#raps is still trying to let that go

[koumeowkami]

so many thoughts about make it ... it's so good y'all cozmez never fails to make a hit ‼️

[nimue-hidden-lake]

YOU CAN'T JUST DROP A SENTENCE LIKE THAT!!!

I can't translate it 1:1 but the gist (I think) is "I'm not lying, you're great". Yeah, I died. Thanks for asking.

[suguann]

tags. fem!reader, boss/employee relationship, stupidly domestic, little wife kink in there somewhere, nanny reader, single dad gojo, breeding kink [18+ only]

You sometimes find yourself wistfully imagining having a family of your own—a soft and sweet little bundle to cuddle and someone strong and capable (competent) at your side. But you can’t think of the last time you’ve been on a date where that person had the same interest in something more serious than casually sleeping around. 

Nannying seemed like the natural conclusion, especially when you’re still settling in a new city and barely scraping by for rent and student loans for a degree you don’t use. 

You pick up a few jobs just to get a feel for it: parents going away for a honeymoon, a last-minute call-in, a weekend business trip. Then a friend of a friend says she makes enough to afford one of those picturesque apartments that overlook tall high-rises and iridescent lights, the very ones you’ve dog-eared in real-estate magazines.

All it takes are a few phone calls and an interview until you’re packing up your apartment and taking the freeway outside of the city to somewhere remote and expensive, your car looking almost out of place parked beside the shiny new one in the long driveway.

You rap on the front door before you lose your nerve, and a few moments later, it opens, and you’re unsure who looks more out of place: this man with a smile too big, dressed for work, immaculate suit dampened by the baby rag slung over his shoulder and what looks like drool on his crisp collar, or you in your scuffed shoes and second-hand store clothes, standing in front of the nicest house you’ve ever seen.

“The nanny?”

“Yes,” you mutter, licking your lips. “That’s me.”

“Good, Ren just woke up from his nap,” he says, opening the door a little wider with a creak. The darkness behind him is almost comforting.

You take a deep breath and pass over the threshold into his home.

The entire time, his hand stays on the small of your back to steer you toward the nursery, and a shiver threatens up the length of your spine.

Three months. That’s how long it takes before your employer poses a problem.

It’s not that he’s a terrible boss; in fact, he’s quite the opposite. He lets you take over one of the many spare rooms in his massive house, pays you double the regular rate, and gives you time off when you ask for it.

It also helps that Ren is cute, only a year old, and still so sweet and tiny. 

Perfect.

The problem lies in that you know what he sounds like first thing in the morning, that he knows how you like your coffee, that he helps you fold laundry in the living room while the baby naps, how you catch him staring anytime you hold his son—his expression shuttered, a foreign thing that you can’t read. It’s all so terribly domestic. 

Terrible in that you think it’s a horrible idea to develop a crush on your boss, that you can’t help but get flustered anytime he so much as looks your way, even if it’s fleeting. How a sleepy smile before he retires to his room for the night can turn your thoughts into a scattered, ill-defined mess of what they used to be until all that’s left are words like spun sugar melting on your tongue.

But also, it’s not normal, at least not from your experience. 

You were lucky in the past if your employer even wanted to know about their kid’s day. Barely saying hello once they walk through the front door before sending money to your bank account.

Satoru—because that’s what he asked you to call him one afternoon while you were in the middle of feeding Ren mashed banana, a lazy smile curling the edges of his lips after you say it for the first time—wants to know everything: what Ren ate, if he laughed, how your day was, if you finally got your hands on that book you’ve been meaning to buy. 

“You don’t have to ask about my day,” you tell him shyly, accepting the glass of wine he proffers you after spending the past hour trying to put a teething baby to bed. “To make me feel better, that is.”

“Would it be so bad if I said I want to? You live here, too.”

You try to separate the two: that he cares as your employer and not for any other reason, and how you sometimes catch the soft look in his eye whenever he looks at you could make you believe otherwise.

Cool fingers cup your chin gently, thumb caressing the top of your cheek, now close enough that you catch a few of the warm notes of his cologne, a move that’s probably very inappropriate between a boss and an employee.

“I never say anything I don’t mean.”

You swallow, nodding, slightly shaky, breath caught in your chest. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He retreats to his office before witnessing how those two words knock the wind out of you.

He starts saying things like our shopping list, our car—because he gave you the keys to the SUV parked beside his car and hasn’t touched it since; for you and the baby, he said, plus it’s terrible on gas when I drive it to work—our house, our baby. You don’t think he means to do it; it's more of an easy slip in conversation.

But then, one morning, he’s rushing around the kitchen, hair still damp and smelling like his shampoo, as he grabs his coffee and briefcase from the counter, kissing Ren’s forehead first…and then yours.

You’re half convinced that you imagined it—that his lips hadn’t stayed there for a second longer than necessary—until he straightens his tie and heads out for the day with a ‘be good’ tossed over his shoulder, and you’re left wondering if he meant to say that to you or Ren.

It sets off a chain reaction of thoughts whirling away in your head, leaves you wanting and wondering—only ever allowing yourself to fantasize a little when the house is quiet and dark, the baby monitor humming on your nightstand, and images of your boss flit behind closed eyelids as you fit your hand underneath your soft sleep shorts.

In the morning, you worry he can tell what you did, his smile almost too sharp, too something—more teasing than what you’re used to—his hand resting on your lower back as he leans down to kiss Ren’s chubby cheek while you make breakfast.

“I have a meeting this afternoon, so I’ll be late. Want me to pick up some food on the way home?”

No, you think, there’s no way he knows.

You spend most of the morning cleaning and folding the array of graphic onesies Satoru has a penchant for dressing Ren in, and the later half walking around the pool because it’s warm and Ren enjoys splashing around in the water. It’s enough to tucker him out for bed early, unable to keep his eyes open while eating a plate of mashed potatoes.

It’s also the first time in weeks that you have the night to yourself, no baby keeping you busy, no Satoru to—well.

After a long shower, you step out of the bathroom, moving into the hallway. And there are many reasons why you felt confident walking the few steps it took to reach your bedroom. Most revolve around what Satoru told you that morning, so you don’t expect him to be standing there, shirtsleeves rolled up, piercing gaze sliding down the length of you wrapped in a towel and little else.

“I brought home those drunken noodles you like,” he says when his eyes focus back on your face, his whole expression softening into a smile.

A beat. “Thank you,” you whisper, unable to look away.

He tucks the wet strands of hair clinging to your cheek behind your ear. “Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll join you downstairs?”

The noise in your brain goes static.

You’re unsure what causes it, but everything changes when he comes home early one afternoon and finds you and the baby napping in the nursery. He has this soft look on his face and something else you can’t decipher with his piercing blue eyes settled firmly on you.

Ren coos softly into your shoulder. 

When Satoru picks him up and settles him in the crib, then walks you to your room—here, let me help you—and when he hovers in your doorway, you let him in without question.

He doesn’t waste any time peeling off your clothes, eager to have you naked and splayed out underneath him. You cum on his tongue more times than you can count until you’re silently begging him to fuck you.

He laughs, large hands spread over your tummy. 

“Use your words, baby. I’m not a mind reader.”

You feel like you’re someone else watching you from somewhere else, another body rocking against the length of your boss’s cock, back arching every time you manage to find the friction you need. He’s hard against your back, thick in a way that makes you wonder if he did enough to stretch you out. 

“I-I want—”

All other thoughts are obliterated by the stretch and press of him against your cunt. 

“Think I’m going to keep you,” he rasps, lips dragging over your throat. “Keep this drippy little cunt spread open on my desk whenever I want while the baby naps. Would you like that? For me to fuck you full until you give me a baby.”

You clench, nerves shot.

“Gonna get all round with my baby, stay here forever,” he mumbles when he draws away, and you can’t tell if the words are meant for you to hear or slip out without him realizing. “Fuck—breed my little wife until it takes—”

Your eyes roll up, lost in the little promises he paints across your skin, body shivering over and over until you’re sobbing from it until he has to clamp a hand down over your mouth—shh, you’re going to wake the baby—going limp when he finally cums, pressing as deep as your body will allow, as if he can somehow imprint himself there. 

Wonders if maybe he’s been building up to this moment all along. 

It’s so easy to lay there after, blissed out while he litters kisses across your face and collarbones, letting him lift your hips up to slide a pillow underneath, even though the position is awkward when he tries to cuddle you afterward.

His fingers draw shapes on your stomach, giving you a wistful look, like he can’t believe he’s laying here with his cum still dripping between your thighs—no matter how many times he scoops it up and pushes it back inside you. “Do you think it’ll take?”

And you don’t have the heart to tell him about the little foil packet of pills tucked away in your nightstand.

[sturnsdarling]

You're much better company, tough girl

fratboy!matt has met his match with smartand'mean'!reader, and he can't get enough of her

vibe check: SMUT, mattthemunch, unprotected cuddle time (I'd tell you to wrap it but i'm not your mother) bigdick!matt, choking, spitting, praise, reader strumming the bean, pet names (angel, tough girl), all that good stuff.

4k words

A/N: This concept was born from and is my take on the wonderful, amazing and ridiculously talented @sturnioz fratboy!matt au, and its also my first fic so, be kind. PSA REGARDING PART 2

love and cigs, merc

The autumn air was cold, and the fishnets on your legs weren’t doing you any favours. you’d snuck out the party to escape the weirdo guy that was basically stalking you since you had arrived. You'd hoped to find your friend, but she was somewhere tangled up with one of the resident frat boys, her shy demeanour acting like catnip to the renowned player Chris Sturniolo. You found yourself outside the front of the house, genuinely considering leaving, but knowing your friend would need company once Chris inevitably got bored of her. From around the corner, you heard  a lighter flick and the deep inhale that normally follows, turning and walking down to the side of the house, you saw a shadowy figure being periodically illuminated by the butt of his cigarette. 

"What're you doin’ out here?" you questioned, walking over to Matt who was leant against the side of the house, trying to escape the "new age, shit rap music" Chris put on.

Matt held up the cig in his fingers and gave you a short smile, before placing the cigarette between his lips and taking a long drag, his jawline becoming even more prominent as his cheeks hollowed slightly. 

"Thought you didn't smoke?" you said, arms folded over your chest as the cold air bit at your nearly bare legs. 

"I don't smoke weed, but, I do love my cigs" He held the open box out to you and you pulled one out, placing it between your lips gently. He brandished his silver lighter in front of your face and lit the cigarette, absentmindedly staring at the way the flame illuminated your features. 

"Chris is the stoner, kid fuckin' loves it" He said as he flicked the lighter closed and placed it back in his pocket. 

"Cigarettes still contain drugs, y'know that right?" You smirked, taking a drag and letting the smoke come out with every word. 

"Yes, smart-ass I know that" He quipped back, "everyone needs a vice, you know?" 

You giggled slightly as his philosophy, "a vice? you need something to help you escape the plaguing reality of being a frat bro?”, smiling as you placed the cig between your teeth and took another drag.

“Ugh, don't call me that" he responded, spitting the foul taste out of his mouth onto the floor, "besides..." He paused to take a drag, "If I was a frat bro, which I'm not, I could have a plaguing sense of reality, frat boys have feelings too you know, kid" he smiled, his perfect teeth almost reflecting the light from the street lamps. 

“oh, do tell, what plagues the infamous Matthew Sturniolo" you grinned at him, rolling your eyes in faux sympathy.

"Infamous? ouch.” He held his hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. 

Pausing for a moment, he looked at you and then to the floor, shuffling where he leant slightly and shrugging his shoulders, "I dunno, l've always got somthin' going on up there" He gestured to his temple with the cig in his fingers.

“But, 'nough about me, what're you doin' out here?" he asked, desperately trying to change the topic from himself, pointing his cigarette at you in an accusatory

"Came lookin’ for you" you said, blowing the smoke from your pursed lips. 

His eyebrows raised at your confession, "Me?" He questioned. 

"mhm" You nodded, taking another drag. 

“Why?” his brows furrowed as smoke bellowed out his open mouth. 

“I didn’t actually, jus' thought you’d like the flattery” You chuckled, ashing your cigarette.

“wow, okay, how tough are you?” He smirked, standing up from his leant position and throwing his cigarette to the floor, just before stamping it out. 

“Me? tough? never.” You said sarcastically, placing your cigarette back in your mouth. 

Matt came forward slightly and pulled the tiny stick from your lips, placing it between his own and taking a drag whilst maintaining a firm stare. You watched him intently, your big eyes burning holes into his as he placed the cigarette back into your mouth. 

“You didn’t answer my question, kid” he said, his tone faltering as he blew the smoke from his mouth.

a long huff left your mouth as you rolled your eyes, “I needed to escape this guy, he was fuckin’ relentless and I was not into it”. 

Matt paused for a moment, still baring down into you, “yeah?” half of his teeth coming onto display as a smirk encapsulated his face, “what are you into?” he asked, tilting his head to the side slightly so he was even closer to you, his breath nearly touching the cold apples of your cheeks. 

As he was speaking you took a long drag, and in response to his clear attempt to rile you up, you blew the smoke into his face with pursed lips and a smile. Matt blinked slowly with raised brows at your bravery, letting the wind carry the smoke from his face. 

“What do you think i’m into, Matthew?” you asked, matching his earlier cadence. 

“I think, you act all tough, but really, you want someone to tell you to sit down, shut up, and to take it like the pretty, pretty girl you are” he said, so non-challant you’d think he was explaining that the sky is blue. 

Your breath hitched in your chest, and your eyes fluttered slightly, not quite fully closing. 

A cheshire cat smile formed on Matts face, he knew exactly what type of girl you were from the moment he laid eyes on you on the first day of the semester. 

“You think I’m pretty?” you asked in a condescending tone, pulling your confidence back, trying to ignore the growing sensation in your stomach. 

Matt simply nodded in response, tucking a messy strand of hair behind your ear and letting his fingers trail down past your neck and over your bare arms. At some point during your back and forth, Matt had edged his face impossibly close to yours, he hooked a finger under your chin and pulled your head up to face him, 

“I think you’re beautiful, tough girl” he whispered, almost into your mouth as it parted with his words. 

With that, you threw your cigarette to the floor and thrust your lips into his, the force pushing him backwards to into the wall he was leant on only moments ago. His hands found your waist, pulling you in tight against him as yours pulled and tugged at the loose brown curls on the back of his head. The kiss was feverish, animalistic and messy, you were positioned snug between his legs as one of his hands found its way to the covered flesh of your ass, he squeezed it with a low growl and slapped it quickly after, rubbing the sting away with a soft hand. The sensation caused you to whimper into his mouth, jolting against him as his hand smacked your ass. He chuckled into the kiss, his hands roaming all the way up your back and into your hair. He pulled you off him with a firm hand wrapped around the back of your neck.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you make noises like that” he dipped his head down, capturing your neck in his teeth and soothing the sting with a flat, warm tongue. 

“Matt” you whispered, your head hanging on your shoulders, resting in Matts large palm. “What’s up, angel?” he murmured from the curve where your neck and shoulders meet.

“I’m not—shit— I’m not gonna fuck you round the side of your house” You manage to get out, slightly distracted by the sensation of Matt nipping at sucking at your neck. 

“Let’s go inside then” You even mentioning fucking him was enough permission to take your hand and drag you inside. 

The music boomed against your skull as he pulled you through the party with your hand in his, both of you ignoring everyone that tried to spark up some kind of drunken conversation. He led you up the large staircase in the centre of the main room, his focus on your destination only faltering to glance at Chris who, had your best friend tucked under his arm on the sofa, the pair exchanged a knowing look and Chris shot Matt a wink, quickly returning his attentions to the shy girl perched next to him. As you and Matt reached the top of the staircase, he turned, pulling you into him for the second time that night for a desperate kiss. This time, he leant down, taking the backs of your thighs in his hands with a tap that you knew meant ‘jump’. You obliged and within moments, you were being thrust into his dimly lit bedroom. He kicked the door closed with his foot, never breaking the kiss, and walked the two of you over to his bed, placing you down somewhat gently onto the brown satin sheets. 

“You’re so pretty, y’know that?” he said breathlessly, breaking the kiss to tear off his red sweatshirt. 

“I think you mentioned it once or twice” You replied, desperately clawing at the back of his neck to pull him back into you, your legs loose around his waist. 

“Such a smart-ass” he groaned, his hand suddenly gripping your throat as he pushed you back down onto his sheets, squeezing the sides of your neck. 

You moaned at the sensation, brows furrowing as your hips involuntarily bucked upwards. Matt chucked at your responsiveness, his hand trailing down your chest to toy with the hem of your top. 

“Can I take this off?” He asked, softly. 

“mhm” you nodded, desperately. 

“Words, angel, I need words” he halted his movements, his voice stern. 

“Yes, Matt, take it off, please”  The pleading in your tone evident, despite your attempt to be moody. 

“Begging already? I knew I’d like you” with that he pulled your top over your head and left you exposed in your lacy black bra, your hard nipples perking through the sheer fabric. 

“Fuck” Matt uttered under his breath, his large hands roaming around your nearly bare torso. 

He couldn’t help himself, he leant down, pulling the thin fabric from your tit and wrapped his mouth around your hardened nipple, grinding down onto your core as he did, chasing the friction. Your head rolled back at the feeling, and as if on instinct, your hips rolled against his. Matt trailed his kisses down your stomach, each one igniting a hot fire all over your skin. He hooked his fingers round the hem of your skirt, still trailing hot, wet kisses down your heaving torso. He looked up at you, being met with your pleading eyes staring down at him.

“Can I?” he tugged slightly at your skirt. 

“yes, please” you nodded frantically, lifting your hips up to aid him in removing the fabric that separated his mouth from your aching cunt. 

“Such a fast learner, such a good girl” he smiled as he pulled your skirt down over your knees, leaving you in nothing but your bra, fishnets and thin black panties. 

“Jesus christ” he said as he perched on his knees by the edge of the bed, “these are staying on” he said, caressing your legs with firm hands. 

He edged his hands further down towards your core, spreading your thighs apart for him as he lowered himself down, hooking your legs over his shoulders. As his hands reached where you ached for him the most, he pressed firm fingers across your pussy, rubbing upwards and finishing his movement with a short circle of both of his thumbs over your throbbing clit. With one quick motion, he ripped a hole in your fishnets, exposing your dripping cunt to him as your wetness seeped through the thin fabric of your thong. His eyes might as well have sparkled at the sight, 

“Look at that, tough girl, you’re all wet over me taking charge” he said, taking a finger and swiping it up the wetness that had collected  at the entrance to your pussy. 

You whimpered, bucking your hips once again at the stimulation, whining slightly in attempts to coax him into touching you properly. 

“I need to taste you, angel, can I?” he asked, like a boy begging to stay up to see Santa on christmas morning. 

“Yes, Matt, please, fuckin' hurry up already” you whine, desperate and aching for any sense of relief from this agonising feeling. 

He didn’t need any more permission, with a low hum (more like a fucking growl), he pulled your soaked panties to the side with vigour and latched his mouth around your clit. Your back arched off the bed immediately, his tongue sending sweet euphoria up your spine as it toyed with your sensitive bud. The moan that escaped you was pornographic, and it only egged him on further. He slipped his tongue into your entrance, lapping at the juices that seeped from your hole as his thumb found your clit, moving in slow circles over the sensitive bud. He moaned into your pussy, as if he was getting off on eating you out, the vibrations from his groaning only adding to the knot growing in your stomach. Your hands found his hair, tugging at the messy brown curls that covered his beautiful face as he devoured you. 

“Fuck, Matt, that feels so fucking good” you cried out, tears pricking at your eyes as he moved once more to suck on your clit. 

His fingers swirled and prodded at your slick entrance, your walls nearly sucking him in as they clenched around nothing. He took your incessant moans as invitation to insert two long fingers all the way inside of you, curling up into that perfect gummy spot as he did. Your thighs clenched around his head, tensing and shaking as he brought you to the edge. He raised himself up slightly, pushing your legs apart with his forearms and pinning you down under his weight, his fingers relentlessly curling into you as he sucked and lapped at your clit, desperate to make you come undone all over his mouth. You tugged at his curls once more, earning a deep groan from him that vibrated around your clit and, that feeling, coupled with the warm pressure of his body weight on your thighs and his intense, animalistic eye contact, sent you over the edge. Your orgasm ripped through you, your whole body shaking as you moaned his name over and over again, bucking your hips up into his face as he continued his pace, mercilessly lapping at your sopping pussy. You started to tether on the edge of overstimulation just as he pulled his mouth from you, his fingers still pumping in and out of your dripping cunt. You stared down at him with fluttery eyes, your fingers caressing his scalp as he helped you ride out your orgasm with a tender smile and tiny bites down the inside of your thigh. 

He pulled his fingers from you and got to his feet, the bed shifted under his weight as he brought himself up to hover over you. 

He traced the outline of your plump lips with the tip of his finger, asking for invitation. You obliged and opened your mouth, exposing a flat tongue to him. 

“Taste how sweet you are, angel. fuckin’ delicious” He said, placing his fingers on your tongue before edging them down your throat, watching intently as you gagged around them. 

He chuckled slightly at your submissiveness, pulling his fingers from your throat and trailing them down your chin. He placed a firm palm on the front of your neck and pulled you into a kiss, his face still wet from your cum. You whimpered into the kiss, frantic hands moving down in between you in attempts to unbutton his jeans. He smiled into the kiss and squeezed the sides of your throat with his fingers, bucking his hips into your hands as they freed him of the confines of the thick denim. He assisted you in pushing his jeans down his legs, not once breaking the kiss as he expertly shuffled them off and kicked them across the room. He crawled back on top of you and pushed you further up the bed, with one hand on the back of your thigh and the other round your neck, he hooked your leg over his waist and began to grind down into your sensitive core, the fabric of his black boxers giving just the right amount of friction between you. 

“Matt, I need you inside of me, now.” you whine, the demand sending shivers up Matts spine as he locked eyes with you. 

“What’s the magic word, pretty girl” He smirked, you rolled your eyes in response and brought your other leg to hook around his waist, your feet locking him in. 

“Please, matt” you reluctantly (you loved it) begged. 

“So good for me, angel” he smiled as your hands snaked their way into his boxers, palming his hard cock. 

Your eyes widened slightly at the size and he noticed, a sense of pride washing over him, “Bigger than you thought it would be?” he smirked.

 A wave of nervousness overcame you but you pushed it down, biting your lip and tightening your grip on his throbbing member, “I always knew you’d be huge, the quiet ones always are” you said, pumping him slowly. 

He couldn’t help but rut into your hand, his head falling into the curve of your neck as he palmed your tit, pinching at your hard nipple whilst his other hand left bruises on your thigh. Small whispers left his mouth and fell onto your skin, his warm breath only turning you on even more. You pushed his boxers down completely and he kicked them off, looking down at where you were attempting to line him up with your weeping entrance. 

“So needy, huh? tough girl? lemme help you angel” He pressed his tip against your folds and aided you in guiding himself into your slick walls. 

The feeling of him stretching you out made your back arch off the bed, your hands flying to the sheets for some sort of leverage. He chuckled slightly, slowly thrusting his leaking tip in and out of you, letting you adjust to his size inch by inch as he trailed soft kisses down your jaw and neck, biting every so often only to sooth the sting with his warm tongue. 

The feeling was euphoric, he was somehow keeping you between feeling completely satisfied and overstimulated all at once. 

“fuck, angel” he drew out, “y'so fuckin’ tight and m'not even half way in— Jesus christ- y'gonna be the death of me” he grunted, capturing your open mouth in a wet and tender kiss, his tongue pressed against yours as he thrusted into you completely, bottoming out. 

You both moan at the feeling, your legs tensed around his waist and your arms found home draped over his shoulders, hands tangled in his hair. 

He pulled out of you almost entirely, still kissing you mercilessly before thrusting into you again, this time with a lot more force. You moaned into his mouth, tugging at his hair to counter the sting of your pussy, blissfully stretched out around him and aching for him to move faster. 

Matt broke the kiss, taking your jaw in his hand and squeezing your mouth open, he gathered a ball of spit in his mouth and lowered it towards yours. You caught it on your tongue and swallowed it with a smile as he watched in awe.

“You’re perfect” he uttered, leaning down to kiss your squished lips before releasing your jaw and earning another smile from you. 

With that, he set a relentless pace, fucking you into the bed with each hard thrust. You moaned out his name, pulling him in impossibly close to you with both your grip round his waist and your hands in his hair. His head fell next to yours, hot breath panting in your ear as he moaned and whimpered at the feeling of your slick walls clenching around him. 

“Fuck matt, you're so big, stretching me out s’much, oh my fucking god” you trail off, your words bouncing with every merciless thrust. 

“Take it angel, fuckin’ take it, I know you can” he panted into your ear, sucking on the lobe. 

He slowed his pace but fucked you harder, each thrust inciting a pornographic moan from your lips. 

“you sound s'good when you moan, so fuckin’ sexy” he groaned, pounding into you harder just to earn those beautiful whimpers from you. 

His tip formed a bulge in your lower stomach, poking out of you over and over again as he hit your g-spot, bringing you closer to the edge for the second time that night. You brought a hand up to his mouth, silently asking for permission to collect some spit from the pad of his tongue, he obliged, biting your fingers slightly before you pulled them from his mouth and placed them down between the two of you, rubbing fast circles over your clit. The stimulation made your walls clench around him, milking his painfully hard cock. 

“Fuck, oh my, fuck, keep doing that, pretty girl, keep touching yourself for me” his command comes out in a near whimper. 

“Matt, m'gonna— “ before you could even finish your sentence, your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your thighs shaking around his waist as white hot tingles covered your entire body, you clenched your eyes shut and all you could see was stars as you came all over his dick. 

“You’re clenching me so hard right now angel, y'gonna make me cum, look at me pretty girl, please, let me see those pretty eyes” Matt rambled as his high was rapidly approaching, his pace quickening as his movements became sloppy, 

“cum inside me, please matt, I need it” you cried out, still reeling in the after shock of your crippling orgasm. 

With your pleading, he realised strings of warm cum inside you, coating your walls as he fucked his seed into you, riding out his orgasm, shaking and trying desperately not to buckle completely on top of you. 

He thrusted in and out a few more times before reluctantly pulling out, the cold air hitting his softening cock as he fell down next to you, immediately bringing you into his side and pulling at your limbs so you were lazily draped over him. 

You laid there, panting in each others arms, both trying to catch your breath as the sound of the party suddenly became more prominent from the other side of his bedroom door. “You” he said, still catching his breath, “are incredible.” He turned his head to look down at you.

“You’re not too bad yourself, Matthew” you smiled, bringing your finger to trace along his pink bottom lip. 

He watched as you admired the plump skin for a moment and with a smile, he bit the tip of your finger. You giggled and pulled your hand from his mouth, resting it on his now steady chest. 

“Can I see you again?” he asked, captivated by the way your face lights up when you laugh. 

“If you actually start coming to classes, you’ll see me all the time” you taunted him.

“Oh, I’m gonna have the best fuckin’ attendance in this whole college” he responded, pulling you fully on top of him. 

You squealed at the sudden movement and shifted to straddle his lap. You sat up, looking down at him as he tugged and needed at the flesh around your hips. 

“They’re all probably wondering where you are” you said, referring to the hoard of people in his home. 

“Fuck ‘em, they’re all losers anyway” he leant up closer to you, a sneaky hand came and wrapped itself around your neck, pulling you desperately close to his face.

“You’re much better company, tough girl” he whispered through a smile before capturing your mouth in a tender yet rough kiss.

[starkeyisthelastname]

Dealer!Rafe takes a little break to give his girl some attention. 💨💵

It wasn’t often you were needy as Rafe pretty much gave you everything you could ever want. Sometimes though, you’d couldn’t help but need a little more like the spoiled brat you were. You slipped downstairs, hearing the sound of loud rap music playing through the speakers. You saw him sitting on the couch, blunt in his mouth as he wrapped a tab around the stack of hundreds he had in his hand. Padding into the living room, you walked over to the couch and slowly sat down. It wasn’t that he was purposefully trying to ignore you, but when he went counting he was in focus mode. You sat down next to him, glittery acrylics tracing across his thick bicep.

“Daddy.” You said, voice sweet as you watched him set the stack of money down.

He raised a brow, blowing out the heavy smoke before his glassy blue eyes looked at you. “What do you need mama? He asked, already picking up another handful of cash to count. He saw you bite your lower lip, still staying silent in hesitation. He didn’t like to be bothered when doing something that required him to focus, but you were so damn beautiful he couldn’t be mad at you. Just a little impatient as you weren’t speaking. “Quit actin’ shy. Tell me what you need.” He said a little firmer.

You blinked your fresh lash extensions at him, sitting on your knees as you took a small little huff. “I know you’re busy and all...but I really need you.” You mumbled, trailing your nails down from his arm up to play with the cuban link around his neck. It wasn’t your fault he looked so damn good, his buzz fresh, black tank top and sweatpants fitting his toned body right.

He took another hit of the blunt, eyes looking at the money. Never did he think he would quit in the middle of counting just to give a girl attention. You were special though and he could tell by the look in your eyes that you wanted dick. With a nod to his head, he motioned down to his lap as his free hand reached down to pull his cock out. “Take this shit off.” He said with a mouth full of smoke, yanking down your silky sleep shorts.

You giggled, getting naked for him. You couldn’t help but be happy as he spoiled you in more ways than just giving you money and gifts. With the weed still in his mouth, he took one hand and grabbed his hardening length while the other pulled you down to where your ass was facing him. He helped you slide down onto his thick pole, a large cloud of smoke covering your smooth body as he let out a groan. “Bounce that shit for daddy.” He rasped out, cerulean eyes watching the way your fleshy ass cheeks jiggled against his lap as you began to move.

You felt so full, letting out the prettiest moans as he let you ride him. He was usually always in control, but if you needed dick that bad when he was busy then he expected you to work for it and make a mess. “Shit.. daddy. Feels so good.” You whimpered as he brought a large hand down to smack your cheek. Your pussy was soaked, manicured hands reaching down to grab a hold of his calves to use as leverage so that you could bounce your fleshy ass just the way he liked.

Rafe was having a time. He never thought he’d like to be interrupted when it came to his money. Watching your pretty pussy splashing all over his dick and fat ass bouncing, while he smoked the rest of his blunt was it for him. You looked so fucking gorgeous too, he was absolutely mesmerized watching you make yourself feel good on that dick that was all yours. “Yeah there you go…I know that big dick feels good mama. Keep it up for me.” He spoke low behind you. You needed attention from him he would absolutely give it to you like the queen you were.

[softspiderling]

can i go (where you go?) | j.v

summary:

“Hey, it’s me.”

After a short beat, you opened the door to look at him, your hair wet around your shoulders, water droplets wetting his shirt you were wearing. Despite the early morning hours, Jace felt a some rush of excitement running through him seeing you standing in his shirt in his bathroom.

“You good?”

“I think I just met your brother,” you said lightly, your cheeks pink.

OR; 5 times Jace’s family meets you (and the one time you meet them)

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: just incredibly tooth rotting fluff. i’m actually in love with them. in this modern universe, Alicent is married to Rhaenyra’s younger brother Baelon, Rhaenys and Viserys aren’t related, and Addam and Alyn aren’t Corlys’ sons. I think I solved the inbreeding, lol. Also, Harwin and Rhaenyra are happily married <3 (there will probably be more fics in this universe🤭)

word count: 7,2k (HOW)

author’s note: everyone knows i love a good 5 + 1 fic. this was born out of @eldrith and me just coming up with modern au headcanons and modern!jace consuming my thoughts at work. happy happy reading, I hope you're obsessed! <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I Luke

“Jace… Hey, Jace.”

Jace let out a groan, burowing deeper into the cushions, hoping to drown out the voice.

“Jace!”

Someone grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him violently and Jace groaned, his eyes fluttering open just to see his brother peer down at him, his damp hair plastered against his forehead. Jace knew it was entirely too early for him to be awake with the way his body still felt too heavy. He glared at Luke, his annoyance clear as day.

“Luke, what the fuck.”

“Hey, I’ve just come from the gym, the showers in my dorm were blocked off because a pipe burst, can I shower here?”

Jace whined, turning his head to face the pillow, hoping it would smother him. Anything to be unconscious again.

“Couldn’t you just have showered at the gym?”

“I have a class at 10,” Luke replied, as if that answered the question.

It didn’t.

Jace didnt react, hoping that Luke would just leave if he feigned falling back asleep, but Luke grabbed him by the shoulders again.

“Jace.”

“Oh my god, just go use the shower, you’re here already!”

“Thanks, you’re the best!”

The mattress dipped again and footsteps receded before Jace was finally alone again, falling back into a slumber.

Wait, had he been alone?

He could distinctly remember you coming home with him the night before but the bed was empty when Jace reached his hand out looking for you. You must have snuck out in the early hours of the day. Jace would definitely confront you about that as soon as he was awake enough to do it.

Just as he was about to drift back to dream land, a high pitched squeal woke him right up, and he shot up in bed, wide awake.

“Oh my god, I am so so sorry!”

A door slammed, hurried footsteps came towards his bedroom before Luke barged through the door with wild eyes; shutting it behind him.

“There’s a girl in your bathroom!” He said, his voice accusatory as he glared at Jace, with his back against the door. Luke’s cheeks were red, and Jace wasn’t sure if it was the remaining flush from the gym or because he was embarrassed.

Jace only blinked at him, before wiping his palm over his face.

“Fuck.”

Luke frowned at him. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

“She’s not-“ Jace broke off, sighing. “It’s not important.”

He got out of the bed, shooing Luke away from the door and padded towards his bathroom, trying to make sure his younger brother hadn’t completely scared you off. The bathroom was locked and Jace leaned against the doorframe, rapping his knuckles against the door.

“Hey, it’s me.”

After a short beat, you opened the door to look at him, your hair wet around your shoulders, water droplets wetting his shirt you were wearing. Despite the early morning hours, Jace felt a some rush of excitement running through him seeing you standing in his shirt in his bathroom.

“You good?”

“I think I just met your brother,” you said lightly, your cheeks pink.

The corner of Jace’s mouth tugged up and he flexed his hand around your waist, pulling you closer. Luke was lucky he met you so early in the day, your temper still subdued from sleep. Had it happened in the afternoon? Luke would’ve gotten an earful.

“Are you okay? I can make him leave if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No it’s fine,” you huffed, hiding your face in his shoulders. “I was not prepared to meet him.”

Jace wrapped his arm around your waist, leaning his chin on your head with a grin. “You don’t have to be prepared to meet Luke. You just meet him and go “what a dork”, there’s not much else after that.”

“Yo!” Luke crowed outside. “I heard that!”

“You were supposed to!”

“Can I just take a shower please!!!”

Jace rolled his eyes, his hand dropping down to lace his fingers with yours. “Come on, I’ll make you a coffee.”

He pulled you into the kitchen, turning his coffee machine on, meanwhile hearing Luke flee into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. By the time his younger brother emerged again, his hair towel damp, you and Jace were sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal in hand, your feet in Jace’s lap.

Luke stood in the door way like a deer in headlights as you and Jace looked at him.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you said lightly; Jace only snorted into his bowl.

“Sorry again… About earlier. I’m Luke,” Luke said, rubbing the back of his neck, but you only waved it off as you introduced yourself. Luke glanced between the two of you, the wheels in his head must be turning a mile a minute. Jace did not look forward to whatever he was going to say.

“So… Are you guys like going steady?”

You pulled a face and Jace only sighed. Of course he chose to be a dick.

“Get out.”

Luke grinned, having expected the reaction. “Kay. Thanks for letting me use your shower,” he called over his shoulder, “Bye Jace, bye shower girl!”

The door fell shut in its hinges and Jace welcomed the silence that followed.

“I should’ve never given him the spare key,” he muttered, but you only pressed your heel into his leg.

“Stop it, he’s sweet.”

“He’s a menace.”

“He’s your little brother,” you laughed, pushing your empty bowl on the coffee table. “He’s supposed to get on your nerves, it’s literally in the job description.”

His bowl soon joined yours on the table as Jace wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling you into his lap. You grinned at him, tucking his hair behind his ear, as he played with the hem of his shirt you were wearing.

“I like that you feel comfortable enough at my place to take a shower,” he mumbled, nosing along your neck.

“Shut up.”

II Rhaena

“Man, that was way too close,” Addam groaned as they walked into the locker room. Their game against the Stags of Stormlands University had ended with 2:1, which was criminal. It should’ve been at least 3:1 and Jace wasn’t even being arrogant. That one goal they scored against them was pure luck.

“Coach is gonna be on our asses during the next practice,” Alyn said as he tugged off his jersey.

“As if he needs a reason to make us run suicides,” Cregan pointed out and Jace shrugged.

“It wasn’t entirely our fault, though. The audience was crazy today. What happened after half time? There was some commotion in the stands.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” Alyn snickered. “Apparently some girl punched Criston square in the face after he made some of his usual comments.”

“What?” Addam asked, his eyebrows risen as Jace only laughed.

“No way. That girl’s my hero.”

“I’m buying her a drink,” Cregan declared. “Do we know who it was?”

Alyn shook his head in no. “Nah, I just overheard some guys talking about it…” he then turned to Jace. “You coming to the bar with us?” Alyn asked. “My treat.”

“I can’t,” Jace replied, but before he could elaborate, Cregan wrapped his arm around his shoulder, squeezing him.

“Lover boy is meeting his girlfriend, he told me all about it.”

Jace’s cheeks tinged pink and he shoved Cregan off, huffing.

“Fuck off.”

“Leave him alone,” Addam said lightly from the bench, untying his shoes. “If I had another choice, I wouldn’t go to the bar with you either.”

“Thank you Addam,” Jace said, giving Alyn and Cregan, who were snickering to themselves, a pointed look. He grabbed a towel and his shower caddy from the locker, turning back to his friends.

“Have fun at the bar. I’ll see you guys around.”

Jace ignored how they made kissy sounds after him, rolling his eyes at them fondly. After taking a quick shower, and getting dressed, he made his way to the spot you had agreed to meet him. He passed a few familiar faces who congratulated him on the win, but he made no attempt to stay in a conversation too long, not wanting to keep you waiting. When he got to the gates of the football field, you were nowhere to be found though. Maybe you were held up by your friends. Jace shot you a text, telling you where he was, then pulling up his family group chat. His parents and Joffrey had gone hiking over the weekend, but his dad had received updates on the game via the uni’s newsletter, both of them sending him well done’s. Luke had watched the game with his friends, and Jace had no doubt he was now at the same bar his team mates were headed to. Jace then pulled up the text chain with you, but his texts to you went unanswered. With a sigh, he opened Find my..? frowning when he saw your icon float over the building that held the student med center.

“What the hell?” he muttered to himself, shoving his phone into his pocket, walking to the student med center in quick strides. The building was dark when he arrived, but the door was unlocked when he pulled on it. Jace stood in the dark for a while, his eyes adjusting to the lack of light, when he heard voices coming from somewhere. Following the sound, he reached the examination room, the voices becoming more distinctive.

“-never punched someone, why has no one ever told me that it hurts so much? He’s the one who should be hurt, not me!”

“You’d be surprised. You can actually break something while punching someone.”

Jace paused in the doorway, watching as you sat on the bed, ice pack in your hand, while another girl was rummaging in the cupboards with her back to him. You looked up when he called your name, and the smile on your face nearly made him forget how worried he was.

“Hey,” you said, “Rhaena, this is my-“

“Jace?”

Of course it was Rhaena. Out of all the student meds, it had to be his cousin tending to you. You glanced between them your eyebrows high.

“You guys know each other?”

“Rhaena is my cousin,” Jace explained, distracted, his focus on your hand. “What happened?”

“Supergirl over here punched Cole in the face.”

“Criston Cole?”

“The one and only.”

Jace sighed, sitting down next to you to lift the ice back from your knuckles, frowning when he found them bloody.

“She’s bleeding!”

Rhaena rolled her eyes, holding up some gauze and disinfectant spray. “Yes, I was looking for the gauze, thanks for reminding me.”

Jace frowned as Rhaena sat on your other side.

“This is probably gonna sting,” she warned you, before spraying disinfectant on your wounds, but you winced anyway. Jace watched as Rhaena patched you up, the frown on his forehead not easing.

“Alright, we’re all done,” Rhaena said, balling up the wrapper. “I want you to keep that ice pack on for twenty minutes, it can reduce the swelling. And maybe try to keep it elevated, and lots of resting!”

“Okay,” Jace said, matter of factly.

Both you and Rhaena looked at him - you looking amused, while Rhaena looked exasperated - and he only shrugged.

“What? You know damn well you’re not gonna do anything she just said,” he argued and you grinned, turning to Rhaena.

“Duly noted, thanks Rhaena.”

“Alright, let’s get out of here,” Rhaena said, throwing the wrappers in the trash before shooeing you and Jace out of the building. As you walked outside, you and Rhaena seemed to be get along like a house on fire as Jace held your purse, and by the time you were standing out front, you had exchanged numbers.

“Hey, so really come by when I’m working, and I’ll treat you for a coffee,” you said while Rhaena locked up.

“Sure, that’ll be nice,” Rhaena replied, packing her keys away. “It was really nice to meet you.”

You beamed at her. “You too!”

His cousin smiled at you before turning to Jace. “I’ll see you Sunday?”

“Yep. Thanks Rhae.”

Jace gave her a hug, and she quickly hugged you as well, before waving in good bye.

“Bye, see you guys!”

“Bye Rhaena!”

Jace pulled you close as you walked, his forehead still creased. You were supposed to go out for dinner, but by now your reservation had probably fallen through, so Jace might as well just cook you dinner at home. He couldn’t help but glance at your hand, which you noticed immediately.

“Jace, I’m fine,” you insisted with a laugh, grabbing his hand to reassure him, but no dice.

“I know Cole is a pain in the ass, but why did you punch him?” he asked, his forehead creased. “You could get in trouble. And on top of that, you got hurt!”

“It’s just bruised knuckles and a little blood, it’ll be healed before you know it,” you promised him. “Besides, Cole had it coming. He was sprouting bullshit about how he should’ve made the team instead of you and was just being a dick.”

Jace froze mid step, and you were dragged back by him, not having expected the sudden stop.

“You were defending my honor?”

You glanced at him, lips quirking in a smile.

“I’ll always defend your honor.”

In that moment, Jace was so overcome with emotion, he thought he might do something stupid like tell you that he loved you, so he just pulled you into a deep kiss. You sighed softly against his lips, before you pulled back, looking at him in surprise.

“What was that for?”

“Can’t a guy thank his knight in shining armor?”

You snickered, lacing your hands with his.

“You can thank me by getting some food in me, I am starving.”

III Joffrey

“It’s nice here.”

The sun was shining, reflecting its rays over the surface of the water. It was rather still today, a stark contrast to the strong waves that usually lapped at the shore of Driftmark. The small coast town was only an half an hour drive from uni and since you had never been here before, Jace had decided to take you for an impromptu trip, armed with a blanket and some snacks, but not much else. The two of you were sat on said blanket, you sitting between his legs, head resting on his chest. Jace wished it could be like this forever.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been to Driftmark,” he said, amused. “My parents used to take us every weekend when we were younger. Luke and I used to fly kites, but his always fell nose first into the sand.”

You laughed, pressing yourself closer into Jace.

“That’s sweet,” you mumbled softly, your voice trailing off. “So how many girls have you taken here?”

Jace rolled his eyes fondly, his finger tracing your arm. If only you knew. He hummed, as if in thought.

“Let’s see, there was that one girl from Lambda Psi, then Jessica from my International Relations class…”

You laughed, squirming in his arms as you smacked his hand away.

“You’re an ass.”

He tightened his hold on you, a grin on his face. “You started it!”

Giggling, you settled back into him and Jace let out a happy sigh, but the moment was quickly interrupted by his phone ringing. He had half a mind to decline the call, but he paused when he saw the caller ID.

“Why is my mum calling me?” Jace said, frowning at his phone before picking up the call. “Hey mum, is everything okay?”

“Jace, thank god,” his mother sighed in relief. The background was noisy, if Jace had to guess, she must be at work. “My meeting is running longer than expected and I won’t be able to make it in time to pick up Joffrey from school, is there any way you could make the drive down here to pick him up?”

Jace glanced at his watch. It was almost 3 in the afternoon and on a good day, it took 25 minutes to get from Driftmark to Joffrey’s school in King’s Landing. But that meant, you’d have to tag along, because there was no way he’d make it in time for Joffrey’s school’s out if he dropped you off beforehand.

“… Mum, can you give me a second?”

His mother paused. “… Sure.”

He muted the call from his side and you had already turned around to face him, your eyebrows furrowed.

“What’s going on?”

“My mum is stuck at work and she asked me to go pick up my brother from school,” Jace started. “I’m not going to make it in time if we’ll make the drive back to Oldtown-”

“Jace, oh my god, it’s fine, let’s go,” you exclaimed, already standing up and collecting all the things you had brought.

Jace stared at you for a second, slack-jawed, before he dipped his head, smiling to himself. He quickly unmuted the phone call while he got to his feet.

“I’ll pick him up mum, it’s not a problem,” he said, while helping you put away the blanket with one hand.

“Thank you, Jace,” his mother said, her tone hesitant, like she was holding back a question, but before she could ask it, another voice called for her. “I’ll call the school and let them know you’re coming,” she said distractedly.

“Okay mum, thanks. Have fun at the meeting!”

Slipping his phone into his pocket, he turned to see you with everything packed.

“Come on, let’s go!” you hurried him, taking his hand to drag him to his car, missing the blinding smile Jace had on his face.

The drive to King’s Landing was quicker than expected, with the streets being free and Jace made it to Joffrey’s school right around 3:30, the cars from several other parents already lined up to enter the pick up zone.

“Are you okay waiting in the car?” Jace asked, turning to you, “I’ll be in and out in no time.”

“Yeah, of course,” you assured him, patting his knee.

Jace couldn’t help but lean over to press a kiss on your cheek, nearly missing his turn to find a temporary parking spot, but the security guard waved him along.

“Keep it moving, son.”

“Isn’t this the pick up zone for school?” Jace asked, unbuckling. “I can park here, right?”

The security guard eyed his license plate, before checking his clipboard. “Don’t see your license plate on my list, you gotta keep it moving.”

“You’re joking.”

The man blinked at him, clearly not joking.

“I only need to go in and grab my brother, it won’t even take five minutes,” Jace argued but the security guard shook his head, unrelenting.

“Can’t make an exception, rules are rules.”

Jace opened his mouth to try to make another argument, but behind him, the cars started to honk their horns at him, parents impatient to pick up their kids. Jace’s ears grew hot but before he could lash out at the security guard, you laid your hand on his arm.

“Jace, I can go get your brother.”

“Are you sure?” Jace asked, frowning. He felt bad for making you go along, ruining the day he had planned. You didn’t sign up for this and he didn’t want to make you go into a school full of kids to pick up his brother.

“Yes, I promise,” you said, a smile on your face as you squeezed his hand and he sighed, nodding.

“Okay.”

He gave you a rough description of the way inside the school and Joffrey’s classroom number, before you got out of the car, as Jace exited the pick up zone, but not without giving the security guard a dirty look. He drove around the block, parking his car next to the curb when his phone rang announcing a facetime from you.

“Hey, is something wrong?” Jace asked as he picked up. The screen was blurry, and you were barely visibly as you stared at something behind the camera

“Hey, no, Joffrey just wanted to make sure I wasn’t lying,” you said, distractedly. “Alright Joffrey.”

The camera panned away from you until Joffrey came into view. His baby brother looked sceptical, clutching the straps of his red backpack, but his frown eased when he saw Jace.

“Hi Jace.”

“Hi Joff,” Jace said, his voice soft. “I know mum was supposed to pick you up, but her meeting ran long so she asked me to get you. I’m waiting in the car, alright? Are you going to be okay walking with my friend?”

Joffrey looked off camera, assumedly at you before turning back to Jace, scrunching his nose. “Mummy said I shouldn’t go with strangers.”

“And she’s right!” Jace quickly interjected, knowing his mother would kill him if he unraveled all the things she had been teaching Joffrey ever since he was old enough to talk. “But this is my friend, right? Not a stranger.”

With a purse on his lips, Joffrey seemed to think his words over before nodding.

“Okay.”

Joffrey waved at him through the camera before looking up.

“Can we go now?”

Jace heard you suppress a laughter as the phone shook. Joffrey didn’t look phased.

“Yes,” you said. “Come on, let’s go.”

You offered your hand to him, before you quickly panned the camera on yourself again. “See you in a bit, Jace.”

The call ended and Jace quietly laughed to himself as he tossed his phone on the passenger seat, driving back towards the school. He didn’t wait long in front of the curb when you and Joffrey came walking out, you carrying his backpack and Joffrey carrying a booster seat.

“Alright, now let’s get your backpack in here-” you said, opening the door to put Joffrey’s backpack on the backseat, then scooching it over to put the booster seat on as well. “And then you go into the booster-”

“Hi Jace!”

Jace turned around, smiling as he watched Joffrey settle into his booster seat comfortably while you fussed over him.

“Hi Joff.”

“Okay, now the seatbelt… Is this too tight?” you asked as you buckled Joffrey in, but he shook his head. You gave him a thumbs up, before shutting the door behind him, climbing back into the passenger’s seat so Jace could pull away from the curb.

“How was school?” Jace asked Joffrey with a quick glance at him through the mirror.

“Good,” Joffrey replied, “We learned about shapes.”

He then fully launched into a retelling of how his classmates thought circles and triangles are the same and Jace meant to give you an apologetic look, but to his surprise, you seemed to be listening intently.

“No way! I bet his mind was blown when you told him about rectangles!”

“He thought I was lying!”

Jace quietly snickered to himself and you grinned at him, as Joffrey continued to babble on in the backseat. Without thinking much, Jace had started the drive back to Oldtown.

“Is it okay if I drop you off at home?” Jace asked, his voice quiet, even though Joffrey was humming a song that sounded vaguely familiar to Jace as he looked out of the window, content after telling you about his school day. “I think I’ll drive back to King’s Landing and spend the night at home.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” you said, smiling at him and Jace’s heart did a stupid flip in his chest. He reached over to squeeze your hand, forgetting about his brother in his backseat for a split second.

“What kind of friends are you?”

His neck grew hot and he almost reflexively pulled his hand back, but you tightened your hold.

“The bestest friends,” you said, turning around to look at him with the most serious expression you could muster. Joffrey pressed his lips together in an attempt to bite back a smile, but a giggle escaped his lips.

“Bestest is not even a word.”

“Well, I made it up because Jace and I are bestest friends.”

“You’re silly,” Joffrey laughed and you gasped, faking affront.

The rest of the drive continued about the same until Jace pulled up in front of your building. Your hand was on the door handle, but you threw a look to the back at Joffrey, clearly reluctant to go.

“Bye Joffrey, it was really nice to meet you,” you told him with a smile.

“Bye!”

Your eyes turned to Jace, who desperately wanted to kiss you, but he wouldn’t, not in front of Joffrey, so he only inclined his head at you, hoping you knew.

“Bye,” you said softly, cheeks pink as you got out of the car, shutting the door behind you.

“Bye!” Joffrey called, waving at you through the window until you disappeared inside your apartment building. His baby brother then turned to him, a smile on his face.

“I like her.”

Pleased, Jace settled back into his seat, putting the car back in drive, his eye on his brother through the mirror.

“Me too, buddy.”

IV Aegon

“I don’t get why you won’t just make it official when you’re obviously so into her.”

“Can we not talk about this?”

The music coming from inside was loud, but Jace wished it was louder so he didn’t have to talk about this. Of course he’d rather officially call you his girlfriend than… Whatever it was he was calling you right now. But it was complicated, the both of you starting out casually, no labels.

That was almost four months ago and things had changed. For him at least.

Cregan kicked his foot, forcing Jace to look at him.

“I’m serious, Jace. You’re insanely into her and she obviously likes you too.”

Jace pretended like hearing that didn’t make him happy, looking around for you.

“Where is she anyway?” Jace asked and Cregan only sighed at the obvious attempt of changing the topic.

“Last I saw, she and her foxy friend were trying to get drinks.”

Jace rolled his eyes, pushed himself up from the chair.

“I’ll go look for her,” he said, taking a few steps before turning back to his friend. “And don’t call Alysanne foxy.”

Cregan’s bellowing laughter made Jace grin, and he only shook his head, opening the patio door to head inside. The air was stuffy and smelt of alcohol, but he was used to it as he squeezed past a kissing couple, craning his head over the crowd to try to spot you somewhere in the crowded house. He usually didn’t like splitting up with you at parties because it was a pain finding each other again. You also had an habit to make so many friends in a short amount of time.

When Jace finally made it to the kitchen, he saw the back of your head and he let out a sigh of relief. His face blanched however, when he saw who you were talking to. Calling out your name, you turned around with a cup in your hand as he walked up to you.

“Jacey!”

His cousin grinned widely at him as Jace joined you and Aegon by the kitchen island, as you slotted yourself against his side. You seemed content, like you were enjoying yourself. Jace took that as a good sign.

“Hi Aegon,” Jace greeted him lightly, before turning to you. “I see you’ve met my cousin.”

“Rhaena‘s brother?” You asked, eyebrows raised.

“You met Rhaena?”

Aegon’s brows were even higher than yours as his eyes flitted between Jace and you curiously, sipping on his drink. Jace already knew this would make it into the cousins’ group chat in a matter of minutes.

“Aegon’s from the other side. Kind of,” Jace answered, pulling a face. “It’s complicated.”

You smiled at him and Aegon’s grin only widened. Jace wished he would disappear the way he always did when their grandpa asked for help in the garage.

“So how did you guys meet?” he asked, voice nonchalant. “You don’t look like a PoliSci student to me.”

“I’m not,” you replied, laughing. “Jace always gets coffee at the coffee shop I work at.”

“Oh, which one do you work at?”

“Blackwood’s, the one on 50th?”

Aegon’s eyes widened and he nodded his head quickly. “Yes, I know that one. Do you think you could give me the recipe for the almond croissants? I’ve tried recreating them so many times and they never turn out like the one’s at the coffee shop.”

“I can ask my friend, if you want me to,” you offered. “It’s her uncle’s coffee shop, he’s gotta have the recipe.”

“Oh and what about the syrups, are those-”

“Alright, this isn’t 20 questions,” Jace interjected, knowing there was no stopping Aegon if he started talking syrups. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Aegon?”

Aegon pressed his lips together in a grin, shaking his head. “Fine, Jace, I’ll leave you guys alone. But only because I know I’ll have other opportunities to ask for recipes.”

Jace narrowed his eyes at his cousin, but he had turned his attention to you.

“Nice talking to you,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you at one of our family events, yeah?”

“Bye Aegon.”

Jace could hear Aegon cackling to himself as he lead you away, his hand on your lower back. He was mortified. Out of everyone at this party, you just had to run into Aegon. To Jace’s luck however, you seemed mostly amused by his erratic cousin.

“I like him,” you said and Jace huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to lie. I don’t like him either.”

You snorted, shoving him playfully. “I’m not lying. He’s very outgoing, but I like him.”

Jace pressed closer to you as you made your way out of the pation and you turned your head over your shoulder, glancing at him.

“So is your entire family just enrolled here?”

“Basically, yeah,” Jace sighed, “The only cousin of mine who’s not at this uni is Daeron but apparently he’s transferring next term.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet all of them.”

Jace let out a laugh, wrapping his arm around you when you finally made it out of the house, Cregan still sitting on the sun chairs, Alysanne next to him as they talked. Jace had wondered where you had left her.

TARGTOWERS 2.0

Aegon [01:21 am]: have y’all met jace’s new gf yet??

Jace left the chat.

Aegon added Jace to the chat.

Jace [02:04 am]: I hate you

Aegon [02:05 am]: <3

V Harwin

“If my husband doesn’t look like that like 25 years down the line, I definitely did something wrong.”

Jace only caught the tail end of the conversation, but knowing you and Alysanne, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to know what you were talking about. The two of you found the most bizarre things to talk about, it was astounding.

“What are we talking about?” he asked nevertheless, pulling out a chair next to you.

“There was this hot guy at the coffee shop earlier today, trying to find a good restaurant for dinner with his son,” Alysanne explained and you nodded.

“Super hot.”

“Wow, you really know how to make a guy feel special.”

You quirked a grin at him, leaning over to kiss him, your hand on his leg. Eagerly, Jace returned the kiss, deepening it which might be a tad inappropriate for the library, but he didn’t care. He never did when it came to you.

“Eurgh,” Alysanne said, rolling her eyes. Jace paid her no mind, already used to her antics, but you pulled away before it could any less PG13.

“Hi,” you mumbled, licking over over lips and Jace resisted the urge to kiss you again. “Am I seeing you tonight?”

“I might come over a little later than usual,” he said with a sigh, playing with the straps of your top. “Luke said he wanted to meet me for dinner.”

“Can you guys please go to Jace’s?” Alysanne interjected “I’d really love to have one night without hearing you guys have sex.”

“Oh come off it, Aly,” you laughed, swatting at your friend and she snickered. “You’re literally on the other side of the apartment and we barely hang out at our place.”

Alysanne stuck her tongue out at you and you only flipped her off before turning back to Jace.

“So eleven?”

“Yeah, sounds about right,” he said, nodding. “But I’ll text you, yeah?”

You hummed, and Jace pulled your chair closer to his, almost forgetting he had come to the library to study for a test. Next to you, Alysanne was rolling her eyes but he could tell that she was pleased by the way she let her hair fall over the side to give you privacy.

Well, as much privacy there was in a university library.

“How did you find out about this place anyway, dad?” Jace asked, reaching for his beer.

Turned out, Luke didn’t want to get dinner. Their father did. He had a work thing in Driftmark and decided to make it to Oldtown for a quick visit, surprising Jace. His dad felt bad for missing Jace’s first game of the season; he had always made it to Jace’s first game of the season ever since he started playing football when he was 7 years old. It was like an unspoken tradition.

Harwin Strong was a man of tradition and loyalty, and even though Jace had promised him it wasn’t that much of a deal, he had felt guilty either way.

“This nice girl at the coffee shop recommended it to me,” his father said, and Jace nearly spat out his beer all over the table. So it must have been his father you and Alysanne had been talking about earlier in the library. God really loved to play games with him.

“What coffee shop?” He asked as nonchalantly as possible. Maybe it was just a coincidence, right? There were lots of coffee shops in Oldtown.

“Blackwood’s I think? She said this was her boyfriend’s favorite restaurant,” his father explained, glancing over the menu. Jace’s heart stuttered in his chest at the word boyfriend before his father grimaced. “Well, she paused between boy and friend. It seemed like there was more to the story but I didn’t want to pry.”

“How funny,” Luke said, peering over his menu. “This is Jace’s favorite restaurant, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Jace pressed out, glaring at his brother while kicking him in the shins.

“Ow!”

“Boys, please.”

Jace and Luke exchanged dirty looks, before turning their attention back on their menus.

“You know what I don’t understand?” his father started, but Jace interrupted him before he could continue.

“The steak sizes are their thing, no one actually orders the 14 oz steak.”

His father furrowed his eyes at him, confused.

“What? No, I’m going to order the fish,” he said, shaking his head. “What I was trying to say is, what is it with your generation and casual dating?”

Jace’s ears grew hot and Luke howled in laughter, nearly falling off the chair. His father glanced between them.

“Did I miss something?”

“No,” Jace said pointedly in Luke’s direction before turning back to his father. “I’m not saying that casual dating is good, or whatever, but sometimes it’s… Complicated.”

“Complicated?” his father echoed. “Either you love someone or you don’t. When I first met your mother, I knew immediately that she was the one for me. I wasn’t going to waste my time on casually dating her.”

“That sounds really smart,” Luke said, nodding earnestly, but Jace only rolled his eyes. What an idiot. “Sounds like something a lot of people our age should do.”

“How was Econ 101, Luke?” Jace asked, his voice low and Luke narrowed his eyes at him.

“Wimp!”

“Narc!”

“So!” their father said, clearly ignoring their exchange, laying his menu down as he looked at his two eldest sons. “Are there any people in your life I should meet, Jace?”

Jace only sighed, leaning back in his chair while Luke burst out in laughter again.

“Dad, come on.”

+ I

You had been quiet for the most of the drive, which made Jace nervous. You hadn’t been his girlfriend long before his grandpa’s birthday rolled around. Actually, Jace had finally broke down and asked, begged, you to finally go out with him for real the night he got home from dinner with his father and Luke. Something about the way his father spoke about him and his mother just made Jace realize he hated this unlabeled, uncertain situationship he had with you. He wanted something real.

He was scared shitless when it took you a good minute to reply God, it took you long enough!

About a month later, his mother had texted him about the plans for his grandpa’s birthday and he had decided it was about time you met his family. You had met most of them already anyway.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” you suddenly said, eyes darting outside the window.

“What? Why?” Jace said, glancing over at you. He had half a mind to stop the car, but it was less than 2 minutes before he’d be home.

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Babe.”

“What if they don’t like me?”

Despite being one turn away from his house, Jace pulled up to the curb, turning off his car. Uttering your name softly, he reached over to grasp your hand.

“You don’t need to worry, I promise,” he assured you. Your hands were clammy, you must be so much more nervous than he had initially thought, which was endearing, really. “You’ve already met most of them, remember? And they all love you.”

“So far,” you corrected him and he sighed in exasperation, giving you a fond smile.

“You’ve already met the worst person in my family and Aegon still spams our groupchat with pictures from the pastries he’s baking with the recipes you gave him. The rest of my family is harmless compared to him.”

You quirked a smile at him, letting out a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Jace hummed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He squeezed your hand, not letting go as he started his car again. Even when you walked up to the front porch, past all the cars in the drive way, you were still holding onto his hand, like a lifeline in a storm.

It didn’t take long until the heavy wooden door opened, and Luke stood before them, grinning.

“I was wondering when you guys would get here,” he said, turning to his side. “Mum, it’s Jace and his girlfriend!”

“Thanks for that, dummy,” Jace hissed, punching Luke’s arm as he passed him. Luke winced in pain, glowering at his older brother, waving at you with a smile. Jace lead you through the entry hall into the living room when Joffrey came running around the corner, latching himself to your legs as he called out your name.

“Hi Joffrey,” you laughed, ruffling the young boy’s hair. “How are you?”

“So good!”

Your nerves seemed to calm as you chattered away with Joffrey, having dropped Jace’s hand for his brother’s, but Jace didn’t mind. Your feet came to a slow stop however, when you reached the living room.

His mother was fixing up the flowers on the table, beaming when she saw you come in.

“Jace!”

“Hi mum.”

Jace hugged his mother in greeting, before taking your hand. “Mum, this is-”

“Oh, welcome to the family,” his mother said, pulling you into a hug as well, surprising you as you let out a laugh.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” you said shyly, smiling at his mother when she pulled away to look at you.

“And you! I have been waiting for the day Jace finally introduced us! I just knew that he was with a girl when I asked him to pick up Joffrey,” she said, shaking her head fondly. “He was so defensive when I tried to ask for details.”

“Mum,” Jace protested and his mother only waved him off.

“Your father must be wrangling with your cousins in the kitchen… Honey, Jace and his girlfriend are here!”

“I’m coming!”

His father walked into the living room with a strawberry cake in his hand, a smile on his face when his eyes laid on you, before turning to Jace, then back to you, realization dawning on him.

“That’s the boyfriend?”

You flushed, nodding with a laugh.

“Yes.”

His father only shook his head, giving you a brief hug before glancing at his son.

“I taught you better, son.”

“I know dad,” Jace sighed, ducking his head when his father reached out to ruffle his hair.

His mother seemed confused, though it didn’t help when his cousins and Luke tumbled out of the kitchen, bickering. As usual.

“- stop it! You’ll ruin the cake!” Aegon lifted the cake out of Baela’s grasp, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. “Oh, hey! Told you we’d see each other at one point!”

“Supergirl, how’s the hand doing?”

“Supergirl? She’s obviously shower girl.”

“… Do I even want to know?”

His mother glanced around the room, starting to connect the dots.

“Am I the only one who hasn’t met you yet?”

“I haven’t met her yet!”

The rest of his cousins rushed forward to introduce themselves and you nearly sank into a wave of white hair with Joffrey still hanging off your arm. You seemed to be doing well, though, Baela and Helaena laughing as Rhaena recounted the story of how you met and Aemond and Daeron trying to give you tips on how to punch someone without getting injured.

“I like her,” his mother said as she bumped his shoulder.

Jace’s chest warmed, though he shrugged. “You barely know her yet.” Even though he knew his family would like you no matter what, it felt good to hear it spoken.

“She seems to be handling herself well around your cousins and it looks like to me she already won half of them over,” his mother pointed out. “Most importantly, she makes you happy.”

“Wait, you punched Criston Cole? But I like him.”

“Of course you like him, Aegon.”

Your laughter rang out between the bickering, and you turned to catch Jace’s eyes, beaming at him. He smiled, ducking his head. God, he was so in love.

“Yeah.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: what are we thinking???

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 | dad's best friend!cillian murphy x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | based on the following request: what would dilf/dad's best friend cillian do if he found your dildo?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5k (this was literally supposed to be a drabble...)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (18+ only), significant age gap (reader is college-aged, cillian is in his late forties), voyeurism/exhibitionism, semi-public sex, use of toys, praise kink, unprotected sex, very brief/semi sarcastic 'sir' kink, shockingly fluffy??

Not that your parents' anniversary cocktail party wasn't horribly riveting (cue dramatic eyeroll) but you were upstairs, on your bed, on your phone; you'd had enough of 'so how's college going?' and 'what's your major again?' and 'got any boyfriends yet? you must be a heartbreaker' for one evening— or a lifetime, preferably.

It wasn’t even that comfortable to be on the bed in your party dress—a cute, short sparkly one that you’d picked out for tonight—but it was better than standing around and trying to balance in those sky-high heels; those you had kicked off into the corner of the room the second you were alone.

When you heard a small rap on the door, you hummed a quick "Come in!" and didn't even look up from your phone, figuring it was your mom or dad come to find you after you disappeared.

Instead, you heard Mr. Murphy's voice as he leaned in the doorframe; "Sorry to bug you," he said, startling you slightly as you closed Instagram and set your phone down. "Just needed a Tide pen— your mom said you might have one in here?"

"O-oh, yeah," you said, sitting up, "sure— what happened?"

"Salsa fiasco," he joked softly as he shut the door behind him, showing you the dark red stain on his shirt— though the shirt itself was red, so it wasn't too egregious, but still noticeable.

"That's too bad," you chuckled, "I warned them about that salsa— if you serve salsa, there's gonna be a fiasco, that's what I said."

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "They should listen to you more," he agreed.

"I've got a couple stain remover pens in that top drawer," you suggested as you pointed to your dresser.

"Great," he smiled, starting to unbutton the shirt; you got nervous for a second until you realized he had on a black undershirt beneath. It's hard to say why you were nervous about that, since you'd seen him shirtless plenty of times in the years you'd known him...

"Nobody's worried about me going missing, right?" you wondered as he continued working on the buttons, and he shook his head while shrugging slightly.

"Not yet," he replied, "but they're going to want to find you soon, you're sort of the star of the night."

You rolled your eyes, frowning. "It's my parents' anniversary party, I think they should be the focus."

"Maybe they should, but you're the much more interesting one," he informed you.

You pulled your legs up a bit, leaning to the side as you sat on your bed; as much as all this attention from your parents' friends was usually annoying to you, something about being interesting to Mr. Murphy didn't bother you so much. "Is it weird for you?" you asked, lowering your voice a bit; he tilted his head quickly as if to ask what you meant. "Going to an anniversary party after, you know—"

The words hung in the air, seeming to gather around his conspicuously naked ring finger: after the divorce. "Oh, no," he scoffed, taking off his cufflinks. "It's fine; but I'm sick of the questions about it."

You winced. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Don't worry," he laughed finally shirking off the shirt; he looked a little too good in just the short-sleeved undershirt. "You can make it even by letting me ask you how college is going."

"Oh god," you groaned, rolling your eyes, and he laughed.

"If I didn't know from your parents that you were acing it, I'd worry that your aversion to talking about it meant you were struggling somehow."

"It's not that," you assured, "it's the people."

"The people?" he pressed. "Or the guys?"

You laughed nervously, looking down at your lap. "Geez, you learn to mindread while I was gone or something?"

He stepped around your bed to get to the dresser, laying his shirt down over it. "No, I just remember that time— somehow. And I remember how much of a headache I and every other young guy was."

"I guess not much has changed then," you smiled.

"What, I'm still a headache?" he grinned as he looked over his shoulder at you.

"No, I meant—"

"I know what you meant, I'm just teasing," he chuckled. "Top drawer you said?"

"Yeah," you nodded, and he opened the top drawer of the dresser; of course, only right then did you remember that you should have specifically said top left. Because the top right was—

Oh shit.

You swallowed thickly as Cillian stared down into the open drawer, and your heart pounded as you somehow hoped and prayed that what was in there had turned invisible or something; but if the look on his face was anything to go by, it was just as visible as ever.

“I—fuck, sorry, I forgot that’s—” you choked out, face burning impossibly hot.  “I never meant for you to see—I’m—could you shut the fucking drawer, please, you pervert?!”

“I’m the pervert?” he laughed thinly, looking at you again finally.  “You’re the one with a massive fucking dildo in here.”

“Well—you weren’t supposed to see that—”

“Yeah, but—fuck,” he choked, “I was just looking for your stain remover and I see your— you have a— are you sure that isn’t technically considered a weapon or something?  How’s a guy supposed to compete with that?”

“That’s the great thing about it: he doesn’t have to compete,” you explained, “that’s sort of the whole idea.”

He looked back at it for a second and you yelped, reaching your leg off the bed to kick him in the hip.  “Would you please shut the drawer?!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed a bit, “but I mean, how am I supposed to react to that?

“Well, you’re not supposed to just stare at it!” you insisted.

He shut the drawer, giving you a look you couldn’t possibly decipher.

“What were you thinking?!” you said, somewhat rhetorically.

“I—well,” he hummed, looking away from you for a second, “I was thinking that I can’t imagine how you can possibly fit something like that.”

You blinked quickly, not sure what to say in response to that.  “Well—I mean, it’s a little big, but… it gets the job done.  Keeps me from calling the guys I shouldn’t be calling.”

He nodded.  “Well, that’s good… none of those college boys could possibly deserve you…”

His eyes were running all over you, and even though you’d picked out this dress just for this party because you loved how you looked in it, you felt a little exposed by his stare.

“I just can’t believe a girl like you—”

“Come on, I’ve never been a saint,” you scoffed, glancing away.

“No, I just mean… the size of that thing…” he trailed off.

“You really can’t get over that part,” you noticed, “is this some kind of… intimidation, Freudian situation?”

You glanced quickly at his pants, and he started to deny it instantly.  “No—come on, it’s not—I just can’t believe you take all that.  For fun.  It looks like it would break you.”

You hadn’t even had any drinks at this anniversary party, and yet you found yourself with this foggy head like you were tipsy; you blurted something out as if you were tipsy.  “What, you want me to prove it?”

His chest sunk a bit, and you were about to take it back when he spoke before you.  “I’d like to see you try.”

Biting your lip, you sat up on the bed, reaching around him and into the drawer.  He didn’t step back or out of the way, just let you grab the toy and lean back on the bed in front of him.

You reached up under your dress, sliding your panties out of the way, finding yourself suddenly plenty wet to fit this toy.

His eyes never left you, though they certainly travelled all over your body as you pressed the toy up to your entrance; it was thick, he wasn’t wrong, and you had to slowly warm yourself up to it whenever you used it on yourself. 

After pushing with enough pressure, the tip finally slipped inside and you let out a small sigh.  He watched carefully, and your lips fell open into a moan as you pushed the toy deeper into yourself.  When the stretch became a bit too sharp, you winced and slowed down, trying to take your time even with your heart racing and hands shaking.

You heard his own breathing picking up, watching you take the toy deeper; you found your gaze wandering over him, even lingering on his groin to see if you could catch a bulge growing there, but nothing was obvious yet.  You stared for a moment at his hands, too, suddenly wishing to have them all over you—well, maybe not that suddenly, you’d sort of thought about this before.  It wasn’t until somewhat recently that you noticed how sexy he was.  Maybe when you were younger, you understood that he was better looking than all the other adults you knew, but only once you left for college did you start thinking about him out of nowhere, imagining what he was really like when he wasn’t just being friendly with you—you even asked your mom once on a phone call if he was dating anyone.  Thankfully, she didn’t seem to get suspicious when you asked that; but she’d be more than fucking suspicious if she walked in now, saw you doing this to yourself under his watchful eye.

Oddly enough, the knowledge that someone could walk in and see this just made you even more desperate, and you gasped as you pushed the toy in deeper.

It still wasn’t all the way in, and you already felt so full… truth be told, he had a point about it maybe being too big for you—when you usually used it on yourself, you only put it in a little over halfway, since that was all you really needed.  You hadn’t put the whole thing inside since you first got it—and yes, you’d ordered it online, because if you’d seen it in person you probably would’ve been as intimidated by its girth as he was.

Your decision not to wear a bra with this dress became very apparent when his gaze settled on your chest; your nipples were hard, and clearly visible under the fabric now.  It was just because it was strapless that you went without, but you were thankful for it when you saw him quickly lick his lips at the sight.  You dared to moan just a little louder as you pulled the toy in and out, picking up your pace carefully.

“How’s it feel?” he asked lowly, his eyes drifting back to where the toy slid into you. 

“Good,” you mumbled, “really fucking good.”

“Can you really take it all?” he pressed, making your walls clench on the silicone.

Instead of answering aloud, you simply pushed it all the way in until your eyes rolled back—it was so deep, pressing heavy and fat against your deepest points until it felt like you might burst.

“Fuck,” he praised—it was just a swear, but the way he whispered it made it sound like a praise.

You sped up slightly, trying to do this the way you normally would without someone staring at you.  But you were even more sensitive with him watching, your walls clenching more and more around the toy until it was almost hard to keep thrusting it in and out.  Sighing, you shut your eyes and laid back on the bed to try to help yourself relax.  The change in angle just seemed to make the toy go deeper, rubbing harder against the spot inside you that made your back arch.

“You’re so wet,” he breathed; you whimpered, nodding in agreement, and kept moving the dildo as deep as you could get it with every thrust. 

Your free arm went back over your head to hold onto the comforter under you, your hand gripping tight for some relief for the pressure inside you.  “Fuck yes,” you whispered, knitting your brows together and fucking yourself faster.  “Feels so fucking good…”

He hummed a little, but you kept your eyes shut, afraid you’d lose your nerve if you looked at him again.  It had been months since you used anything but this, and you had no regrets—the toy performed way better than any of the guys you’d met at college.  But, truthfully, you didn’t like having to do this to yourself.  It felt like you could never move it fast or hard enough, and you needed to constantly have perfect control over the toy to get yourself to come—and when you come, the last thing you want is to take control, you want to lay back and lose control.  Still, it was better than the college fuckboys who smelled like beer and didn’t last more than two minutes.

Thinking about them wasn’t going to help you now, though; it was much better to think about Cillian, about those icy blue eyes running all over your body, about how his hands would hold you down while he claimed you, about how his lips would feel on your neck before he whispered in your ear that you were his…

You let out a sharp and sudden moan as the toy hit harder on that spot; your legs started to shake.  “Good girl,” he mumbled, making you moan even louder because god, those words just sounded right in his accent, with that rough voice—and they sounded right being said to you.

“Fuck,” you choked, “Mr. Murphy, I—”

He laughed a little.  “So polite,” he cooed.  “Open your eyes and look at me.”

Though it made your heart beat even faster, you did as you were told.  His stare was all-encompassing, making you feel completely trapped in a way you enjoyed more than you could’ve imagined. 

“Call me Cillian,” he insisted.

You weren’t sure if he meant to literally call him that right in that moment, but it sort of came out anyway: “Cillian,” you moaned, and the grip he’d taken on the dresser behind him tightened.

“Can you come for me?” he asked lowly.  “Right now?  Can you come on that fake cock?”

You bit your lip and nodded, moving the toy faster and faster— more desperate to come than ever.  “I—fuck, yeah, I’m close…”

“Good,” he praised again.  “Let me see you come, honey.”

Your back arched harder, deeper—your hands were shaking but you kept going, holding on tight to the dildo and forcing it back and forth as your legs began to quiver.

Moans poured from your mouth faster than you could try to quiet them—everyone was downstairs, you just had to hope the music and conversation was enough to drown out your desperate, pleading noises.  “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he mumbled, right as you hit the peak and melted into the mattress, a wave of ecstasy pouring over you.

You felt hot everywhere, but especially between your legs—you could swear you felt yourself leaking out around the toy, soaking it, giving away how needy you’d become and not even having the mental energy to feel any shame for it.

Cillian certainly didn’t look like he was trying to shame you for it; when you opened your eyes again, he had a stunned expression—in the best way.  “You normally come that fast for a toy?”

You laughed a little, but you still couldn’t quite catch your breath.  “No,” you admitted, “it normally takes… a bit longer than that…”

“What was different about tonight?” he mused, and you scoffed and rolled your eyes again.

“Shut up,” you sighed.  “Now I have to figure out how to take this thing out—I’m always sore after…”

“If you can handle putting it in, taking it out shouldn’t be much trouble,” he noticed.

Which, yes, that would make sense, but after coming you always got all tight and sensitive and it could be a little intense.

“How about I help you?” he offered, and your chest tightened.  He waited for you to nod before carefully wrapping his hand around your own, watching your face as he gently guided you to pull the toy out.

Your lips were slack and your eyes were probably glassy and dazed as he looked at you like that, completely enveloping you in his stare as he studied every detail of your expression.  Aside from some heavy breathing you didn’t react much to him sliding the toy out of you, until the ridge of the head reached your entrance and you winced.

“Shh,” he soothed gently, “it’s okay…”

A long sigh of relief emptied your chest when the toy tapered off and you felt the last of it slip out of you; you really noticed then how soaked you were, as a draft in the room seemed to cling to the patch of wetness that had coated all between your legs somehow.

“Lemme see, baby,” he cooed under his breath as he set the toy aside, kneeling down and resting a hand on the inside of your thigh to keep your legs open.

You could barely catch your breath with him doing that; you’d never had someone… look at it like that.  You felt incredibly vulnerable but impossibly sexy as you heard him sigh at the sight.  “Is it all stretched out now?” you wondered.

“No,” he said, “you look… just as tight as before.  Fuck.  That’s incredible.”

You bit your lip, sitting up enough to try to get a look at his face past the puffiness of your dress’ skirt, and he smirked up at you with the loveliest sparkle in his eye.  “Really?” you breathed, and he nodded.

Even though your hands were still shaking you suddenly felt brave; maybe it was just the afterglow, but you grabbed him by the shirt and sat up to kiss him, colliding your lips with his.  He reciprocated instantly, putting his hands on your upper back that the strapless dress left bare.

The kiss was perfect—needy but not too fast, sweet but not too chaste, teasing but not too slow.  The guys in college couldn’t even kiss like this… you were wondering why you ever even tried with them—or, you would’ve been if that kiss left you capable of thinking about anything but him.  “Need you,” you whispered as you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his strong shoulders.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips, a hand holding your waist while he started to kiss your neck and jaw.  “Not here—your parents—”

“Don’t care,” you whimpered, “I’m so—fuck, Cillian, please—”

“You already came,” he noticed with a small laugh, “didn’t that take the edge off?”

“Not enough,” you whined, getting impatient and running a hand down over his shirt and down to his pants—and you smiled proudly as you felt the hardening bulge beneath.  He choked a little when you touched him there, holding you tighter.  “You want me too,” you noticed.

“Of course I do, but—” he breathed, then stopped himself as he tossed you back on the bed; you giggled as he crawled up over you, pinning you down.  “But we can’t… your parents would have my head on a platter—once they’re done serving crawfish etouffee off of it downstairs.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on telling my parents,” you smirked.  “Were you?”

“No,” he agreed, kissing your neck again as you hummed happily.  “But if they found out—”

“So?  They wouldn’t like if they found out about what just happened, either—and they won’t.”

“But this is different,” he insisted.

“How?”

“Because this…”

He trailed off, kissing down your neck and over your shoulder, until a hand reached up to pull your dress down and expose your chest.

“Shit,” he sighed at the sight of it, and you smiled up at him.

“You were saying?” you teased.

“Right, erm,” he swallowed, “this is different because—because if we do this, you’re gonna be my girl.  Not just a misguided one-time fuck because you were turned on after screwing yourself with your dildo while I watched.”

You felt a little out of breath but nodded up at him.  “Okay,” you agreed.

“Okay?” he repeated, looking a little shocked.  “I tell you that you have to be mine and you just say okay?”

“What was I supposed to say, yes sir?” you joked.

“I just mean—shit, if I knew it would be this easy, I would’ve said something sooner,” he chuckled.  “But I’m, er, not complaining about the yes sir thing either…”

He sat up and started to unbutton his pants, making you wiggle a bit on the bed impatiently.  Even though you’d just gotten filled by your big toy, you felt needier than ever for something inside you—something real. 

Your throat caught when he took it out— it was pale and veiny just like the rest of him; long, uncut, a bead of precum starting to leak from the slit… it was beautiful, honestly.  The artificial fleshy hue of the silicone could never compete.

“Big enough for you?” he asked with a smirk, but you had to swallow before you answered because your mouth was watering.

“Yeah,” you panted, “plenty.”

He kissed you again, laying more of his weight on top of you; your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him close as he pressed you down into your bed.

One hand found your wrist and held it back above your head, while the other kept a tight wrap around his cock so he could guide it to your waiting entrance.  When he pushed inside, you both sighed with relief like you’d been longing for this for ages—perhaps because both of you had, in your own ways.  “Fuck,” you breathed, “Cillian…”

He whispered your name back to you, heavy and desperate and right by your ear, and you absolutely knew you were his, just like he said.  He only stilled for a moment when he was all the way inside, already starting to rock back and forth—but he was sort of tender about it, watching you move under him as he fucked you.  “So pretty,” he praised quietly, kissing you again, even harder than before.  You both moaned into the kiss, and a warm, rough hand settled on your thigh under your dress.

Soon, the pleasure was too much to even focus on kissing, and your mouth just fell wide open in front of his as needy moans passed through it.  He stayed close, though, watching your face go slack with ecstasy.  The previous orgasm had left you sticky and sensitive inside, still totally dripping for him, everything in you begging for more.  “Oh my god,” you sighed, eyes rolling back, your composure completely slipping already.  He made you feel so good so easily—and fuck, the way he was looking at you, it was just too much to bear.

“Mm,” he hummed proudly, latching his lips onto your neck again until your fingers tangled in his hair.  He moved down and caught a nipple in his mouth, making you whimper as he suckled at it gently. 

“Fuck,” you whined, nearly pulling him along by the hair when he moved to the other one; you couldn’t stop clenching inside, squeezing him until he groaned against your skin. 

“Won’t last if you keep doing that,” he warned you softly. 

“What if I don’t want you to?” you teased, and he growled a little between his teeth, sitting up to look down at you.  He fucked you harder, but put a hand on top of your head and pet your hair for a moment, looking at you like you hung the moon; how could he be so dirty then so adorable within the same split-second?!

“I’ll do whatever you want me to,” he decided, speaking softly, “how about that?  What do you want me to do?”

That was a little too much power to give you, at least in your opinion, but you grinned as you considered it.  “Then I want you to come way too quick,” you decided, “like all those annoying college boys—because you just can’t help yourself.”

He laughed a little, though he stopped to bite his lip as he fucked you even harder—and faster, too.  “Okay,” he breathed, “don’t know why you want that, but—fuck— it won’t be very difficult after that little show you gave me.  You look so pretty when you come…”

“Just keep going and you can see it again,” you promised, holding onto him tighter as he pressed into you and really let you have it—not really rough or anything, you couldn’t risk making any more noise than you were, but still aggressive and passionate and desperate.

He kissed your neck again, burying his face in your shoulder and finding the spot that made you gasp out his name suddenly; your fingers clutched at fistfuls of his undershirt, and your legs began to shake where they were hooked around his hips and half-pushed-down pants.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, the pleasure hitting you again—but it was better than with the toy, it was stronger, and it just kept going because he kept going.  When your head fell back onto the mattress with a sigh, he realized that he’d made you come.

“Wait, fuck, I wasn’t looking,” he rushed as he popped his head up from the crook of your neck, “do it again.”

You laughed breathlessly and pushed against his shoulder a bit; “Shut up, I can’t do it on command.”

“You did it the last two times I told you to,” he reminded you, and that just made you feel even more deliciously dizzy. 

Yes, you were definitely his girl now—totally addicted to him.  You’d never felt like this with somebody—not just physically, but the trust and the laughter and the comfort of it all.  This wasn’t a too-empty dorm room that still smelled like fresh paint, it wasn’t a mattress with no sheets in an apartment with 5 roommates nearby, it wasn’t a guy you vaguely knew from a two-hundred-student class or someone you saw on a dating app and talked with for an afternoon before meeting for ‘coffee’ (it was never just coffee).  This was Mr. Murphy—and that should’ve made it weirder, but somehow, it just made it make more sense.

“So, if I tell you to come again,” he spoke lowly by your ear, a new authority to his tone, “you should come.”

You couldn’t think of anything else to say: “Yes, sir,” you breathed, hugging him close to you and pressing your face against his shoulder.

Of course, it wasn’t quite instantaneous, but just another minute of him giving you those deep, controlled thrusts right into your favorite spot sent you over the edge easily—and this time, he gently guided your face out of its hiding spot and looked at you, watched your pleasure overtake you, tenderly rubbing your cheek with his thumb.  “Good girl,” he praised softly, kissing you again just as the last of it drained from you; you were so numb that you barely heard him whisper something to you—it took you a few seconds to process it.

“I’m gonna come,” he’d whispered to you, “fuck, you’re so fucking warm…”

“Come inside,” you instructed, and for all the concern he tried to perform for you after you said that, his moan was undeniable, as was the way he started to move faster.

“Fuck, really?” he nearly whined.  “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, panting.

“You’re on—”

“Yes, please, just come inside me,” you begged, and he finally stopped protesting and pressed himself as deep into you as he could—you could feel the way his cock flexed, and it made your exhausted walls dig up just enough energy to flex back.

“Fuuuuck,” he groaned, holding onto you tightly.

You hummed a little at the feeling, turning your face towards his, hoping to see what he looked like in this moment—but he pulled you into another kiss before you could get a good look.  Even this kiss was different from the others—a little slower, a little more tired in a wonderful, dreamy way.  He was breathing heavy against you, and eventually he found the energy to push himself up with his arms on either side of your head, and you smiled up at him.  He looked really fucking good like this: his face a bit flushed, which seemed to show his freckles and fine lines even more (which you adored); his hair falling down, a little wavier from the slight sweat he’d worked up; his lips swollen and slick from the kisses; and those eyes, they looked as beautiful as always, but they made you feel beautiful, too.

“Is taking this one out gonna hurt, too?” he asked you with a smirk.

“Probably a little,” you shrugged.

“For both of us,” he agreed, “I’m so fucking sensitive now… you really do have me acting like a desperate college boy—but you know, it’s been a while, so…”

“Right, sure—good excuse,” you joked, but you didn’t mind any of it either way.

He did it a little quicker, pulling back as he took a sharp breath in, and you giggled softly.

“Fuck, I can feel it, like… leaking out,” you admitted, biting your lip at the sick satisfaction of the warm gush.

“I think I need to see that,” he said, sitting up and picking your legs up from under the knee to look at you.  This was apparently a habit of his—and you were starting to get used to it already.

“How’s it look?” you asked, wondering if he’d finally stretched you out after that.

He just stared at it for a moment longer, running his tongue over his teeth, before finally looking back at you and saying with a smile: “Looks like you need the Tide pen more than I do.”

[arcaneauthor]

Skz reacting to you kissing them in front of the other members

Warnings: um some kissing ig? Nothing else really

Tags: established relationships, kissing, so much fluff, seungmin being a little menace like always, I think that’s it

A/n: have this while you wait for my long hyunjin one shot! Also I just started writing skz and don’t fully know how to write their personalities yet so pls be kind🙏

────୨ৎ────

Chan:

I kinda feel like this would be a normal thing for y’all?

Like you would frequently come by the studio while skz is recording to visit him

And you’d always end up giving him a little hello and goodbye kiss

It was always just a peck but you’d think you two were full on groping each other by the way the members start gagging and groaning

They honestly should be used to it by now but they just can’t help but tease their dad leader

Mainly seungmin

“Ew you like kissing old men?”

But Chan’s used to it by now and just rolls his eyes and focuses back on his work

But he can’t hide the smile on his face

He kinda likes when the members tease him, it really makes them feel like family

Minho:

Would definitely turn it into a spectacle

Ik he doesn’t normally like skin ship from the other member that much so many people think he wouldn’t like pda from the reader but I think it’d be quite the opposite

Like I feel like he’d be the type that would grab you and pull you in closer when you try to just give him a peck in the dorm

Like we’re talking turning it into a full on make out session

And he’s fully aware the members are there, that’s partly why he does it

He thinks it’s kinda funny to get a reaction out of them

I feel like there’d be a mix array of both groaning an wolf whistling from the others

Either way he’d just throw a middle finger to the members over his shoulder as he smirks into the kiss

Changbin:

I actually kinda feel like changbin would be a little embarrassed

Like at first he’d kinda forget the other members are there and kinda get into it

And then when he’d hear the reaction from the members he’d pull away with a little blush on his cheeks

Would have that cute little embarrassed smile that he does as he lowers his head a little as he murmurs a “shut up” to the members

(If you’re a stay I feel like you definitely know which smile I’m talking about)

Would totally never admit to anybody that he was blushing

Like the other members maybe Chan would tease him like “aw binnies embarrassed”

And changbin being his loud self would be like “HUH? YOU THINK ID GET EMBARRASSED OVER SOMETHING LIKE THIS?”

Like my mind immediately went to that men in colorful pants vlive he did with Chan and Han when he was yelling at chan for calling him out on rapping his line too fast and he was like “YOU THINK I RAPPED FAST CAUSE I WAS NERVOUS?” Lol

Just imagine him saying it like that if you’ve seen that live

Jisung:

This man would be SHOOK

Like I’m talking about pulling away like he’s been BURNED

Quokka cheeks are flaming red

Why do I almost feel like this man would let out a surprised yelp as if you’ve just attacked him lmao

Looks between you and the members with wide eyes like “did that really just happen?”

unlike with the others I feel like the members wouldn’t make teasing comments towards you guys

They’d just be on the floor ROLLING at Han for getting so flustered

And even though you were the cause of it he’d still hide his face behind you to escape his embarrassment

Hyunjin:

Feel like he wouldn’t get too into the kiss knowing the others are there

But also would definitely lean into you a bit

For some reason I just feel like hyunjin would be an amazing kisser

I mean have you seen those luscious lips??

Anyways that’s a story for another fic lol I’m getting distracted

like Chan I’d feel like he’d get his sassy eye roll going on when the members made a comment

With how much it seems that hyunjin and seungmin play around with each other seungmin would definitely tease the shit out of him

And hyunjin would give him that signature bombastic side eye

I feel like seungmin would keep it going to the point of hyunjin just eventually standing up to literally pounce on him

Seungmin would just be laughing like a maniac the whole time

Felix:

I actually feel like Felix wouldn’t be as embarrassed as you’d think

Like Ik he’s a smol bean but down deep I feel like Felix is actually pretty confident

Not in a cocky way but like he’s sure of himself yk?

Like I feel like he’d just smile into it

Turns it into a bit of a longer but still soft and sweet kiss

Just completely ignoring the noises from the members in the background

Like I think he’d just be in his own little world with you

After y’all pull away he just pulls you to sit facing forward on his lap and hugs you from behind

Has THE brightest smile on his face as he does it

Seungmin:

I kinda feel like seungmin wouldn’t like you giving him pda

Not like to the point of getting angry or anything

But I kinda feel like he’d pull an “ew” face lol

(And I don’t mean this as being bad or anything, I myself don’t really love pda so I get it lol)

But you probably do it to just playfully annoy him

Which is why you’d probably be giggling with the members at him

“I hate you guys” but he’d say it with a smile on his face so you knew he wasn’t actually upset about it

He’d probably give you a long kiss later in his room to make up for it

Jeongin:

He wouldn’t go as far as to immediately yank away like jisung

But he’d definitely be a shy baby

Ik he looks all grown up and stuff these days but I feel like little baby bread is still under there somewhere lol

Like his eyes would widen mid kiss when he really processes that you’re kissing him in front of everyone

The members wouldn’t so much as tease him like with the others as they would moan and groan about seeing their little maknae doing “adult stuff” lol

Poor thing would definitely turn red, covering his face with his hands as he sunk down

Would honestly be wishing the couch would just swallow him up

Probably wouldn’t make eye contact with you for the rest of the night because he’d just start immediately blushing lol

Also would probably keep his distance cause anytime your hands so much as touched the members would tease him about y’all making sure you weren’t “moving too fast”

End notes: well I officially finished this at 5am lmao. Guess I better head to bed🫡

[lovebugism]

thigh riding Carmy because he isn't paying attention to you please please please 😭

summary: carmy misses date night and finds a way to work and make you feel good at the same time (2.2k)

pairing: carmy berzatto / f!reader

contents: established relationship, thigh riding, public setting (ish), dirty talk, smut with sprinkles of fluff 18+

Carmy’s office is a windowless concrete cage of chaos. There are a million papers stacked and scattered across his desk, half-hidden beneath books that are flipped open to random pages. You’re not sure how he’s keeping up with any of it. Though, to be fair, you’ve never been able to completely understand his mind.

You know him better than anyone else, but he’s still such a mystery to you sometimes — like a language you can read perfectly but can’t speak all the way. 

You don’t know why he runs himself aground with work even though it kills him, even though he swears the enormity of his desire brings him back to life again. You just know to try and save the drowning man from himself from time to time, and not to let him strangle you with his panic in the process.

“Bear?” you call gently into the amber-lit office, knuckles rapping against the opened door. “You ready?”

Sitting slouched over his desk, you can hear the faint tap tap tapping of his pen against the paper, an anxious tick for his ever-fidgeting fingers. “No. Not— Not yet, baby. I’m fuckin’— I’m drowning in this paperwork right now.”

He lifts his heavy head from his tattooed hand and glances at you over his shoulder. The sight of you makes his breath catch — leaning against the doorframe, all pretty in the lamplight, wearing the dress he bought you.

The deep emerald silk drips over your body like summer rain. It dips low at your chest and flows just above your knees, fitting you like a total dream.

Carmy, for a flicker of a moment, forgets to be anxious. 

While his eyes dart over your form, the rest of the world disappears — it could be entirely falling apart for all he knows, but all he can see now is you. Your stormy eyes, your soft skin, and your quiet sensuality. Your ruby lips, your cheeks like wine, and your gentle voice. 

His mouth falls agape to say words he can’t make out. His ocean eyes go wide, glimmering a deeper blue in the low light — which casts dark shadows over the sharp edges of his face. His gaze is like the sea. You feel yourself drowning in it accordingly.

“It can’t wait?” you press gently, lifting yourself from the doorframe and sauntering slowly towards him. Closing the door behind you, you drop your chin to your chest and flash the boy a sheepish smile. “All the restaurants are gonna close soon.” 

Carmy huffs. He knew better than to plan a date. He’s far too busy — or, rather, he doesn’t allow himself to be anything other than busy because there’s a voice inside him that just won’t be still. Working himself to death was an art he did exceptionally well, which hadn’t bothered him so much until he met you.

“I gotta get this done, babe,” he answers sympathetically, tilting his chin to keep his eyes locked with yours as you near him.

Your familiar scent sets the stagnant air aglow. The warmth of your perfume cradles his senses when you loom beside him. Your hand rises to his shoulder, fingers fidgeting with the swathe of curls at the nape of his neck. His wide palm smooths over your hip — softly calloused against the satiny fabric. 

You smile softly down at him. “So I got all pretty for nothin’?” you tease with a scrunched nose.

“Well, you got all pretty for me, actually,” Carmy corrects.

His pink lips curl in a faint smirk. Your grin widens tenfold. The subtle act of possessiveness, coupled with the strong hand on your waist, makes your chest sparkle. 

“Yeah, I did,” you hum proudly, bending at the waist to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. He tastes fleetingly of nicotine and sweet plum wine — a maddening concoction.

You rise to full height again. Carmy pats your hip twice before his fingers fall away. He turns back to his desk, and you feel half-invisible again. It’s hardly his fault, though. There was something deeply intense about his stone-blue eyes. You feel strangely held when he looks at you, left inevitably mourning every time he turns away.

His pen darts across the gridded page in chicken scratch you can’t make out, worsened by his wrist smudging the ink. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck. You bury your nose in his chestnut curls and inhale the familiar scent of grill smoke and cedarwood. 

“You know I don’t care actually about going out, right?” you mumble there.

Carmy hums, half-distracted. “Mhm.”

“Just wanna spend time with you… Don’t care what we’re doing…”

You press a kiss to his temple. He leans instinctively into your touch. “Well, I’ll make you the best damn PB&J Chicago’s ever seen when we get back home, alright?” he muses with a quiet smile. “How’s that sound?”

“I’m holding you to that, Bear,” you say, grinning into his curls.

“I’m countin’ on it.” Carmy chuckles and lifts his free hand to squeeze your wrist. His touch slips away soon after when he turns back to his work. 

Quiet returns, heavy and deafening, filled only by the distant clanging of pots from stragglers in the kitchen. It makes you strikingly aware of yourself — of the space you’re filling in this tiny office, and the distracting weight of your arms around his neck. Feeling more like a burden, you clear your throat and pull away.

“I’m, uh— I’m gonna see if Richie left yet. Maybe he’ll let me bum a smoke or something.”

Carmy mourns your warmth the second you’re gone. He spins in his swivel chair to face you, laughing to cover up his ache. “What happened to us spending time together?”

He knows how you think. You think he gets so involved in his work that he doesn’t spare you a single thought. But really, he’s so strongly devoted to you that it feels like the emotion could rip him open from the inside.

You squint. “Watching you sign a bunch of paperwork while you pretend I’m not here is not spending time together,” you argue, laughing despite yourself.

“Don’t go. C’mon,” Carmy pleads, very distantly begging. He tilts his head and blinks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Come sit,” he tells you.

“Sit where?” you scoff.

“In my lap.”

“I’ll squish you,” you insist, giggling.

“Shut up and sit down,” he commands, still playful but leaving little room for argument. His wide palms smooth slowly up and down his denim-clad thighs. Your heart lurches into your throat.

You walk the short distance to him with a huff of feigned annoyance, dress swishing around your knees. Carmy pushes away from his desk to give you space to sit. You take a seat on his lap, just like he asked you to, but he stops you with a pair of strong hands grasping your hips.

“Not like that,” he murmurs.

Your brows furrow in response. “What do you mean?”

“On my thigh,” Carmy corrects, swatting playfully at your clothed hip. “C’mon. Sit right.”

You rise slowly, with a hesitant squint in your eyes. “What are you playing at, Bear?” you wonder lowly, legs spread slightly to welcome his thigh between them.

Carmy bounces his shoulder in a lazy shrug. His tattooed hands creep up the hem of your dress to urge you down onto his lap — the proper way. “You’re the one always sayin’ I’m too busy for you, right?” he responds, hardly expecting a real answer, as he helps you straddle one of his thighs.

The angle is awkward. The old chair leaves little room for the both of you. You’re forced to keep one leg on the ground while the other bends at the knee between his legs. You hold tight to his shoulders, trusting him to keep you steady. Your dress bunches at your hips in the meanwhile. Carmy raises his thigh until it’s flush against your clothed cunt. 

Your breath catches, and he smirks.

“So… You’re gonna cum on my thigh,” he continues casually. “…And after that, we’ll go home, I’ll fuck you like you need, and then I’ll run you a bath… How’s that sound?”

Your stomach swirls with a familiar warmth — which you can feel pooling in your panties now. “What about the PB&J?” you joke in a quiet voice that trembles only slightly.

Carmy scoffs a faint laugh. “After the bath.”

“What about in the bath?”

“Whatever you want,” he assures with a smile. “You just gotta ride me first.”

The lighthearted air turns bone-crushingly sensual in a flicker of a moment. His light eyes pierce you mercilessly, peering into the depths of your soul. You melt for him, going uncharacteristically soft and subservient, just how he likes.

Carmy helps you with a few passes over his thigh. You’re obviously unsure, and he can tell by your hesitant movements. His free hand squeezes your hip, urging you up his leg and down again, until you find your own rhythm. Then he turns back to his work and tries to focus. The soft sound of your breathy moans entwines with the scribbling of his pen.

You rock your hips in measured thrusts, trying to find the proper pace. The delicate fabric of your panties ruts along the rough denim of his jeans — catching your clit perfectly when you buck your hips just right. Lightning strikes down your spine, then. Both alleviating the ache between your thighs and creating a new one all at once. 

Your breath hitches. Pitiful whimpers sound in your throat instead. You bury them all in Carmy’s neck as you hide your face in his shoulder, with your warm cheek pressed to his ear and your fingers balling his shirt in your fists.

There was something foreignly erotic about all this. Being in Carmy’s office, the door unlocked, with Syd and Richie meandering elsewhere in the kitchen. The fear of being caught made your movements quick. Careless. Wild. 

And there was something about Carmy, too. The way he’s got you getting yourself off, with little help from the boy himself, while he busies himself with paperwork. You can hear him scribbling away still, flitting through papers with the hand not holding you. All while you hump his thigh, so desperate for attention. It’s pathetic. And something about it made you feel good.

Your pretty whimpers turn into deeper, breathier moans. Carmy smiles to himself. He can feel the warmth of your cunt despite the layers between you. It makes him wonder if you’ve left a stain on the denim. He prays you’ve left a stain on the denim — wants the mark of your honey stamped there forever.

“You close?” he murmurs when he notices your legs starting to tremble.

You bury a whine in his neck. “Fuck, Bear—”

“Hey,” he hums, pulling away from his paperwork for the first time in several minutes to look at you. 

His long fingers rise from your hip and curl into your hair. He tugs softly at the strands to urge your head back so he can admire his work. Your eyes are lidded and glassy, your lips swollen and parted — already fucked-out, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“I asked if you were close,” he repeats, unsmiling.

“Yes,” you manage through a whimper.

His grip on your hair slackens. His touch returns to your hip, encouraging your rapid movements. His pink lips quirk in the faintest hint of a smile. “Good,” he praises. “Good girl. Keep going.”

You bury your face in his neck again, lips curling around your teeth to stifle the moans swelling there. Your hips lose their rhythm as the threat of your orgasm grows. Your clit pounds like a second heartbeat. You briefly wonder if Carmy can feel it, and the thought alone sends you reeling.

“Carmy,” you keen, voice wavering. “I’m gonna cum.”

You feel him nod against you. He licks his lips and turns his head. His nose squishes your temple; his wet mouth brushes your ear. 

“Do it, then. C’mon,” he mumbles against you, coaxing you closer towards your pleasure — not because he’s a pro at the whole dirty-talking thing, but because he knows how much you like it. “Be a good girl and cum on my thigh. Come on.”

You last two more passes up and down his lap before you tense on top of him. Your hips still as you whimper into his shoulder, shuddering hard when your orgasm washes over you.

“Atta girl,” Carmy praises. “Keep cumming for me.”

He drops his pen and finally turns away from his work. He grips your hips with both hands and works you the rest of the way through your orgasm. You let him, for a few agonizing moments, until your high fades and leaves you achingly sensitive.

You inhale sharply through your nose and reach suddenly for his wrists. “No more,” you plead, then exhale a breathy chuckle.

When you part from his neck, Carmy ducks his head to catch your averted gaze. His wide eyes dart over your pleasure-stricken features. “You good?” he wonders. His words have lost any hint of sensuality. He’s always serious about checking in on you.

You nod and swallow hard. “’M good,” you promise, then freeze when your knee nudges his half-hard cock. “Are you good?” you parrot.

Carmy scoffs a breathy chuckle. “I’m almost done here— go bum a smoke from Richie, alright? I’ll out in a second.” 

He kisses you softly. A chaste kiss that’s perhaps too innocuous for such a honeyed moment. You rise on tired legs, and he swats playfully at your side. “How’s that for spending time together, huh?” he calls over his shoulder as you wrench open the office door.

“You’re an idiot, Bear.”

[moondirti]

daddy kink. inspections. female reader. mean price. fluffy ending. mention of cunt slapping.

latching on to price’s forearm when he anchors it between your legs. he has the soaked gusset of your panties yanked to the side, fingers prodding for purchase along your doughy folds. callouses slipping, slicked. prying for something — what, you don’t know, though you bite your lip to settle through the pain. his touch isn’t as placatory as it would be if was trying to arouse pleasure. sturdy, rather. a little forceful.

similarly, the kitchen countertop is unrelenting below. cool marble digs into your behind, edge cutting into the soft flesh of your thighs. it makes you wish you wore bottoms this morning — before acknowledging how short-lived that would be. there’s a multi-purpose tool on every flat surface available (gifts, from those who don’t know that all he wants, on every occasion, is a tight thing wriggling atop his lap and a bottle of glen scotia), and you’ve suffered enough torn shorts at their doing to have found that the most you can get away with is a pair of cotton briefs and a loose shirt. easy access, he calls it.

like now. you focus on anything but the intrusive ministrations he doles to your poor pussy, whimpering quietly behind bitten lips. though it’s ritual, you have yet to get used to his morning inspections. they alway feel a little cruel in a way you don’t deserve. you’ve been good in the time since you’ve seen him last — sitting on your hands, declining every invitation to a night out, locking your toys in the safe he keeps in the closet — but no amount of pleading your case will get you out of this. he has to see it for himself. feel the undisturbed skin around your hole, the ripe fruit of your clit, plump as it has yet to be unpicked.

“daddy,” you breath, leaning into the strength his shoulder affords when he shoves a finger in dry. it’s hard to keep still as he searches your insides, probing through velvet walls like they’re his own. at this point, all of you might as well be.

“wiggle again ‘n’ i’ll slap this stupid cunt silly.”

your tongue notches itself between your teeth, struggling when you bite down to stifle further complaint. he’s so mean; never as indulgent in the mornings as he is in tipsy afternoons, when he’ll place you down onto his thigh, and let you suck on his fingers to sate the oral fixation that had you mouthing at his groin.

what you find, in your new effort to stay silent, is his arm serves as a better distraction than the metallic wash of blood around your gums. your nails trace it delicately, drifting through the tufts of dark hair that veil old tattoos. the way it will comb to your direction, going one direction when you pave the way, is so unlike the man currently pulling your clit hood back, watching it twitch in cool air. price is fixed, mulish in a manner you’ve learnt is best to let go. rooted in the disciplinarian logic taught to him by his father, and his father before him — tradition sticks, tacky in his marrow. trying to scour it out of him, urge him to see differently, is like taking trouble with the one thing that makes him… him.

you say nothing when he spreads either lip apart.

the muscles creaking from elbow to wrist are more analogous to his character. they twist, writhe, sinew stretching in a way that seems impossible to you. if you squeeze hard enough, you swear you can feel each individual fibre working minutely beneath the surface of his skin. his body is ignited, emanating a dry heat always — which serves your purposes nicely on frigid winter nights, tucked into the expansive furnace of his back. when your fingertips tap the crease of his arm, they sap feverish warmth, along with the elastic efforts that keep you pinned in place.

“legs.” he demands, knuckles rapping on one knee to complete his demand. you’re a little dumb, pleasure slowly bleeding into your veins, making the best of the rough attention your cunt receives, so all you do is blink. once, twice. “wider, now.”

but he doesn’t give you another chance. instead, he shoves them apart himself, his watch scratching the thin skin of your inner thighs.

his watch. black dial and brown leather strap, worn a little with use. though he’s told you the specifics of its make and model, most you remember is that it can also be used as a stopwatch. tactical, utilitarian, as things tend to be with him, but inflated at such a cost that you blanched upon hearing he uses it on the field. don’t you worry about it?

there are far more important things to worry about.

you’ve tried it on your wrist, once, and found that it hung uselessly, several sizes too big. he fills in that extra space so well, veins branching from where it hugs his carpal, adding dimension to the hand that disappears into your pussy.

you wish you would worm your way into his skin, nestle there with all the things that paint this portrait you love so dearly. it would do a great deal for the anxiety that plagues you while he’s away, stressing about loss of mind or limb, or the loss of your daddy in his entirety, out there somewhere where you cannot reach him.

(you wonder, briefly — ridiculously — whether he feels the same about you. but those suspicions are eased when he pulls away from the bracket of your hips, proud smile warping the moustache atop his lip, and places a scratchy kiss to your temple.)

“that’s a good girl.”

[suncoved]

OUCH! — RAFE CAMERON

pairing; boyfriend!rafe cameron x clumsy!fem!reader

summary; rafe wouldn't trade his clumsy girlfriend for the world.

warnings ; bit of blood (blood nose), fluffy fluff, ooc rafe fsss

you let out a huff to yourself as you reach your hand up to your forehead, clutching it softly and praying to yourself that you weren't sweating profusely. it was deathly hot in the outerbanks today, and your usually 5 minute walk to the cameron house had slowly turned into 15. you did not work well with heat, even after living in the obx for your entire life.

you knew if you called rafe and asked him to come get you at your house he probably would, but you wanted to have some dignity.

trying not to explode with happiness, you stepped into the doorway of the cameron house. with the ac cooling your body, you sighed in relief and made your way to the kitchen. you were always welcome at rafe's, you were there more than you were at your own house.

you heard someone yell your name behind you, whipping around to see rafe's little sister wheezie bolting towards you. "hi wheezie girl" you said as she really knocked you down from the force of her embrace. you had known wheezie since she was a baby and she loved and adored you like a big sister.

you ruffled her hair as she hugged you, though you were both quick to pull back from the heat still prevalent in your body temperature. "how'd the algebra test go?" you asked, adjusting her glasses that were now crooked on her face.

"not good, another D" she sighed, moving towards the kitchen counter as your eyes followed her movements. "its ok wheeze. you'll do better next time, i know you will." she smiled at you lovingly, before turning her eyes back to the current math question she was working on in her book.

you brought yourself to the kitchen cabinet, reaching in to pull out a glass. you loved rafes house, it was beautiful and clean and it had all your favourite things. food, blankets, a pool, an endless array of books and rafe, of course.

wait. where was rafe?

"where's your brother wheeze?" you asked, taking a sip out of your now full cup of water. "he went down to the gym with topper and kelce a bit ago, he's in one of his moods" she sighed, referring to the particularly touchy moods rafe gets in every once in a while.

which means he's extra pissed off than usual.

good.

you said goodbye to wheezie and made your way back out into the heat, walking down the steps and around the house to where the camerons gym was. you heard the loud rap music from miles away, the grunts of the boys echoing louder and louder and you got closer.

you got distracted from the damage of the hurricane on the shore of the beach outside the cameron house, your feet carrying you unconsciously towards your final destination.

you skimmed your eyes over the backyard, the pool foggy and murky, leaves and branches floating on top of the water. you bit your lip to stifle a laugh at wheezie jumping up and down with her phone in the air, trying to get wifi.

you were worried about how hard the cleaners and gardens were going to have to work to get the yard back in shape, but before you could come to feel empathetic for them, a searing pain arose on the bridge of your nose.

your eyes filled with tears as you reached your manicured hand up to your nose, the red crimson liquid staining your fingers and dripping onto your new yellow sundress.

because you weren't watching where you were going, you had run smack dab into the side of the entrance to the gym, your nose hitting the hinge that was sticking out of the wall.

you could taste the metallic substance dripping down your lips, your ears ringing from the pain. yes, you were always just a bit of a crybaby, but you had a low pain tolerance and bumping your nose hurt like shit.

you could hear the sound of weight dropping aggressively as you let out a whimper, clutching your nose in your hand. it was only seconds before heavy hands made their way onto your hips, an all too familiar strong cologne engulfing your nose, making it sting even more.

but you knew who it was, so you didn't hesitate to turn your body around and lay your head on his chest, your hand still protectively covering your nose. you couldn't help but sob at the pain, soft shushes and a hand rubbing your back comforting you softly as you wept.

rafe felt the blood stain his shirt, but he made no effort to move, kissing the top of your head softly.

it wasn't unusual for your daydreaming to lead you to injure yourself in some way. whether it was tripping over or banging into something, rafe knew your clumsiness all too well. but he hadn't seen you cry like this in pain since the 5th grade when you fell off the monkey bars and knocked your head.

along with his sets that were yet to finish, topper and kelce were now long forgotten in his mind. all he thought about was you, and the fact that you were in pain. it made him go fucking crazy.

"baby" he sighed softly as he gently pried you off his chest, pulling back to try to get a good look at your face. your hand was covered in blood, along with your lips and chin, the crimson red still dripping from your nose.

"fuck" he cursed, watching your tears flow down your cheeks in a steady stream. rafe wasn't often calm and collected, but this was a whole different level. he was freaking out.

he quickly took your hand in his, dragging you softly up to the entrance of tannyhill. the only thing he could hear was your whimpers and sobs echoing in his head, all he could think about was you.

before you knew it you were being lifted up onto the cool surface of rafes bathroom counter, the cold marble making you shiver as your dress rode up to expose your thighs. rafe quickly grabbed out multiple tissues from the box, gathering them together in his hand.

"this is going to pinch baby, i'm sorry. hold my hand yeah?" he asked — well — demanded. you felt him bring the paper up to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose softly to stop the blood flow.

he made quick work of multi-tasking as he kept the tissue on your nose, quickly cleaning the blood of your lips and chin. he didn't look you in the eyes once as the whole ten minutes he held your nose, waiting patiently before finally pulling away.

you had never been more thankful as you felt no more blood trickle down your face — and so was rafe.

he sighed as he threw the tissue in the bin, grabbing your face in his hands and holding leaning his forehead on yours. you looked into his eyes before he closed them and took a deep breath in.

"don't ever fucking do that to me again baby."

[ladycaramelswirl]

Tease

Aaron Hotchner x girlfriend reader

Summary: Hotch is a workaholic and you’re just… helping everyone out (mouth fucking him senseless). Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: reader is kinda bratty 🤭 Hotch is canonically a giggly kisser and weak to teasing, sooo… I did what I had to do. Idc. Porn no plot. warnings/tags: adult content, mdni. Sex in public? Don’t do this at your workplace guys. No use of y/n. Praise kink if you squint.

enjoy 🤍

———————

You wait until everyone’s distracted to slip into Hotch’s office and close the door behind you. He smiles at your presence.

“Hello”, he says softly. 

You walk over to seat yourself in his lap and he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady. 

“Want to do something fun?”, you tease, playing with his tie. He looks at you apologetically.

“Honey, I have so much work to do”.

Lying workaholic. He needs a break and you both know it. You give him a playful shove.

“No you don’t. You’ve already finished everything for today. Let’s go home”, you insist. He rubs his thumb against your hips. 

“I know, but I want to get this extra stuff done today”, he says, taking your hand off of his tie to kiss it. 

You take the other hand and palm him through his trousers and he groans. You grin, sliding in closer and grinding against him. He doesn’t do much to stop you, losing himself in the movement of your ass on his cock.

“L-look”, he stammers, his breath hitching in pleasure. “Maybe later we can-“

He stops talking as you unbutton your blouse to reveal your breasts, held in place by lacy black lingerie. He groans into your neck and you grin, feeling his cock swell under your hips. You lean in to put your lips to his ear.

“Want to see the matching underwear?”

His eyes immediately darken in interest, and he practically picks you up and places you on his desk. Giggling, you unbuckle his belt. 

He smiles as he leaves soft kisses down your neck.

“You’re so perfect”, he murmurs into your skin.

It almost makes you feel bad to push his face away start buttoning your shirt back up. He frowns.

“What are you doing?”

You smile at him not-so innocently.

“I thought you had to work?”

He smirks. 

“If you don’t take off your skirt right now-“

A rap on the door makes you both freeze.

“Agent Hotchner? It’s Anderson. May I come in?”, a shaking voice asks.

You look down at your half open shirt and his unzipped trousers. Shit.

You push Hotch into his chair and crawl under his desk. You hadn’t exactly told anyone you’re dating yet and this is not how you want them to find out. So somehow you find yourself on your knees in front of Aaron’s cock, with an agent only 10 feet away. 

Hotch straightens his tie and you settle into a slightly more comfortable position. The precum from when you were grinding on him earlier glistens in front of you. You feel yourself throb at thought of it in your mouth.

“Yes, come in”, Hotch calls out. 

You pull his chair closer into the desk. You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help but run your tongue up from the base to his tip, lightly sucking the head. Hotch takes a sharp inhale, barely stifling his gasp. You grin as you slowly lower your mouth onto his cock and see him grab onto his desk for dear life. This was what he gets for refusing to go home on time. 

Anderson walks in, his anxious hands fiddling with a file.

“Sir?”, he asks. “I was wondering…” 

You hear him shuffle his feet on the carpeted floor. Hotch furrowing his brows in a desperate attempt at a poker face was probably not helping the poor agent’s nervousness. Hotch runs a hand soothingly along the top of your head, trying to signal to you to slow down. It only makes you hollow your cheeks and squeeze the underside of his cock with your tongue, causing his stomach to flex in restraint. The young agent is still stammering.

“Spit it out Anderson”, Hotch grits through his teeth. 

From his angle, he can see the way your lips look on his cock and your breasts peeking out from your barely-there bra. 

You make sure to catch his eye before taking him all the way all the way to the hilt. It makes your eyes water a little, but the way he has to literally close his eyes to take a deep breath makes it totally worth it.

“I was wondering if I could go home early today?”, Anderson asks. “I know that I’m-“

“Yes. Sure, just go”, Hotch says breathlessly. But your movement makes him frown in an attempt to stifle a moan, which gives Anderson the wrong impression. 

“Sir I know that it’s last minute and I should have asked earlier, but I just want to say-“

You use your hands to move with your head up and down his shaft which causes Hotch’s hips to buckle up slightly. 

“Anderson”, he hisses. “Go. Home. Now.”

The poor agent scurries away, barely remembering to close the door. 

Now without the threat of someone overhearing you, Hotch whimpers, which only makes you move faster. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck”, he whispers breathlessly.

He’s desperate to not make any sounds but he can’t help but let out a soft moan. You feel his cock twitch.

“Sweetheart I’m- fuck- I’m going to come-“, he splutters. “God, you’re so-“

You cup his balls and fuck him so good he sees stars, throwing his head back in ecstasy as his cum explodes in your mouth. He’s gripping his chair so tight to keep himself from shouting out your name. 

When you’re certain he’s come down from his high, you release him. He brushes your hair away from your face and pulls you up into his lap.

“I can’t believe you just did that”, he whispers.

“You liked it”, you smirk, giving him a kiss. He smiles, but doesn’t deny it as he kisses you back.

“I’m going to get you back for it someday”, he grins. 

You raise an eyebrow. He is going down.

“You still haven’t seen my underwear”, you tease. Hotch immediately perks up.

“I’m calling it an early day today! Everyone go home!”, he yells through his closed door. Outside Hotch’s office, everyone looks at each other, confused. They can’t tell if he’s joking and no one moves to get up.

You, however, get up from his lap, seating yourself on his table and bringing your hands under your skirt, slowly peeling off your now soaked underwear. In the process, Hotch catches a glimpse of your glistening cunt.

“If you don’t go home now I’m making you do 2 hours of extra paperwork!”, Hotch barks.

You giggle as you hear everyone frantically packing up their things. 

Hotch watches as you drop your underwear to the floor, followed by your shirt. 

“You’re going to be the death of me”, he whispers. 

“Lock the door”, you tell him. 

He looks at you with a glint in his eye, and you know you’re about to get exactly what you deserve for being so naughty.

It’s really only fair that he makes you come so many times he has to carry you to his car.

————————

masterlist

[maxtermind]

“your opinion of me won't change, right?” + lando (who kinda has a fuckboy reputation but fell for the reader)

“your opinion of me won't change, right?”

( event masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ★:summary:: the one where a fuckboy gets turned into a loverboy? ★:feat:: lando norris x reader ★:genre:: hurt/comfort

the knock on your door comes around midnight when you're almost going to bed. you don’t expect anyone, especially not him.

for a second, you stand still, unsure of what to do with heart thudding. but the persistent rapping doesn’t stop, and despite the days of silence between you two, you already know who it is.

when you swing the door open, lando stumbles in, his shoulders slumped, eyes clouded with alcohol and something darker. his hair is a mess, damp from the rain, and he reeks of whiskey and regret.

“y/n,” he breathes out, almost as if he’s relieved to see you. but you’re not relieved at all. you’re angry, confused, and hurt and looking at him really hit you so hard that you had to squeeze the ends of your his t-shirt to not stumble.

you close the door behind him, and he sways unsteadily. he’s drunk—drunker than you’ve ever seen him. his clothes are disheveled, his usual cool confidence replaced by something pitiful, something raw.

"lando, what the hell are you doing here?" your voice is sharp, meant to sting, because his presence alone already rips at the wounds that haven't even started healing yet.

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he looks at you with those familiar blue eyes, the same ones that once made you weak in the knees, but now… they just bring back the pain. his lips tremble as if he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t.

"you—" lando slurs slightly, stepping forward, hands outstretched. "you weren't… supposed to leave. you—" it washed over you like a bucket of cold water and you're already moving away from his touch.

"don't." your voice cracks, and you hate how fragile you sound. you take another step back, putting more space between you two. "don’t come here like this again."

lando rubs his face, pacing around your small living room slowly, stumbling over air. he’s spiraling, trying to collect his thoughts, but the alcohol muddles his brain and you can see the struggle on his face.

“i didn’t mean to… i didn’t want you to leave,” he mutters. he turns to you, desperation in his eyes. "i messed up, okay? i know that. but i… fuck, i’m trying, y/n."

you cross your arms, every muscle tense. "trying? you’re drunk, lando. that’s not trying."

his face crumples at your words, and he stumbles back, this time collapsing onto the couch like his legs can’t hold him up anymore. his hands run through his hair, pulling at it in frustration, in agony.

you vividly remember what happened a few nights ago when a girl texted him asking if he was up for 'another' great night. it wasn't easy being with someone while knowing he could have anyone in the entire world and with his past, you were already always on the edge of letting your insecurities out.

it just led to a bigger argument where instead of assuring you how you were the only one he ever wanted, he asked you to either start trusting him or leave.

so you left.

"do you know how much i fucking hate myself?" his voice is hoarse now, barely above a whisper, but the rawness in it cuts through you like a knife as it brings you back to the present. "i tried to be better for you. i… i tried."

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, trying to stay firm, but it’s hard. it's always been hard with him. "you have a funny way of showing it."

he lifts his head slowly, tears brimming in his eyes now, and the sight is enough to make your resolve crack just a little. you've never seen him cry before. not like this.

“your opinion of me won’t change, right?” his voice breaks, and you freeze. the vulnerability in his question sends a jolt of pain straight to your chest. he sounds small, defeated, like the weight of everything he’s been carrying has finally crushed him.

“lando…” you whisper, but he doesn’t let you finish.

"because everyone else—" he pauses, taking in a shaky breath. "they all think they know me? that i’m just some… some asshole who doesn’t care, who’s not capable of… anything real? but i’m not. i’m not, y/n. you know that, right?"

the room feels heavy, like the air is thickening with every word. you want to say something, to tell him that you believed in him once, that you saw the good in him, the real lando, but it’s not that simple anymore.

"i fell for you," he says, voice trembling, eyes glistening as he stares up at you like you're the only thing that can save him. with the rapid blinking of his eyes, tears start to fall and so does your resolve. "i wish i didn’t put you through this, but i did. and i didn’t know how to be that guy… the one you deserved. but i tried. i’m still trying."

it’s quiet for a moment, just the sound of his ragged breathing and your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

you look at him, really look at him. his face is flushed from the alcohol and the tears, but beneath that, you see something more. he’s broken in ways you never let yourself see before.

all the cockiness, the bravado, the charm—it was all just a shield. he never thought he was good enough for you either, and maybe that’s why you left. you repeat it to yourself but it was a losing war.

the old lando wouldn’t be here, in front of you, crying and baring his soul. he wouldn’t have admitted any of this. isn't that reason enough to give him another chance?

he was selfish before, reckless, hiding behind his reputation as the playboy, the fun guy who never cared too deeply about anything. but now, now you see the cracks. you see the vulnerability he’s tried so hard to bury and it kills you to give in but the words leave you before you can stop yourself.

"i thought you didn’t care," you admit softly, feeling all your defenses start to crumble. "that’s why i left, lando. i didn’t think you could care."

"i fucking love you," he lets out a bitter laugh, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. not believing what you were saying at all. "i care too fucking much. i just… maybe i don’t know how to show it right."

you sigh, sitting down beside him on the couch, still keeping a little distance between you. "it’s not about showing it right. it’s about showing it at all."

he looks at you, his gaze softer now, more open. "i’m sorry. i know i’ve been… i know i fucked up. but i’m… i love you, y/n. i really fucking love you. and i didn’t know how much until you weren’t there."

his words hang in the air, and for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel anger or hurt. you just feel… sad. sad for him, sad for you, sad for all the misunderstandings that led you here.

you reach out, gently brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead. he closes his eyes at the touch, leaning into it like he’s starved for your touch. he probably is because so are you.

"i’ve changed," he murmurs, his voice thick with exhaustion. "i swear loving you has changed me."

you don’t respond right away. instead, you lean forward and press a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. his skin is warm beneath your lips, and the simple gesture feels more intimate than anything you’ve ever shared before.

when you pull back, lando looks at you through heavy-lidded eyes, his emotions raw and exposed. "i love you too," he mumbles, his voice barely audible, like he’s falling asleep or slipping into a dream where things are better, where you’re together again.

you don’t know what’s going to happen next, or if you can really fix what’s broken between you. but for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe… just maybe, you can try.

and maybe this time, it’ll be different.

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

★:a/n:: thanks for the request love! feedback and reblogs are appreciated :3

[dyaz-stories]

your imprint's on my soul || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

summary: When Hyun-Su's monster shows up at your door, he teases you and implies that Hyun-Su wants more with you than what you've shared before so, when Hyun-Su wakes up, you decide to act on that.

word count: 4.1k

warnings & tags: canon-typical angst, fluff, smut, explicit consent, dry-humping, thigh-riding if you squint, handjob (male receiving), they're both virgins and are both painfully awkward, this is very soft tbh

first one-shot · previous one-shot

This one-shot can be read independently as there is nothing intense plot-wise that requires having read the other parts, but I do recommend reading them for context.

A/N: sooo, we've reached the first smutty installment for this series, though this feels so tame and so soft I don't even know if it deserves that name. It's what felt right to me for the development of their relationship and what I think makes sense for their characters! I hope you'll enjoy it!

Hyun-Su always knocks. It doesn’t matter that you’ve told him he didn’t have to anymore, doesn’t matter that you’ve offered to give him a key. He still knocks, a soft rap against your door that you’ve learned to recognize from anywhere you are in the house — it’s probably the first time ever that you are truly thankful for the terrible soundproofing in there. When Hyun-Su isn’t there, you spend your time waiting to hear it again, whether consciously or not.

So when you hear something brutally hitting your door, the sound echoing through your silent house, it doesn’t cross your mind that it could be him.

You stumble through the house to grab your bat, heart beating so fast it’s threatening to fall out of your chest. Whether it’s a monster or a desperate survivor trying to get in, you need to be ready to defend yourself.

You’re slowly approaching the door when whoever — or whatever — is outside hits the door twice more.

“C’mon now, I haven’t got all day.”

You still. You recognize the voice instantly, of course you do, but what you don’t recognize is the tone, or even how loud it is, for that matter.

“Hyun-Su?” you call out quietly.

It’s not the smartest decision, because if it’s not him, it lets whatever’s out there know you’re here, but you can’t see yourself leaving him outside.

“You could say that,” the voice answers, and it’s still obviously Hyun-Su, and it’s still wrong, somehow.

But, after a couple seconds of further hesitation, you decide to open the door anyway. You’ve heard it before, that tone, you think, even if it’s blurry now. Plus, you cannot bear the thought of letting Hyun-Su out there, if it really is him. You tighten your hold on your bat, and carefully open the door.

The second you do, Hyun-Su walks in like he owns the place. It is so unlike him that you get ready to swing, but he spots you and grabs it from your hand easily, using his pull on it to get you closer to him, his other hand coming to your waist to stabilize you with a gentleness that contrasts with the abruptness of his movement. Once he does, he shoots you a grin that makes you knees weak, and, as his blue eyes stare straight into yours, you finally understand what is going on.

“All that for me?” he asks, glancing at the bat.

You don’t bother to answer him. You remember too well the state he was in last time you saw this— well— version of him, and your eyes run over his body, followed by your hands, checking for injuries. But while his sweater is in worst shape than usual, and you find blood that you think is fresh on there, his skin is intact under your fingers.

When you look into his eyes again, you find him staring at you, amused.

“You can keep going,” he teases. Your face starts burning and you take a step back, embarrassed, but he follows right after you, eyes devouring you. “Come on, you know you want to. Why not just give in?”

Your back hits the wall, and he leans closer, like a cat playing with a mouse. The difference is, though your heart is hammering in your chest, you don’t feel that scared. Nervous, sure, but there is no actual threat to his tone, or even to his attitude.

“I’m not— I’m not doing anything Hyun-Su wouldn’t want,” you answer, and you somehow find it in yourself to lift your chin defiantly as you do.

Meeting this version of Hyun-Su’s eyes sends a rush of heat through you once again. Beneath the amusement, there is so much more. Fascination. Adoration, even.

He lets out a brief laugh at your words.

“Please,” he practically purrs, “you can’t think that he doesn’t want this.” You stare at him, and his grin widens. “Maybe you should ask him, then.” He leans closer to you, mouth so close to your ear you can feel his breath tickling your cheek. “Ask him what he thinks about when he’s alone at night.” Your cheeks are on fire. “Ask him what he thinks about when you’re lying in bed next to him.” Your breath catches in your throat. “Ask him what he thinks of doing to you.”

He laughs again, and Lord, you don’t know how your legs haven’t given up underneath you yet.

“Come back to me if he still doesn’t have the guts to do anything,” he whispers in your ear. “For now, I think we’ll take a nap.”

That’s all the warning you get before he collapses into you and you can do nothing but slide down to the floor, holding Hyun-Su’s now unconscious body in your arms. You curse the monstrous part of him under your breath, but you know, deep down, that it’s less about that and more about the fact that he’s leaving you with your whole body practically vibrating with feelings and desires you’ve been having more and more as of late.

Your relationship with Hyun-Su is good. It’s great. It makes you happy, so much happier than you thought would ever be possible after the world ended.

But you’d be lying if you said there hasn’t been a— yearning, a longing for more. Something you haven’t put precise words on, something that is almost fully new to you, because though you had fooled around with the boyfriend you briefly had at the beginning of college, the two of you had never gotten really far. You suspect it’s even more foreign to Hyun-Su.

You do know you have an effect on him, you’re not blind. You know how he can get when he loses himself in you, when he finally lets go of all the weight he carries on his shoulders. You, however, also know how embarrassed he gets when his body reacts to you in ways he can’t fully control. You’re just not sure he’s ready for taking the relationship further and, if you’re being honest, the fear of rejection has kept you from bringing up the subject.

Except that after this conversation, the monster’s words are swirling in your mind, and you can no longer pretend that the desire that makes your pulse quicken isn’t there.

Now’s not the time for that, though. You do your best to carry Hyun-Su to the couch, something you doubt you could have done before the Apocalypse forced you to put on some muscle, cover him with a blanket, just in case, because his sweater is starting to have more holes than fabric, and sit by his side so his head rests on your lap. All that’s left to do now, is to wait for him to wake up.

It’s fine, though.

You’re used to waiting for him.

Hyun-Su opens his eyes, and at first, he just feels warm and good and safe. For once in his life, nothing hurts. Your hand’s in his hair, fingers brushing against his scalp pleasantly every now and then and—

And he doesn’t remember coming to your place or seeing you.

He jumps up, eyes surveying the apartment, which looks the same it always does, then you when he turns around. All he sees there is mild confusion.

“Did you have a bad dream?” you ask.

“Did you see him?” he asks in reply.

You frown for a second, before understanding passes on your face, and Hyun-Su feels the blood draining from his face.

Last time, the monster had been with you for a couple minutes, at most. This time…

He hadn’t thought he would come here. He’d been far away, when the group of humans had gotten attacked. Intervening had been the right thing to do, he’d thought — until he’d started getting shot at. The words they’d hurled at him, he’d all heard before, during a time of his life he wished he could forget. With his attention split between the monsters still trying to get past him on one side, and the arrows and bullets coming from the other side, the monster had managed to take over.

And maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t fought it as hard as he should have.

He had never thought you’d get caught in the crossfire.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Are you— Are you—”

Hurt. Angry. Disgusted.

“I’m fine,” you answer him. You don’t hesitate to reach out to gently touch his face, and your smile is so sincere it’s almost blinding. “Nothing happened.”

He leans into your touch, unable to stop himself, and though he still feels the need to protest, it gets easier to believe you each time you reassure him you don’t despise him.

“It didn’t do anything to you?” he asks, voice low and quiet.

You shake your head, but he can’t miss the way you glance away briefly, avoiding his eyes at first.

“He didn’t hurt me,” you tell him, and he can tell it’s true, but—

“What did it do?” There’s urgency in his voice, panic even. He grabs your arms to look into your eyes, the window to the soul, they say, but he cannot read into you, no matter how much he searches.

“Nothing,” you say, but again, he can tell that there’s more to it, and he doesn’t let go, until you cave in. “He just said something.”

“What did he say?” Hyun-Su presses on. Fear is invading his every bone, wrapping its vines around his heart and squeezing it.

“Nothing important,” you insist, but it only makes him more desperate, because if you don’t want to tell him, it must be something bad, must be something deep and dark and twisted, must be something that could make you hate him. When he doesn’t let up, you sigh. “He just said to ask you something.”

Hyun-Su’s mind goes quiet.

“Ask me what?”

His mouth is dry, his lips move painfully.

“Just— He said, I should ask you what you want to— to do to me.”

It’s like a bomb just went off.

Hyun-Su lets go of you. It feels as if his whole face is burning. Shame and embarrassment overtake him, and suddenly he can’t look at you anymore, just wants to run out the door, but his body is refusing to move. He’s stuck in place like a rabbit in headlights.

“I’m sorry,” he says automatically, whipping his head in the other direction, since that all he can do.

“So, you, um, you… are thinking about it?” you ask, your voice piercing straight through his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“No, no, I’m, uh—”

You grab his hand, scooting closer to him on the couch, until your knees touch his. And it grounds him. Slowly, reason starts to creep back up from under all the thoughts, and he hears the eagerness in your question.

“J-just so we’re on the same page,” you say, as he slowly turns his head to look at you once more, “you’re thinking about… having sex. With me.”

It’s precious, how you lower your voice to say ‘sex’, and then frown in annoyance at yourself. Hyun-Su still wants to tear his hand from yours, run away before you can tell him how much of a freak, of a monster you think he is. But he can’t.

He thinks he’d rather you rip his heart out, as long as you do it with your bare hands, than to live without your touch ever again.

Slowly, he nods. His face and ears are tingling, and he’s sure he’s bright red by now.

“I shouldn’t,” he mumbles. You’ve given him so much already. So much he hadn’t dared to hope for in years. He shouldn’t ask for even more. He doesn’t deserve more.

But your hands tighten around his. Your mouth opens, closes, your tongue comes out to wet your lips as you hesitate and fidget nervously.

“No, you, uh, you should,” you stutter before catching yourself, closing your eyes like you don’t want to see what’s in front of you before you take a leap of faith. “I mean— I think about it. About you.”

A light buzz starts again in his ears.

“I didn’t know,” you keep mumbling. “I mean, I wasn’t sure that you—” Your gaze goes from his hand to the floor, everywhere so you don’t have to look at him. “That you wanted me. So I’m— It’s, uh, it’s good to know.”

“I want you,” Hyun-Su blurts out without thinking, and of course then you look at him, with wide, pretty eyes, and if he wasn’t blushing before, he sure is now. His face could burst into flames any second. “I hate that I can’t—” His eyes fall on your legs, with the dress you’re wearing riding up on your thighs. “—touch you.” If he wasn’t so scared, if he was braver… “I just…” A whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t,” you say patiently. “I trust you.”

“But I don’t,” he mumbles, looking down at the floor. “You’re so— fragile. If I lost control for a second…”

He sees you hesitate. He expects you to tell him, again, that he wouldn’t lose control, maybe that the monster inside him wouldn’t hurt you. Thing is, you might be right, but it doesn’t matter how unlikely it is. That’s not a risk he can take.

“Okay,” you say instead. “Okay. But what if— what if I was the one touching you?”

He almost wishes you hadn’t said it, with how badly he immediately wants it.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says. His throat is dry. His whole body is aching for you.

“And if I want to?” You tilt your head, all pretty, and oh, how can he deny you anything?

“Please,” he whispers.

Your lips part and your breath seems to stutter, before you lean in and kiss him, and it’s like he’s finally come home. It starts off soft, slow, no different from any kiss the two of you have shared in the past weeks. Your hand comes up to cup his face, thumb stroking his cheek.

Hyun-Su melts. He parts his lips to welcome in your tongue, lets you take the lead and set the pace for the kiss without thinking about it twice.

Then he feels you move. It’s barely there at first, your hand that’s not on his face coming to rest on his shoulder, and all that is known territory. Even if your fingers actually touch his skin there, because of the numerous holes in his clothing, he can handle that.

His eyes snap open again, though, when you move your leg over his so you can come sit in his lap, straddling him. You notice immediately.

“Is that okay? We can stop—”

“No, I—”

He doesn’t want you to stop. He wants more with you, so bad, and though he would never say it out loud, he’s desperate for you to show him that you’re not disgusted in him. Every time you kiss him, every time you touch him, every time you take his hand and lead him in bed with you, he comes closer to truly believing it.

But, ah, with this last conversation, even if it’s not the first time he’s had you in his lap, he feels— heated. He can feel himself growing hard, and he’s still embarrassed at the thought that you can feel him. Despite what he said, his hands are on your waist, holding tight. He doesn’t remember if he chose to do that.

After all, his desire for you aligns with what the monster wants so closely that he’s— scared. He’s so scared of losing control. But you’re looking at him so lovingly, and he wants you so bad… Can he be selfish? Just this once?

“Don’t stop,” he almost begs, and seeing how eagerly you nod in reply is like an explosion of warmth in his chest.

Your lips crash against his again, harder, with more purpose. Your fingers card through his hair, and the feeling of your light pull on them goes straight to his core, more enjoyable than he thinks it should be, though he’s in no position to linger on it, not when the next thing you do is to experimentally roll your hips on top of him.

From your perspective, it’s a clumsy movement, one you’re unsure of. From his, it’s a rush of pure pleasure when you rub against his hard cock, one that makes him openly moan, his mouth falling open enough that he breaks the kiss. The second he realizes what kind of noise came out of him, he raises his hand to cover his mouth, cheeks turning crimson.

He’s not daring to look at you, not at first anyway, until he feels your lips brushing against his fingers, pressing soft kisses against his hand.

“Still good?” you ask.

And he is, but he’s not trusting his voice all that much for now, so he just nods. A smile dances on your lips as you kiss down his jaw.

“Also,” you add, “I’m not— I don’t have much— experience, in all, uh, that. So you should— you should let me know. What feels good. What doesn’t.”

“That felt good,” he admits quietly, and your smile turns into a grin against his skin.

“I could tell.”

What you don’t say is how hot you found both the sound and the thought that you could affect him like that, how badly you want to press your legs together so you can alleviate the ache you’re feeling down there, how you’re worried you actually want him even more than he wants you.

Instead of saying all that — it would make you feel so naked and so vulnerable, and disarm you completely, which doesn’t seem like a good idea for now —, you start trailing your kisses down his neck. There’s one spot there that makes him whimper, more discreetly than before, but you latch onto it all the same, tongue coming out to flick against the skin, pulling on it softly between your teeth. He writhes and whines under you, and when his cock rubs against you just right, you gasp against him.

You’re delighted to see reddish skin when you pull away. He’ll heal, and there will be no trace of it by morning, but there’s something satisfying about it — and the glassy look he gives you, lips swollen and parted, hair a mess on the back of the couch, with that proud mark right above his collarbone… is purely sinful.

Your fingers hook in his hoodie.

“Can I?” you ask.

He’d go to the moon and back for you.

He nods.

You pull it over his head, struggle a little when it gets caught in his hair, then manage to pull him free and kiss him again with a giggle. It’s sweet. You’re still wearing your dress, but it’s the first time he feels your hands directly on his skin all the same, and even if his body’s burning up, your touch sets him ablaze.

You explore his body with hungry eyes and hands, follow the shape of his pectorals, then move down to his abs. You trace the muscles, slowly, and as you move down, closer to his crotch, he can no longer suppress a shiver. You still for a second, and he watches you with wide eyes, waiting for you to keep moving, so badly wanting you to keep going. Finally, your fingers brush against the button of his jeans. Silently, meeting his eyes, you ask for his permission. He swallows, nods again.

He’s nervous, almost painfully so, but he notices that your fingers are shaking as you have to try three times to get it open, and it reassures him, in some ways. It reminds him that, for all the issues he has, this is new for the both of you. There are no expectations to meet, just the two of you discovering, together, what works for you.

Once the button isn’t in the way, you, very carefully, move your hand under his jeans, but over his boxers. The second he feels your hand hesitantly closing over his cock, even through the fabric, he throws his head back, trying his best not to moan again and only half-succeeding.

You watch his reactions closely as you keep touching him, slipping your hand under the boxers after a few seconds. This time he does moan, a high-pitched noise that you take to mean you’re doing something right — even if you have no idea what you’re doing. How tight should your grip be? How fast should you move? Should you be saying something? Should he be saying something?

His cock is rock hard between your fingers, harder than you’d have expected; larger, too. It seems to have been that way for a while, maybe since you’ve started kissing, based on how wet with precum it is. You tighten your grip around it a little, then slide your hand down, slowly, down to the base. He moans again, and you feel him twitch between your fingers.

“Um,” you mumble, “I, uh, I don’t really know— is that— is there anything I should—”

Hyun-Su’s looks up at you, flushed and panting. One of his hands comes to your thigh, and now you’re the one shivering under his touch. You don’t think he even notices though. You’re dripping wet yourself, but for now you just want to make him feel good. If things go well, if he stays open to this sort of things, there’ll be plenty of time to deal with that… later. At the moment, all you want is to show him that pleasure doesn’t have to lead to anything negative.

“J-just, keep going,” he mumbles. “You can, ah, you can go a little faster, if you…”

The rest of his words gets lost in the next moan as you follow his advice, moving your hand up and down his cock, the wetness helping the movement. Despite yourself, you rock your hips against his leg, the pressure of it between your legs feeling so delicious, you can’t deny it to yourself at the moment.

Under you, Hyun-Su is lost in pleasure. Your rhythm is hesitant, you’re not holding him quite as tight as he’d like, but oh, your hand is soft and gentle, and it still feels so much better than his own. The fact that you’re all pressed against him, your breath against his neck, your scent filling him, it’s all much more than what he had imagined — because, yes, in shameful moments, he’d pictured this kind of scenes, but they had never felt as good, pleasure running through his veins and flooding his body.

Any time he indulged in them, though, he came faster than usual, and now, with the real thing, he realizes too late how quickly he is approaching his climax.

“Wait,” he hears himself mumble, “I’ll—”

But he’s already coming, and the strength of the orgasm leaves him breathless as he humps against your hand, trying to make it last longer.

“Oh,” is all you comment, and even through the haze, embarrassment spreads through him as he realizes that there’s cum on your hand and on his stomach. At least he cannot turn any redder now.

“Sorry,”  he mumbles, “sorry, I—”

“No, I— I thought that was pretty hot, actually,” you say, giving him a smile, and thank fuck you’ve taken his hand off him, because he wouldn’t want to have to explain why that’s making him twitch again. “I’ll just— you probably want to get cleaned up.”

“I’m— Yeah, but—” He glances down at your body. He felt you rocking against him earlier, even if he wasn’t exactly in the right mind to say something about it. “Don’t you— Don’t you want to, uh…”

“Ah, I’m fine, I just— I just wanted to make you feel good for now.”

And just as he thought his heart rate might go back to normal at some point, there it is, spiking again.

“We can do that— some other time. If you’d like to.”

There is nothing he wouldn’t give to you.

“I would. I would like that.”

Your smile is a promise for more, your kiss is sweet, and for the first time in forever, Hyun-Su forgets about the monster.

He’s in your arms, and it’s all that matters.

i’ve been trying to figure out what to put here. i already feel like i’m kinda begging for comment on my posts, which i don’t like doing, but i figured i’d try to explain at least once what i’ve been feeling lately — plus i'm starting a new job on Monday and i don't know how much time i'll have to write after that. truth is, the lack of interactions i’ve been getting on here, on these stories, has been kind of depressing to me. i know people are reading them, considering the amount of notes, and it’s hard not to question whether it’s my writing that’s not good enough to make people want to leave a comment, or if it's just how fandom is now and in that case it just might not be for me anymore. i mean, i write for myself first, but i post because i want to share with others, i want to see their reactions, know how my writing makes them feel… and lately it just feels like i’m screaming in the void and nothing else. it’s been hard to stay motivated honestly. so, yeah. you don’t have to leave a comment, especially if you didn’t like it, i get it, i’m not trying to guilt-trip you. i just. feel the need to explain this at least once, in case it changes someone’s mind, and if it doesn't, i'll know i tried. if you've ever commented, reblogged with tags, sent an ask, know that i'm so thankful for you and you truly keep me going.

next one-shot

[esthercore]

HSR Men and After Care ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

Argenti is a yes, the jack of all trades, everything you can think of, cuddling, talking, cleaning, everything, always, prolonged after care, almost giving you a home spa and massage. Making you feel the luckiest price/princess in the world, yet so effortlessly.

Aventurine's likes cuddles, massaging you and words of affirmation, telling each other pretty things and kissing each other's scars. Staring into each other's eyes before falling asleep.

Blade just lays their and let you do whatever you want to with him, or just do anything you tell him to, really need to be taught tenderness, but will try his best for you.

Boothill will be the one needing some positive pep talk. The man's 95 percent body is metal, so he feels really insecure in his ability to pleasure you. Tell him he did good, and hold him if he tears up. Once he's feeling better again, he help clean up and massage the knots out of your back.

Caelus is so lovely. Oh please teach this sweet racoon puppy how treat you, and he put all his effort into it. He loves you so much and is so desperate for you. He put's the most effort in aftercare, as unlike Argenti who's actions come naturally, Caelus always try to go extra mile to make sure his lover his happy. Maybe even shamelessly ask Himeko for advice or better yet Kafka.

Dan Heng is really good. Coziness is his forte, so bunch of quality time with each other. Not much of a talker, but will listen to you as you lay in his arms, venting out anything and everything that's been bugging you recently, and then kiss your worries out your pretty mind.

Dan Feng (the actual high elder in past) will do the same, but will have tail rapped around your waist, as you two sit on the mat, your back resting on his bare chest, his robe lazily draped, barely hiding his mat, looking at the fountain out in your private courtyard, smoking from his pipe as your beautiful voice fills the room.

Dr Ratio is methodical. He has an algorithm like schedule he likes to follow, laying a towel below you as he prepares the bath, then carrying you princess style, cuddling you in the warm water. His rubber duckies floating around, as he lazily feeds you some grapes and your drink of choice he had prepared. Sometimes he likes to read you whatever stupid fiction book you're into at the moment, things he would never even open himself, but if it's for you, he happily read you the entire thing like an audiobook.

Gallagher is a simple man, he help you clean up, be there till you recover' and then have a smoke, and go about his day, unless you specifically ask him to d something, he don't see the point of doing it.

ForJiaoqui, well is it really a surprise, he will feed you first thing first after some rounds? He needs to ensure you have enough energy. Maybe you're still stuck on his knot, as he make you sit all pretty in his lap, as he feeds you the herbal porridge he had kept ready for his amazing mate.

With Jing Yuan it's cuddle central baby! Gonna plop your body in his, as if you're a plushie, clutch you tight and just fall asleep. Smack him awake if you want proper after care or pass out too, it's not like to you will have energy left after multiple rounds with him.

I believe Luocha will be the best with after care. Very tender, and gentle. The pretty man will be insistive for cuddling you, will clean you so good, make sure you are hydrated, fed and in top notch condition. Will flatter you so much and only be satisfied once you feel like a spoilt prince/princess.

Moze gives you no time for a breather pick you up like a sack and carries you the bathroom, help clean you up, and takes a shower as you yap whole soaking in warm water. Will cuddle after you two are fresh and clean.

Sampo is a meanie, he's the type to tease you even during after care. Calling you a nighty slut, and reminding you the way you acted so desperate and whiny during sex, as he scoop the cum out of your holes, or simply plug you up, if he feels like it. If you tear up he simply his your tears, and hug you tight. Will start calling you sweet names, and i love you's, when you're on the verge of falling asleep tho.

Sunday is well Sunday, he would have water prepared, maids already ordered to run you bath, and even some snacks for you. Even if it's compulsive office sex, he would always be prepared. Very determined while taking care of you. Likes worshipping your body, and trail you with kisses, telling you how perfect, and how pretty you are.

[pleasebegood]

thinking about when i controlled my partner’s bladder in person and ….damn.

it started about mid-day i think; i was still at home, so over text. i told him when to start holding good and early so that when i’d get to his place that evening, he’d already be nice and desperate. we went back and forth all day texting, with me telling him to drink more water and reminding him how far away his relief was going to be, him updating me how bad it was getting with every hour. i got to his place maybe around seven that night, he’d been holding for a good four hours by then i think — he has a notoriously small bladder, which i tease him for often, so this was quite a feat already. once i got there, the real torment could start. he was already asking me for relief , while also being desperately horny for it. he was constantly kissing me, touching me, hoping maybe that would sway me to let him go. of course, that wasn’t happening.

about an hour later, i had to pee. i’d been drinking electrolytes for a while, which always go right through me. i told him multiple times that i was starting to feel an urge, though it wasn’t terrible, how good it was going to feel when i got to piss and he didn’t. it was driving him crazy. i enjoyed that for a bit while building up my own need. eventually, i told him to get in the bathtub, leaving on just his underwear. i stripped down and climbed on top of him. his dick was so hard with anticipation. he’d been begging me to pee on him for days. i straddled his lap, grinding on him a little just to tease him. Then right over his dick, i started pissing. i was so turned on, it took some effort to get going, but quickly i pissed all over his lap while he whimpered and clung onto me. i told him he better keep holding—though i was sure feeling my warm piss soaking into his underwear was making it so much worse. and it was. i told him to get up and rinse off. the water from the shower head was even more torture. for a second, his legs buckled and i was sure he was about to lose it. but instead, a huge drop of pre-cum dribbled out instead, sliding from the tip of his hard cock down his leg. i praised him for that; my pussy was throbbing.

i made him dry off and get redressed. i had him wearing gray sweatpants, obviously, so any leaks would be nice and obvious. we laid down in his bed, and i got on top of him again, kissing him hard and putting all my weight on his bladder. he kept squirming and groaning, struggling to even kiss me back while he was this desperate. it was so adorable. i kept this up for a while, and to my surprise, he still hadn’t leaked. at this point, it was far past how long he’d ever held before. we moved to the couch, along the way i forced him to fill up his water bottle so he could keep drinking. just the sound of the water from the rap rushing into the bottle had him pressing his legs together and begging me to let it end. of course i wasn’t going to. i reminded him, “you know i’m not going to let you piss voluntarily. you’re going to hold it until you absolutely can’t anymore.”

we sat back on the couch together, and i alternated climbing over him to press into his bladder with all my body weight, and sitting beside him stroking his dick through his pants. every once in a while, for good measure, i’d press down hard on his bladder with both hands and he’d cry out in pain. by this point, he was nearly beyond words. bordering delirious, he could barely put a sentence together. he was still trying to beg me to let him piss, but the question kept falling short as he could only laugh and grind his teeth. he finished another full water bottle. i was so impressed.

“do you want me to-to fill it up again?” he managed to ask. of course i did.

standing up from the couch almost pushed him over the edge as the gravity shift hit him. he had to stand still with his legs crossed to regain control before we could go back to the kitchen. but again, to my surprise, he made it. i praised him for how good he was being, and that had him even more whimpering and delirious. it was so deliciously pathetic, i was losing my mind. he filled up the bottle again, each painful second of the water flowing made him beg me more and more. when he straightened back up, even that slight shift had him falling apart. this is when he started to lose it.

he stood in the kitchen—and i say “stood” generously. he was constantly moving back and forth, alternating feet and crossing his legs over and over again while he told me he wasn’t going to last much longer. finally, to my absolute pleasure, a leak hit. it was enough to soak a little wet spot through the front of his pants. he begged harder—he couldn’t be still at all, and now that the first leak had come out, i knew there was no way he’d last much longer.

but still, i blocked the path to the bathroom. he begged more, and another spurt burst out. it slid down his leg, and though it was a faint enough stream to not show its path, i could see it darken the cuff of his pants around his ankle. i let him move to the bathroom, and he shuffled carefully along, leaking a bit more with every step.

“we may be in the tub now, but you better keep holding,” i told him as i pushed him against the wall of the bathtub. he groaned, falling back against the wall and barely able to hold himself up. i leaned my body fully into his, pressing on his bladder as i slid my leg between his.

his head fell onto my shoulder; his body was so run down he couldn’t support himself anymore. a bigger spurt jetted out, pouring directly onto my leg. he moaned and kept on begging. finally, right against his ear, i told him he could let go.

the floodgates opened immediately. he started pissing full force. the hot stream ran down both of our legs where i kept my thigh pressed between his. he must’ve pissed for a minute while he clung desperately to me, both arms hugged tight around me. i was the only thing holding him upright at this point; his legs were giving out beneath him, but i had him pinned to the wall firmly enough he couldn’t fall. once all the piss was drained from his body, he couldn’t stop thanking me. he was still completely delirious, but now from relief rather than desperation.

i gave him a minute to come back, just holding him like that while i savored the feeling of his soaked pants on my skin. when he was able to speak sentences again, he told me how orgasmic had felt to let go. he said it felt so good, he didn’t even need to come after that. we rinsed off, and i took him back to bed to cuddle and praise him for what a good boy he’d been for me.