too chicken.

no one can really blame suna for being nervous about it, though. so nervous that now, six months later, with a bet lost and a ring he's got for you still hidden, his hair is cut short.

it's because he loves you like this.

but with the list still going on, he thinks you're right: he should take you on a date, then maybe, if you say yes, make you his wife.

[jesuistrestriste]

ugh. making art get down on his knees and watch you touch yourself.

telling him he can’t do anything except hold your thighs steady while his eyes track every circle your fingers rub over your slick parts.

he knows he can’t touch himself either, and he doesn’t even really want to. doesn’t want anything to distract him from the show you’re giving him so graciously.

his hips arch and jolt up into nothing but air while he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and stifles whines n whimpers. his blonde curls a total mess around his face and over his forehead.

and he comes like that; before you even get there yourself. before he even really means to.

you don’t even realize it at first, because he purposefully quiets himself when it happens so he doesn’t interrupt you, but you notice eventually when you’re finished up and look down to see a dark patch spread over the front of his sweatpants.

poor guy.

[girlwithalotoffeelings]

18+ MDNI

I cant stop thinking about Eren being desperate for you 24/7...

This man is so whipped for you, its actually comical.

He's constantly asking if he can put his dick in you for a little bit. He doesn't even care if you guys are actually fucking he just likes the intimacy.

He gives absolutely zero fucks about what you two are doing or where you are.

"Baby, let me stuff your pussy while you do your make-up please?"

"Come sit on my cock while I play this game."

Like just imagine...

You're on your bed laying on your stomach just minding your business, trying to take a nap, when you hear him come in. There's a few moments of silence until you feel him strip your yoga pants and panties down to rest under the swell of your ass. In your half asleep dreamy haze you feel him spread your ass open wide which makes you stir

"Shhh, just go back to sleep." You feel him stroke your hair lovingly and slip two fingers into your waiting cunt. You whine and whimper as you grow needier. A quiet whisper "Fuckkkk yesss" can be heard as his long and thick veiny cock sinks into you so deep making you feel so amazingly full as usual.

Don't even get me started on how he gets so horny for you doing mundane tasks

"Lift your skirt for me, please." Missing the questioning tone and sounding more like a demand.

"WE'RE IN A FUCKING GROCERY STORE!"

"So? No one's gonna see, I promise." You didn't even get a chance to reply before he has your skirt in hand. Pulling your panties to the side and thrusting himself violently inside you, bottoming out. You choke out a gasp at being fully impaled on him so suddenly. He kisses your temple when he hears you hiss and whimper as tears start to sting your eyes from the stretch with no prep. You shiver as you hear him mumble a soft "Such a good little whore for me," with a sigh of content in your ear. He starts moving in and out of you slowly, only stopping when another person walks into the aisle.

He let's your skirt hang around you as normally as possible, while he goes in as deep as he can and stills. Grabbing something off the shelves and putting in infront of you as if you both were reading the label. His jacket covering both your sides from view while the cart blocks your front.

The man walks past you both and leaves the aisle, without missing a beat Eren starts pounding into you again. "See, no one will know. So just be a good slut for me while I use this pussy to jerk off my fat cock, yeah?" He ended up cumming deep inside you, making both of you moan louder than you should. He pulled out and tucked himself back in his jeans pulling your panties back into place. He cups your pussy pressing his fingers on top of the cotton, and rubbed rough circles onto your fucked out hole. "Keep all of it inside, baby. We don't want people to ask questions if it starts to drip onto the floor."

How he'd just walk up to you on the couch and spread your legs while you watched you favorite show. He is very happy to see his personal fucktoy so ready for him, splayed out on the couch naked. Wordlessly laying between your thighs, taking his time to eat you out hard bringing you to atleast 3 orgasms before sitting up and sinking his cock into your needy pussy.

He whines so loud and deliciously as he buries himself to the base. He lifts your legs and pushes them to your chest, allowing him to go impossibly deeper. The scream that you let out when he starting roughly humping into you was enough to turn him into an absolute mess. He starts POUNDING that pussy so hard that he barley notices the bulge that forms in your lower belly.

But when he does tho.... he goes absolutely feral with the sight of his cockhead poking out under your skin just bellow your belly button.

He forgot what it even feels like to cum anywhere besides your wet and warm holes. Like this man straight up refuses to cum if he can't stuff it deep inside you one way or another. Even if you ask him to cum somewhere else he only agrees if he can push it into you with his fingers afterwards.

This man's moans, whimpers and whines are fucking immaculate. He is so vocal and absolutely unafraid about being heard, he is so pussy whipped he couldn't care any less if he was being too loud.

In conclusion this man has me by the neck and the pussy. I just know he's packing ONG!😫

[zoromuse]

cw. sanji x f!reader, smoking, praise kink, mating press

Thinking about Sanji just absolutely pounding you into the bed beneath you, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with every hard thrust of his hips, all the while his cigarette rests between his lips.

The smell of sex is almost as intoxicating as the smoke from his tab, but you don’t care, especially not when he’s ramming into you with a force that knocks the air out of your lungs every time, leaving you panting under him as he grips at your quivering thighs. 

“Good girl,” he mutters, one of his hands leaving your thighs and coming up to his face, removing the cigarette from his mouth and blowing the smoke into the room, stopping altogether and watching you buck your hips needily for more friction. 

“Oh, you’re so desperate…” he says, a slight curve on his lips as he watches how eager you are for him to continue. “Need me to fuck this pussy until you’re all filled up, don’t you?” 

You nod, tears threatening to slip down the corners of your eyes.

“No, princess, you gotta use your words” he says, smoke seeping out of his mouth with every word. 

“I need it, Sanji…” you barely whisper, and he places the cigarette back in between his lips to use both of his hands to force you into a mating press, the new angle allowing him to reach deeper into your walls. 

You moan his name over and over, the tears finally dripping down your cheeks as the head of his cock abuses your sweet spot repeatedly. 

“You’re doing such a good job, taking me so well…” he says, a string of groans following his words, soft grunts to the same rhythm of his thrusts against you. His brows are furrowed as he looks down, focusing on the way your pussy is swallowing his cock whole, leaving a white ring of your arousal on him.

“You look so pretty when you’re creaming around me, pretty girl” he praises, and he knows you like it when he feels you clenching around him. “You like that? You like me calling you my pretty girl? my angel?”

His calloused hands grip your thighs a little harder at the way you scream his name, his fingertips dig into your skin, sure to leave marks until tomorrow, just the way he likes it. 

©️ zoromuse 2023 | all content belongs to zoromuse, do not modify or repost

[yuwuta]

JJK OLYMPICS OHHH YOURE A GENIUS

head spinning w sooooooo many athlete aus rn….. 

satoru honestly isn’t half as cocky as the media makes him out to be but he could be because you bring up world champion men’s freestyle swim times and it’s his name on the scoreboard ten times before someone else shows up. he’s faster than himself by fifteen seconds all around, he’s earned a bit of cockiness. mentioned in the last post that whenever he’s at a competition and he finishes a race, he looks at the camera and signs a little infinity sign and then blows a kiss to you. some bitter old coach always calls him out on it, and gets him fined for unsportsmanlike conduct, and he’s happy to pay the fees if it means getting a message home to you, but eventually you two come up with a new code; and at his next race, he places gold, turns to the camera, crosses his middle finger over his pointer finger and smiles. when he’s in his post-race interview, he makes sure to explain that he does it for you with the widest smile on his face.

megumi nepotism baby but not in the same sport. toji was a multi gold medalist back in his heyday for shooting, so it’s not really a surprise to anybody that megumi has scary good aim, but he takes to archery instead of shooting. actually the idea of megumi being an emo little kid and throwing rocks at a tree when his dad pissed him off his hilarious, and even funnier is toji watching him, slightly amused and a little scared because megumi is maybe six and hitting the exact same spot every single time. he grows to be very blase about it—it’s more of a release/hobby for him that he happens to be really good at, and well, now good enough to earn a few olympic medals. megumi is not a fan of having his dad ruffle his hair on international television after he’s won, but he supposes it can’t be helped.

i don’t know where to put yuuta…. tennis…. tempting….. him in his little white shorts…. little grunts after he serves…. cries….. a complete 180 in his personality when he’s playing vs doing anything else. so charming and sweet and kinda shy when he’s being interviewed, and the second he steps on the court his eyes are so cold it’s scary…. need him… extremely nerdy about his rackets, and shoes, and clothes, and rambles to you about aerodynamics and posture and torque whenever you ask him to teach you, and you always have to shutup him up with a kiss and remind him that yeah you sort of want to learn to play tennis for him, but mostly you came bc he looks hot doing it. once he got asked in an interview if he ever thinks about you while he’s playing and his response was very concise, “no, never. it would be a big distraction,” and did not realize the implications of his heavily televised words. 

also…. not to make this post 40% yuuta but we could pull from canon a bit and make his sport fencing. he doesn’t excel because he’s the strongest, it’s because he’s learned to treat the sword as an extension of himself and a good strategist… also because i like the image of him pulling the helmet/mask off and shaking his hair out………..

don’t even know where to put yuuji…. volleyball? basketball? track and field??? the irony of him easily being the most athletic but canonically does not want to play sports 😭 but i can see him playing a sport because someone scouts him and it turns out to be a way to make steady money to support himself and his grandpa :( by the time he’s qualified and made it to the olympics, wasuke is doing much better (thanks to yuuji having landed some preemptive sponsorships and being able to afford better medical care), but not so well enough that he can travel across the world to watch yuuji play. wasuke tells you that you should travel and be with yuuji, but yuuji is so touched by the idea that you would stay with his grandpa and be by his side when he’s away :(( he wins gold, of course, and he doesn’t even wait until the closing ceremony—which, he’d mentioned in all of his interviews, so nobody can be too upset. he’s on record saying, “i’m excited to play, but i’m even happier to be going home. my girlfriend and my grandpa are watching me and i miss them!” several times— he’s on the first flight home with flowers, and tears in his eyes. puts his gold medal on his grandpa’s neck as a thank you, and spends probably thirty minutes straight hugging you and kissing you and honestly don’t put it past him to propose now that he’s got nike ambassador money 

nanami started judo as a way to relieve the stress of his overbearing job, and someone at the gym/training center notices he seems to be a natural despite being a beginner. he starts to draw a crowd, which annoys him at first because the point of judo was discipline and release from having to deal with too many people at his office job, but nanami supposes he can’t be too mad when you introduce yourself as a talent scout and offer him professional training. there’s irony in him accepting your offer, because it was definitely not based in professionalism at all… quitting his job as a salaryman to become a professional athlete in his mid-twenties was not on his bingo chart, but if it means he will have met you, then so be it. you’re with him all the way, through his training, competitions, world championships, qualifiers, all the way until he’s on the podium. you’re the first to congratulate him, but he interjects by telling you he’s quitting. you ask him why—he just won at the olympics for crying out loud, but nanami just shakes his head, puts down his flowers and his medal so his hands are free to hold your face and tell you, “it would be unethical to kiss my manager, so i am quitting.” (later, when everything is said and done, and you two are cuddling, you mention to him that he could just hire a new manager, and not quit his new career, to which he blushes because yeah… that’s probably more rational, but rational was not in his train of thought at the time)

[mrsackermannx]

she misses me | ino takuma

tags: mdni, nsfw drabble, fem reader, phone sex, smut, not pet play but he calls her “puppy,” not beta read, boyfriend!ino!

Nanami groaned into his whisky. He had a feeling that this was a bad idea six months ago. Ino was all bright eyed as he gushed about the pretty girl he’d met at the mall.

But Nanami was weary, and wondered if things would work out, even after Ino told you about his real job.

Ino sighed before he took a large gulp of his beer, “She’s just…worried I’m cheating on her,” he said, delicately.

“Don’t worry. We check out in the morning and then we’ll be back in Tokyo by noon. You told her we were here on a mission, right?”

“Yeah,” he wistfully gazed out to the town they were in. He was missing you, a lot. He’d been out in the countryside with Nanami for five days and had barely had the chance to text you. He hadn’t been away from you for this long before, but he was admittedly nervous by how much it was unsettling him. It was scary.

“I like girls who are a little clingy though, you know? She’s not even overbearing either,” his voice trailed away. “it’s just that I’ve not been able to text her much. So she misses me.”

“I suppose that’s normal then.”

He grinned, “Buut…she misses me!”

“Then, she’ll have to get used to it,” Nanami said gently. “That it won’t be like dating a non-sorcerer.”

“Oh she will, she’s a tough girl. Takes everything life throws at her.”

He hmphed at the thought, all triumphant like he could imagine your face right now. It was always so full of determination, and when you looked at him, affection that ran so deep it brought him to his knees. Nanami couldn’t deny that he was happy to see his junior so smitten, so he promptly changed the subject and they continued their evening.

But it’s when you send a photo of yourself, lying on your front with an adorable pout for the camera, that it casts his mind back to the last time you were together. Not only because you had that same look in your eye, but because you sent a message just afterward that said.

“Your little puppy misses you.”

His cock throbbed in his jeans.

The last time you were together he’d used those same exact words…

You had both been both so tired it was laughable, but still you clung to each other in the dark comfort of his bedroom.

His arms supported his head, enough that he could lean up with minimal effort to meet your lips. He whistled and watched with his eyes half-lidded, as you eagerly tugged down your panties and then his waistband. You sank yourself down onto him until your bodies pressed together, kissing all over his throat.

He groaned at the sight of you, “Dirty girl with dirty thoughts, huh? Here I thought you were too tired to fuck.”

You laughed into his neck, lifting your hips up and down. “Changed my mind.”

You were already so breathless, your pants sending shivers down his spine. So his hands shifted to your ass where he suddenly halted your movements by sinking his hands into your soft skin.

By the grip, he fucked you on his cock with minimal effort, using his hands to control your hips as he rutted his own into yours. “Fuck.”

He was making you moan so loudly you had to cover your mouth.

“You’re like a needy little puppy. So, fucking, precious. You need me, huh?”

“Yes, Takuma! You feel so good.”

He moaned between each thrust, drilling up into you until your noises synced together. “I love it when you’re like this,” he groaned. “I’ll give you everything.”

His heart raced as he carefully slipped into his hotel room, Nanami was downstairs luckily, still drinking, so he could be as loud as he wanted.

He yanked down his pants, and took his cock into his hand. He gave it a few careful pumps before he took out his cock and took to FaceTiming you.

Heat rushed through your body when you were met with the sight of his large hand wrapped around the fat shaft of his dick. “Hey cutie,” he hummed, groaning as he squeezed his tip and pre oozed out.

“Is this what you wanted to see from me, huh? That you got me all worked up on the job.”

You hummed a shy hello, pointing the camera between your legs to where you had the dildo he’d bought you slick and lodged inside. “Sort of.”

His voice was strained and raspy as it pulled through the speaker of your phone, “Good girl. I didn’t even need to ask. You’re feeling needy, huh?”

“I know you liked it when I send videos but…” You rubbed on your clit and moaned, your fingers visibly slick as you pulled them away and started to thrust in the toy. “Had to show you.”

He laughed, smug and relaxed before he joined you, thumbing the tip of his dick. He shuddered from the pleasure, imagining your mouth. “So? How was the exam, pretty girl? Did you do your best?“

Ino was never shy with his moans, not ever. Your eyelids fluttered at the sight and the sounds. Wishing you could be with him right now more than ever.

You whimpered to yourself, syncing your movements with his. “Of course I did. You helped me study after all.”

He lowered his voice, flipping the camera to his face where he pointed at his tongue with a wink. “Gonna eat that pussy as soon as I’m home, cutie. Be ready to drown me in it.”

You moaned, removing the toy to show him all the slick that was dripping from you. “Want you to fuck me, wish you were here,” you groaned. “So wet for you, Takumaa—“

“Imagine I am, baby. Put that deeper,” he cooed, jacking himself off tortuously slowly. “Imagine I’m inside.”

You flipped your camera to your face, pouting, “Aren’t you gonna finish with me?”

“Wouldn’t you rather I save my load for that sweet little pussy baby? Just you wait until I’m home.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smirk was full of mischief. “Is that right mister sorcerer?”

He grinned at the nickname, it wasn’t as if it was still as filled with disbelief. If anything it made him hard, your worlds were so separate but he didn’t care at all. He worshipped you.

“Oh yeah, I’m wrecking you as soon as I get home baby. I can’t just accept this slutty behaviour of yours, can I?”

[moominsuki]

telling katsuki you’ve never had a g-spot orgasm before and suddenly you’re back is pressed to his chest as you’re both sat in front of your bedroom mirror and he’s stroking the inside of you walls, making it his mission to make you cream all over his fingers

[veryberryjelly]

college!art headcanons

i watched challengers on saturday and i have not stopped thinking about this man since so here are some of my headcanons for him ! please send in some requests for challengers & top gun !

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

college!art who takes you to a drive in movie for your first date.

college!art who will use literally any excuse he can think of to see you before you're officially together. leaving things in your dorm, not reminding you if you leave something in his car, asking for help in classes he doesnt even take.

college!art who you practically live with after you've been dating long enough. whether its at your dorm or his, it is rare that you spend a night apart.

college!art who has a drawer in your dresser and gives you one in his so you can stay at his dorm comfortably.

college!art who tells you you're his good luck charm so you come to all of his matches.

college!art who goes straight to you after a win and you've learnt to go straight to him after a loss. either way you both end up in bed together.

college!art who absolutely love seeing you in his clothes. a t-shirt, his hat anything.

college!art who just adores being cuddled but won't admit it to anyone but you.

college!art who is such a slut for head scratches.

college!art who is fiercely protective. if you're out together his arm is wrapped around your waist to keep you by his side and also show to everyone eyeing you up that you're his.

college!art who doesnt really wear jewellery but if you get him any he is never taking it off. even if it turns his skin green.

college!art who tries to teach you tennis but ultimately gets distracted seeing you in those outfits.

college!art who is the subbiest motherfucker on the planet. but only for you.

college!art who always feels the need to have his hands on you in some way.

college!art who is the ceo of back hugs

college!art who will come running if you say you need him.

college!art who is essentially wrapped around your finger.

[angelofsmalldeaath]

i'm starving, darling, let me put my lips to something — a.h.b.

cw: this is just...smut — semi-public sex, choking... minors dni i am so serious

“here?” i gasp, burning, panting. the rock solid wall digs into my back, exhilaration courses through my veins. 

“here,” he smiles, wicked and delightful in the faint light of the streetlamp. 

it’s a shitty alley for christ’s sake—in fact, i’m sure i saw a rat scurrying past us just a few seconds ago—but right now, in this moment when i feel his fingers trailing up my thigh, everything else simply fades away.

“do you want this?” he breathes, lips attached to my neck, shivering when i touch him. 

i nod instantly. “you? always.”

“no,” he laughs. it’s a low, deep sound that echoes around in my skull, “us, here. anyone can walk in, you know?”

“that’s half the thrill,” i tease, begging him to kiss me again. 

“yeah?” he challenges, teeth grazing my neck, just a smidge of pressure on my pulse point until it’s wild and thunderous and echoing throughout my entire body. 

i slap his chest lightly, “tease!”

and he laughs when i have to stand on the very tips of my toes and hold onto him just so i won’t lose my balance. it doesn’t take him much longer though, just when i’m about to stumble, he grabs my face, keeping me still so he can kiss me properly—the kind that knocks the breath out of my chest when he grazes my bottom lip with his teeth, the kind that has me leaning against him entirely for balance when my knees almost buck under me. 

the kind that makes me moan in his mouth, until he’s pulling my leg up, my thigh pressed against his waist and his hands under my ass. 

“when did you get so dirty, darling?” he teases, digs his fingers into my skin, and i squirm, wishing he’d get rid of all the layers between us. wishing he’d fuck me till all i remember is his name. 

till i suddenly find god in the alley behind the bar.

i grind my hips into his, gasping when i feel him against me, “saw how you looked at me in there. couldn’t stop the thoughts after that…”

“is that right?” he whispers, hands reaching into my hair until his fingers are tangled in the tresses. i hiss when the sting comes, when he tugs on my hair to tilt my face up, and i have no choice but to look right at him, at his almost-black, hungry eyes that look ready to devour me.

he looks ready to devour me, like a man starving. 

“touch me,” i whimper, grab his hand and move it up my thigh until his finger is hooked in the waistband of my underwear. he stills, and looks at me with a grin. 

“beg for it.”

“wha—”

“got a filthy mouth on you, haven’t you?” he whispers right into my ear, nips my earlobe while he’s at it and i moan just from that. “tell me your thoughts. tell me everything you thought about me in there.”

i whimper, thumb the zipper of his jeans until it’s half open. “everything?”

“everything. i won’t do it until you ask for it. until you beg for it.”

“thought about your hands,” i breathe, pull down his zipper the rest of the way and hook my fingers in his belt buckle. “saw your hand around the glass and wondered how it would look around my neck…”

“like this?” he asks, voice almost a growl, and wraps a hand around my neck. it’s warm, i feel every bit of callused skin on me, feel his fingers pressing down on the sides of my neck until the air thins. 

i choke out a yes, trying and failing to focus on his belt-buckle, utterly dizzy from everything—the lack of air, his body against mine. him.

“what else?” he prompts. 

heat coils in my belly when i think of the rest. “t-thought about your fingers too, on me, in me, everywhere.”

if he speaks, the words don’t register. they don’t even fall on my ears. all i feel is his fingers, snaking their way inside my underwear—moving, touching, teasing, anywhere but where i want to feel him. “like this?” he tsks, laughs when i whine in protest. 

“you know it’s not.”

“ooh, feisty.” 

this time when i kiss him, i make sure to bite. he hisses in my mouth, enjoying the sting a little too much, and i take advantage of his distraction. “like that,” i moan in his mouth and grab his hand, pushing a finger inside me and slipping my own finger in right after. i hold his hand in place and look him right in the eyes. 

they look pitch black, blown out wide and so dark, it sends a thrill down my spine. 

he presses on my neck again, more and more and more until i’m close to a blackout and grinding on his hand. my finger slips out of me, he instantly pushes in another to replace it, to stretch me out more. 

“please d-don’t stop,” i beg, moving my hips faster and faster, matching the thrust of his fingers, “i’ll die if you stop.”

my voice is raspy and rough, like i’ve been screaming his name for hours. and maybe i have been; he certainly looks like i have been—fucked out and utterly undone. 

“won’t” he promises, and moves his hand faster, thumb circling my clit, “you’ve been so good, darling, so fucking perfect!”

“ohgodohgodohgod,” i chant like a blind devotee, drunk on him, pathetic and desperate. 

“that’s it,” he groans when i clench around his fingers, “that’s it baby, give me all you got. look at me,” he says. no…it’s almost an order, “look at me when you cum.”

instinctually, i open my eyes, look right at him. he loosens his hold around my throat, and just like that the air is flooding into my lungs all at once—too much, too much, overwhelming until i cry out his name and cum all over his hand. 

our pants echo in my ear, barely even audible over the rushing blood. 

“fuck—” he chokes, utterly speechless. i feel no different. 

instead, when he pulls his hand out, i take a hold of it, place it in my mouth. he makes a sound at the back of his throat—a choked moan like he can’t take it anymore. the moan frees itself when i swirl my tongue around his fingers, licking every inch of them, sucking them clean. 

“you’ll be the death of me,” he groans, “fuck darling.”

only when i let go of his fingers do i smile at him—the same wicked smile he’d shown me before, the same devilish grin. 

“your turn now,” i kiss him, make sure he tastes me on my tongue. “tell me what you want. beg for it.”

and in the alley behind the bar, i get on my knees. 

a/n: idk why i feel the need to explain myself but i do — this was so much harder to write dear god, lets all collectively agree to ignore this if this is bad. anyway back to sappy fluff from now on (for a while at least)(unless inspiration strikes idfk)