#than trying to force myself to love my body

[darkbluekies]

I have a request: insecure s/o is feeling down about their appearance, chubbyness and overthinking too much. Yandere preferable Silas/Dr. Kry is trying their best to comfort them ( 〃▽〃)

Silas & Dr Kry drabbles: darling feeling insecure about their appearance

Yandere!mafia x reader x yandere!doctor

Warnings: talking about weight, insecurity about appearance

A/N: I tried my best to not go into it too much because I know that it can be sensitive. I've tried to focus more on the comfort part<3

Silas

He opens the door too quickly. You flinch and try to hurry to wipe your tears. Wasn't he supposed to be out on a mission?

"I forgot my fucking keys-", he starts, but cuts himself off. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing", you whisper with your head turned away, hoping that he won't see your tear stained cheeks.

"Don't 'nothing' me, sweetheart. I fucking know when something's up."

He walks over to you and crouch down next to you on the floor. You flinch in fear and try to twist your head away, but he grabs it in his rough hand.

"Why are you crying, baby?" he asks , wiping your cheek with his thumb. "Tell me."

"I don't look good", you whisper in shame. You've been drowning yourself in the thoughts for so long that saying them out loud makes you embarrased. Escpecially when Silas looks at you with that look in his eyes — mezmerized by you.

He can't believe what you're saying, has to have a doubletake. "What?"

"... I don't look good."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

He rises to his feet and pulls you up on your feet, forcing you in front of the mirror.

"Do you see this?" he asks, gesturing with his hand towards you. "What about this does not look good?"

"My- ... my ... everything."

His jaw drops. "You've lost it. Little thing, you're absolutely magical? I can't even believe that you are real sometimes, and you dare think like this? I don't ever want to hear you talk shit again, not about my husband/wife, do you hear that?"

New tears blur your vision. You try to hold in the sob, but it aches throughout you. Silas turns you around and hugs you tightly as you cry against his collar bone.

"You're absolutely perfect", he tells you and strokes your back. "I don't want anything else than what I'm holding in my arms right now, do you understand that? I don't ever want you to think these idiotic thoughts again. I love you so much, for fuck sake. Oh, it hurts me to see you so upset. Baby ... you know what, I'll stay home tonight, my second in command will have to take my place. I can't let you be alone when you're mean to yourself. I will make sure that you know about how perfect you are until you believe me ... I don't care if that takes a week straight."

Dr Kry

"Doctor?" you ask quietly.

"Yes?" he asks and looks up from his check up list.

"Can we not ... check the weight today?"

He frowns. "Why?"

You squirm and avoid eye contact. Dr Kry sighs and puts down the paper on his desk.

"Have you been thinking things you shouldn't while I haven't been in your room?" he asks suspiciously. "In that case I want you to tell me now so that I can fix it."

"I don't like myself", you mumble and tug at your hospital gown. "How can I feel good when I look like this?"

"That's what it's about. I see." He takes your hands in his. "Y/N, look at me."

You glance up at his blue eyes through tears.

"Listen to me when i tell you this", he starts and wipes your tears, "you are perfectly good right where you are, okay? If the hospital gown makes you feel worse I will get you some pajamas or sweatset, okay?"

"It's not just that. My body ..."

"Oh, stop it. There's nothing wrong about your weight, Y/N. Nothing at all. Nothing wrong about you at all ... well, besides the reason why you are in the hospital. But nothing wrong about you aestethically. Personally, I think you are very attractive."

You blink in disbelief. "What? No."

Dr Kry smiles halfly. "Yes, I do. Listen, I don't want you thinking such nonsense about yourself, okay? And if you ever do, I want you to tell me so that I can reassure you of how good you are. You have nothing to worry about, this is all in your head, okay? Say it with me. 'It's all in my head'."

"It's all in my head ..."

"Good job."

To your surprise, he hugs you. The doctor who hates physical contact, actually hugs you.

"I know that the hours in here can become long and repetitive, but you mustn't let it affect how you think about yourself, okay? I think that you are absolutely perfect the way you are. You don't have to change anything."

He squeezes you tighter, persistent that he will make you see yourself the way he sees you — absolutely magnificent.

[cinnamonest]

Hiii I absolutely adore your work!! You're legit my favorite fic writer, every word you put down is gospel amen 🙏 If youre still doing requests, maybe what about albedo x tall reader? I love how you write him so much, im 6ft tall myself and am fiending for yan stuff for tall girls since tall women are always written to be strong and dominant which kills me inside since im the total opposite...

Luckily he's not really insecure about it or anything, not like one of those people who gets all neurotic and has a complex. It's just. You know. He wouldn't mind getting a bit taller, is all. But if he ever starts getting too hung up over it, the feeling then loops back to feeling embarrassed over being insecure over something like that, so he tries to just ignore any feelings on it entirely.

He does handle your greater stature than himself better than some other, more insecure short boys, though. So long as you don’t bring the matter up, he won’t either. He genuinely doesn’t care about having others poke fun at him, which some of the knights he works with certainly do, given that it’s not everyday you see a guy with a girlfriend so much taller than himself, but he has very little regard for the opinions of those he doesn’t care much about and is thus largely unaffected.

He does, however, care what you think. He’s the sort of person who buries any insecurities he may have and ensures he never brings them up or makes them known, but he does worry just a bit that you wish he was taller, that it compromises the respect you have for him, or worse, that you’ll get wandering eyes… he feels sick to his stomach if he sees you talking to some tall guy, even more so than the sickness he already feels seeing you talk to anyone.

And even if you tease him about the matter, he handles that very well, albeit with a twitching to his smile that you may notice if you look carefully. He wants to give off the impression that it doesn’t bother him, even if it kinda does, just a little.

This also ends up accelerating his obsessive tendencies, the insecurity gets to him and he acts more impulsively and more recklessly than he would normally, and you’ll find that the situation between you escalates much faster to the point of captivity.

Regardless, you have no need to worry. The man does not have a submissive bone in his body… unnaturally so, even.

Like you know how, as a general rule, most men tend to lean towards dominant tendencies and aren’t really submissive per se, but are still gonna salivate and get into it if you “take charge”?

He’s not even like that. The notion of you having any sort of control or autonomy in the matter sort of… bothers him. He’s too obsessively fixated on control, and uses sex as a catharsis by which having control and seeing that control actively exerted on you brings him satisfaction and comfort and assurance, so any bit of said control being taken away gets under his skin fast.

Enthusiasm would be a pleasant surprise, sure, he likes you participating, but any time you attempt to actively control the steps and movement, or gods forbid try to push him to do or move in the way you want, he gets a little… twitchy. He’s not one to vocalize his thoughts too much, but you notice pretty much immediately, you can tell it irks him that you’re moving too much on your own, based on the firm grabs to your sides and wrists and efforts to quietly contort your body the way he wants you to, and a heavy huff of frustration when you fail to comply or try to go back to the position you were in before. It feels wrong, you should be bending and moving to the way his hands and words guide you, and failure to abide by it only strengthens the intensity of the impulse to force you under it by any means necessary.

Should you be a particularly bratty type, you can use this to your advantage by intentionally continuously breaking out of his hold or pushing back against the way he tries to push you into certain positions and outright disobeying… but that’s one of those “playing with fire” type of behaviors, and it stops being so amusing when he’s got you on your knees, held up by a fistful of hair, looming over you with an ominous, icy stare… and you may find yourself regretting your defiance, and up may be the only direction you get to look at him from now on.

[cryptidfuckery]

Hey so you don’t have to reply to this but I’ve been having a career crisis lately and considering other vocational paths. One of these careers just so happens to be hair. I was wondering if you could tell me what made you want to become a hairdresser?

Ohhh this might get long but

First things first my mom is a hairdresser. Me becoming one wasn't a case of "I'm going to take over my mom's business" because she's been a sole proprietor booth renter for probably over 30 years now. She doesn't run a salon with other people under her, it's just her and her clients. If I worked under her I would have just been taking money our of her pocket.

But my mom being a hairdresser definitely influenced me! Getting to watch her work and own her own business my whole life helped me understand exactly what to expect out of the industry, and what I would have to do to be successful.

But me actually deciding to become a hairdresser started with me being absolutely miserable in my third semester of college. I loved studying sociology, but school and I don't mix well. I also realized that while I loved what I was studying, I didn't have any real interest in the professions usually associated with what I was majoring in. (Didn't want to do any kind of counseling, hate math so no stats work, research was the most enticing but too close to how school works and I Know would have been Miserable ultimately)

So one day being absolutely miserable and stressed around finals I sat myself down and forced myself to think about what the next 5-10 years would look like. I realized that if I stayed in college it would be to finish, find a job in my degree, then eventually when I have the time and money again I'd go to cosmetology school. (At the time I thought I was going to be a makeup artist. Holy shit fuck that noise. Not for me.)

And it just kind of clicked for me. Why am I spending all this money on a degree i (while I loved) did not really want? Especially when I could finish cosmetology school in under a year with less money than 2 semesters of college would be? Especially since you can start making money directly out of cosmetology school and continuously build after that as you gain more clients.

My final advice is this. There is a hairdresser for everyone and there are clients for every hairdresser. Genuinely the best thing you can do is be yourself and the right people will find you. And then they'll give your their friends, who like you too because you're their kind of people. And you get to choose absolutely what the fuck ever you want to specialize in. You can do exclusively color. Exclusively cuts. You can choose what style of cutting and coloring you want to learn from and you can completely switch that in the middle of your career. You can exclusively do texture treatments (perms, keratins, etc) if you're okay with so many chemicals in your body and bad smells! You can specialize in rat haircuts, which I honestly might try to do. (I have not done one yet. Someone let me do a rat haircut on them. Please. Rat haircut.) You can do everything! Also don't forget barbering!! Whole different school with different subsets and specializations, but many many cosmetologists cross over into both as well! I plan on eventually also acquiring a barbering license so I can truly be a one stop trans chop shop (mainly so I can offer my trans girlies clean shaves between electrolysis/Lazer appointments (iirc one can and cannot. I cannot be fucked to check rn)

So. Yeah. I think trades are absolutely the way to go right now in this economy. We provide services that everybody wants or needs, from hair to plumbing to carpentry to welding to auto mechanics to nail techs. There will always be a broken toilet, an oil change, a haircut needed.

Watch out for pandemics though. Woof.

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me 🎀

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - age gap,, i think thats all

all of the songs and celebrities mentioned in here are from the time periods this was written if you are confused🩷

Chapter 1

It was 1956. I was living with my family at the Bergstrom Air Force Base in Austin, Texas, where my father, then Captain, Joseph Paul y/ln, a career officer, was stationed. He came home late for dinner one evening and handed me a record album.

“I don’t know what this Matt guy is all about,” he said, “but he must be something special. I stood in line with half the Air Force at the PX to get this for you; everybody wants it.”

I put the record on the hi-fi and heard the rocking music of “Blue Suede Shoes.” The album was titled Matt Sturniolo. It was his first.

Like almost every other kid in America, I liked Matt but not as fanatically as many of my girl friends at Del Valley Junior High. They all had Matt T-shirts and Matt hats and Matt socks and even lipstick in colors with names like Hound Dog Orange and Heartbreak Pink referencing names of his songs. Matt was everywhere, on bubblegum cards and Bermuda shorts, on diaries and wallets and pictures that glowed in the dark. The boys at school began trying to look like him, with their fluffy hair and turned up collars.

One girl was so crazy about him that she was running his local fan club. She said I could join for twenty-five cents, the price of a book she’d ordered for me by mail. When I received it, I was shocked to see a picture of Matt signing the bare chests of a couple of girls, at that time an unheard-of act.

Then I saw him on television on Jimmy and Tommy Dorsey’s Stage Show. He was sexy and handsome, with his deep brooding eyes, pouty lips, and crooked smile. He strutted out to the microphone, spread his legs, leaned back, and strummed his guitar. Then he began singing with such confidence, moving his body with unbridled sexuality. Despite myself, I was attracted.

Some members of his adult audience were less enthusiastic. Soon his performances were labeled obscene. My mother stated emphatically that he was “a bad influence for teenage girls. He arouses things in them that shouldn’t be aroused. If there’s ever a mothers’ march against Matt Sturniolo, I’ll be the first in line.”

But I’d heard that despite all of his stage antics and lustful, tough-guy looks, Matt came from a strict Southern Christian background. He was a country boy who didn’t smoke or drink, who loved and honored his parents, and who addressed all adults as “sir” or “ma’am.”

I was an Air Force child, a shy, pretty little girl, unhappily accustomed to moving from base to base every two or three years. By the time I was eleven, I had lived in six different cities and, fearful of not being accepted, I either kept to myself or waited for someone to befriend me. I found it especially difficult entering a new school in the middle of the year, when cliques had already been established and newcomers were considered outsiders.

Small and petite, with long y/hc hair, y/ec eyes, and an upturned nose, I was always stared at by the other students. At first girls would see me as a rival, afraid I’d take their boyfriends away. I seemed to feel more comfortable with boys—and they were usually friendlier.

People always said I was the prettiest girl in school, but I never felt that way. I was skinny, practically scrawny, and even if I was as cute, as people said, I wanted to have more than just good looks. Only with my family did I really feel totally protected and loved. Close and supportive, they provided my stability.

A photographer’s model before her marriage, my mother was totally devoted to her family. As the oldest, it was my responsibility to help her with the kids. After me, there were Don, four years younger, and Michelle, my only sister, who was five years younger than Don. Jeff and the twins, Tim and Tom, hadn’t yet been born.

My mother was too shy to talk about the facts of life, so my sex education came in school, when I was in the sixth grade. Some kids were passing around a book that looked like the Bible from the outside, but when you opened it, there were pictures of men making love to women, and women making love to each other.

My body was changing and stirring with new feelings. I’d gotten looks from boys at school, and once a picture of me in a tight turtleneck sweater was stolen from the school bulletin board. Yet I was still a child, embarrassed about my own sexuality. I fantasized endlessly about French-kissing, but when my friends who hung around our house played spin the bottle, it would take me half an hour to let a boy kiss my pursed lips.

My strong, handsome father was the center of our world. He was a hard worker who had earned his degree in Business Administration at University of Texas. At home he ran a tight ship. He was a firm believer in discipline and responsibility, and he and I frequently knocked heads. When I became a cheerleader at thirteen, it was all I could do to convince him to let me go to out-of-town games. Other times no amount of crying, pleading, or appealing to my mother would change his mind. When he laid down the law, that was that.

I managed to get around him occasionally. When he refused to let me wear a tight skirt, I joined the Girl Scouts specifically so I could wear their tight uniform.

My parents were survivors. Although they often had to struggle financially, we children were the last to feel it. When I was a little girl my mother sewed pretty tablecloths to cover the orange crates that we used as end tables. Rather than do without, we made the best of what we had.

Dinner was strictly group participation: Mother cooked, one of us set the table, and the rest cleaned up. Nobody got away with anything, but we were very supportive of one another. I felt fortunate to have a close-knit family.

Going through old albums of family photographs showing my parents when they were young fascinated me. I was curious about the past. World War II intrigued me, especially since my father had fought with the Marines on Okinawa. He looked handsome in his uniform—you could tell he was posing for my mother—but somehow his smile looked out of place, especially when you realized where he was. When I read the note on the back of the picture about how much he missed my mother, my eyes filled with tears.

While rummaging through the family keepsakes I came upon a small wooden box. Inside was a carefully folded American flag, the kind that I knew was given to servicemen’s widows. Also inside the box was a picture of my mother with her arm around a strange man and, sitting on her lap, an infant. On the back of the photo was inscribed “Mommy, Daddy, y/n.” I had discovered a family secret.

Feeling betrayed, I ran to phone my mother, who was at a party nearby. Within minutes I was in her arms, crying as she calmed me and explained that when I was six months old, my real father, Lieutenant James Wagner, a handsome Navy pilot, had been killed in a plane crash while returning home on leave. Two and a half years later, she married Paul y/ln, who adopted me and had always loved me as his own.

Mother suggested I keep my discovery from the other children. She felt it would endanger our family closeness, though when it did become known, it had no effect on our feelings for one another. She gave me a gold locket that my father had given her. I cherished that locket and wore it for years and fantasized that my father died a great hero. In times of emotional pain and loneliness he would become my guardian angel.

By the end of the year, I’d been nominated to run for Queen of Del Valley Junior High. This was my first taste of politics and competition and it was especially trying because I was running against Millie Collins, my best friend.

We each had a campaign manager introducing us as we went from house to house knocking on doors. My manager tried to talk each person into voting for me and donating a penny or more per vote to a school fund. The nominee who collected the most money won. I was sure that this competition would jeopardize my friendship with Millie, which was more important to me than winning. I considered quitting but felt I couldn’t let my parents or my supporters down. While my mother was out looking for a dress for me to wear to the coronation, my dad kept reminding me to memorize an acceptance speech. I kept putting it off, certain I was going to lose.

It was the last day of the campaign, and a rumor began circulating that Millie’s grandparents had put in a hundred-dollar bill for their vote. My parents were disappointed; there was no way that they could afford to match that much money and even if they could, they objected on principle.

The night they announced the winner, I was all dressed up in a new turquoise blue, strapless tulle net formal that itched so badly I couldn’t wait to take it off. I sat beside Millie on the dais in the large school auditorium. I could see my parents with happy, confident looks on their faces though I was sure they were going to be disheartened. Then the principal walked up to the podium.

“And now,” she said, hesitating to heighten the suspense, “is the moment you’ve all been waiting for  . . . the culmination of a month of campaigning by our two lovely contestants: y/n y/ln  . . .” All eyes turned toward me. I blushed and glanced at Millie. “ . . . and Millie Collins.” Our eyes locked for a brief, tense moment.

“The new Queen of Del Valley Junior High is  . . .” A drum roll sounded. “ . . . y/n y/ln.”

The audience applauded wildly. I was in shock. Called up to the stage to give my speech, I had none. Sure that I was going to lose, I’d never even bothered to write one. I walked, trembling, to the podium, then looked out at the crowded auditorium. All I could see was my father’s face, growing more disappointed as he realized I had nothing to say. When I finally spoke, it was to apologize.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m not prepared to give a speech, as I did not expect to win. But thank you very much for voting for me. I’ll do my very best.” And then, looking at my father, I added, “I’m sorry, Dad.”

I was surprised as the audience graciously applauded, but I still had to face my father and hear him say, “I told you so.”

Being elected Queen was a bittersweet victory, because the closeness that Millie and I once shared was restrained. Still, to me that crown symbolized a wonderful, unfamiliar feeling: acceptance.

My newfound tranquility ended abruptly when my father announced that he was being transferred to Wiesbaden, West Germany.

I was crushed. Germany was the other side of the world. All my fears returned. My first thought was, What am I going to do about my friends? I turned to my mother, who was sympathetic and reminded me that we were in the Air Force and moving was an unavoidable part of our lives.

I finished junior high school, my mother gave birth to baby Jeff, and we said our goodbyes to neighbors and good friends. Everyone promised to write or call, but remembering past promises I knew better. My friend Stephanie jokingly told me that Matt Sturniolo was stationed in Bad Neuheim, West Germany. “Do you believe it? You’re going to be in the same country as Matt Sturniolo,” she said. We looked at a map and found that Bad Neuheim was close to Wiesbaden. I said back, “I’m going over there to meet Matt.” We both laughed, hugged each other, and said goodbye.

West Germany

The fifteen-hour flight to West Germany seemed interminable, but finally we arrived in the beautiful old city of Wiesbaden, headquarters of the U.S. Air Force in Europe. There we checked into the Helene Hotel, a massive and venerable building on the main thoroughfare. After three months, hotel living became too expensive and we began looking for a place to rent.

We felt lucky to find a large apartment in a vintage building constructed long before World War I. Soon after we moved in, we noticed that all the other apartments were rented to single girls. These Fräuleins walked around all day long in robes and negligees, and at night they were dressed to kill. Once we learned a little German, we realized that, although the pension was very discreet, we were living in a brothel.

Moving was out of the question—housing was too scarce—but the location did little to help me to adjust. Not only was I isolated from other American families, but there was the language barrier. I was accustomed to changing schools frequently, but a foreign country posed altogether new problems, principally that I couldn’t share my thoughts. I began to feel that my life had stopped dead in its tracks.

September came and with it, school. Once again I was the new girl. I was no longer popular and secure as I’d been at Del.

There was a place called the Eagles Club, where American service families went for dinner and entertainment. It was within walking distance of the pension and soon proved an important discovery for me. Every day after school, I’d go to the snack bar there and listen to the jukebox and write letters to my friends back home in Austin, telling them how much I missed them. Drowning in tears, I’d spend my weekly allowance playing the songs that were very popular back in the States—Frankie Avalon’s “Venus” and the Everly Brothers’ “All I Have to Do Is Dream.”

One warm summer afternoon, I was sitting with my brother Don when I noticed a handsome man in his twenties staring at me. I’d seen him watching me before, but I’d never paid any attention to him. This time, he stood up and walked toward me. He introduced himself as Steven Wright and asked my name.

“y/n y/ln,” I said, immediately suspicious; he was much older than me.

He asked where in the States I came from, how I liked Germany, and if I liked Matt Sturniolo.

“Of course,” I said, laughing. “Who doesn’t?”

“I’m a good friend of his. My wife and I go to his house quite often. How would you like to join us one evening?”

Unprepared for such an extraordinary invitation, I grew even more skeptical and guarded. I told him I’d have to ask my parents. Over the course of the next two weeks, Steven met my parents and my father checked out his credentials. Steven was also in the Air Force and it turned out that my father knew his commanding officer. That seemed to break the ice between them. Steven assured Dad that I’d be well chaperoned when we visited Matt, who lived off base in a house in Bad Nauheim.

On the appointed night I tore through my closet, trying to find an appropriate outfit. Nothing seemed dressy enough for meeting Matt Sturniolo. I settled on a navy and white sailor dress and white socks and shoes. Surveying myself in the mirror, I thought I looked cute, but being only fourteen, I didn’t think I’d make any kind of impression on Matt.

Eight o’clock finally arrived, and so did Steven Wright and his attractive wife, Carole. Anxious, I hardly spoke to either of them during the forty-five-minute drive. We entered the small town of Bad Nauheim, with its narrow cobblestone streets and plain, old-fashioned houses, and I kept looking around for what I assumed would be Matt’s huge mansion. Instead Steven pulled up to an ordinary-looking three-story house surrounded by a white picket fence.

There was a sign on the gate in German, which translated as: autographs between 7:00 and 8:00 p.m. only. Even though it was after eight o’clock, a large group of friendly German girls waited around expectantly. When I asked Steven about them, he explained that there were always large groups of fans outside the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of Matt.

I followed Steven through the gate and up the short pathway to the door. We were welcomed by James Sturniolo, Matt’s father, a tall, gray-haired, attractive man, who led us down a long hallway to the living room, from which I could hear Brenda Lee on the record player, singing “Sweet Nothin’s.”

The plain, almost drab living room was filled with people, but I spotted Matt immediately. He was handsomer than he appeared in films, younger and more vulnerable-looking with his haircut. He was in civilian clothes, a bright red sweater and tan slacks, and he was sitting with one leg swung over the arm of a large overstuffed chair, with a cigar dangling from his lips.

As Steven led me over to him, Matt stood up and smiled. “Well,” he said. “What have we here?”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I just kept staring at him.

“Matt,” Steven said, “this is y/n y/ln. The girl I told you about.”

We shook hands and he said, “Hi, I’m Matt Sturniolo,” but then there was a silence between us until Matt asked me to sit down beside him, and Steven drifted off.

“So,” Matt said. “Do you go to school?”

“Yes.”

“What are you, about a junior or senior in high school?”

I blushed and said nothing, not willing to reveal that I was only in the ninth grade.

“Well,” he persisted.

“Ninth.”

Matt looked confused. “Ninth what?”

“Grade,” I whispered.

“Ninth grade,” he said and started laughing. “Why, you’re just a baby.”

“Thanks,” I said curtly. Not even Matt Sturniolo had the right to say that to me.

“Well. Seems the little girl has spunk,” he said, laughing again, amused by my response. He gave me that charming smile of his, and all my resentment just melted away.

We made small talk for a while longer. Then Matt got up and walked over to the piano and sat down. The room suddenly grew silent. Everyone’s eyes were focused on him as he began to entertain us.

He sang “Rags to Riches” and “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” and then with his friends singing harmony, “End of the Rainbow.” He also did a Jerry Lee Lewis impersonation, pounding the keys so hard that a glass of water he’d set on the piano began sliding off. When Matt caught it without missing a beat of the song, everyone laughed and applauded except me. I was nervous. I glanced around the room and saw an intimidating life-size poster of a half-nude model on the wall. She was the last person I wanted to see, with her fulsome body, pouting lips, and wild mane of tousled hair. Imagining Matt’s taste in women, I felt very young and out of place.

I glanced up and saw Matt trying to get my attention. I noticed that the less response I showed, the more he began singing just for me. I couldn’t believe that Matt Sturniolo was trying to impress me.

Later, he asked me to come into the kitchen, where he introduced me to his grandmother, Minnie Mae Sturniolo, who stood by the stove, frying a huge pan of bacon. As we sat down at the table, I told Matt I wasn’t hungry. Actually I was too nervous to eat.

“You’re the first girl I’ve met from the States in a long time,” Matt said, as he began devouring the first of five gigantic bacon sandwiches, each one smothered with mustard. “Who are the kids listening to?”

I laughed. “Are you kidding?” I said. “Everyone listens to you.”

Matt seemed unconvinced. He asked me a lot of questions about Fabian and Ricky Nelson. He told me he was worried about how his fans would accept him when he returned to the States. Since he’d been away, he hadn’t made any public appearances or movies, although he’d had five hit singles, all recorded before he’d left.

It felt like we’d just begun talking when Steven came in and pointed to his watch. I had dreaded that moment; the evening had gone so fast. It seemed I had just arrived and now I was being hurried away. Matt and I had just started to get to know each other. I felt like Cinderella, knowing that when my curfew came, all this magic would end. I was surprised when Matt asked Steven if I could possibly stay longer. When Steven explained the agreement with my father, Matt casually suggested that maybe I could come by again. Though I wanted to more than anything in the world, I didn’t really believe it would happen.

a/n - thoughts on this story so far? all the fashion and technology and things is still based in the time period its set in but i promise it gets better as the story goes on! i know the age gap is crazy but back in the day it was normal and its the age gap in Priscilla’s book so i just stuck with it. I in no way support this at all🎀

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Cramps

Summary: After going off of birth control, your periods have been a little more intense than you're used to. What starts out as a stressful morning between you and your husband, very quickly turns into a night that bodes very well for the both of you.

Paring: Husband Frankie Morales x Wife f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K on the dot (idk how we got here)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) PERIOD SEX, unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also they want a baby so), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving, again, you're on your period but our pussy eating king Fransisco Morales is an unstoppable force of nature), creampie, praise kink, big fat nasty breeding kink (it's who I am now, I won't apologize for it), Frankie's got a NASTY mouth, Frankie is the best husband, reader is on her period/has period symptoms, talks about family planning/not being on birth control, use of nicknames (hermosa, quierda, cariño), reader has no physical descriptions besides that she can wear Frankie's clothes

A/N: Well... This was gonna be a drabble... and then it was just gonna be fluff.... and then it was gonna be just some implied smut... and now, we're here??? Idk, don't ask me 🥴 self indulgent bc I just finished my period (and my periods have been whack since stopping bc) and what better way to heal myself than imagining what Frankie would be like taking care of you 🥺 also pls be nice to me this is my first time writing Frankie and I'm v nervous EEK I hope you enjoy!!! sorry Javi bby, I still love u

Bitchy. 

You wished you had a better word to describe your mood for today, but truth be told, bitchy was by far the most accurate. 

You and Frankie were hoping to start trying for your first baby soon, and had recently gone off your birth control after your doctor had told you it may take a few months for your body to regulate itself before you had a better chance at getting pregnant. Your doctor had also  warned you about many of the symptoms and side effects that stopping the pill could have, one of those being becoming more aware of your emotions and mood swings throughout your cycle. That, you were prepared for. 

What you were not prepared for, was to feel like an absolute psychopath in the days leading up to your period. 

 Your cycle had  been wonky the past few months as your body began to sort itself out- you had a feeling your period was probably about to start soon, but hadn’t thought much about it, considering your terrible and grouchy mood had overshadowed it. You had tried your best to pull yourself together the past few days, chalking up your grumpiness to long hours at work, or just being in a weird funk, but today, you woke up with a fire in your gut, ready to fight, and poor Frankie was about to be your punching bag. 

Sweet Frankie had been nothing short of a saint when it came to just about anything, but dealing with your newly heightened emotions right before your period really should have earned him some sort of Presidential Medal of Bravery, considering that your newly discovered highs and lows while PMS-ing were just as frightening as any time he had spent during his time in the military. 

Unfortunately for your husband, despite his best efforts, he had been on your nerves all morning. Not because he was really doing anything wrong, but because the little things that you were normally so good about letting go, or the patience you frequently had seemed to have flown out the window, and you were convinced that if Frankie even breathed the wrong way, you were going to absolutely lose it. 

So when unsuspecting Frankie decided to ask you a simple request about after work plans, there was very little he could have done to prepare for your response. 

“Morning, Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, emerging into the kitchen, his hand rustling through his untamed, sleepy brown curls as he let out a yawn and a stretch, the slight softness of his stomach peeking out between his t-shirt and pajama pants as he raised his arms above his head before settling behind you. He wrapped himself around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder as you finished putting the last of your lunch in your bag for work, trying to force yourself to focus on his sweet good morning, rather than the empty bowl of cereal in the sink that had greeted you first thing when you woke up, already starting you off on the wrong foot in your already irritable mood. 

“Morning, babe.” You grinned, forcing yourself to forgo the annoyance hidden behind your smile as you pecked a quick kiss on Frankie’s lips before gathering the rest of your things for the day scattered across the kitchen table. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make you breakfast this morning because I was running late, but there’s extra scrambled eggs on the stove if you want them. I’m really sorry, Frankie, I gotta head out, have a good day, I’ll see you later okay?” You sighed, slinging your work bag over your shoulder, your hands full of your coffee mug, water bottle and keys, your cluttered grip and running behind schedule only adding to your frustration. 

“All good, Querida, no worries. Hey, actually baby, before you leave,” He paused, setting down the coffee mug he was just about ready to take a sip of, as if a little lightbulb had just gone off in his brain, “do you mind picking up stuff to make that really good buffalo chicken dip for Benny’s tonight? I told ‘em we’d bring like, an appetizer or something, if that’s okay.” 

For Frankie’s sake, you couldn’t have been more thankful that you had your back turned to him, because if looks could kill, Frankie Morales would have been a dead man. 

Every rational part of your brain knew that even though his request perhaps wasn’t the best timing, stopping by the store and making dip to bring to Benny’s for game night really wasn’t that much time or effort out of your day. But today, it seemed like every part of your brain but the rational one seemed to be functioning properly, and the raging, irrational part might as well have heard that Frankie wanted you to prepare and cook a Thanksgiving meal for 74 after you got home from work. 

You took a deep breath, your grip tightening around the items in your hand, praying with every bone in your body that someway or another, you had misheard your husband. 

“Tonight? As in, like, today, after I get home from work?” You questioned, trying to do your best to keep your tone from sounding too condescending. 

“Yeah, we don’t have to be there until 7, I just don’t think I’m gonna have time to since I probably won’t be outta work until 6:30.” He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another swig of his coffee 

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.  

You let out a deep sigh, even more over dramatic than you had intended it to be, arms crossed over your chest and stark frown spread across your face as you turned towards Frankie. 

“Oh, perfect! That’s a great thing for me to find out about at 7:45 A.M. the day of, Frank!” Your voice oozed with ferocious sarcasm, now slamming your things back down onto the table to run your hands over your face. “No, that’s great, because there’s nothing I wanted to do more than to come home and make buffalo chicken dip instead of all the other shit I needed to do today before we left! Amazing! Thank you!” 

At this point, you were almost positive that if your eyes rolled any further, they’d be in the back of your skull, letting out another angry huff as you shook your head at Frankie, who was looking absolutely petrified as he leaned back against the counter, eyes darting to the floor to avoid yours, running his hand over the wispy curls at the nape of his neck. Frankie began to stammer, trying to defend himself from your wrath. 

“Hermosa, I’m- I’m sorry? I know it’s last minute, but you normally make it every time we go over there, I just- I figured it’d be easy for you to do? You can get something else, or I can try to stop by the store really quick on the way home, I just might-” 

“Nope, you want buffalo chicken dip, apparently I’m making buffalo chicken dip!” You groaned, collecting everything back into your hands, swearing under your breath as you tried to balance everything in your grip. “Jesus, okay, I need to go to work, just- I don’t even know. I gotta go, Frankie.” 

“Querida, I-” Frankie pleaded, beginning to trail behind you as you made your way to the front door. 

“Frankie, whatever, it’s fine! I’ll make the stupid dip! I have to go to work, I’ll see you later.” You could feel the muscles in your jaw beginning to clench as you gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you to keep from exploding as you headed out of the house. Without even a kiss goodbye, you left Frankie in the doorway, watching you throw your things in the car and slam the door behind you as you drove down the driveway. 

But as soon as you were on the road and your house was out of view, you could instantly feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, slowly streaming down your cheeks as you began to sob, wondering why you had ruined the morning over as stupid as an appetizer, and even worse, that you had been a complete asshole to your husband about it. 

You couldn’t have been more thankful that work had been quiet today- no meetings on the schedule, and no one coming to bother you, leaving you plenty of peace and quiet to continue sulking and brooding in your unpleasant mood. 

Right around lunch time, you found yourself eating alone in your office, wishing your lunch was about ten times saltier and chocolatier than it was, crying to yourself as you watched a video of a dog meeting its new human sibling for the first time.

Just as you were beginning to pack up the rest of your lunch and start back up with your work, you felt a terrible twinge in your lower stomach that had you just about keeled over in pain, followed by that all too familiar feeling in your underwear. 

Frantically scrambling, you reached into your bag to pull out a tampon, hurriedly shuffling to the nearest bathroom, only to reveal the murder scene equivalent as you pulled down your pants. 

Your period had come.  

In that moment, as much as you were dreading the pain and misery that was the next few days to come, you couldn’t also help but feel a slight sense of relief, realizing that you were in fact, not actually a crazy person for the way you were feeling, you were just PMS-ing out of your mind. You couldn’t also help but feel absolutely awful for your unjustified freak out at your husband this morning, your heart sinking with guilt as you made your way back to your desk, immediately grabbing your phone to text Frankie. 

“Hey… I’m so sorry about this morning. What you were asking me to do wasn’t a big deal at all and I totally freaked out on you. My period just started, I think that’s why I’ve been such a bitch this morning. I’m sorry, Frankie, I love you.💕 ” 

It was almost instantly after you hit send that the reply bubble popped up in your message, your heart pounding anxiously waiting for your husband’s reply. 

“It’s okay, I kind of had a feeling 😉 babe, you weren’t being a bitch- I should have talked to you about it sooner. Shitty timing on my part. I’m sorry. I love you too, Querida.” 

Before you could even respond, another message popped up below his first. 

“Don’t worry about going to the store or making anything tonight. I already texted Benny and told him we couldn’t come. We can spend the night in, just the two of us. I can pick up takeout on the way home if you want and we can pick a movie to watch.” 

You could feel your frustrated facade beginning to melt away as your lips shifted from a pursed frown to a small smirk reading Frankie’s text, your thumbs quickly tapping across the screen of your phone to reply. 

“Thank you. You’re the best.” 

“Of course. Hopefully none of your co-workers ask you to make buffalo chicken dip before you leave 😘” 

“Oh shut up, meanie.” 

“Just kidding. Have a good rest of your day, love you. 💙

“Love you too. 🤍” 

Although the rest of your day was nowhere near enjoyable, given the fact you felt like you were getting punched repeatedly in the uterus and your personality resembled that of Oscar the Grouch, you knew that your night in with Frankie was your light at the end of the tunnel, and only needed to make it a few more hours before there was at least some sweet relief finally headed your way. 

Despite the constant stabbing pain in your lower stomach and back, your drive home from work had you in much better spirits than your drive there, now not only having an explanation as to why you had felt like such a mess, but also knowing the rest of your night was going to be dedicated to nothing but cuddling up in your comfiest clothes and snuggling up next to Frankie on the couch. 

As you pulled down your street, you were surprised to see Frankie’s truck already parked in the driveway, wondering what he was doing at home almost an hour earlier than he had mentioned he would be this morning. Gathering all of your things out of the back of your car, you quietly entered your home, confusion scrunching in your brow as you called out for your husband. 

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?” 

Before you could even kick off your shoes or hang up your coat, Frankie had already appeared at the front door to greet you, boyish grin spread across his face as he grabbed your things out of your hand, carefully placing them on your entryway table before engulfing you in a bear hug, his broad arms wrapping around your body and pulling you closer into his chest. 

You could feel all the muscles in your body instantly relax as your face rested against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, soaking in the familiar woody and savory scent of him, letting yourself be consumed by every ounce of his embrace. 

“Hi Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, running his hands up and down your back as you looked up at his sweet brown eyes shining down at you. 

“What are you doing home so early? I mean, not that I’m mad about it at all, I just thought you said that you had to work until 6:30 and-” 

“Told my boss I had to head out early for a family emergency.” Frankie smirked, laughing at you playfully rolling your eyes from his so-called excuse. 

“Last time I checked, your wife being a grump because she’s bleeding out of her cooch doesn’t classify as a family emergency, Fransisco.” You teased, giving him a little shove, making the two of you giggle in tandem. 

“Eh, close enough. I’m really sorry about this morning, querida. I was a dick for not talking to you about plans beforehand and just assuming you could go do it. It wasn’t fair of me.” 

“It’s okay, Frankie. What you were asking for wasn’t a big deal and I made it one because I’ve been a psycho all day. I’m sorry, too.” 

“Well,” Frankie paused, pressing another kiss onto your cheek, the width of his palm gently cradling your jaw as you stared up at him and his sympathetic smile, “number one, you are not a psycho. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must feel right now, so even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. Number two,” he paused again, shifting his kiss from your cheek to your lips, his thumb delicately swiping across your skin, “you’re my wife and I love you more than anything, and if I can take a little time off to help make you feel better, it’s the least I can do. So, why don’t you go change into something comfortable, and when you get back down here, I will have pizza and ice cream, whatever movie you wanna watch, and a back rub ready for you, okay?”   

“Okay. Thank you, Frankie. God, you’re the best.” You grinned, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your mouth meet Frankie’s, the plush pout of his bottom lip swiping across yours, lingering just long enough to let the butterflies in your stomach begin to swirl, heat creeping through your cheeks in the tenderness of the moment.

“Of course, cariño. Te amo. Now go get changed.” With one last peck on his lips, you wiggled out of Frankie’s grasp to make your way up the stairs, grinning to see that your husband had already set out your favorite of his oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants, neatly folded on the bed for you to grab, quickly shuffling out of your uncomfortable work attire and exchanging it for Frankie’s clothes, your smile growing even wider at the feeling of perpetually being wrapped up in the essence of him. 

As you made your way back downstairs to meet Frankie, you found your heart skipping a beat again to see that the better part of the living room had been turned into a cozy sanctuary- lights dim and candles lit, both parts of your couch squished together, filled with every pillow and blanket you owned, and Frankie sitting in the middle, giant box of pizza, tub of ice cream and your handsome husband waiting for you. 

As if your emotions hadn’t already taken you on a wild roller coaster of a ride today, the adorable sight in front of you had you on the verge of tears again, wiping the wetness pooling in your eyes with the back of Frankie’s sweatshirt sleeve drooping off your arm before crawling into the blanket fort he had constructed for the two of you. 

“Frankie… You didn’t have to do this.” You sniffled, curling up next to Frankie as he draped a blanket over your lap and his arm over your shoulder, passing you a plate with 2 large pieces of pizza. 

“It’s the least I could do. I put on Hercules for us to watch, but if you wanna-” 

Before you could let him finish the rest of his sentence, you were running your hand across the scratchy stubble of his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you planted a kiss on his lips, feeling your smiles melt into one another's as your mouths met. “That sounds perfect. God, how’d I get so lucky?” 

“I could say the same thing, mi amor. You ready to start the movie?” 

“Only if you also pass me that tub of Ben and Jerry’s to go with my pizza.” 

“I think I can make that happen.” 

About half way through the movie, pizza and tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, your and Frankie’s bodies were tangled together in a sea of limbs and blankets, contently snuggled up with one another as Frankie’s fingers traced lazy circles on your back and shoulder as you laid against his chest. 

“You doin’ okay, querida? Need anything?” He cooed, his soft voice dancing in your ear. As if it weren’t enough that you had already been through the extreme highs and lows of almost every feeling under the sun today, the one you hadn’t been until this very moment was insatiably horny. While the mood swings you had mentally prepared yourself for with your new period symptoms, the constant other kind of ache between your legs you had not, and feeling the low rasp of Frankie’s words tickling your neck had been just enough to flip the switch to make you desperately needy. 

Letting your leg slide over Frankie’s lap, you pushed yourself up to straddle his hips, running your hands through the dark curls of his thick, brown hair, and down his broad chest, your fists bunching the worn fabric of his shirt in your hands as your mouths became a mess of tangled tongues and teeth. 

“I need- fuck- I need you, Frankie, please.” You pleaded between muffled moans, his tongue swiping in the parted space where your lips melted together as one, instinctively beginning to grind your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants starting to grow beneath you. 

“Fuck- You sure, baby?” Frankie rasped, reactively bucking up into you, making you whine as his hands dug into your hips, guiding you as you swirled over the tented fabric of his bottom half rubbing against your covered core. 

“Please. Please, Frankie.” You were all but whimpering at this point, nodding frantically in approval as Frankie used the grasp on your hips to guide you onto your back, making you cock your head in confusion as Frankie scampered to the other side of the couch, back turned to you as he reached over the ledge, pulling out a thick, black towel with a smug grin on his face. “Did you seriously have a towel ready incase I wanted to have sex?” You snorted, shaking your head at Frankie, now crawling back to you, caging your body under his with an electric kiss as he shimmied the towel underneath you. 

“Maybe.” Frankie smirked, breaking from your kiss to let his lips trail down your body, his hands toying with the edge of his sweatshirt covering your body as he pushed it up your stomach and chest, helping you to shimmy it over your head, leaving your top half exposed. He gently palmed at your breasts, taking each pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking at the buds with his tongue before letting his kisses travel down the soft skin of your stomach and waistband of your sweatpants. The clothes on your bottom half soon joined your sweatshirt in a crumpled pile as Frankie nestled himself between your legs, gently nudging your hips to let your thighs part, revealing your pussy, slick and shiny for him with your juices. 

Even though Frankie would eat you out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a late night snack, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that he still found himself between your legs during your time of the month, considering any other man probably would have scoffed at just the thought of going down on you on your period. 

But, then again, Frankie Morales wasn’t just any other man. 

“Frankie, baby, you know you don’t- Oh fuck!” You gasped, cut off in surprise as Frankie’s tongue licked a long, broad strip across your cunt, making you shudder in pleasure as his head perked up, revealing the devilish grin spread between his cheeks watching your chest already heave in heavy, shaky breaths. 

“Oh I know I don’t have to, sweet girl. But I want to. Relax, baby, lemme take care of you.” 

Before you could agree, protest, or anything in between, Frankie was back between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs as they draped over his broad shoulders, digging his fingertips into the plush softness of your skin, dragging his tongue through your folds with the exact grace and precision that he knew made you fall apart in seconds. 

With flat, firm presses of his mouth latched against your clit, you could already feel your bottom half writhing under him, the perfect pressure of his tongue dancing around your sensitive bundle of nerves making you moan in pleasure. As your head dipped back, falling into the couch pillow behind you, your hand shot down, fingers burying themselves in the wild curls of Frankie’s hair, tugging at the thick ends for any sort of release as he worked relentlessly at your aching cunt. 

“Fuck, Frankie, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your praise only intensifying the way your husband drank every ounce of you up, two thick fingers now gently pressing inside your heat, curled deliciously as they rocked in and out of your entrance, nudging against your g-spot. 

Frankie had spent enough time worshiping the altar that was your pussy to know exactly how to make you crumble beneath him, leaving you chanting his name like a prayer as his lips latched around your clit, ferociously sucking as his fingers prodded at the soft, spongy spot that made your cunt begin to clench and heat in your belly pool. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. I’ve got you.” Frankie groaned, his words humming deep in his chest, placing chaste kisses on the inside of your thighs before drinking you up like a man starved, adding a third finger into your heat, the added fullness and stretch, combined with Frankie’s relentless pace, enough to have the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine now washing through every inch of your body. Your orgasm began to crash through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins, making you cry out Frankie’s name over and over. 

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum again, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become, your pussy slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the Frankie and fucked you senseless with just his tongue. 

Wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand, Frankie tugged the sweatshirt covering his own body over his head, followed by his pants and boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock as it slapped against his stomach, his tip red and leaking with precum as his broad body loomed over yours, sucking and nipping at your pulse point as you whimpered his name. 

“Frankie, holy fuck.” 

“Such a good girl for me, querida. You still want me to fuck you, baby?” He mewled, the metallic and tangy taste of you still lingering on his tongue as he kissed you, laughing to himself at the way you found yourself frantically nodding your head to tell him yes before your words could. 

“Jesus Christ, yes. Fuck, please Frankie, I need to feel you.” 

Reaching down to stroke himself, he lined his cock up with your entrance, easily sliding into your heat and brushing his tip against your cervix, taking a moment to let you adjust to his fullness. The whine you let out as Frankie filled every inch of you was nothing short of ragged, digging your nails into the skin of his broad back as he ever so slowly began to thrust in and out of you, dragging his length against the slick of your cunt. 

“Oh fuck me- Fuck, you hear how wet you are for me, sweet girl? This what you needed, baby? To fill up that pretty little pussy of yours?” Frankie groaned, letting his forehead rest against yours, his sweaty curls now starting to stick to his skin as he pounded into you, rutting his hips at a faster and faster pace. 

“It’s all for you, Frankie- Oh shit- only for you.” You moaned, your fingers wrapping around the width of his biceps, flexing deliciously as he hovered over you, sucking you in to a long, deep kiss, fucking into you over and over. 

Even with the years between you and the ring on your finger, the possessive part of Frankie’s brain would never get over how the primal and all consuming feeling of knowing you were his, forever, your words shooting straight to his dick as a low groan rumbled in his chest, silently cursing to himself through gritted teeth, watching you fall apart below him. 

Readjusting himself, Frankie sat back on his heels, hooking his arm under one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, the new angle stretching you out in a way that had you seeing stars as Frankie rammed into your g-spot and began thumbing at your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your first orgasm. You could already feel the heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, your leg beginning to tremble hoisted over Frankie’s shoulder as he dug into the meat of your thigh with a bruising intensity. 

Just like he would never get over the fact of knowing you were his, Frankie would never get over watching you begin to crumble under his touch, taking the time to memorize every twitch and twinge your body made as you came closer and closer to your end, always savoring in the moaning mess you’d become as you fell apart around him. 

“Fuck, Frankie, Fuck, oh my god- I’m close, baby.” You were all but rambling at this point, your brain barley stringing together coherent sentences as you felt your cunt beginning to clench around his cock, the lewd noises of your moans, wetness and skin slapping together as your hips met filling the room at a borderline pornagraphic rate. 

“Meirda, I’m not gonna last much longer, hermosa. Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Frankie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes locking on yours and telling him everything he needed to know without you saying a word. 

“Inside. Fuck, please Frankie, I want you to cum inside me.” 

Your confirmation was all it took to flip the switch in Frankie that sent him absolutely feral, the thought of being able to actually knock you up now that you weren’t on birth control anymore, giving you a baby, proving another way to the world to mark you as his? The thought alone was enough to have him bracing every bone in his body to keep him from cuming right then and there. 

“Fuck me. You want me to fill you up, querida? Fuck me full of you? Fuck a baby into you? That's what you want, huh?” Frankie moaned, grunting with each thrust of his hips, his rhythm becoming more frantic and shaky as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit, swirling them in frantic circles to make sure you came before he did. 

“Fuck, yes. I need you too, holy fuck- wanna make you a daddy, Fransisco.” 

You could feel the tightly wound knot in your core starting to snap, your legs trembling and breath shaking as Frankie fucked into you, finding yourself on the verge of collapse- but not before Frankie’s filthy mouth got the last word in. 

“Jesus, fuck- Fuck, hermosa. That’s what you want, pretty girl? I swear, I’m gonna fuck myself so deep into you it’ll fucking take. Get you fucking pregnant tonight.” 

That was all it took to have you orgasm come crashing through you, every inch of your body radiating with pleasure as you came, crying out Frankie’s name as you gushed around him, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head, your mind going blank and numb, the only thing grounding you were the incoherent ramblings of your husband as he followed suit behind you. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, fuck, fuck-ahhhhhh.” With one final thrust, Frankie could feel himself spilling against your walls, coating you with his spend as his cock pulsed, making sure he milked himself of every last drop deep inside your cunt before even thinking about pulling out. Moving your leg, Frankie slumped into you, splaying himself across your body as your chests rose and fell in sync, laying in silence as you let your breathing steady, coming back down to Earth from your high. 

With a shallow grunt, Frankie carefully pulled his softening cock out of your heat, leaning back to admire the mess he had made between your legs, his cum dripping down the inside of your thighs and pussy glistening with the mixture of your arousal. You let out a soft hiss at the loss of Frankie’s fullness inside you, only to quickly be replaced by a gasp as he buried his two fingers back into your cunt.  

“Gotta make sure every last drop stays in there, hermosa. Gonna keep you full of me all night, baby.” He mewled, carefully gathering his spend and pushing it deep inside you, making you whimper as he slowly pulsed his fingers back and forth, pulling away his hand to lean back into your body, engulfing you with an electric kiss. 

“Holy fuck, fuck me. Jesus, Frankie.” You laughed to yourself, your head dipping back on the pillow as you buried your face in your hands, at a loss for words at how euphoric you now felt in your post colital bliss. 

“Wow, again, already? Gotta give me a few after that querida.” He smirked, making you roll your eyes at his joke as you playfully swatted at him, making him lean in to pepper your body with kisses, leaving you squealing and squirming in delight. 

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Fransisco Morales. If you keep fucking me like that, then yeah, absolutley.” 

“If I keep fucking you like this, I have a very hopeful feeling that next month, we’ll have something else to care about besides period cramps.”

“I swear to god, if one of my cravings ends up being buffalo chicken dip once I’m pregnant, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Taglist:

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[sttoru]

𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 .

⟣ sypnosis. a nightmare of your lover’s disappearance wakes you from your sleep.

⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. angst, comfort, fluff. takes place after gojo’s unsealed but before dec 24th, bits of spoilers jjk leaks 236 at the end. mentions of death, blood.

⟣ note. based on it’s happening again by agnes obel. coping rn dhmu . . . not proofread bcs i cant read through my tears anyways hope u enjoy im gonna cry myself to sleep now

everyone has to die at one point — not even the strongest of all could avoid that tragical fate. not even the strongest sorcerer you call your lover.

no, not even him. the universe couldn’t spare him. you thought that maybe, it would. maybe fate wouldn’t apply to him. oh, how wrong you were.

blood splatter—a stream of red liquid. right at your feet. right in front of your eyes. a man in half. and not just any regular man;

“satoru !”

your dark surroundings become blurry with tears, your body jolts out of its current dreaming state. you could feel your heart in your chest—in your throat. your brain shut itself off for a few seconds as your eyes try to make out shapes and figures in the room you’re in. your bedroom.

you only then realises that it was all just a gruesome nightmare. a hyperrealistic one at that; one that will haunt you for years.

“hmmh.. ‘m right here, baby.” a groggy voice next to you replies to your yell in agony. the yell that was the shape of your lover’s name leaving your lips—

you instantly turn your head to the right and there he was; the man whom just met death in your dreams. gojo satoru, all alive and well. in your bed, in your presence, in your life.

satoru’s hand aimlessly pats the space next to him in search of your body whilst he rubbed his eyes with the other, trying to adjust his sight to the dark so he could find you. you seemed to be in complete distress. which he does not like.

“it’s okay, shh, shh,” your lover hums, hand finally finding your arm. he doesn’t hesitate to pull you on top of him—your head laying on his chest.

his body was warm. his heartbeat was there. loud and clear in your right ear.

“satoru. . .” a river of tears flows down your cheeks like a dam that has been broken into. your body trembles, lungs feeling like they couldn’t get any air in them from how hard you were sobbing. the pain of losing your loved one; it all came flowing back to you.

satoru frowns, “hey, hey. look at me — sweetheart, c’mon.”

he instantly sits up and pulls you along with him. his hands find your cheeks, tilting your head up. this time it was his turn to feel his heart break in pieces. you looked absolutely distraught. as if you just went through a traumatic experience of some kind. he hated it.

“shit,” satoru mutters under his breath before pulling you into his embrace again, arms circling your waist with his head buried in the crook of your neck, “it’s okay, i’m here now. you’re safe.”

it wasn’t the first time you had nightmares when he was with you. you had them regularly after satoru had gotten sealed in the prison realm for nineteen days—nineteen days of dread for you. of an empty bed, an empty house and an empty life.

when satoru had finally been released from the prison realm it was like a dream come true. a happy dream, that is. not those repetitive, bad ones you have every now and then. you still get those nightmares of your lover being either taken away from you by force or by death itself. your brain couldn’t give you a break — even after his return.

“take a deep breath in,” satoru instructs and sets an example by doing the breathing exercise with you, “hold it for three seconds . . . breathe out for six. mhmm, good—jus’ like that.”

you repeat it a couple more times, sobbing and shaking throughout the entirety of the exercise, but eventually manage to calm down a little. satoru sighs in relief at this;

“you okay, baby?”

you nod weakly and sniff, wanting nothing more than to be held by the man you thought had vanished from your life forever. you had that scare once, when he was sealed, and you never want to go back to those dark times. ever.

“it’s— i, just—“ you hiccup once, unable to complete entire sentences, “i thought you w-were gone. i thought you had died.”

it was silent after that (except for the sound your silent sobs and sniffles). satoru had guessed by now that you saw him die in your dream — that much was pretty obvious. but, the thought that you were this distressed because of it makes him. . . happy in a way.

happy that someone would mourn over him at least.

“well,” satoru pensively replies, hands rubbing your back up and down soothingly, “everyone has to meet their end one day, you know?”

that sentence was one that was meant to lighten up the grim mood somehow. one of his many lighthearted remarks that were supposed distract you from your tears. it would work during other moments like these — were you’d be too baffled by the things satoru says to care about what you were crying for — yet today it only worsens your misery.

“shut up.” you weakly punch his chest to which the white haired male chuckles softly, his slender fingers instantly interlocking with yours. satoru’s thumb brushes against your wrist before pulling it up to his lips, placing ticklish kisses among your skin.

another silence hangs in the air.

“seriously though. . . if i were to somehow die, i’d want you to live and move on, yeah?” your lover whispers in such a quiet tone that it was almost inaudible. satoru had looked death right in the eye before — he didn’t care back then if it were actually his end.

he does now. he has the world to lose — his world — his everything. you.

satoru wants to live a happy life with you. he doesn’t want to die now that he has you. the love of his life which he wants to grow old with. maybe have kids with. start an own family away from the busy streets, away from the swarming curses in the city and away from all that sorcerer stuff. it was a nice dream.

“shut it!” you huff and satoru takes another weak punch to the chest. his gaze lands upon your tear struck face and he instantly drops the serious ‘act’.

the sorcerer laughs, his usual boyish laugh that makes you feel better, and he flips you both over so that he has you pinned underneath him. satoru grins before kissing your tummy all over, making you giggle from the ticklish feeling;

“i’m playin’, baby! i’m not going anywhereeee!” he promises through wet pecks against your skin, the smile on his evident even if you couldn’t see it — you could hear it in his voice.

satoru leaves your tummy and moves on to your neck and face. he was smothering you in affection in hopes you’d cheer up some way. he just wants you to forget about anything bad happening to him. you didn’t deserve to think about all that stuff — you deserve to be happy and full of joy.

even without him one day.

“i’d never leave my princess all alone.” satoru shakes his head and pouts dramatically, “who else is gonna spoil you? or kiss and cuddle you to bed, huh?”

you finally show an ounce of joy. a tiny smile. that was all satoru had needed to see. he wasn’t going to stop there, however. his goal was to turn that small smile into a full blown fit of laughter.

“i’m one of a kind, baby. you’re never gonna meet a man like me.” he continues with a proud grin, putting all of his body weight on top of you which causes you to groan and grumble a lighthearted complain.

satoru knows you like it whenever he clings to you and thus he uses that piece of knowledge to help you feel better. his head was buried into your shoulder, limbs enveloping your body like a koala.

“whatever.” you roll your eyes and snuggle up to your lover, closing your eyes as the tiredness hits your body after all that crying.

“whatever !” satoru mocks you in a high-pitched tone, followed by a pair of giggles from the two of you. a third and final punch to the chest finally shuts him up for the rest of the night.

the sorcerer made sure you had fallen asleep first before he whispered the next words in your ear, hoping they’d calm your mind and body so that no nightmares would ever bother you again;

“don’t you worry, sweets. i’m not leaving you. ever.”

. . .

those were the same exact words satoru wished he could utter to you one last time before the current date — 24th of december.

[winterarmyy]

Kiss It Better

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of. 

Summary: In which the reader refused to let Bucky go down on her lately because she's embarrassed of the chafing marks on her inner thighs.

Pairing: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Words: 3.2k++

Warnings: 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, cum eating, soft fluff, not much of angst but there's sprinkles of feels, body insecurities, bucky is in love and in heat tbh, i think he is particularly unhinged and filthy in this one but hey, you tell me. idk if i need to remind y'all about this but english is not my first language so my grammar are prolly fucked. Anyway--

Inspiration: Guess who felt a little soft and decided to wear a skirt to work? Yup, that would be me. No, because I commute to work (or basically anywhere) and there is quite a distance of walking in between the journey. Note that your girl here walk fast asf (basically running at this point).  And because them inner thighs ain't got no gap between them, so i got myself some blisters/chafing :') then i fell into a self-deprecating despair for the whole day and it hurts whenever i walk, at that time i just want Bucky to kiss it better. Fast forward a few days later, here we are.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

She could feel it. His burning gaze following her every move. Observing, calculating. And she knew that must not show any signs of discomfort; not on her face nor from the slightest jolts of her hips. She must not gave him a reason to question her.

She can't.

So she continue walking around their room, back and forth from the bathroom to the wardrobe, as if every step she took was followed by a burning sensation on her skin. She momentarily stood in front of the row of clothes hanging on the rack, her back facing the bed where Bucky had been sprawling on since she went in for a shower.

Honestly, she was standing there suspiciously 'too long', as if she was choosing an outfit for a date night, when clearly she was just getting ready for bed. When she realized that, she quickly pulled out a clean set of pyjamas and walk back into the bathroom.

Bucky's eagle eyes followed her figure, disappearing behind the locked door. His lips pursed as his cogs of thoughts spins around, trying to find answer a question that his lover keeps avoiding but it was useless.

He can't think straight. Especially when he was undeniably famished. He had not got a taste of her his sweet pussy for about 2 weeks now and he was quite literally about lose his fucking mind. 

When his sweetgirl refuses to go further than kissing and making out, of course he obliged. She has every right to 'no' and he respects her wishes. Then it happened again the next day. And the next. Then again, and again. 

Normally, people would've assumed that maybe she was on her period, and she is not comfortable having any sexual intimacy when menstruating. But, Bucky can tell that, that was not it. Because first of all, it was way too early for that time of the month, he knows her schedule.l very well. Second of all, he would've smell the blood if she was on her period.

Most of his senses are enhanced after all.

So, why was she avoiding it?

Bucky's is completely fine if sex was not something she wanted to do, but not even letting him eat her out? Now that's concerning. At least for him.

Because he needs her. He needs to suck on that needy little clit of hers, make it wet and swollen. He needs to lap on that sweet juices when she cums on his tongue.

Fuck. He's getting all work up now, thinking about it.

He swore that if this keeps going on, one of these days he might just spread his legs and fuck his fist on their bed while she's tied on a chair on the other side of the room. Maybe forcing her; seducing her, to watch his desperate cock become wet and messy would give her a clue of what he is feeling now.

Absolutely needy and deprived of that pretty little cunt of hers.

He was quite distracted with the filfthy thoughts until he heard the clicking sound of the bathroom door unlocked.

As she walked towards the bed, Bucky felt like his lungs stopped providing oxygen through his body, "Pretty." His eyes sparkled affection as the voice in his head echoed his thoughts. It wasn't that he have not seen her in those pyjamas before, he had. Many times in fact. The very same lavender set with tiny little cartoon cats printed all over the fabric.

The same ones that she wore when she came rushing to his side on one of those sleepless night. The time when she hold him close, distracting him away from the nightmare by asking the most random question of "You know, Bucky... These cats supposedly have the same expression, except for one. Do want to try and find it?"

He found it. It was near the hem of her right sleeve. And by that time, his nightmare was no where near his mind, the next thing he knew, he fell right back to sleep with her in his arms. It was his favourite pair of pyjamas that she ever worn.  Nothing compares.

A loving smile unconsciously appeared on his face when his lady threw a sweet smile at him as she walked toward the bed, "My baby's so pretty." He thought.

The grin on his lips lasted, but not for long. Especially when he saw the tiny frown on her face, the faltered steps and when he heard that brief sound of a painful hiss slipped out of her lips.

So the moment she sat down on her side of the bed, Bucky already had his hands on her. Arms instantaneously wrapped around her waist, before effortlessly pulling her back onto his sturdy chest.

She giggled gleefully from his sudden rush of affection  and that surely managed to trigger a chuckle out of Bucky. He hums and proceed to purr in crook of her neck, "What's wrong, baby?"

She could feel his throat rumbling at the back of her neck, "Did he notice it?". Her heart beat ever so slightly picked up its' pace but she planned to act like opposite of it, "Hmm? What do mean 'what's wrong'?" She asked.

Bucky can hear the change tempo coming from within her ribcage, he knew something was wrong, "I just want to know how are you feeling."  He pressed a long and tender kiss on the shoulder.

The warmth of his breath tickled her skin, "Now? Hmm. I feel very loved." She smiled dreamily as she closes her eyes.

Bucky left out a brief laugh at her response, this cheeky little bunny, "That's true, but how are you really feeling, hmm? Like physically?" He urges softly.

She thought about it for awhile; contemplating whether she should just tell him the truth or proceed to act like she okay. Well, she chose the latter, "Hmmm physically. In this position? Very comfy." She wiggled her body back into him, closing the non-existent gap between their bodies and gripping Bucky's arms around her a little tight.

Though her plushy ass was rubbing against his crotch just nicely, but the former winter soldier was not going to let that distract him from his mission. He needs to know what she's hiding behind that sweet smile, "Doll..." his voice was stern and she knew he was not having it.

His calling was only met with silence when she didn't reply verbally. Since she was looking down, Bucky cannot see the frown on face and the wobbling worries in her eyes. But he did picked up on the anxiousness of her heart; beating faster by the second.

"I..." her voice cracked at the first word she said, and Bucky knew he fucked up. He swiftly maneuvered her body to sit on his lap, facing him. His metal hand craddled her soft cheek, and his flesh ones gently caresses her back, "Hey hey hey, doll, what's wrong? Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pressure you." His voice was laced with panic.

When she only had her gaze down, Bucky tenderly coaxed her, "Bunny, look at me." His hand guided her by the chin and when they made eye contact, he apologized again, "I'm sorry. I just want you to feel better. Forgive me." He leaned in a planted a kiss on her forehead. Then, her nose. And her cheeks, all over her face, muttering his words of apology.

She felt bad that Bucky apologized for something that was clearly not his fault. She's the problem in this situation. Her negativity, her insecurity was what drove her away from Bucky for the past 2 weeks. She knew that. And she knew it wasn't fair to him.

Knowing Bucky, he's probably blaming himself for her actions. And she didn't want that. She decided to tell him the truth, "I just..." Anxiety runs through her veins when she thought about it again. Would she be able to handle it if Bucky reacted negatively to her truth? Probably, not. "Just... promise that you won't be disgusted by it... Or get the ick from it."

Bucky frowned in confusion, "I don't even know what 'get the ick' means but I promise." He swore.

She let out a short laugh at his comment, causing him to smile along. Seeing how loving his gaze was, it gave her the strength to confess. She started with explaining how she had been busy at work this month. With launch of the new product, and her being one of th product manager, she was obligated to visit the branches around New York.

Bucky listened to words attentively, at first he thought maybe she was trying to say that she's been stressed lately. But then she started to explained about how she had been wearing skirts to work most of the days, because it was one of the their campaign's rules and Bucky does not think that 'stress' was what this would conclude to.

Nevertheless, he didn't lose his attention.

"But basically what I'm trying to say is..." She took a deep breath before continuing, "It's just... My inner thighs are chafed..." her voice was barely audible at the end of the sentence but Bucky caught it perfectly.

He thought about it for awhile before asking, "So, you mean to say that you got blisters on your inner thighs?" He wanted to confirm that his understanding was accurate.

She looked down in shame as she nodded to his question.

Bucky responded by pulling her closer, and kissed her forehead, "Aww doll. Is this why you've been avoiding me? Because it hurts? Why didn't you tell me earlier? I could've helped you. I mean I could help apply some meds or--"

Horrified at the idea of him seeing marks; the literal reminder of how fat she is caused her to blurt, "No!" She pushed Bucky away, eyes widen in horrid.

"No?" Bucky frowned quizzically at her intense reaction.

Realizing what she just had just done,  she composed herself, and spoke, "It's... it's not a pretty sight. And I don't want to show it to you. Plus, if my thighs are a little thinner than they are now. Then, this wouldn't happen. If only these thighs are not like... fucking fat as they are we wouldn't have to go through this. And you wouldn't need to hear all this. You wouldn't---"

Bucky knew that once she was in the state of insecurity, she self-deprecate herself like she was less worthy than the goddesss that she is. So, instead of arguing with her, he simply intercepted her rambling, "Show me."

She stopped the seemingly endless word-vomit, and titled her head to the side, "Huh? No. Bucky I just said--"

Bucky grabbed her by the waist and effortlessly lifted her off his lap and onto the bed, caging her  below him, "And I said... Show. Me." His tone was more like an order rather than a request.

She didn't dare to defy him, when his gaze was as rigid as they were now, so pulled her pants off; slowly, reluctantly. When the pants was at the last inches before it's completely off, Bucky took control and quite literally ripped it off from her.

The sudden action resulted to her body needing to hide itself from his darken eyes. Her thighs clammed together as a whine slipped from her lips. The friction of her wounds brushing against each other was burning her delicate skin.

Bucky quickly softens when he heard her pained voice,  he pushed himself off from her and kneeled on the bed before her. "Doll, please..." His hands gently squeezes the side of her thighs as he pleads, "...Let me see."

Slowly spreading her thighs apart, Bucky's eyes are now focusing on the red marks on her skin. His thumbs absentmindedly traces the area around the broken skin. He was so concentrated that he didn't say a word. And that only triggered her insecurity that she started to rambled something about how she will start going in a diet and she'll add more intense leg workout in her routine.

But her voice was only a muffled strings of incoherent sounds in Bucky's ears when he finally processed everything that happened from 2 weeks ago until now.

The realization hit him like a high speed train with a broken break system. Did she really turned him down because of this? Did she really starve him out because of this? Bucky let out a growl of disapproval when he abruptly pulled her by her calves, forcing her hips to lift from the bed. She yelped in surprised but she saw the look on his face,  "You..." he rasped.

Bucky placed her legs on his shoulders, letting it daggle on his back as he palmed sides of her thighs. He then, proceed to leave trails of kiss on her inner thigh, avoiding the irritating wounds on her skin, "You deprived me of my sweet little pussy because you think this..." he flattened his tongue and nibble on her softness of her inner thighs, "...would turn me off? That these thick, soft thighs that I love so much would bother me?"

He planted a delicate kiss on the marks before, "Well, guess what bunny?. You're absolute wrong. In fact, it's quite the opposite." His lips travelled upwards until it found her core. Bucky's nose flared at the scent of her arousal, "And oh my sweet babydoll, I'm going to eat your pussy until understand that. Then, I'm gonna do it some more because I am fucking starving." He pressed a firm kiss on her clothed pussy, causing the cotton to soak the juices that leaks from her hole.

"Look at that. Does your needy pussy wants some pampering too, hmm?" She could see the lust dripping down his ocean blues; the same ones that were usually bright but now were now noticeably darker.

Bucky's finger traces the slit of her pussy, rubbing her over the fabric of her panties, making patch of wetness spread even more. "Yeah? Does she want me to kiss it better? Make her feel good?"

She moaned softly to his touch, "Please."

That was all it took for Bucky to rip her panties apart as if it was made out of paper.  "Fuck, there she is. My sweet pussy." He brought his fingers over, widened the folds of her pussy. Even with minimal lighting, it was enough to show him the glistening pink flesh of leaking cunt, twitching and needing his tongue to explore her insides.

He was hungry of course, just simply looking at her pussy had made his mouth water and impossible for him to resist the urge of putting his mouth on the pretty little thing. "Hmm,," a sharp cry escaped from her lips as he blew on her little twitching nub. There was this glint in his eyes as he watched her try to buck up, cunt helplessly clenching around nothing.

Before she could beg for him, Bucky's tongue dipped in between folds. Pointed at first, from the entrance of her pussy up to her clit. The tip of his tongue swirl around the aching nub. A breath caught in her throat when Bucky repeat the same move but this time he flattened his tongue.

And then he does it again and again.

Bucky, is generally the larger man compared to anyone. He is tall and beefy. But he is especially big when he's in between her legs, gently devouring her wet pussy. Slow and long licks were his favorite, it allowed him to savor the taste of her. Always so sweet and he couldn't get enough of it.

With every flick Bucky's tongue assulting to her swollen bud, she couldn’t help but pull on sheets behind her, needy moans leaves her lips every time he explored her, teases her. Her body cannot stay still when the pleasure was taking her higher. But it was not a problem for Bucky to control. Whenever she tries to close her thighs together, he stopped her. He didn't want to irritate her wounds or cause any pain, so he kept pushing her thigh open as he nuzzle his face into her pussy.

"Ahhh fuck ,, that feels so good, Bucky!" She moaned his name as the overwhelming feeling of his wet and soft tongue gliding and rubbing on her core, guiding her to heaven.

And the salacious squelching noises to fill the room as Bucky laps and sucks on her clit. She was so wet that he could just shove his fingers up in her hole but he didn't. He won't. After so many days not tasting her, he want to only use his mouth.

Though the man barely spoke during these times, he’d much rather keep his mouth occupied with drinking up her juices or suckling on her cute little clit. But when he does. Fuck. Does he spill the most unholy things.

Bucky momentarily detached himself from her and rasped, "Gonna cum, babydoll? Come on, give it to me. Let me drink and lick your cum after." His metal fingers quickly finds her clit, swiftly started to deliciously rub it; just the way he knew she liked it. It felt so good that her tongued lolled out her mouth out of pure pleasure.

"Yeah, bunny. You're gonna let me clean you up with tongue so nice, so that you can make the same mess again and again. Cum in mouth, babydoll. Cum for me"

He delved right back where is mouth belongs, licking her clit into his mouth just to wrap his lips around the pretty pink bundle of nerves sucking it harshly.  She whined needily her hips started to move on its own accord, searching for more friction of his tongue, “ahh ahh! hmmmm,, s-so fucking good! ahhh,, So close!” she was seeing stars in her hazy vision from how good and dirty she felt.

Bucky's eyes almost rolled back when let out a groan of satisaction against her spread out cunt; he can feel that she was going to cum and want her to do it with his mouth latched on her.

And cum she did, moments after she couldn’t help but squeal as her back arched from the bed, grinding herself on his tongue. Bucky growled at the streams of cream squirting out of her throbbing cunt right into his mouth, down to his throat.

So sweet and warm and addictive.

While her whole body was still shaking from the aftermath of the mindblowing orgasm, Bucky continued to lick and lap on her leaking pussy, slurping and suckling every bit of cream she had blessed him with.

Yet he was still hungry.

She mewled when Bucky started to suck on her clit again and when she looked over at him, he momentarily pulled away, "oh doll, did you forget? I'm not going to stop any time soon. So just lay there, look pretty for me and let me enjoy this sweet little pussy."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Have you ever gotten your inner thighs chafed? Anyway, thanks for spending your time to reading my work! Leave your thoughts behind, I'd love to read them ♡

[simpjaes]

FRENZY ៸៸៸ part two

Jake is experiencing real love for the first time in his life. He’s so infatuated with you that he would do anything to make you understand. And you? Oh, you are in no place to argue with a man who appears to be perfect. 

៸៸៸  part one here ៸៸៸ you must read the first part in order to understand this one!

៸៸៸ sim jake x afab reader 

 ៸៸៸ minors dni

 ៸៸៸ wordcount: 14.2k

 ៸៸៸ genre: stalker au, dark fic, slow burn, smut

 ៸៸៸ content tags: switch!stalker jake, he is gross but on a plus side he’s got a big shlong, obsession, panty stealing/sniffing, toothbrush sucking, shower water tasting, jealousy, manipulation, past trauma involving sa of reader, reader is manipulated into being obsessed with him too, trauma, jake is very insane, he’s thinks you need him to fix you, reader can be lifted and carried by him. 

 ៸៸៸ !WARNINGS! there is intense trauma, past abuse, and conflict in this fic. It’s dark with mentions of noncon and dubcon, and an instance where jake keeps going after reader faints. Everything is consenting between the two but only because he is manipulative and a bad person. if you can’t handle it, don't read it.

 ៸៸៸ a/n: sorry again for the way i had to post this in two parts, still i hope it was worth the wait!

៸៸៸ nsfw tags under cut

៸៸៸ nsfw tags for the whole fic, as in both chapters: masochism (jake), sadism (reader and jake), overstimulation, painful masturbation, praise, worship, dirty talk, blowjob, finger fucking, pussy eating, riding, missionary, mating press,  standing up sex yayyyyy, huge giant fat cock jake, deep penetration, unprotected sex, implied breeding, choking, hair pulling, suffocation, cock warming, crying, begging, hate sex, hitting (m receiving), squirting

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The next morning, you were late waking up to log into your work account but Jake was still there, drowsy and smiling at you from the moment you opened your eyes. 

You briefly remember the early morning pouting he gave you, hard against you and lips all over you, and in turn you remember how you made a promise to yourself swiftly after rejecting his needs.

Your face heated up the second he said good morning to you, flustered over the fact that not only do you want him, but you want him to want you like that again, despite your rejection. After all, you let him sleep over, and he didn’t try to take advantage of you despite sporting an intense boner through the majority of it. 

He sees the way your eyes check him out upon waking up too, but you stay silent after he gives you his good morning greeting. 

“Are you hungry? I can step out and pick up some breakfast so you can work.” He offers, stretching his arms out wide and tapping you to stand up. “I’m staying again today.” 

Your eyes widen at him, but the smile on your face betrays that little red flag in your head that has forced you, up to this point, to struggle to give him what he needs. 

“I’d like that.” You nod to him, cheeks permanently warmed at the image of your shining boyfriend. “Sorry about last night.” You blurt now, standing up and stretching yourself. 

“It’s fine love, it's just hard to keep my hands to myself sometimes.” He says, intensely watching your reaction.

You lend a pause in your stretch at those words, having heard them before when your ex did things that made your body ache for weeks. There is a pull in your gut hearing him say that before you remind yourself that they’re just words. He just really likes you, and he did stop when you told him to.

He is not your ex. 

“I wouldn’t have hurt you though,” He continues, seeing you deep in thought in front of him. “If you’d have let me, I mean.”

“Jake I–” You stop yourself, feeling a flood of words on the tip of your tongue. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” You confirm, now moving forward to hug against him. “I would have–” 

“You would?” His eyes light up, smile brighter than you’ve ever seen before. 

“No, I mean,” You stutter in panic, hugging him tighter. “I would have touched you if you asked.”

His eyes go dark instantly, making his smile seem more eerie than anything as you look up at him. 

“I’m okay with doing the touching, we can work our way up to the other stuff…maybe? If that’s okay?” 

“Oh, baby, that’s more than okay.” He coos out, now losing his appetite for actual food and wanting nothing more than to show you just how good he could really be for you. His arms hug you tightly before releasing you, and he ushers you across the room. “We can talk about this later though, you’re already late, right?”

You nod, feeling a bit better about initially rejecting him and doing just that, moving to the small nook that holds your desk and PC and listening to him slip his shoes on. 

“I’m going to grab breakfast, and I’m gonna stop by my place to grab some clothes.” 

He leaves before you can answer, which is nice because part of you didn’t want to hear your own voice accepting that. 

Accepting that he’s leaving right now, accepting that he’s coming back to stay another night, accepting that you feel perfectly fine with all of this despite your inner demon advising you to run. 

You don’t know who you are in this moment, but what you do know is that you’re safe. That’s what’s driving you to act blatantly against what your own brain is telling you.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You’re clinging and Jake is fucking devoted to the feeling of it.

Devoted to the way your fingers, so much smaller than his own, grab him to kiss him. Devoted to the way you kiss the bruise above his brow, and the way you ask him to stay for another night, and another, and another, up until he finds himself doing his and your laundry together just so he doesn’t have to go back home to grab more clothes to rotate through. 

It’s been a week since he’s been in your apartment, rolling around on your bed with you in it, cleaning himself in your shower, washing himself with your soap. It’s like only the two of you exist in this space, where he is the only one to step out and see the sun, solely so you don’t have to.

Or, solely so you can’t. He doesn’t think he’d let you at this point, now that you’re his and you prove it with each kiss and hug. All you need to do is sit and look pretty, sit and love him. That’s what your purpose is in this relationship, he will do the rest. 

Given, he’s also fucked his fist each second he can get in your bathroom. But goddamn do you cling. You whine when he separates himself from you even for a moment, and day by day he can see you come closer and closer to fulfilling his need to be loved by you entirely. 

Your phone hasn’t received any unsavory messages you’ve noticed as well, they haven’t needed you to come into the office, and all you can manage to think is that…you’re in love with being in this apartment with him.

Only good things happen when Jake is with you and you’re growing so attached that you’ve thought more than once to just move him in with you. Your mother would scold you, your ex would kill you, and arguably, Jake would absolutely do it. 

He waits on you hand and foot. Cooking, cleaning, doing your laundry, holding you and giving you some of the best sleep you’ve had in years. You refrain from considering it seriously though, because this relationship is still so new. You don’t want to freak him out or cause an uproar in your already fucked up and unsteady life. You’re throwing yourself in like you always do, but…is it so bad when he’s doing the exact same thing?

Until he’s not, anyway. 

“Love,” Jake starts, tapping his chin with the tips of his fingers as he lounges on your bed. “I need to go home today.”

Your heart immediately sinks. 

“What? Why?” You ask in a voice that plainly shows your panic.

“Well,” He taps on his chin again before moving his hand through his hair. “I’m pretty sure my mailbox is probably full by now, I need to clean out my fridge, and I should probably check my course work.”

“You’re…in college?” 

Jake nods with a snicker, laughing at how he’s given up his entire life for you. 

“Yeah, probably won’t be soon though.” He laughs, shaking his hair out and then looking at you with big, rounded eyes. “Just for the day, I’ll be back before sunset.”

You look down in a disappointed way before nodding to him. 

“Aww, babe. Don’t be like that–” He mock pouts as he turns to you, grabbing both of your cheeks and squishing them up, forcing your lips to pucker before landing a harsh kiss against them. “I’m coming right back, I promise.” 

You nod again, unable to keep a smile from forming on your face. 

“You’re so cute, it’s going to kill me one of these days.” He smiles back at you, hopping up and preparing himself to head back to his apartment. 

What you don’t know is that, while Jake wasn’t lying and that he should at least clean out his fridge, he needed to go home. 

He needs to unload the footage onto his computer, he needs to watch it back, he needs to fuck something.

And so, he does just that. 

The second he gets back to his apartment, it’s almost uncomfortable. Unfamiliar scents, no warmth, rotting food in the fridge, neglected pillows and bed sheets. 

Even so, it’s like he acts on instinct when he walks past everything he needs to do and lands himself at the window. His mind takes over in an instant.

It felt like so long ago when he first saw you from here, knowing you were the most beautiful, the perfect girl for him. Knowing you would love him too, and that you’d never want to leave him. He smiles at his victory, knowing that you’re sitting in that apartment right now thinking about him too. If he knew where he would be now, he thinks his former self may have very well fucked himself to death. After all, he’s felt you, tasted you, and even seen parts of you based on the little image he sent to himself from your phone. Everything happened better than he knew it would.

If it weren’t for your ex, perhaps you wouldn’t have let him stay with you in your apartment. Perhaps you wouldn’t have clinged to him so immediately. 

In a way, he almost wants to thank the man before he eventually strangles the life out of him. 

He’s tasted almost all of you by this point, and each moment it happened is trapped within the files of that little camera there. All of it, for him to remember. Each kiss and makeout session he made sure happened in the view of this camera, and so badly does he want to watch over and over again the moments where you gave in to him. The moments where you needed him. 

He’s quick to push the camera to his pc, uploading a weeks worth of files before placing it back onto the window sill and immediately shoving his hand down his pants. 

Jake shivers at the first unrestricted graze of his hand against his cock, eyebrows falling into that of probably one of the most pathetic faces he could ever make in his life. The relief is so good, so painful.

He can’t fucking help it. After jerking off multiple times a day before finding himself in your apartment with you, it’s hard to only do it once a day within a short time span of a few minutes. He felt so restricted in terms of his release, and he has so much cum to give right now. He’s aching for it. He wants to bleed it dry. 

He wants you so bad at this point, seeing you dangle yourself in front of him and not yet give in to at least going down on him– he needs this. He needs it now. 

Even if it’s not you touching him, he needs to release before he takes it from you. Before he does something stupid and makes you hate him forever. Before he really does become your ex. It felt like he was going insane in your apartment, surrounded by you, only wanting to fuck you, and still not getting to. 

God, the footage is so grainy but it hits his cock so fucking fast. He memorized each moment as it happened, and now watching it in third person makes him feel as if he’s some sort of ghost. Like he’s having an out of body experience and can see and feel you in a completely different light.

In more ways than he already has, even.

He releases within thirty seconds, barely holding his cock when he doubles over at the footage of that very first, harsh kiss you gave him. Sensitive and twitching, his raging length spilled all in his pants, drenches them through even, as his body shakes with the need for more.

And as if it never happened, he takes a firmer hold of his cock now, fast forwarding the footage to each and every kiss, wondering how good those lips of yours would feel elsewhere on his body. How pretty your moans would sound for him, how cute your hand looked gripping your tit in that little nude of yours, how–

He comes again, forcing him to let out a choked sob and drop his head to his desk. God, it hurts. He’s so sensitive, and still, he wants you so bad. His dick is still raging, aching, and begging, especially when he thinks of how you’ve been clinging. How your hands have fucked yourself, and how badly he wants them to stay on him forever. 

God he wishes your fingers could slice him open, leaving painful and love-filled reminders of not who you belong to, but of who he belongs to. 

When he thinks of how he’s only doing this right now because you have your claws buried into him already, almost refusing to let him leave you, he knows he could come another four or five times within the next thirty minutes solely because you cling, and cling, and fucking cling. Fuck..

That’s so hot to him.

He’d let you cage him up in a heartbeat, he’d let you fuck his entire life up and then laugh at him for it. It’s what you deserve. To have a man willing to do anything for you, someone willing to give up everything just to hear you breathe, to have him be that person. 

Third release, forcing him to hold his breath to the point of feeling faint.

The veins on his neck protrude, sweat now dripping down his brow. 

It hurts, it hurts, it fucking hurts.

But it doesn’t hurt enough.

And all day he does this. Until the sun is telling him that he needs to go back to you, until his hair is drenched in sweat and his arm is sore. Until his body feels weak and his cock feels spent, raw, and still throbbing for more. 

It hurts when he puts on a new pair of pants, hurts even more when he forces himself to squat in front of his fridge to clean it out, opting to toss everything into a bag rather than sifting through what’s good and what isn’t. 

Now more than ever does he want you against him, knowing that he’s fucked himself half to death solely to keep himself from scaring you, and still he isn’t satisfied.

At this point, nothing will satisfy him but you. He knows this now.

He’s quick to lock up, even quicker to toss his trash, and finds himself inside of your lobby at a loss.

Goddamn his libido. Goddamn this love for you. 

He can’t stop wanting you, and he can’t just fuck the need away himself at this point. He needs you to fuck his brain quiet, only you can satiate this horrifyingly deep hunger. 

Waiting, watching, waiting, waiting, waiting. 

He’s waited enough. He’s done waiting. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake appears at your door right on time, and you were expecting to see his smiling face and big stretched out arms to greet you as you open the door for him.

You didn’t get that though. In fact, you found yourself frozen with the door half open as you stared at your boyfriend and the way his terrifyingly small pupils looked back at you before instantly growing twice the size. So different from this morning, heaving, lips shaking, eyes darker than they’ve ever been. 

Before you can even ask why he’s looking at you like that, you learn exactly why. 

“I’m going fucking insane.” Jake says shortly in a hot whisper, stepping forward and slamming the door behind him. You feel his hands on you instantly, slipping under your shirt and grabbing your waist tightly. “Can’t be away from you, can’t be with you, I can’t stand it.” 

You just listen, feeling him walk you into the living room, fluttering his lips all over your face and neck, only to press you up and against the window with his entire body pinning you there with a slam. 

You’re shocked, unable to do anything but listen to him and feel the way his hands grip and search your entire body for something to hold onto. 

“All fucking day,” Jake seethes out angrily, pulling back from you and grabbing your face to turn it. Almost pissed that you simply exist in front of him right now. “Right there.” He says, pointing directly to his apartment. “I sat right there trying to deal with this.” He presses his hips against you, letting you feel exactly what he’s talking about. “And still, I need more.”

Your brain goes numb. Or maybe it goes hot, you’re not sure. You’ve only recently realized that he turns you on beyond belief, it’s difficult to decipher the difference between horniness and fear right now. 

“Jake–” You turn back to him, now using your own hands to grab his face, forcing his eyes to steady and look at you, as if to bring him back to reality. “Do you need–”

He cuts you off with a harsh kiss, hands running up just to press you harder against the window, his hips chasing whatever he can get from you. Like he’s using you in this moment, as if you’re not real and simply a doll for him to release against and inside of. 

He’s fucking gone. Outside of himself, and you, and the universe as a whole. 

“What I need,” He says, pulling back and stating in an almost demanding tone. “Is for you to take care of me.”

You knew this would come sooner or later, and you’d been trying to work up the courage to do it. You’ve run his patience dry, and you guess it’s now or never at this point.

“Just tell me.” You whisper submissively, wanting to give him whatever he needs solely so that he won’t leave you.

You see his expression soften within a split second, his hips release their pressure against you, and he pulls his hands back.

“Fuck.” He lets out apologetically, demeaning himself for losing his control and being so blatant. Pointing out his fucking apartment to you. “Baby, I’m sorry, I–”

You’ve already made your decision, understanding exactly why your boyfriend broke his composure. This past week proved enough to you that he wasn’t in it to fuck you, and even though his needs weren’t being met, he still worked hard to meet yours, you feel…

Yeah, you’re happy he did this. Even the force didn’t scare you entirely. The only thing that scares you is him leaving you over this. And he watches as you do it, sinking to your knees and reaching out to hook your fingers into the loops on his pants. 

“Baby,” He warns you, feeling you pull him straight to you. “Wait, wait.”

You don’t, knowing that if you were to stop now you might end up talking yourself out of doing this again.

“No,” You shake your head, lifting on your knees just to rub your cheek against the length in his pants. “Let me take care of you, I’ve neglected you enough.”

God, he fucking buckles. Dropping right to his knees in front of you, pulling you in by the face, and kissing you as hard as he possibly can. His entire body quivers, bursting in a euphoric sense of arousal as the hairs rise on his body at the very image of you on your knees for him. 

“You’re so good to me,” He mumbles through kissing you. “So, so good to me.”

And you just let yourself feel it. Intensely, to the point that even your stomach flips at knowing what’s about to happen.

Strangely enough, it flips in a good way. You haven’t felt like this in years, and it brings so much glee to you knowing that Jake is right here, willing to let you make him feel good. Willing to let you feel these things again, willing to make you feel good if you work up the courage to ask for it. And most of all, he’s staying. 

“Stand up then.” You whisper in a smile. “I’ll take care of you, so don’t run back home to do it yourself anymore.”

Jake shakes his head with a smirk, happy to get what he not only wants at this moment, but what he so desperately needs. 

“I did that for you, and look where it got me.” He says, standing and staring down at you. “Nothing will ever satisfy me, only you can.” 

You chuckle shyly, reaching up to fumble with his button only to have him take over for you, dropping his pants and gripping himself. 

“Don’t be so sure though.” You swallow around a lump in your throat at the size of him, proving why you were always able to feel it and not quite ignore it. “I don’t have a lot of practice with this.”

Oh, could you be any more perfect? Any more fucking endearing? With those pretty eyes staring down what he wants to put in you so bad, not even knowing how he’s only ever gotten this hard for you and you alone. Fuck, he could give it to you so good, he could fill you until you can’t breathe, he could keep you forever.

You look so pretty like this, with your lips trembling as you wet them, with the way your smaller hands swat him away as if to ask him to let you try and hold it yourself. 

He could shoot his load right now if you asked him to, looking so fucking docile on the floor for him. He needs to look away, he needs to prepare for this.

“I don’t know if I can, um,” You start, gripping him and noting that he’s thick, there’s no way it will all fit in your mouth without absolutely suffocating you. “Jake, I genuinely don’t know if I can fit all of it.”

He lends you a short chuckle as he takes in a breath, his fingers going down to tip your chin up at him. You feel it pulse in your hand as he looks at you, almost feeling his quickened heartbeat through the vein that runs up the underside of it. 

“Love, I don’t need it to fit.” He smiles, pressing it harder into your palm. “Even this is enough right now.” He lies, pressing his hips forward as if to show you that he’s lying.

He needs it to fit so bad.

You eye him down, feeling the twitch release a little dribble of precum that rolls down and onto your circled fist. It’s been a long time since you’ve looked at another person this way, wanting to taste it, almost needing to. 

Rubbing your legs together, almost uncomfortably, you swallow again as you keep your eyes trained on his before glancing back down. You pull your hands back just to see the way it drops. God, it’s so heavy. You can imagine he’s full of resentment for how long it’s taken you to simply look at it. His cock rages at you, darkened in color and glistening in the light of the setting sun through the window. 

All you can do is stare.

And all Jake can do is stare too, watching you do math in your head of what you need to do with him. He’d take anything, fucking anything, from you right now.

“Mm,” Jake hums for a moment, grabbing your hand and squeezing it tighter. “Like this.” He instructs.

“I know how to give a hand job, you know.” You roll your eyes playfully, despite totally forgetting how to do it now that, you know, you want to. 

“Yeah, don’t tell me that.” He warns, annoyed that you’d even say that right now. “Just, grip me harder–” He closes his eyes, pretending that you’ve never touched a cock that wasn’t his own, noting how your hands have always been gentle with him, save for that day you dragged him around by the shirt in a kiss.

You listen, trying to grip the girth of it as tightly as you can while dragging your hand forward and back, forcing little grunts out of him.

“Yeah,baby–” he encourages you, “Just like that.” He continues to lose himself to the feeling in soft moans, blinking down and now moving his hips in your grasp, fucking forward a bit harder. “Use your other hand too..”

You listen intently, never having to use both hands on a man like this before. You try to squeeze him, offering as much pressure as you can as he swivels his hips forward and back, slicking your hands up nice and wet with his precum. Unbelievable how much he has, actually. 

 You look up when he lolls his head back in a drawn out moan, staring at the expanse of his neck and the way it tenses when he swallows around the same moan. And then, suddenly, in a split second he hangs his head back down and looks at you as if he can see everything you are, everything you ever have been, and everything you ever could be. You gasp at his expression, feeling totally lost and in awe when you see that gaze go dead as he stares back. 

His lips fall slack when his hips pick up pace, essentially fucking your fists rather than letting you do the work. And when you glance away from him, tuning in to the consistent pre-cum spilling out of him, he sees you lick your lips. 

He watches, he sees you want it. 

So, very gently, he places one of his hands on the back of your head, encouraging you to do it. And it’s like he can taste colors when you let him and instantly wrap your lips around the big, swollen head of his leaking length.

The half-moan-half-amazed-chuckle that falls out of him only comes from the fact that you instantly stretch your lips around it, lapping at his tip in an almost hungry way. 

“God, fuck–” He keeps his head hanging forward, watching intently as you take him further and further into your mouth, up until you release one hand and grasp his thigh to hold onto. “I’ve dreamed of this.” He admits, shocked that you’re really going to do this for him.

You blink up at him, trying to smile around the heavy length pressing your tongue down. If you’re going to do this, the least you can do is make sure he fucking loves it. Not to mention, the fact that you’re also enjoying it only drives you to do more. Like the wall inside of you has been shattered and nothing could ever stop you from wanting him in any and every way possible.

He smiles through a deep groan at the way your lips still curl around him.

Never in his fucking life did he imagine you smiling while sliding his cock down your throat. Really, you did that entirely on your own and somehow, he feels even more insane than he did walking into your apartment earlier. 

You’re making it fit, and all he can do is help you, now bracing that same hand on your head and pressing further into your mouth.. 

More, more. 

And when he feels your fingernails dig into his thigh and his cock hit the back of your gagging throat, he chokes out, eyes tearing up, and he sobs out your name in a desperate attempt to compliment you for it. 

That sound alone from him went straight through you, igniting a long awaited arousal within your belly. You feel the drip, relishing in the feeling of being wet for the first time in fucking years. He’s so big, and he’s so suffocating. You want to do this, you want to hear him cry out your name again.

Even when he tries to pull his hips back, you grab onto him and hold his hips in place, pushing your lips further down, depressing your tongue even more as the thickest part of him cuts off your airways. Your throat restricts around him, and you feel proud of it. Proud of choking on him, happy to keep doing it. 

He stutters in awe, gripping the windowsill with his free hand and using the other to feel your hollowed out cheeks. Shit, you’re going to taste him, he’s going to give you all of it, he’s going to–

Shocked, floored, entirely drunk for you, all he can do is watch as you choke. His body did not warn him at all when his cum shoots into your throat, warming your belly with that first swallow around him. 

Your reaction to it is immediate though, as he watches with half-crossed eyes the way you pull off of him and let his cum spurt out and drip all over your face. Down those beautiful cheeks, onto your plush lips, and down your neck.

It won't stop. He just keeps coming. His entire body trembles as he stares at you, and you stare back before closing one eye due to the fact that there is now cum in your eyelashes, and you fucking smile at him.

The image alone keeps him hard as his body finally stops twitching. You, there on your knees, smiling up at him drenched in him. 

“Baby,” He soothes out with a raspy tone. “Fuck, you didn’t have to do–”

“I’m wet. Jake.” You smile, as if you’re admitting this to him to gain some sort of congratulations for it. And in a way, you are. He has no idea how amazing it is to you right now that you can feel your panties go sticky. It feels amazing to admit to him, actually. 

It’s so relieving, it’s so warm, it’s something you never should have missed out on in the first place.

“What?” He asks with uneven breath, dropping to his knees in front of you again, rubbing the cum into your skin with his thumb as he caresses your face. “You are?”

You beam at him, smiling with a nod.

“Really?” He asks again, in disbelief because this was all it took? 

You nod again, leaning back on your arms and watching him follow, hovering over you and slotting himself between your legs with a hungry gaze. 

“Can I feel?” He asks abruptly, crawling over you to the point that your back hits the side table behind you, keeping you from lying all the way down. 

And you nod before you think about it. Wondering if this is how it’s always supposed to be. Always willing, always wanting, always needing. 

He stares at you when you nod, glancing down to your middle then back at you as if to gain another confirmation. 

You nod again, this time wanting to hide your face in your arms. You anticipate it, wondering what it’ll feel like to be touched there again by a hand that isn’t your own after all this time. And when you feel his shaking hand dip into your sweat pants, you don’t even shutter. You don’t shy away.

You’re surprising yourself even, letting out a gasp when he cups your core and looks down at you with a cautious smile. 

“You’re dripping, baby.” He smiles as he balances himself on one arm over you, rubbing his hand back and forth and memorizing the dips and folds he can feel through this flimsy fabric. Then, his more intrusive thoughts spill in an unintentional and needy groan. “Fuck, I bet you’re so tight.”

Words that would make you recoil are no longer scaring you. You can tell he wants to apologize for saying it too, but goddamn, you loved hearing it. In fact, your entire body pulses at the words, feeling his hand do nothing more than hold you there and gently rub. His eyes are pleading though, with his lips pouting as he relishes in thoughts of probably fucking his fingers into you just to see if he’s right. 

Or maybe it’s just you hoping that’s what he’s thinking about. You can’t help the way you clench, letting out a strained breath as you lurch forward and hug him around his neck, squeezing so tightly as you whisper against the shell of his ear. 

“You can touch me– if you want.” You whisper, physically feeling the goosebumps against his neck raise to your lips. “Just go slow.”

You still need to go slow, after all, you don’t know how your brain may react to this, despite loving it at the moment. Relishing in the fact that someone managed to make you feel horny again. You feared that you never could again. God, he’s amazing. 

“I’ll go so slow for you,” He whispers back, twisting his hand in your pants to hook his fingers around your panties to pull them to the side. “Oh, baby, you really do want this, don’t you?” He whispers again upon really feeling you drip, trying to slide his fingers through the slick mess before rubbing circles around your hole. He’s lost his train of thought now, only able to feel one sense at a time so that he can fucking memorize how you coat his fingers entirely.

He moans again from deep in his chest along with you, despite knowing you’re the only one feeling the pleasure of his fingers. You feel his moan vibrate through his throat when you kiss him there, anticipating what it’s going to feel like when he slides a finger in.

And it’s like you see stars when he does, slowly pressing one into you as he wraps his other arm around your waist to hold you in place, sitting back on his knees and forcing you to stand on your own infront of him. 

There he holds you as if he’s afraid you’ll start to fight, relishing the feeling of your wet walls hugging his finger all while you cling to him through it. He was right, you are tight despite how wet you’ve gotten. It’s almost like you’re a virgin despite knowing that you’re not. 

Your body is reacting this way for him, and you’re hugging him, and your pussy is clenching for him. He just knows that if he manages to fit his cock into you, he’d fucking lose it. You’d squeeze him so tight, and he’d fuck it so deep. Fill you up, deeper, deeper, until the only name you know is his. 

He’s losing it again, hearing your little whispered moans against his ear, hanging on him like a fucking pet, god, he wants you to squeeze the fucking blood out of him. You’re being so compliant, so submissive, so–

“Do you even know…” He starts babbling, trying to silence his thoughts by giving them straight to you as his finger slides out, eagerly shoving two back in at a much quicker, much harsher pace. “How much I’ve dreamed about this?” 

You shake your head noting how he’s already mentioned dreaming of you once. The thought has you spreading your legs out to feel how deep his fingers reach inside of you. There’s no pain involved in this, despite his pace not being nearly as slow as he said he would go. You’re not upset, you want him to go faster, you want him deeper, you want to hear him talk.

“So many times, baby, so many times.” He soothes himself more than you through these words, losing himself more and more each second to the feeling of your core clenching his fingers. “You’re even prettier to me right now,” He continues to babble, listening to you hum in his ear at the pleasure you feel. “I want you to take everything from me.” 

“I want you to wrap your legs around my neck, I want you to rub my nose in it, I want you to suffocate me, I want—”

“Shit, Jake.” You moan out his name for the first time at the dirty words. They’re a lot to take in only because you know it truly is a lot, or rather, it should be. But you fucking want that too. You want everything from him, you want everything he wants. Everything. “What else?” You urge him to keep talking.

“I want you to pull my hair,” He says, instantly feeling your fingers slide up his neck and into the thick of it, tugging immediately. “I want you to make it fit here too.” He continues, curling his fingers inside of you, thrusting his own hips against the dense air in your apartment. 

You moan again at his hot words. You’re overwhelmed by how much you want more, how much you’d let him, right here, right now. 

“Keep going,” You sing out, feeling it in your stomach and knowing that this familiar feeling is so much better than you’ve ever felt before. “Tell me, Jakey, fuck–” You continue, huffing at the way his fingers quicken even more. 

“Sound so pretty saying my name, fuck,” He groans now, more level than before as he feels your legs close around his arm, fingers relentlessly hitting the soft spot inside of you. “Tell me that I’d never hurt you, that only I can make you feel like this.”

You nod aggressively as your brain hits a wall, unable to fulfill his request. Every muscle in your body tenses in pleasure as you begin to shake, moving your own hips against his fingers and tugging his hair harder without intention. 

He moans out at how tight you hold him, wanting nothing more than to lay you out and bury himself into you, to feel your pussy jerk him off. 

“Feels so good, baby, right?” He continues to talk, feeling your tight walls try to push his fingers out with each threat of your build up, his mind is spinning. “Say it–” He stutters, feeling his own body react the same way yours is. “Fuck, please, say that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” You whisper out of breath against his ear, the hot breath sending him overboard as he immediately pulls his fingers from you and grips his cock instead, ignoring your whimper of the lost build up.

“Yeah,” He cries out, thrusting his hips against his hand. “So let me– please, please let me.” 

His face looks so broken when you stare at him in shock, eyes pleading for you to give him all of it. To give him everything right now. How could you fucking say no to that expression? How could you ever say no to him? 

And still, with your orgasm half-fulfilled, you’re entirely enamored with the way you instantly want it too. As if you’re rushing head first into a brick wall with him, and you stop just to think for a moment.

Should you? 

Do you intend to keep this man forever? Do you want him to leave? Would you be able to picture a day without him? 

It confirms in your brain right then and there. You do intend to keep him. You don’t want him to leave. You could never picture a day without him at this point. 

If he wants to have sex with you right now? Why not? You’re sure that if he is truly wanting to stay, sooner or later you’ll feel him pumping inside of you. Why should it matter that it happens now rather than tomorrow? Or next week? Or even next month? 

Instantly upon your snap decision, you stand on shaking legs, watching him watch you. His hand gripping himself harshly to prevent a pathetic and untouched orgasm, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy. 

You smile, dropping your pants, panties, and then lifting your shirt right up and over your head. All he does in response is wince, grip the base of his cock harder, and try to focus on not spilling and wasting his cum on your floor. Brain only slightly trying to distract him with the idea of grabbing those sticky panties to suck them clean. 

“Really?” He chokes, out of breath and standing up, swiping your panties up quickly and crumpling them in his hand.

Then, you feel one hand on you after he drops his length, and the other rubbing those same wet panties against your skin, as if he has a death grip on them and you. Still, he walks you right back to the window and against it, speaking in that same, needy and shaking breath. “Baby, are you sure?” 

You look away, feeling vulnerable and shy but so willing, so ready when you nod and throw your leg around his waist as if to tell him that you’re more than sure. 

He gives you a breathy chuckle, pulling back just to lift his shirt off of him, hang your panties at the base of his cock, and then he grabs your leg and holds it in place. “Right here?”

He can’t tell if he’s even alive right now, with your pussy sitting spread open right up against him as you let him hold you here, your ass is probably looking great for the camera right now. Your panties feel so good in their rightful place, dangling just in front of his balls. You feel so good in your rightful place, right up against the wall with him trapping you here. 

You nod again, pressing your hips forward, proving to him how hungry you feel for him right now. Finally feeling dirty and not hating yourself for it.

“Right here.” You confirm, tuned into his lips and leaning forward to lick against them. “That’s what you want, right?”

He’s stunned by how you take control while still being somehow submissive to him about it. Almost like you’re shaming him for wanting it, almost like you don’t want to admit that you want it too. 

“Is that what you want?” He asks, trying hard not to think about how you’ve shifted entirely within the span of however long it’s been since the two of you started this. Is this how you act when you're horny? 

“How could I not?” You confirm again with a confident tone, watching your boyfriend break in front of you. “Look at you.”

Jake can’t bear to look at himself, he knows he looks just about as pathetic as he’s always wanted. Never quite able to feel pathetic enough to satisfy him, only now understanding why he chased and chased the feeling to have you like this. 

Controlling whether he can stick his dick in you, controlling whether he can fuck off and die. 

That’s how it’s supposed to be in a relationship, but somehow it’s something else between both of you. For him, it’s like you’ve intentionally edged him for an entire week and for you it’s like you finally have control over your own sexuality again. 

You feel powerful, and Jake wants to be entirely at your mercy. 

“No one has ever wanted me this bad and waited.” You finally say to his intense and loving stare. “I want to give you anything you want.”

If he had a tail, it would be wagging so fast right now. It’s like he’s being given a treat for being exactly who you needed him to be, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop doing it. 

“I could wait longer,” Jake mumbles, inching his lips to yours and letting his other hand cup one of your tits. “You could make me suffer,” He continues, whispering it right into your mouth. “Could lock me up and starve me of it.”

You lean your face back, a little shocked at his choice of words there. 

“So you meant those things you said earlier?” You ask, remembering how he babbled on about wanting you to suffocate him, about how he wanted you to take everything from him. 

“Do you want me to be honest?” He counters, now pressing his hips forward and letting his cock weep against your thigh. 

You nod to him. 

“I want you to take it all out on me.” He admits, gripping your tit in his hand tighter, hiking your leg up higher. “I want you to control every aspect of my life.”

Honestly, it shouldn’t be a thought that brightens your brain but it does. It sounds toxic, and you can’t even tell if he’s saying this just because he’s horny and is about two seconds from slamming you up and against this window with the force of his cock alone. Somehow, you love the thought of all of it. 

“Every aspect?” You ask with interest. “What do you mean?”

He chuckles as he hangs his head, watching his length pulse constantly against your thigh and the panties hanging off of it. Only then does he release your tit and use your panties as a way to position his cock up, lining up with the wet of your core that is only for him.

“It means–” He starts, sliding into you with a paused moan, hiccuping slightly as he furrows his brows. “I want you to make me cry for you.” He continues with a tilt to his head as he watches the way you wince at all of the strength he has to hold you up like this, to slide into you like this. “I want you to hurt me, and I want you to love doing it.”

He bottoms out after that, holding you in place and feeling your walls struggle to adjust to the tight fit. 

“It’s what you deserve.” He soothes out to you, kissing you once. “To take someone the same way you’ve been taken.”

You recoil instantly, pussy restricting in horror at the reminder of why you never do this with another person, but god the way he lifts on his toes just to plunge somehow deeper into you. The way his lips trap you even more, the way his force is nothing but fucking amazing to feel. All you can do is moan, bump your head against the window, and squeeze him. 

“You said you wanted to give me what I want–” He slides out of you just a little bit. “So, can you?” He pushes back in, listening to you get wetter at his words and feeling your answer when you can’t seem to speak for yourself. 

“I said I’d never hurt you, love,” He coos out this time, watching your body shift up against the window as he picks up some sort of rhythm, taking you the way he’s always wanted you. Right here, against the window. “But I never said that you couldn’t hurt me.”

Why the fuck is that so hot? God, why does a man like Jake offer you so much? Why is he doing this to you? Why is he doing it to himself? Why do you love it? 

You find yourself nodding as you moan out, still not quite adjusted to his size and the way he made it fit into you in such a…pleasurable way. It doesn’t hurt at all, it feels good. 

“Yeah, I knew you would.” He continues to talk as if he’s not internally losing it, but months worth of pretending, several orgasms today alone, and having your pussy hugging him just as tightly as he knew it would? That’s helpful. 

And now, as your fingers grip at him through his harsh and deep thrusts, all he can do is hold your leg against him, lean forward, and stare directly into his apartment window. As if he’s mocking his former self, as if everything in the world has fallen into place. You wouldn’t leave him now, never, you’d be just as stupid as everyone else if that were the case. 

He has faith in you, in himself, in this, and the way you drip all over him. 

He knew you’d be perfect for him. 

It doesn’t take long, really, for him to pull an orgasm out of you when he’s doing it this good. In fact, you don’t even have to reach a hand down to help pull it out of you by the time your body begins to stiffen up at it. 

His pace is slow, his cock is deep, and fuck his entire body is on you. You couldn’t squeeze your hand down if you tried, in fact, you don’t think he’d even consider letting you do any of this on your own. 

His grip is so strong, you can feel your sweat stick to the window as you slam your head down on his shoulder, sliding up and down the window with each of his powerful thrusts. 

It feels so good to do this again.

“Jake–” You hiccup against his neck, listening to his heaved and choked breaths through each thrust. “I wish I had done this sooner.” You manage to get out, body tensing and relaxing by the minute with the threat of an orgasm. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

And honestly, you don’t know what’s gotten into you, nor do you fucking care. If you want to cry, you’ll fucking cry. It’s been too long since your tears hit you out of pleasure, or happiness, or fucking safety. At this rate, you’ll never let this man go. 

“I know baby, I know.” He soothes you, arms shaking as he holds you up and thrusting in as deep as he can go.

You feel him stutter in his pace, his hips stopping as you feel his heavy cock pulsate against your clenching walls. 

“Are you close?” He says, pulling back and looking at you. “Is that why you’re sorry?”

You look at him with glassy eyes, smiling dazed at him as you shake your head. 

“No,” You smile wider, running your hands up and into his hair, remembering what he asked for before. You tug, forcing his head to tilt back so that you can attach your lips to him. “I’m saying it because I want you to always make me feel this good.” You whisper against his pulse point, kissing it hard. 

You feel him lose composure at that, his hips immediately moving again, slamming up and into you so hard that you can’t even hold your head still enough to kiss him there again. 

“Ah, fuck,” He whimpers out, “why would you fucking say that to me right now?” He continues, relentlessly fucking himself against the soft and sensitive spot inside of you. “You still make me feel so insane, only you could do this to me.”

You smile, having learned that he appears to love the torture anyway. 

“You love it though, don’t you Jakey?” You say, loving the way he loses it for you, learning how badly he’s wanted this, seeing him intend to stay. 

And at those words, he can’t take it anymore. Fuck the camera, fuck anything else in the world that isn’t you. He ignores that wince on your face when he slips out of you, ignores the way the panties fall from his length, and focuses entirely on the way you hug him as he carries you straight to the couch. 

Right there, he drops you and watches the way your tits bounce at the motion. 

“I’m fucking obsessed with you.” He says, feeling the arousal run through his veins, knowing you’d love to hear him say that while never knowing just how true it is. “How are you real?”

You smile, hiding your face as you feel his hands hold your thighs open. You know what he’s looking at, and you can’t force yourself to see him do it. Solely because you know it’s going to swell your heart so big that you’d only fear the day he wants to leave it empty.

And you don’t respond either, because you can’t. His fingers are spreading you open and you can hear him drop to his knees yet again for you. You wan’t to look so bad, but still, you fear the love in his eyes.

You fear and want all of it. 

He hears the sharp inhale you give when he spreads you out, really inspecting the single spot on your body that no one on this earth should ever see aside from him. 

“This is where it hurt the most, isn’t it?” He asks, staring into the hole he’s already fucked, watching it beg him for more despite his words that probably stab your soul. 

You’ll never understand how he can take your pain and turn it into something you don’t mind hearing though. Yes, that’s where it hurt the most, and still, that’s where you want him the most. 

“Yeah, baby?” He asks again, reaching an arm up and forcing you to look at him. “This is what you were so afraid of?” He continues, dipping down and rubbing his face directly into the folds and inhaling a deep breath. 

“Y-yeah.” You choke out at the feeling, in awe of how you knew his eyes would make you terrified. He still stares up at you as he does it, pointing his glare straight through you and into your fucking spirit.

Only Jake can make you fear nothing else in this world aside from the thought of losing him. 

“I’ll make it better,” He says, boosting his ego at the way your legs wrap around his head. “You’ll always want me here,” He continues, cooing out with each taste and lick of your budding arousal. “You’ll never want me to stop–” 

No man has ever wanted you this bad while having you, even as you experienced the trauma of just that. Your ex wanted you physically, but something about the man drying to drown himself in your pussy right now makes you feel like he wants you on a level far deeper than what’s possible.

He’s eating you out like he wants to eat you whole. Like he could devour you, and never spit you out of his mouth. 

“Shit, shit–” You moan, hands shooting down to his hair yet again, finding yourself loving the way his grown-out roots feel softer than the harsher dyed section of his hair. You tug harder than you have before, feeling his tongue search and yearn for everything you have to offer him. 

“Mhm.” He mumbles with a mouth full of pussy, rolling his eyes back at how you do just as he suggested before. Rubbing his nose in it, letting him continue to lose himself in the point of all of his problems. 

And it’s as if you forgot that this only happens to reach a point of coming. The experience alone feels like one long and drawn out orgasm already, it doesn’t take anything at all for him to get you there. 

It’s like he already knows it too, because you go entirely silent with a held breath as he holds your hips and buries his tongue deep inside of you. He wants to feel it, he wants to taste it. And he suffers for it, really, neglecting his own cock and knowing he’s going to come through this alone anyway. 

As expected, he does. Upon the first gush of your slick hitting his tongue, his cock pulses, his balls squeeze up, and he can feel it shoot out of him each time your pussy shakes against his suffocated mouth.

And your hands, so perfect in his hair, pulling without even knowing. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, this is more than he could have ever asked for. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By this point in your relationship, the two of you have moved so quickly that it doesn’t even scare you. In fact, if it slowed down at any point, you’d probably be preparing a suicide note simply because you don’t want to be in this world without Jake. 

Since the first time you got intimate with him, it’s like it hasn’t stopped. You’re shocked at his thirst for you and even more shocked that someone so fucking perfect would waste his breath on you even for this long. 

It hasn’t been that long, really, since the first time you touched him. A few days at most, but it’s like that moment solidified a lot for the two of you.

One, he’s not going to be sleeping in his own bed anytime soon or, ever, really. Two, you’ve learned through at least two more sessions of Jake’s mouth on you that he really does want you to live up to his requests. He makes it known how badly he wants you to make him suffer, how badly he needs you to give him everything he wants. Thankfully, he’s patient with your reluctance. And Three, your ex is no longer a threat. 

Each message you receive, you just hand your phone to Jake and he takes care of it. 

It doesn’t even translate in your head that you’ve been barred from answering your mother’s calls until the police show up at your door for a wellness check. Where, of course, Jake answers,

“Yeah, she’s here.” You hear his voice as you lay flat against your bed, heaving breaths as if he didn’t just have the tip of his dick in you. “Why?” You hear him question. 

A few more muffled words and you hear the door close and his footsteps making his way to your room. 

“Cops.” He dead-pans, “Your mom thinks you're dead.” he adds with an eye roll. 

Your internal panic, a feeling you had once been so accustomed to that now feels almost foreign, takes over your body.

“Fuck, my mom!” You say in a fast breath, rushing onto your feet and throwing on a pair of his soiled sweatpants. 

Jake hangs back but listens to your conversation from your hallway, listening intently to how you speak to other men, cops or not. 

“Yeah,” You say, scratching your temple with shame. “I guess I didn’t realize she was calling me so much.” 

Try five times a day. 

“I’ll call her now, sorry for wasting your time.” You continue with that nervous chuckle that you used to use on him during your dates. 

And then you’re back in the room, looking at him with a raised brow. 

“Why didn’t you tell me my mom has been calling?” You ask, a little annoyed that it’s gotten to the point of freaking your mother out. 

Jake shrugs, then looks at you apologetically. 

“I don’t like when she forces you to talk about it.” He finally says, sulking his shoulders and huffing out. “I don’t like that she tells you to be careful around me.”

You roll your eyes, relieved that he’s just being himself and wanting to keep you happy. 

“Still, you should have told me. She’s going to have a fucking heart attack thinking he showed up at my work place again.”

Jake’s entire brain stops working, his body going rigid as if the cold air outside is hitting him in full force. 

Your eyes immediately widen as you slam your hand over your mouth. Fuck, you forgot that you told her in a hushed tone, explaining that it’s okay. That Jake wouldn’t let anything happen to you. 

Fuck. 

“He what?” Jake says, dumbfounded at the slip of your words. 

“Jake, wait–” You try to get an explanation but he’s not having it. 

“You haven’t been at work, what do you mean he showed up?” He glares, chest heaving as his heart rate picks up. 

“It was from that day when you first stayed over,” You look at the floor apologetically. “I didn’t want to talk about it…” You trail off, feeling his energy hit you in the face at how he’s completely shifted from that loving, soft boyfriend you’re so used to. 

“You kept that from me!?” He seethes out in disbelief. This whole time he thought he fucked your ex up enough to prove what would happen if he even fucking tried it. By you explaining that it happened just after Jake found him, that’s a direct insult.

A threat.

A fucking death wish.

“I didn’t–” You stutter trying to explain yourself. “I didn’t think it would matter since you were here. You were keeping me safe.” 

“You lied to me?” He continues interrogating you, coming up to you and practically demanding an answer through his eyes.  

You look away, nodding. 

“You said you wanted me to keep you safe, what would have happened if you had to go to work again?” He drones on and on, seemingly stuck on the fact that you didn’t tell him. “What would happen if they called you to go in today?” 

Already you’re starting to cry, feeling stupid for not making a bigger deal out of it. To be fair, not talking about it helped and you did intend to tell him at some point. That just…never happened. 

“I would have asked you to stay with me at work.” You say, feeling numb as the fear of losing the man in front of you steals your every thought. “I’d have not gone. I’d have quit. I don’t know!” 

Jake backs down at your words, only able to soften his rage if you’re the one who causes it. 

“Baby,” His soft voice shocks you when you feel him come back to himself, as if to comfort the fear he just instilled in you. “I’m not mad.”

Yes he is, you know he is. 

“Now you’re the one lying.” You argue, pushing him away only to feel his grip on you tighten. 

“Am I?” He asks, urging you to keep talking. “Are you mad at me now?” He continues, intentionally pushing your buttons. 

“Mad that I should have already known?” 

“Mad that I didn’t let you talk to your mom?” 

“Mad that I’m keeping you safe, while you keep putting yourself in the position to be hurt by him again?” 

You stare at the floor. 

“Mad that this is your fault?” 

Yeah, you are mad. 

“Fuck you, Jake.” You break, feeling his strangling fingers on your skin scratch and leave welts when you force yourself away from him. “Fuck you for all of that.”

“What else?” He presses, hanging on specific words. “Fuck me for what else?” 

You just stare at him, and he can see the anger in your eyes. 

“For not being there when it happened?” He asks gently. “For not killing him when I had the chance?”

When he had the chance. 

“What do you–” You try to ask, but he just continues, closing back in on you. 

Somehow, you need it, despite wanting to pull away every time. 

“Fuck me for wanting this from you, right?” He says, much closer to you and dipping down to kiss you. “Fuck me for wanting you to be this mad, hmm?” 

You break again, something deep within you spiraling into a different type of insanity you’ve never felt. You don’t feel trauma, you don’t feel scared, you feel…enraged.

“Fuck me for thinking you look perfect,” He whispers against your lips. “Fuck me to fuck me, fuck me to fight me, fuck me.” 

The repeated words fit into your brain like they belong there. Like this anger is supposed to be filling you with pleasure rather than dread. Like you’re supposed to feel just as in love as you are mad. 

“Just fuck me, baby.”

And god fucking dammit. How does he crawl into the depths of your brain, like a fucking roach, and kiss all of the areas you don’t know exist? How the fuck does he wake shit up inside of you that you never dreamed of having, or feeling, or wanting.

“I hate you.” You say, and meaning it too. 

Because you don’t think you’ve ever loved someone more than you do now. 

“Yeah, I bet you do.” He smiles, dipping his hand down into the sweats you put on and sliding into the same slick he had spilling out of you just before the pigs showed up. “I love it.” He chuckles against your lips when you refuse to moan at his touch. 

You’re pushing against every good feeling inside of you right now, thinking only of how this rage spills out of you and against his fingers. 

“So wet to hate me–” He says, pressing and pressing and pressing for you to just fucking– “Hit me.” 

He sees your eyes shine at the very thought of how badly you must want to do that, unknowing of how much he wants it too. Needing it almost. 

And oh, the moan he lets out when your weak hands raise to shove him back. He plays off of it, stumbling back to your bed just to fall on it. Waiting, knowing you’ll come take him for all he’s worth.

“Come on, love.” He encourages you. “Make me sorry.” 

You hate him, and you hate that you love it. Love that he loves it, fucking adore that he wants this, he wants to let you do whatever you want to him. 

To kick, cry, scream, release everything that’s been trapped in your head for years.

You don’t even falter, feeling it bubble up and overtake every thought. Dripping down your legs as if this is the only way you could ever fulfill your own pleasure again. Only now to you slide the pants back off of you, so horny out of your mind that all you can manage is to feel these emotions drip for him. 

He watches you straddle him bare from the waist down, sees your breath shaking, and your lips quivering.

Jake knew you had it in you. 

“Take them off.” You demand, rolling your eyes at the way he looks up at you with pure bliss.

“Hit me first.” He offers, feeling his cock strained against his own pants that he haphazardly threw on when he heard the knock at your door. “Hit me, and I’ll fuck the hate out of you.” He lies.

“Take them off.” You repeat, cold hands reaching down as you do it yourself, lifting just enough to shove them down far enough.

And god, the breath is knocked clean out of him with the way you just take him. You slide down perfectly, bottoming him out in one motion. He can see now that you need this perhaps even more than he does. 

“God, come on baby.” He moans, feeling you just sit still on him. 

“Jake,” You warn, running your cold hands up to his neck on instinct. “Shut up.” You squeeze. 

The smile that forms on his face is pornographic at best, and drunk at worst. You see him love every instant of it, and you don’t want to admit that you do too.

You didn’t know it would feel so good to have a man’s neck in your hands, squeezing it just to shut him up. Releasing it just to hear him gasp out a praise. 

“So good,” He praises, eyebrows knitted together as he loses himself to the way your pussy chokes his length. You’re not even fucking him, you’re just– “So perfect.” He continues, nearly wailing out at the immense love he feels inside. 

And then, you do. You hit him. Power hungry and entirely at a loss for your own pleasure, you land a harsh and loud slap right against his face, only for him to moan louder. 

Only for him to fuck up. 

Only for him to grip your sheets so tight that you hear a rip. 

Again. You slap him, feeling your anger slowly fizzle with each frantic moan he gives back. 

Again, and again.

“Shit, you love that, don’t you?” He manages to say, feeling his cheeks sting with red-hot passion, only to be hit again, and again. “God, make it hurt.” 

At this point, you know that you could never give him enough as the rage leaves your body entirely and it’s replaced with nothing but the need to just….fuck him. Never in your life have you ever been blinded by a need so badly, save for safety.

And you have that now, don’t you? You have Jake now, right where you want him, right he wants to be. He wants you to feel this, he made you feel this. 

The first bounce felt like pure agony, slamming his cock into you by your own force, feeling him stretch you open, hearing it slap and echo against the walls. 

“Make it hurt?” You finally say, pinching his cheeks together and forcing him to look at you. “I don’t think I could hurt you enough if I tried.” You admit, quite truthfully, mind you.

Jake gives you a crooked smirk. 

“Try it anyway.” He coos, feeling the way you repeatedly arch your back just to ride him faster. “Could fill you up, right here, right now, flip you over and make you take it if you’re so worried that you can’t.” 

It runs through you like a cold shiver. You don’t want to give up this power, you want to try. 

“That’s big talk for someone asking to be choked right now.” You dead-pan at him, voice even and calm. You continue to move your hips, listening to his repeated moans with each breath. “So loud and needy for it too.”

Jake nods proudly and drunkenly, reaching his hands out to yours and forcing them back on his neck. 

“I could be needier.” He says, pressing your hands against his airways. 

You take over for him, choking his remaining words out of him and forcing him to moan. 

“You said you’d make me take it?” You seethe out through your own pained moan, riding him so hard that you feel sensitive. “Like you think it would hurt me?” 

He shakes his head rapidly, implying that you’re wrong to think that. Wanting to tell you that if he made you take it, you’d love every second of it. You wouldn’t tell him no. 

“After promising you never would, Jake?” You question still, knowing he can’t answer. You squeeze harder as you watch his face darken, the blood rushing to burst in the whites of his eyes. “Is that it? You want to hurt me so that I hurt you back?”

He nods in a daze, wanting nothing more than to die like this now, or some other day. To hear your voice, feel your hands, and know that you’re fucking him through it. 

“You don’t scare me.” You finally say, releasing the grasp and listening to the sharp inhale he takes in. “As much as I wish you did, you don’t.” 

That’s all it takes really, knowing that he could work you like a puppet and you’d still love him. Why else would you say that? You wouldn’t fuck him like this if you didn’t mean it. Your mother long forgotten, the anger gone, it’s just a raw form of you and him right now. 

Everything you’re saying is more truthful than he ever thinks you’ve been with him. 

“Want me to?” He finally asks with a wet gasp as he continues to catch his breath. “I bet I could.”

“You can’t.” You say, now slowing your hips as your legs tire out, bracing yourself on his shoulders to take a breath. 

“I can.” He says, immediately overpowering you. He sits up quick, flipping you right over and onto your back. “I can make you feel anything I want.” He whispers darkly to you. He grabs your legs and pushes them to your chest, lost entirely from this reality. “Anything you want.” 

You just stare up at him, willing to accept his words even more when he slams his length into you, so deep that you feel nothing but the pain of it. 

For the first time, he’s hurting you through pleasure alone. 

“Could make you love it too,” He continues to dote on himself as he watches the sparkle in your eye dim. “You love it already, don’t you?”

“I’m not afraid.” You manage to mutter out through a guttural groan, wincing at the way he drives himself into you at such a speed that all you feel is pain. 

“I can’t take you seriously when you talk like that.” He chuckles, feeling entirely in control of whatever entity is running his body right now. “I see you baby, you’re terrified to lose me.” 

Your eyes die in that moment, because out of anything in this world, he’s pinpointed your biggest fear. 

“So pretty when you’re scared too,” He hums out, not relenting at all with the force of his hips when he lets your legs fall around him, and he finds himself burying his face between your tits. “Maybe I should threaten to leave you.”

Instantly, you cry. 

“Just so I can eat up these little tears you have for me.” 

You wish he would shut up. 

“So I can taste the way you come on me, and feel your pussy try and lock me here.” He smooths over your nipple at the words, slowing his hips and pulling out just to the tip. “Your body tells me more than you know, love.”

Your eyes roll up when his pointed thrust shoves your body across your sheets, your hands reach for his shoulders, clawing for any sense of normality to this moment. 

“So quiet.” He lightens his own voice now, letting it fall against your collarbone in a tone just above a whisper. “So stubborn.” 

Your mind awakens at the insult, hoping he’s right. 

“To think I’d ever leave you.” He smiles, lifting up to meet your lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He tastes your tears and it’s just enough for him to forgive you. 

To forgive you for not hitting him enough, for not choking him until he died. To forgive you for even thinking you’d need to talk to your mother, and for fucking lying to him. 

And only now does he go quiet, fucking you will full intent now that he’s already in your head at every turn and corner. He can tell with the way you don’t even realize your previous orgasm. 

With the way it bubbled out and down his balls, hugging his cock so tightly that all he could do was keep fucking with your mind, toying with threats only to silence them. 

And then, you inhale a sob, and breathe out his name, so pretty to your ears, even more beautiful to his own. 

“Don’t leave me.” You chime out, body numb and emotions threatening you into a panic attack.

“I’m right here, love.” He chuckles. “You’re shaking.” 

You are. More than you can even comprehend, your body is shaking from feeling everything and nothing at once, all the way up until you do feel something. 

“Ah, shit.” You cry out, hugging his body so tightly against you. “Right there–”

And Jake does it, angling his hips to repeatedly hit the spot inside of you. Knowing you’re sensitive, knowing you can take it, knowing that he can’t when he feels every drop in your body push him out of you. 

Instantly he plunges back in, listening to the wet sounds of all that love you must have for him. He can barely move in this suffocating hug as your body shakes and quivers more than it ever has, even through your past traumas, even through the cold nights this city offers. 

He has spent you and fucked you dry. 

“There she is,” He echoes into your ear. “The girl of my dreams.” 

The only energy left in you is enough to give him a smile before your tunnel vision fades into nothingness. 

It feels calm in the darkness he gives you, and even calmer when you wake up feeling as if all of this was a dream. 

It wasn’t though, because you can feel the way you’re still leaking all over your bed. Your own slick mixed with his, and you don’t even remember when or how he orgasmed because he certainly was taking his time before you initially fainted, but you’re glad he did. You think he is too, with the way he clings to you like a puppy, as if he didn’t just fuck reality straight out of you. 

Lending you the gift of floating, and of pain you find yourself to love. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Waking up the next morning felt like you were a new person and you couldn’t be happier to see the saddest version of you die. The only fear you need to have is that Jake may some day choose to leave, and he said himself that he never would. 

You trust him more than anyone, more than yourself even, considering he’s managed to force you into facing so many versions of yourself that you didn’t even know you had. 

This is the first morning you’ve woken up without your skin crawling and you can’t help but shake him awake, destroying that blushed and sleeping face of his. 

“Jake,” You shake him, feeling him stir instantly and lend you a crooked smile. “Wake up.”

You listen to his morning stretch as his body vibrates in a yawn, and then he’s nuzzling his face even further into your naked chest. 

For what feels like hours, you find yourself engaging in pillow talk. Logging into work? Long forgotten. Calling your mother? Forgotten. The pain in your body? Ignored.

You tell him everything. Every detail of your life, your first memory, your first laugh and cry. All of the times your heart has been shattered, your least favorite colors and favorite words in the world. And he just…listens.

He nods, he smiles, he coos and kisses you throughout all of it. 

And then–

“You know, a while back before we met, I came home and noticed some of my things were missing and messed with. I can’t help but feel like he’s known where I’ve been this whole time.” 

Jake stiffens in your grasp before relaxing. It happened so fast that you don’t think anyone but you would have noticed it.

“Some of my panties were gone, and the batteries in my toys went missing weeks ago–not that it matters now or anything.” You continue, watching his face intently. “ At first I thought that maybe I was just forgetful but– now i know that it really was him.” You pause, smiling at him. “I’m just kind of waiting now, wondering if he’s ever going to try and do it again.”

“Do you want me to kill him?” Jake chuckles out as if to offer a funny little solution, one that he has genuinely considered more times than he can count. And he should have already, honestly.

You feel warmer at the way he makes jokes, but you know better than anyone that Jake jumps into action driven only by rage at times.

“He won’t come near you again, love, haven’t I proved that to you already?” He continues, imagining the blood of his man on his fists again. Imagining the way his bones would crack so beautifully. 

You nod in an almost shy way to him.

“You’re safe with me.” He says, wrapping his arms around himself as you cradle him. “You’re safe with me.” He continues, repeating it more to himself because he feels as though he can’t fail you again, “You’ve always been safe.” 

You haven’t believed words so deeply until you met him. 

“He already fucking knows–” He whispers shortly, cutting himself off. “I’ll kill him.” He whispers a bit louder, uncaring if you heard that first slip of his words.

Something in your brain floods at those words. A confirmation that you’ve seen him break before, and it wasn’t your imagination. Your protective, loving, and sweet boyfriend has a side to him that you’ve yet to truly see. Those words were more believable than any of the sweet things he’s ever said to you. 

And still, you almost want to encourage it, reminding yourself of the image of your ex the day he showed up, all bruised up. And then to the image of Jake with his own little battle scar.

Deep down you think you knew what happened.

And you still wonder how such a perfect man fell into your lap? Your bruised up, pain-loving boyfriend, breaking his soft persona and showing you a glimpse of something that feels….unnervingly beautiful to you.

Unsure, almost, you feel. As happy as you are that he lied to you, you try to not think of how Jake found your ex with nothing more than an out-of-context description of your abuse. You try not to think of the way he looked away from you when you mentioned the items in your apartment that went missing. 

You try not to think about how close he lives to you, and how he always managed to show up when you couldn’t hang out. 

How all of his interests matched your own, up until he never spoke about them again when he started staying with you. 

How he only looks at you, how he only talks to you, and about you.

How he always knew what to say to you.

You try not to think about how you saw him toss his own laundry into your washer many nights ago, seeing a glimpse of what you thought could have been a pair of your own missing panties. Or how he always accidentally picked up your toothbrush rather than his own in the mornings.

You push those thoughts far into the back of your mind, knowing that you were just being paranoid, grasping to not trust a single person in this world as you fall into this life with him. Even if all of those instances were with purpose on his end, you know you’d simply accept them as normal. You’d accept him, you wouldn’t think twice. 

Jake is your only safety. He would never do anything to harm you, he’s proved that. 

You hold his head tighter against your chest, breathing out a sigh and accepting everything at face value, pushing back the slight doubt in your head that everything he has done for you, to you, and with you, isn’t normal. 

“Did you tell him already?” You sigh out in a calmer tone, soothing him with your fingers in his hair. “That you’d kill him? Is that really why you had that bruise?”

Jake stiffens under your grasp briefly. 

“What do you m–” He starts. 

“I won’t ask how,” You cut him off. “But thank you.”

He relaxes, thumbs now rubbing hearts into your skin, stomach bubbling in butterflies. 

“I did.” He now admits reluctantly, feeling dangerously close to a truth you don’t need to see or know about. “I couldn’t just let another person think that you still belong to them.”

You pause, then nuzzle closer to him. 

“I knew from the first time I saw you that I wouldn’t let anyone else touch you.” He continues, spilling and spilling. “I knew that you’d be mine.”

You try not to think too hard about it, asking out gently and instead choosing to just love him harder.

“When was the first time you saw me?”

Jake goes silent and tries to read the air in the room, sensing how relaxed you are against him. 

“Eighteenth of October at the supermarket. We both made spaghetti for dinner that night.” He lies, never intending to admit that the first time he saw you was through your window. Never admitting that he actually already knew you by that eighteenth of October. That he followed you to the market.

He says it so confidently, and the fact that he’s right about what you cooked should scare you. The fact that you must have seen him that day too should make you feel unnerved.

You choose to ignore that too. 

“Was your spaghetti good?” You ask, allowing yourself to spiral into the safety that he offers you. The image of your bruised ex boyfriend bringing joy to you, the idea of Jake keeping his promises making your stomach tingle with even brighter joy.

“No.” He admits with a chuckle. “Yours was probably better.”

“You really would kill him, wouldn’t you?” 

Jake nods.

You trust him. 

He’s not lying. 

He would never lie to you. 

Him knowing what you cooked that night is a coincidence. Him remembering the date and month is just him being mindful. Your lost panties must have gotten tangled in his laundry, surely. He found your ex because you probably let sensitive information slip without realizing it. 

He met your mother and uncle by coincidence. 

He’s the perfect man by chance, and you’re lucky to have him. 

“I love you, you know.” You say, feeling him immediately shift away from your chest to look at you.

The look in his eye when he’s immediately getting on top of you, it’s still as if he’s about to wisp away with you in his arms to another realm. You’ve already been there before, and your body warms at the thought. 

“What did you say?” He asks, voice shaking and somewhat far away from your own dissociated reality. 

“I love you.” You say again, watching his lips quiver, and feeling his hands squeeze you. 

He did it. He’s won. 

And at the end of the day, you don’t think Jake could ever lose. After all, you’ve never felt so safe in a grasp as tight as this one, as painful as this one. You’ve never wanted a man to leave his fingerprints on you so bad. 

As you look at him, seeing him lose himself from reality, you follow suit. Losing yourself with him, feeling that painful grasp on you turn into begging hands. Swelling him under your palms, soothing his stinging skin with your lips, listening to him encourage you, knowing that if your ex ever tried to step into this room, he wouldn’t make it out alive. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

oh, the horrors, amirite?

this is the last of the fic. there is not a part three.

taglist: @skzenhalove , @taetaemylovie, @soocult, @nyanggk, @grilledbananas, @dneltrise, @becc09, @nielle002, @sjyfolder, @sd211, @moonmoongi, @sweetiewolfie, @ksnooppy, @woongkification, @laxatives4hre, @hiddensideofmoon, @mywaaw, @beomstarz, @multifandombtvh, @heeverseblog, @floclover, @elliesuh, @iloveleeknow, @crazydelulu, @dasa3040, @sluttyhee, @bethroedtojae, @cherryunie, @hiamlili, @seojunandsoju, @parksunghoonsgf, @jungwon-xo, @fxiryeon, @jwnghyuns, @juliesblogs

[elliescumslvt]

Very Good - Ellie Williams

College AU Ellie Williams x AFAB (assigned female at birth) reader. There is no use of Y/N, or a chosen name for the reader. 3.6k words

Content includes: fingering (reader receiving), oral sex/cunnilingus (reader receiving), kissing, cursing, pet names (babe, baby, lover, love, ex), sub!reader + dom!ellie, and overall vivid descriptions of sexual activity.

The moon shone brightly in contrast to the inky sky. The light passed through the window, and lit the room a sparkly gray. I bounced my knee against the wooden desk as I rested my head against the cool surface. My eyes drooped with exhaustion as a result of my long study session. 

A loud knocking suddenly shocked me, causing my head to fly up. I begrudgingly stood up, and walked over to the door. Upon opening it, my face deepens to a blood red. 

“I need a distraction.” Ellie states, pushing past me into my dorm. She flings herself onto my bed, and pushes on her elbows to sit up. “Are you busy?”

Her words echo in my head as I bite down on my lip. Truthfully, I was behind in a few of my classes. I desperately needed to study. However, her sweet honey tone and wide begging eyes tempted me. “I’m not sure Els, I kinda need to work on more of my assignments-” Her groan cuts off my words. Brown soft strands stuck up in random directions atop her head, and her eyes now drooped with similar exhaustion to mine. My lip remains between my teeth as I turn my head away from the scene. If I had any hope of going back to studying, I could not look anywhere near Ellie. 

“But.. I need you.” Ellie begged further, her words almost coming across whiny now. Her brows furrowed together, and her eyes were no longer pleading. With lids half open and a pouty lip, Ellie made me powerless. My pulse hammered against my temples, and a rush of blood traveled to my face. I curse internally, knowing that I could not possibly say no. 

“Need me for what?” I try to play dumb, hoping that there was still some way I could get out of this. But as my eyes traveled over her outfit, I was not sure if that would even be humane of me to do. She wore a thin black shirt, decalled with a band's name I did not know. The fabric clung to her upper arms, only further displaying her muscles. Her collarbone peeked out the stretched collar, and begged to be marked with sin. Cold air blows out my burning throat as I pathetically attempt to calm myself.

Ellie’s face changes into a smirk, and it's obvious she can read my thoughts. “Come here babe, let me touch you.” Her demanding tone forces my feet to drag me over, and all of a sudden I was crawling on the bed towards her. Sage green eyes met mine in an instant, and her arms opened to invite me in. My skin trembled as I finally reached her. Hands flew to my waist, dragging me further into my company's lap. I raise my arms with hesitance, and wrap them around her neck. 

As Ellie reads my nervous expression, a brow raises inquiry. “Why are you so tense? It's just us, love.” I feel as she drags a hand slowly over my shirt before pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. We are so close that I can feel her breath against my face, and it only makes me blush more. Her hand falls back to meet the other at my waist as she whispers, “You’re so pretty when you’re flustered.” 

My heart flies into my throat, preventing me from responding. All I can manage to do is move a slight bit forward towards her. Her lips enticed me, all pink and soft. Ellie’s freckles dotted her skin like stars, only making her all the more beautiful. “I can’t help it.” I mumble, though I am barely aware that I even spoke. My thoughts were plagued with images of her lips on mine, and all over my body. 

“I know.” She chuckles, her chest rising and falling quickly with her laughter. My cheeks impossibly got darker, now a deep crimson red. Ellie notices this right away, as she knows my own body better than myself. A calloused hand moves again from off my waist, and now slides under my shirt. It moves dangerously slow, causing goosebumps to raise all over my touched skin. Her fingers glide over my stomach, the motion going straight to my core. 

“Ellie.” I breathe out, my breath wet and hot. Her existing smirk only widens, and her head tilts.

“And I thought I was the one needing you. Hm?” She teases, though her tone is warm and sultry. Her eyes bore into mine, causing a shiver to pass over my spine. My spread thighs tremble on top of hers. The warmth passing between us was making my head even fuzzier, coherent sentences becoming nonexistent. As if Ellie sensed this, she moved her lips daringly closer to mine. Just as I think she’s going to lovingly close the gap between us, she bites down on my lower lip. A whine escapes me as she does so, only fueling her further. I see sparkles shine in her pupils, her lust obvious. Her teeth now graze over the sensitive skin, pulling yet another whimper from me. Desperate for more I push my lips onto hers, the motion hurried and sloppy. I wasn’t too sure of what I was doing, since I could barely think at all. It was really pathetic how quickly Ellie could get me riled up. 

Ellie reciprocated the kiss almost immediately. Her hand resting on my stomach began to climb up my body, the heat arousing me. Rough fingers gripped at the nape of my neck, holding me still as the kiss deepened. She moved with skill, her lips perfectly mashing with mine. The embrace was slow yet sensual. Low rumbles came from her throat as her brows narrowed together in focus. My mind and hers alike were solely focused on each other. 

Struggling, Ellie ripped her lips off mine. The skin was wet and puffy, her face similar in color. Her lip quivered as if it missed mine, and she bit down aggressively on it. “Mm need you now, babe.” Her voice was deep and scratchy, sounding as if her throat dried from the loss of my body. 

I nodded enthusiastically in response, that being all I could muster. In an instant, Ellie moved to lift me off her lap, and pushed me to lay down. The bed was warming up as our bodies were, the fabric temperature only dulling my mind more. She climbed over me, and moved to straddle my waist. Her thighs melted around my sharp hip bones. They were only shielded with thin shorts, and my hands flew to grip the fabric. Her face frantically came back to mine, our lips colliding again. The kiss started fast and needy, but soon changed into something more slow and brain numbing. I tug on her shorts desperately, trying to ground my souring head. One of Ellie’s hands grasped harshly on my hip, her fingernails imprinting crescents into my skin. A pleading moan leaves me at the sinful thought of her grip creating marks. Her other hand was wrapped around my neck, not preventing me from breathing but increasing my blood flow. I took deep sharp inhales as Ellie squeezed harder. She took this opportunity to slip her tongue into my mouth. Our tongues wrapped around one another, the movement very familiar. 

“What do you need from me?” I croak out. My voice sounded whiny, and my eyes were wide and pleading. Our lips brush against each other as I speak. Our eye contact is intense, and I feel myself shrinking beneath her. 

Ellie chuckles as her hands explore my body, worshiping all of my curves. “I need to..” she pauses to lift her body off mine and blows out an exasperated breath, “Please let me taste you- you’ve been busy all week- I need it.” She takes awkward pauses as she speaks, her tone begging. Her voice sounded as if she hadn’t drunk in years, and I was the only thing which could clench her thirst. Suddenly, her fingers loop around the crown of my pants and tug on them. 

I nod frantically, unable to speak. Her face spreads into a lopsided grin, and she swiftly moves down my body. In one rough push, she separates my thighs. I whimper at the stretch, and momentarily throw my head back onto the bed in anticipation. Ellie stares intently between my thighs, and her mouth almost begins to salivate. My pants slide down over my thighs as Ellie brings them down, and the cool air hits my burning flesh. She enthusiastically pulls them from off my ankles, and tosses them somewhere on the floor. As the soft fabric hits the floor with a thump, my brain runs wild with thoughts. It was not foreign for Ellie to want to please me like this, but this time she seemed so much hungrier. 

Her starved eyes trace my thighs, her lips following in pursuit. Soft kisses press against my skin as she explores. Every freckle, every scar, and every stretch mark were being given attention. Slowly, her face moves closer and closer to where I want her most. Her expression changes into something sinister as she blows hot breath onto my panties. My neck curves backwards as I once again toss my head back. As I try to calm my rapidly moving chest, I stare at the ceiling above. However, I can distinctively imagine the smirk Ellie undoubtedly wore. 

Her hands meet with my thong, and she yanks it down my thighs. I use my legs to kick the fabric the rest of the way off, and Ellie chuckles with amusement. “Eager, are you?” Her laugh echoes inside my brain, rattling around chaotically. Her eyes trace over my features, moving tauntingly too slow down my body. They snapped to mine after a moment, and her pupils were blown. Her normal green eyes were now just a tiny sliver of iris around her enlarged pupil. Lost in a trance with her adoring glare, I fail to realize when her mouth moves down to my clit. In one long stripe, her tongue slides from my clit, down through my slit, and to my hole. The leathery muscle traces along the rim, and a low groan leaves Ellie’s lips.

“I always love when you’re on my tongue.” She confesses. This draws a small whimper from me, my eyes squeezed shut in desperation. I helplessly grind my hips downwards in a sad attempt to make contact with her tongue again. Ellie only laughs in response and the warm damp air hits my heat. “Have some patience please, Babe. I want to take my time with you. I’ve missed this.” Her needy tone adds to my pooling wetness. 

“O- Ok.” I stutter, my brain malfunctioning. I try to calm my hips, but they shake subconsciously. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I attempt to clear my fogging mind, though Ellie practically fought against my efforts. Her tongue returned feverishly, and lapped at my cavern. My hands move frantically as my body looks for something to ground myself with. They quickly find Ellie’s hair, and tug on the strands. Her auburn hair was half pulled back, though some pieces fell to frame her face. The hair ended at her shoulders with a blunt cut. Her eyebrows matched the rest, now wrinkled together as her face was buried between my legs. Calloused hands grip onto my thighs, the plush skin melting between her fingers.  

My fingers tighten around her hair as her mouth travels higher. She licked my clit repeatedly, her effort never wavering. I feel as my thighs try to pull back together, caging her head. One of her hands on my thigh harshly spread it open to give her more access. A small gasp passes past my lips as Ellie’s other hand moves to my core. One long finger circles around the rim, almost as if she was teasing me. I whimper as a plea, however she roughly pulls away tongue and all. 

“I said be patient.” Ellie demands with a cold scowl. Her palms pushed down on my hips, preventing me from obtaining any self inflicted pleasure. My body writhes from loss of stimulation, and a groan deep from my throat escapes. Ellie’s expression remains unmoving, and she does not move. My breathing increases in speed, as I begin to panic. My senses were abruptly met with absence, and the sensation was uncomfortable. 

As if Ellie sensed this uncomfort, her hands begin to gently caress my thighs, Her expression morphs into a more caring one as she keeps moving to soothe me. A warm tingle passes over my spine, effectively calming my frantic stature. “Shh everything is okay. I’ll take care of you, alright Babe?” Her loving words smooth the goosebumps on my thighs, and the muscles stop spasming. Ellie’s lips stretch into a wide smile as she sees my calm demeanor. She leans down to lay a kiss on my thigh, and then rests her head on the plump skin. Her eyelashes tickle my skin, causing me to quietly giggle. If even possible her smile brightens more, lighting up the entire dorm. The setting sun shines warm yellow rays through the windows. However, the sun could never brighten my world as well as Ellie’s smile could. 

“I love you, remember? I just want you to feel as much pleasure as possible.” She mumbles into my thigh. Her eyes looked up at my face, and I could clearly see her pupils searching sporadically to understand how I was feeling. The freckles which scattered her skin stood out against the smooth skin of my thigh, only making her appear more ethereal. 

I take a deep inhale, fully stretching my lungs. The air flows from my lips as I exhale, and ruffles Ellie’s hair. “I know.” I breathe out, my lungs now exhausted. Ellie quickly sits her body up, and kisses my lips. It is short and sweet, a strong contrast to earlier. She ended the kiss as soon as she started to feel it increase with intensity. Her lips stretch to smile as she lowers her head back down towards my center. 

I gasp out as one of her fingers press against my entrance. She moves carefully as she inserts a digit, allowing my body to stretch with the intrusion. My walls fluttered around the warm perpetrator. I look down to see Ellies’ eyes wide open. Her pupils swelled as she realized just how wet I was. Already a single finger was sliding easily, her knuckles hitting my sensitive folds. 

Ellie understood my body far past what I could understand, so she knew I was ready. Another digit presses against my somewhat widened cavern. It slides in next to the other finger, my wet slick allowing the process to be painless. I groaned out into the air as my back arched, and my knees rose. My head falls back onto the bed, and pushes up my neck and shoulders. Ellie saw this and began to slowly scissor her fingers. The digits would push apart to stretch my walls, before meeting back together. She repeats this process for just too long, and I begin to whimper. Her smile transforms into a smirk, and she finally begins to finger my arching core effectively. The fingers slide in and out with a steady speed, and they curl to rub the spongy area of the flesh. I cry out and frantically move my hands to grip Ellies’ hair again for stability. My hips rock rhythmically with hers, but this time she allows such. As her fingers dig deeper, the curling presses against my sweet spot harsher. My breathing increases as the pleasure invades all my sensations. 

Without warning, Ellies’ tongue returns to my clit. The muscle circles the pulsing mound feverishly, successfully dragging a loud whine out of my throat. My hand grips on the tiny pony tail of her half-up-half-down even harsher. However, the girl between my legs seems to give no care. If anything this devilish pain fueled her actions even further. The fingers inside me slow down, but now slide deeper into my core. Her digits still for a moment, then the tips start to swipe over my sweet sponge repeatedly. My hips uncontrollably seize away, but Ellie is quick to slam them back down. The hand not being used to plow me grabs my ass, and fondles the skin. I clamp down on my lip in hopes to muffle my pathetic whimpers. However my efforts are useless as the sound of wet sliding fills the room. As I try to center my focus, my teeth grind on the fragile feature. 

I release my lip as Ellie unexpectedly drags her tongue through my folds. She laps up the arousal and groans. One thing I could never be insecure about is Ellie eating me out. She constantly ensures me that she finds pleasure and enjoyment in the action, possibly even more than I did. It was not uncommon for my lover to barge into my dorm to demand intimacy.

My mouth falls open and desperately brings air to my lungs. The organs cause my chest to rise and fall just as frantically as they were. Ellie undoubtedly notices, and takes it as a sign to pleasure me more intensely. Her tongue muscle works hard to slide up and down my slick, and occasionally spin around my clit. My walls shake deliciously with every pressured stroke. The bedding now envelops me in an overwhelming warmth, the heat from our bodies changing the temperature. Yet in contrast my skin erupts in goosebumps. Every nerve tingles in a mind numbing pleasure. My core muscles contract, which pressurizes the growing pit in my stomach. Ellie tilts her eyes up from my lust to watch my stomach spasm with a wicked grin.

Her tongue pressed flat against my clit for a moment to say; “Come on Baby, make a mess on my fingers.” Her sensual words fly straight to my sex, causing the attentive flesh to pulse more rapidly. Ellies’ tongue teasingly flicks my clit, some drops of saliva and arouse propelling into the damp air. The fingers inside me move with the intent to drag an orgasm from me. The tips caress my skin quicker. This sensation becomes entirely overwhelming, along with the attention being given to my clit. A pressure grows substantially within my stomach, and threatens to explode. Ellies’ eyes flutter close and my skin vibrates as she moans against it. Her brows are furrowed in concentration as she begins to drag me over the edge.

The throbbing, tingling pressure in my arousal intensifies as my core snaps. A full body sensation travels over me, blocking my system from experiencing any other feeling. My back arches higher, and my thighs clash together. Ellies’ auburn locks get tousled as her head is crushed between my thighs. My clit feels electrified, and my nipples harden. My breasts stretch with my back, which makes my buds buzz with static delight. I taste Ellies’ spit from when her tongue was in my mouth instead of torturing my clit. My sight is blinded as my eyes squeeze shut. My lovers’ hair is yanked once more, this time harsher than the others. 

Ellies’ eyes remain close, and sweet enticing moans leave her soft plush lips. She drinks the lust spilling from my cavern with joy. Her facial muscles release their tension and relax as her tongue works to not miss a single drop of my orgasm. 

I moan in ecstasy. She had made me cum countless times, however this time infected my senses stronger than any other. My thighs violently quiver around Ellies’ head, though she makes no effort to escape. Her tongue still moves to happily swallow my arousal. The reddened flesh now hums with a simmering sting. I attempt to pull her away by tugging on her locks more aggressively, but she doesn’t move. My nerves scream with overstimulation and loud guttural groans bounce about the dorm. I release a hand from her hair, and it shakes as I move it towards her shoulder. I tap the freckled skin twice, and Ellie immediately pulls her face away from my heat. Her chin drips with evidence of my orgasm, and her shiny lips reflect the light of a lamp in the room. My eyes snap to hers and her love for me is obvious. Her pupils consumed the iris, and the skin around them was softened and relaxed. I watch her lashes brush against her lids as she stares up at my lustful face. I can feel the heat in my face, primarily in my cheeks. 

Her hands leave their current positions on my body, and are placed down on my thighs. The skin twitches occasionally, but the nerves have mostly calmed down. Her thumbs stroke atop some of my stretch marks with a soft kindness. “How was I?” She inquires, and the usual cockiness in her tone is absent. Her eyes traveled over my face, trying to understand how I was feeling before I was able to say. 

My exhausted body is limp on the bed. I can just see Ellie in my sight, as my head was barely propped up by the disheveled comforter. The hand still in her hair slowly slides down her neck and to her hand. I interlock our fingers lazily, my grip loose and relaxed. “Very good.” I emphasize while my expression morphs into a warm smile. 

[klausysworld]

I don’t know why but I really want something with Klaus breaking reads heart.

Maybe…. Reader and Cami have been kidnapped and Klaus has to choose who to save. He chooses Cami but before reader can be killed Elijah saves her.

Left for dead

Living with the originals was hard enough. Between the betrayals and the wars just within the family was overwhelming let alone outsiders going out of their way to destroy each of them.

Being with Klaus was already difficult, between his mood swings and temper tantrum’s he wasn't an easy person to love and yet I did.

Even when I realised he was in love with someone else, even whilst knowing he was kissing someone else, I didn't leave him. I loved him with everything in me whether it was killing me or not.

I had offered my life for his, I took life for his and I ruined my own life for his. With Klaus came his family and I did everything I could to welcome them as my own. Even after I found out that his sister knew that he was seeing someone else.

Hope was treated the way I would treat my own daughter and I loved more than anyone else to walk the planet. Maybe that was why I stayed, for Hope. Or maybe that’s what I tell myself because how could I have been pathetic enough to stay for a an who only saw me as a warm body.

For some reason I had it in my head that perhaps he loved both me and Camille. Maybe he thought I wouldn't accept it and so he kept it a secret but surely after everything he should know that I would never try to change him or invalidate his feelings. It was stupid to be okay with him seeing Cami behind my back, I was blinded by something I had created in my mind.

I would smile when Cami was near and I tried to talk to Klaus but he labelled me paranoid and brushed it off. So I thought maybe he regretted it and he didn't want me to know because he wanted to stop. Maybe he did still love me.

This was the ultimate test really.

Both myself and Camille were beaten until black, blue and bloody. A loop of our cries and screams echoed through my mind and bounced against the walls of whatever dungeon we were seemingly chained within. I had no way of knowing how long we had been there but my body and soul felt such a sense of relief when Klaus's voice rang through the building. That feeling only lasted a few seconds before our captures taunting replayed in my head:

"Klaus will choose between you both, he will decide who lives or dies. He may think that he can have it all, have you both but I won't let him well. Whichever one he chooses, the guilt from the other will eat away at him, he won't be able to stay with the other. You will all end up broken and alone." he had whispered cruelly.

Her heart pounded in her throat as she watched Klaus approach them both, his hands coated in red as he forced the bars that separated us apart and went to step through only to let out a gasp and drop to his knees. The with who had tortured us for however long appeared from thin air in front of Klaus and I automatically pulled my legs to my chest to hide in the corner.

"Only one of them leaves" he stated, a grin on his face. "I don't care which but you will choose one or they both die and the next to go missing will be your daughter"

At his words Klaus let out a vicious snarl and attempted to lurch forward at the man but a sharp pain forced its way to his head and caused a loud yell of pain to burst from within him.

I could feel my eyes burning with another flow of tears just watching his pain, knowing what he felt. I could see Cami staring straight at me. Over our time in here together she had often brought up Klaus's ultimatum, I told her that I knew that they loved each other. I told her that he would choose her. She was certain that I was wrong and that Klaus didn't love her but just used her as a release. But I knew what Klaus looked like when he was in love. Even so part of me hoped she was right, it was a dark thought, a horrible hope that I wish I didn't have but I really wanted it to be true.

I looked back to Camille, a tight lipped smile that was probably more of a grimace formed on my lips as I mouthed the words 'it'll be okay' to her and her head shook as tears slipped down her cheeks.

Cami was sweet, she was lovely and I loathed it. She wanted to die instead of me, she said I deserved to live more than she did. That I was Hope's second mother I was apart of the Mikaelsons. She apologised for ever being with Klaus and it just made me feel worse. I thought that maybe they were lies, maybe she secretly hoped that Klaus would choose her and I would be left to die.

I couldn't tell and it didn't really matter anymore. Not when I realised that Klaus was right in front of me. I felt a small spark of hope as his arms wrapped around me and he pulled my close to his chest. A soft sniffle left him and his lips pressed to the side and top of my head

"I'm so sorry" his voice whispered with a crack and I went to tell him it was okay before I felt him pulling away and I realised what he was apologising for "forgive me" he uttered as he made his way to Cami.

My eyes stayed blurry with tears but they didn't fall as a complete feeling of numbness spread throughout me completely. I could hear my captures sickening laugh spin around me and I could hear Camille asking Klaus what he was doing.

"Klaus- go back to her" she whispered but he shook his head

"I love you" he admitted and a bitter laugh left my lips. I covered my mouth with my hands and pressed my forehead against my knees. I shouldn’t have been surprised and I shouldn’t have been so upset. I knew he loved her, I knew he would choose but for some reason it hurt so much more when he actually confirmed it.

I could hear Camille apologising to me as Klaus lifted her up, carrying her to a safety I thought I would never again know.

As soon as they left hands were on me, grabbing and dragging me by my hair to force me to crawl wherever he wanted me. Uncontrollable pain shot through me continuously and I had no time to comprehend the sobs that shook my body. I felt my back arch painfully, almost breaking but not quite, my head was forced back so my neck was bared and a sharp knife went to the edge of my neck.

"it's unfortunate really..." the voice uttered before the blade began to sink into my throat. My eyes closed and I welcomed the quick death but the pressure stopped and a thud sounded from before me.

Fingers pressed to the place the knife had began to cut, a familiar scent engulfed me and an arm circled my waist.

"You're alright darling" the voice whispered, pulling me into an embrace making me grab onto the back of his suit silently. "He's gone now Y/n. You're safe." he murmured softly, rubbing my back before i felt him pull back a little bit. My eyes slowly cracked open to see his face, his deep dark eyes boring into mine with a knowing look of pity. Silently I watched as an array of reds and purples scattered under his chocolate brown eyes and his pearly fangs dipped into the tough skin of his wrist. The fresh wound was lifted to my lips and I accepted the metallic taste with a sigh. I drank for much longer than I needed, I expected he would pull be off but his hand only pet the back of my head gently

"Good girl" he whispered "just heal". His touch made my heart hurt and I didn't bother trying to stop the tears from falling anymore. My hands clutched onto his jacket desperately and I gulped his blood down as though it was water.

Soft touches were given to the skin of my face before his silk handkerchief cleaned at the dirt and dried blood that had dripped down my neck. Reluctantly I pulled away from his wrist and licked my lips clean. He wiped his own wrist and tucked the material away into his pocket. Elijah proceeded to pull the jacket off of his body and instead wrapped it around my shoulders. The inside was warm and smelt of home.

My eyes felt heavy with exhaustion and I gave him a tired smile making him frown.

"I'll bring you home now okay?" he whispered but I shook my head

"I can't go back" I muttered "I won't stay with him anymore. I should have left ages ago" I admitted and his eyes grew glossier.

"Where should I take you?" He asked gently and I shrugged

"Airport? Train station? I don't care just don't tell anyone you saved me? Please?" I begged softly and he nodded.

"I'll give you whatever you need" he promised "anything"

[landosjpg]

cowboy like me | ln

the one where you unexpectedly fall in love with someone just like you, but it doesn’t turn out as you expected.

lando norris x fem!reader

word count: ~1.8k

warnings: strangers to lovers to strangers again (lando is a player lol), smut (MINORS DNI), slight choking, spit, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (don't do this), a little of praise, the tiniest bif of fluff, angst in the end

please tell me if i'm forgetting anything!

note: hi, hello, i'm back! this took me way longer than i had intended but i went through a little writer's block and found myself staring at my screen for hours without writing a single word. this being said, not my proudest work but at least we're getting somewhere. this is the last part of this series i started a few weeks ago, it's not proofread but hope you enjoy it!

very much against your will, your dad had dragged you with him to the annual christmas dinner that he and some old friends of his had been planning for weeks. he had promised you would leave early, but of course it was only a white lie so you would put up with it without much complaint.

that's how you found yourself sitting all alone in a small bench in the corner of the crowded bar, trying your best to ignore everything that was going around you, a little overwhelmed. you barely knew your dad's friends, and since he was busy entertaining some of them, you had decided to just get away from all of it for as long as possible.

"mind if i sit there?" a masculine voice took you back to reality, making you look up from where you were scrolling on your phone.

you quickly recognized him: lando norris, the son of one of your dad's old classmates. your dad had mentioned him once or twice, but you didn't really know much about him.

uninterested, you shrugged and scooped a little to the side to leave some room for him to sit. he did so, sighing as you went back to your phone when silence fell hard between you two, his back resting against the bench and his eyes scanning the crowd.

"want to dance?" lando broke the silence after a few minutes, and you felt his eyes on you. you cocked an eyebrow at him, surprised with his question. your eyes went back to the crowd when you noticed that the music was louder than before; everyone had a drink in their hands and while some people engaged in conversation, others swinged to the rhythm of the music.

"you don't actually want to dance," you finally answered with a roll of your eyes and a low chuckle.

"come on, don't be boring!" he insisted, standing up and offering you his hand with a smirk. you considered turning him down again, but ended up accepting his offer with a sigh, if you were gonna be forced to attend that stupid dinner, you might as well enjoy yourself for a while.

you took his hand in yours and he pulled you up before quickly guiding you to the crowd.

୨୧

only about an hour later, you found yourself in the elevator to his apartment, your body pressed to the mirror as his hands rested on your lower back and your arms wrapped around his neck while you exchanged hungry, desperate kisses.

after a few dances and some small talk, his lips had found the spot right under your ear as he whispered how gorgeous you looked in that dress. he was quick to suggest calling a taxi, and you nodded in agreement without even having time to think about it.

just one night, no strings attached. you both wanted the same thing.

he guided you through the corridor to his apartment the second the elevator's doors opened, his hands holding your hips as you walked backwards. he pressed you against the door, lips still locked as he looked for his keys in the pockets of his jeans.

as he opened the door, his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you against him. he ushered you inside, quickly trapping your body once again between him and the wall of his entryway. his hands traveled down from your waist to your ass as he attacked your lips again, making you whimper when he gave you a gentle squeeze.

his fingers slipped down to the back of your thighs, where he softly patted your skin over your dress, instructing you to jump. you immediately complied, legs wrapping around his waist while his hands cupped your ass, pulling your dress up so he could feel the warmth of your skin.

lando softly groaned against your lips when your fingers found their way to his hair and tugged on it softly. he pressed his body closer to yours, leaving no space between you two and making you feel his hardness against your thigh now that your dress was pooling at your hips.

"fuck," you mumbled, clenching around nothing.

"can't wait to be inside you," he whispered in between kisses, making you whimper as you felt one of his hands sliding between your legs, fingers pulling your underwear to the side.

he pulled away ever so slightly, just enough to look at your eyes as he coated two of his digits in your arousal before sliding them inside your pussy. your eyes fluttered close almost immediately, another sigh leaving your lips as your walls enveloped him perfectly.

"eyes on me, baby. wanna see those pretty eyes," his voice was low, his breath against your lips making you try to grind down on his palm.

you obeyed once again, looking at him through half-lidded eyes as he slowly pumped his fingers into you, teasingly. one of your hands cupped his cheek as you admired his features, your eyes finally locking into his green orbs, the intensity on his gaze making you clench around his digits.

"feels so good," you panted, trying to keep your eyes open as you held yourself on his neck. "need more," you added, biting your lower lip to hold back a louder moan as you felt him curl his fingers inside of you.

"impatient, are we, baby?" he asked with a chuckle.

"please, lando," you panted, your voice sounding weaker than you intended. at your plea, you felt him withdrawing his fingers from your core and bringing them to your mouth.

he gently tapped on your bottom lip, prying you to open your mouth for him. your lips parted slowly and he didn't waste any time to slide his fingers inside, making you taste yourself on him. you softly hummed and felt your eyelids finally giving up as you sucked on his fingers eagerly.

"good girl," he murmured, pulling his digits out againt and slowly moving to undo his jeans.

as he still held you against the wall, his pants and underwear pooling at his feet, he spat on his hand before stroking his cock a couple of times, his eyes on your face as you looked down at him. he tapped on your chin so you would look at him as he positioned himself at your entrance, the pink flush on your cheeks bringing a smile to his face as he started pushing inside of you slowly, both of you moaning in unison as you enveloped his whole length.

he pushed you further into the wall for added support, one of his hands on your hip and the other resting on the wall. lando found the spot between your jaw and your collarbone and hid his face as he bottomed out, a muffled grunt leaving his lips as he felt you clenching around him already.

he let you adjust to his size for a few seconds before starting to roll his hips into yours slowly, starting to pick up the pace as he left small, wet kisses on your neck and up to your jaw.

"fuck, baby, taking me so well," he panted when his lips reached yours, swallowing a moan from your throat as he licked into your mouth.

one of his hands slid between your legs, fingertips finding your clit and lazily starting to play with it as he fucked you. the added stimulation had you rolling your eyes back, your fists holding his shirt as he pushed you against the wall again and again, his lips muffling the filthy sounds coming out of your mouth.

"oh my god," you whined, feeling his thrust become harder and his cock reaching even deeper inside you, your hands finding their way under his shirt so your nails could dig on his lower back, urging him closer.

you felt his hand creeping up from your pussy to your neck, fingers circling around your throat and applying a slight pressure on the sides of your neck, making you throw your head back against the wall with a loud mewl.

"'m close," you managed to choke out in between pants, feeling the knot in your stomach about to snap when his grip on you became tighter, fingers bruising your delicate skin.

his thrusts became sloppier, breath heaview as his low, raspy moans sent you over the edge. your body tensed up and your pussy clenched around him as you cried out.

the tight grip on his cock was enough for lando to spill inside you only a few seconds later, thrusts lazy as he rode both of your orgasms out. he finally let go of your throat as you panted into each other's mouths, his hands now holding your shaking legs around his hips.

he slowly let go of you, placing you back on your feet tenderly. he helped you get out of your dress, and walked you to his bathroom to get you cleaned. the nice gestures took you by surprise, you had never had a guy seem to care like that.

not that you had really wanted it either, but when he guided you to his bed, covered both your bodies with a blanket and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, you couldn't help a smile from creeping up to your lips.

and it wasn't what you had promised before leaving the bar during the christmas dinner, but you found your way back to his bed only a few days later. and inevitably, you did again the very next week. it felt different this time, falling for someone. he cared, he made sure to make you feel loved every single day for a little over two months.

but when he had to leave again for pre-season testing, you felt everything crumbling when you caught yourself checking your phone for the tenth time that minute, in hopes that his name would pop on your screen again.

you looked at the last text you sent him, asking if he had landed already. only for it to not get delivered.

you knew he had. you had seen pictures of him at the airport posted by fans on social media hours ago. you sighed as you realized that he had, most likely, blocked your number, not wanting to do anything with you anymore.

and you should've expected it, you had heard stories about his ways of playing around. but for a few months, you had believed he could be the one for you.

you felt stupid, heart-broken even. you had fallen head over heels for him, and now all you knew is you would never be able to love anyone like you had loved him again.

[mysicklove]

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆

DAY 24: SPREADER BAR

With: Zenitsu Agatsuma

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Sub! Zenitsu, gn! reader, crying, reader kinda is pushy but Zenitsu is fine with it, VERY sensitive Zenistu, overstimulation,

A/N: I hope i didn't take this too far. Reader is kinda pushier than my other fics, but idk. kinda nervous about this one for some reason. tbh, I'm not really liking any of my kinktober fics </3

Zenitsu squirms. Plain and simple. Kiss his cheek and he is giggling like a school girl, touch his chest and he is shrinking away from you with a whine, stroke his cock and he is accidentally closing his thighs together. It was just instinctual, he’s sensitive, and even if he likes the touch, he seems to struggle staying still and letting it happen.

So, you bought him a spreader bar. Zenitsu adores handjobs, but its always a pain to keep respreading his legs (You once slapped his thighs as a warning to keep them open, and he immediately sobbed and begged for forgiveness. You never slapped him again). It was good to take measures into your own hands. 

But, he happened to be a little nervous about it.

“Y/NNNNN. Is this really necessary?” Zenitsu whines, his face pink from embarrassment at being completely bare in front of you. You were clicking on the cuffs to his ankles, while he lays against the headboard. 

You kiss the inside of his knee, before moving up closer to him. “You know it is. How am I supposed to make you feel good if you keep moving away?”

He pouts and looks away. “Don’t mean to.”

“I know baby, you’re just so sensitive. I love that about you,” You coo, leaning forward to kiss his temple. You rest your hand on his abdomen, and he flinches, eyes flickering to yours out of nervousness.

He looks down at his open legs and covers his face. “So embarrassing.”

“Hmmm. It’s cute, legs spread like a little whore. Only for me, hmm?” He whines at the slight degradation, moving closer to you to seek comfort in your warmth. But of course, he agrees, slightly nodding and playing with his fingers.

Your hand moves down to his cock, and he lets out an airy breath. Immediately you hear the clanging of the cuffs as he tries to move. You grin, glad his thighs aren’t stopping your antics, and pump him once, and then twice. His hand grips onto your pants and he looks up at you with pleading eyes. 

You continue, now going faster, and he keens, back slightly arching off the bed. He tries to keep his mouth shut, but it gets harder with every second. A minute goes by, and he is already spasming.

“F-Fuck slow down–You know I can’t!” He isn’t used to this, he usually gets a small break in the moments you take to pull away his legs. A chance for him to calm down, to not let his oversensitive body overwhelm him.

His legs are trembling and flexing as they try to force themselves together, but can’t. You continue your merciless pace, and his mouth hangs open, moans and whimpers falling with every second. Tears have already begun to well up. “I can’t. Wait, please! I can’t! Too much. It’s too much!”

You slightly slow your pace at his words and watch the way the pre drips down your hands. His thighs are shaking and he is twitching. Tears begin to spill over as he finally has a chance to catch his breath. You rub his face, brushing the drops away. “’m sensitive! Can’t keep up. You are going too fast, Y/N!” He sobs, and you coddle his face in apology, glancing back at the way his whole body seems to jerk when you reach the head of every slow stroke.

You coo at him, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear, as the spreader bar clanks with his movements. “But doesn’t it feel good, Zen? Your body is so reactive. You just need to relax and let it happen.”

He looks up at you with crocodile tears in his eyes and lets out a couple of sniffles. “Well, it did feel good. Just scary. Don’t got any control over myself,” He warbles, burying his face into your clothes for comfort.

You smile at him and begin to pick up the pace of your hand again. His hand tightens into a fist on your clothing. “Let me take care of you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Just gotta relax for me, yeah?”

A second goes by, and then two. “Mhmkay. Just, try to be gentle. Please?”

“Of course. Doing so well, ya know. Being such a good boy,” You praise, and he lets out a happy hum, soaking up the words. 

You slowly make your way to your original pace, ignoring the way he jumps, or tries to hyperextend one of his legs at the feeling. He begins to pant, and he’s clutching at you desperately, trying to keep himself relaxed, but also grounded.

Eventually, you reach your original pace, and his knees are caving in. He wants to close his legs desperately, but he can’t, and his body is reacting immensely to the intense pleasure. “Fuck. Fuck. Its a lot. It’s too much!”

“How does it feel, Zenitsu?”

He thrashes around the sheets, crying again, but seeming to enjoy it more than before. He doesn’t look afraid, just simply letting it happen. “Good! Mhmmokay im okay. Just–Just hard. Cant….Think!”

The bed creaks from his sporadic movements, and you are even having trouble keeping your hands on him. His hips are turning from left to right, and his back is arching occasionally. His mouth is open again, and his eyes are hazy. “Can’t last. I can’t!”

The bar continues to rattle, and his legs continue to strain against it. You are even worried that he might break it from the force of his movements. “You can cum whenever you want, my love.”

He doesn’t respond, just nodding his head, with his eyes slightly rolled back. His hands can’t stay still, interchanging from clutching at you or the sheets, to holding onto his legs to try to help stop force against the bar.

With his upcoming orgasm, the pleasure becomes more intense, and he begins to sob. “Fuck. S-Sensitive. Oh god, feels weird! Gonna cum. Please please please! It’s too much again!”

“You already have my permission, Zen. Relax, let it out.” He nods into your clothing and clings onto you like a lifeline but listens.

He cums, and it’s much different than before. He can’t curl up into himself, as he usually does, but tries to anyways. His body goes stiffer than usual, and he lets out three high pitches, broken moans. He shuts his eyes and arches his back into you. The white liquid coats his stomach, but he can’t even feel it, instead focusing on riding out the waves. 

He looks cute like this. It seems like it was his strongest orgasm in a while, and you are intrigued by it. Your hand slows down, and forces out the last couple of drops from the tip. 

You accidentally overstimulate him, and his whole body jerks and he lets out a whimpering sound. You gulp and pull away, trying to think of other thoughts, because overstimulating Zenitsu may be adorable, but if he reacted the way he does with a handjob, you may kill the poor boy with anything more.

But he blinks at you, eyes red with tears. “Again?” He breathes, still twitching occasionally from the aftershock. 

You gulp again, not sure if going again would kill him, or you.

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[oizysian]

Monster Fucker | Wanda Maximoff

Pairing: Monster!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader Warnings: dubcon, magic penises, demonic tongue action. Word Count: 1.3k Summary: After the Darkhold takes over Wanda, she goes after the one who would love her no matter what.

•Kinktober Masterlist•

She was a monster; a hideous, grotesque warped version of her former self. Despite the fact that she barely even responded to her name, she was still my Wanda.

I watched as she crept towards me, her eyes glowing a deep, dark red, almost completely hidden by the crown that became one with her; covering her eyes and sprouting out of the top of her head like demon horns.

“Wanda …” My voice was strangled, desperate. “You have to break free of the Darkhold. This isn’t you.”

She opened her mouth and bared her razor sharp teeth, her tongue languidly falling from her lips and hanging, dripping eagerly with saliva. She looked … hungry.

She continued to approach me, her breathing heavy as she reached her hand out towards me. Red wisps sparked from her fingertips and wrapped around me. I could feel her slipping inside of my mind, inside of my body, and I did my best to fight it. I couldn’t let the evil of the Darkhold take both of us.

“Wanda …!” I cried, trying my hardest to hold onto whatever little control I had left. “Don’t do this!”

I thought then that she was going to kill me. These were my final moments. The woman who I had loved so dearly, who I had tried so hard to find and save, was going to be the death of me.

She hissed softly, advancing on me, and suddenly images of us in the throes of passion flooded my mind. She was trying to weaken my resolve, and it was working.

“Wanda,” I half moaned. “Stop.”

A wicked smile appeared on her lips. She knew exactly what she was doing to me. Her tongue jutted out, caressing my throat and slipping into my mouth. I fought against her, twisting my head from side to side to free myself, but she was much stronger than I was, and had the advantage.

She retracted her tongue, leaving a messy trail of saliva in her wake.

“Mine.” She hissed, her claw like fingers coming up to caress my cheek, trailing down to the collar of my shirt.

I trembled under her touch, my breathing ragged as I watched her. Her nails went right through my shirt, slicing through it like it was nothing.

“Wanda!” I cried as she let my ruined shirt hit the floor, standing before her in just my bra.

I tried to pull my arms from her magic binds, but couldn’t. I was completely helpless and open to her. She didn’t seem as though she wanted to hurt me, but this wasn’t the Wanda I loved. This wasn’t my Wanda.

Her tongue came down and swirled around my covered breast, soaking the fabric and forcing my nipple to harden under her demonic touch.

I groaned, fear and arousal flooding my senses as she continued to touch me with her long tongue.

“Wanda, y-you need to stop.” I whimpered, her fingers flicking towards the rest of my clothes, leaving me bare before her.

Her smile widened at the sight of me; trembling, aroused, frightened - because of her.

She got down on her knees in front of me, spread my legs with her magic and licked my inner thighs, her long tongue flicked and teased my heated skin before dipping into my growing wetness.

“Oh, fuck, Wanda.” I felt my knees buckle, and thankfully her magic was holding me up, preventing me from falling.

She grabbed at my ass, spreading my cheeks and letting her tongue run from my pussy to my hole, and I could feel my whole body throbbing.

“Wanda, holy shit, fuck.” I moaned, my hips rising to meet the strokes of her tongue.

She let out a low growl, her strong tongue slipping into my cunt again, filling me up completely. I let out a whimpering moan as she fucked me, wishing so badly that I could touch her.

I looked down at her, taken back by the demonic look of her before pleasure rocked through me and I felt nothing but love for her, despite her current form.

I came all over her tongue, but she didn’t stop thrusting up into me, and I could feel her within every inch of me. My slick covered her face and tongue, her hands still gripping me tightly as she fucked me within an inch of my life.

Her tongue slipped out of my heat and trailed its way up my backside, dipping into my tight hole.

“Wanda, wait …” I groaned, my hips still rocking against her despite her prodding my most sensitive area.

I let out a low moan as she fucked my ass, flattening her tongue against my mound so I could grind myself against it as she fucked me.

This monster was still Wanda. She fucked me like Wanda, was careful like Wanda, and compassionate like Wanda - she was Wanda.

Tears built up in my eyes as I was overtaken by the sensations, grinding myself along the length of her tongue while she gently slipped in and out of my ass.

Her nails gently dug into me, leaving little blood trails in their wake. Her eyes met mine and I could almost see my Wanda behind her steely gaze.

“Wanda,” I whined, struggling against my binds. “Let me touch you. Please.”

She pressed her tongue against my clit and I groaned, feeling another orgasm wash over me. I had never cum from someone fucking my ass and playing with my clit before, but it was always something new with Wanda.

My legs shook as I came against her and she licked up all of my cum, cleaning me up and teasing my aching clit as she did so.

“Please, Wanda,” I couldn’t handle another orgasm so soon. “Too much.”

She purred softly, licking me gently as she let me come down from my high. Her magic loosened up on me and she lowered me to the ground with her, releasing me as she laid me out, crawling up my body.

She licked my neck and throat and I held onto her shoulders, bringing her close to me. Before I could say or do anything else, I felt a weight against my thigh. I looked down between us to see Wanda’s naked bottom half now sporting an erect, blood red cock.

“Wanda …” I whimpered softly, shifting against her.

She snarled against my neck, causing me to freeze in place as she thrust herself up against me.

She grabbed my leg, lifting it up so she could slip herself inside me with ease. She practically purred into my ear as she pumped in and out of me slowly, letting me adjust to her size.

I wrapped my free leg around her hip as she pounded into me, grunting softly against my neck as she fucked me. I could feel her throbbing inside me, and I knew she was close already. I squeezed her cock, milking her and she growled, grabbing my face and kissing me forcefully.

She pressed her tongue into my mouth and I moaned as she filled my cunt with her cum, her sharp teeth cutting my lip as she kissed me. She licked up the tiny droplets of blood and continued to stuff my pussy with her thick cock, breeding me like the animal she was.

She let go of my thigh and brought her hand up to my throat, wrapping her long fingers around it and squeezing ever so slightly, heightening my neverending high.

I panted softly as we both relaxed, her fingers around my neck loosening and her cock slipping out from my aching heat.

“Mine,” she snarled again, licking the hollow of my throat. “Mine.”

“Yours.” I said as I stroked her hair softly, almost comforted by the soft purring coming from deep within her chest. “Yours, always, no matter what.”

•

@natashaswife4125, @poison-blackheart, @aemilia19

[simp-is-here]

We’re back again with more

Obey Me Boy’s Thirsty Thoughts/ Scenarios

Warning: hella and I’m mean like EXTREMELY suggestive, LIKE BORDERLINE NSFW, kinda calling myself out once again, implied sex, mentions of: sex, making out, sexual acts, kinda somnophilia (consensual), bathtub sex, size kink, sub levi, sub mammon, sub simeon, aggressive hickeys, tail stuff, semi public, finger sucking

(I tried my best to make this gender neutral, please let me know if I messed up and I’ll try to correct my mistakes)

Let me just apologize in advance for if this is cringey, I very much tend to word stuff weirdly if I’m describing something sexual.

Lucifer-

So you and Lucifer are (doing the do?? Making love??? Schlonging?? Having sex?? Whatever makes you comfortable)

His wings suddenly sprout from his back

He pays no mind to them as he continues to make you feel good

While he’s kissing your collarbone you’re running your hand over the feathers of his wings and up his back where the wings meet

I think those wing would be so sensitive but he wouldn’t want to admit it

However little things in his body language would show that it has an effect on him

The tremble in his wings, the small intake of breath, the way he pulls you even tighter to him

He didn’t want to tell you, but he yearned for more. And you were more than willing to give him everything he wanted

Mammon-

Though he’s greedy, there’s nothing he’s more greedy for than your love

That love may be staying up late to study with him, or holding him close when the two of you finish a scary movie

But sometimes that love is what you’re doing right now, pulling on the strands of his hair trying to compose yourself as you take what you want from him

Guiding him to do exactly what you want, the exact thing he needs to do to make you feel good

He could get drunk off of the sounds you make, the way you looks, how much you trust him, how much control you have over him

And sometimes that love is when you’re spent and holding him, praising him for doing such a good job while his head is against your chest, the beating of your heart continues it’s fast pace as you try to catch your breath

There’s nothing he’s more greedy for than your love

Leviathan-

If you knew that cuddling and playing a game would lead to this, then you would’ve done so sooner

Levi was currently under you, his hands hiding his red face as you sit back up, wiping your mouth with a smirk

After some soft words you manage to uncover his face, kissing his lips once again while guiding his hands to your thighs

While your trace his bottom lip with your tongue you feel something slither around your waist, you look down to see his tail holding you tightly

Levi covered his face in embarrassment once again while unwrapping his tail from you, you grabbed one of his hands in time for him to see you trace your tongue up his tail to the tip

You guided his face back up to you and kissed him once again, his tail wrapping around your thighs and his fingers digging into your hips

He was in for a long night

Satan-

Being loud was never a problem before you met Satan, it wasn’t that any of your past lovers were bad, you just didn’t know you had this side of you

However sometimes it was a challenge whenever the two of you got intimate, you’d have to bite the back of your hand or put something in your mouth

Right now the two of you were beside Satan’s door, his thigh was between your legs while his mouth sucked marks onto your skin

Your hands were so preoccupied with holding him close that you didn’t realize you were letting out sounds until a knock at the door caused you to panic

He answers through the the door with a smirk, continuing to move you on his thigh. Watching as you try your best to be silent

You gasp at a certain angle to which he quickly covers your mouth with his hand, telling the person on the other side of the door that he just dropped a book

You open your mouth and guide his fingers into your mouth, Satan’s eyes widened as he forces a grunt back down his throat. He quickly shut down the conversation and shoved you towards his bed

You were in for it

Asmodeus-

One of the best things in your relationship with Asmo is when the two of you bathe together

It’s not always sexual, sometimes the two of you just wrap your bodies around one another, helping each other de-stress

This however was not one of those times, though it did start out as one. But the was your fingers gently scrubbed the strands of his hair, and the way his hand lathered the body wash on your thighs, occasionally rubbing close to where you yearned for his touch

The steam of the water seemed to grow thicker as his hands danced across your shining form, his legs straddling your thighs

Though you two exchanged soft kisses, your hands were desperate to satisfy the other

You both end and his hands grip your hair while yours hold his as close as possible, panting into each other’s mouth while tired kisses as given

The two of you make it back to his room and take a short break before you continue once again

Beelzebub-

While the two of you were eating on your bed you had dropped a glob of pudding onto your chest

Before you could wipe it up Beel leaned in and licked it clean, continuing to clean up any spots on you that had pudding on it

He guided your back onto your bed as he left kisses all over your neck and collarbone

Eventually he stopped just as his tooth has pressed against you skin, his reluctance was quickly overshadowed by the want he felt when you begged him to continue

He dove back into the crook of your neck and sucked whatever he could reach, occasionally biting you before soothing the bite with a kiss or a lick

He had gotten down your stomach, only stopped by the fabric of your pants covering you from him

He looked back at you and gazed over the dark marks decorating your skin, he wished he could feel guilt but the way you smiled up at him with a dazed look made him want to do this again

Belphegor-

Sex was not a major thing in your relationship, just something that occasionally happened

You both were in the attic room cuddling on the bed, his arms wrapped around your waist to hold you close

After a bit of self questioning you took his hand from your waist and lead it lower till it was between your legs

Belphie’s body tensed slightly before pulling you back to him, moving your bodies together as one through your clothes

His other hand which was under your neck gripped the sheets tightly as the movements got more desperate

After you both finished his body went limp against yours, twitching slightly from the intensity his body just felt

The zip of his pants was heard over the panting of breaths as he took himself out and guided himself into you, holding you close once again while pressing kisses to your shoulder

The two you fell asleep in each other’s arms, wanting no one to disturb this moment that hopefully would last forever

Diavolo-

So we all know how his demon form looks.

A personal headcanon of mine is that all the demons in there demon forms they grow bigger

Now imagine while the two of you are alone with you pressed against the wall his demon form comes out

When you open your eyes again you see this 7ft (personal headcanon) demon towering over you

The way his large body wraps around you to bring you to his bed

(Let’s just say his height isn’t the only thing that grows)

Barbatos-

Barbatos isn’t one to show a lot of emotion. Even though you’re his lover he still doesn’t show that much

While the two of you are in bed together he still appears to be well composed like always with occasional low grunts here and there

After awhile of not being able to see each other due to busy schedules and the demon brothers antics you both finally got some time alone with one another

You had hoped that maybe just maybe the time apart would show something of how he’s feeling, or how you make him feel

After a physically satisfying night together you woke up to his side of the bed being empty, a glass of water and a note explaining that he’s gone to do his tasks of the day was beside you on the table

You sighed and leaned back on the bed only to get poked by something, turning around you realize the frame where his hand was holding onto last night was completely destroyed

You replayed in your mind how oddly he was acting last night and now you understood why

A sense of pride overtook you at the realization that he had broken the bed frame trying to hold himself back

Simeon-

You just know that his skin feels like flower petals

So after the two of you *cough cough* you’re lying in bed together

Legs intertwined as he softly snores beside you

You just can’t help but run your hand over his skin, the soft feeling of it under your fingertips

He wakes up from the feeling of you and you both lay there and leave soft kisses on the others lips

You drag your fingers down his back, applying slight pressure with your nails which causes a soft groan from him

Your kisses become more heated as you raise his thigh so his legs are wrapped around you once again

Solomon-

This is definitely not where you thought you’d end up when Solomon offered to teach you

At first it started out simple, you’d be reading the book on the table and he’d come up behind you, leaning to see what you were reading while his hand was on your lower stomach

Eventually he started kissing from your shoulder to your ear, his hand grasping yours on the table.

With your mind officially distracted from the book you turned around, letting him push your shoulders down slowly till you were on your knees in front of him

His gasps echoed throughout the room while his hand gripped the back of your neck tightly, trying to guide you

He let out a moan when he finished (I’m not really questioning what I’m doing with life 🤣) stroking your cheek as he tried to catch his breath

He pulled you back to your feet and kissed you passionately before pushing you onto the table

Time for him to return the favour

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

(Please do not post my work anywhere else without mentioning that it’s written by me)

Thank you for reading. If you have any requests just send them to me and I’ll try to write them to the best of my ability

And remember you are a fantabulous human being and that is my opinion to which you can not change my opinion so better just accept that you’re an amazing person who is doing a fantastic job. Keep up the great work. Have a good day or night or whatever you’re reading this at

[aspiring-house-husband]

“forgive me, father, for i have sinned…”

I relish in breaking priests. 

“I have been lustful.”

contrary to popular belief, a demon has no difficulty stepping foot in church. surrounding myself with all of that holiness, it only heightens my hunger. i keep my face looking human and my clothes modest and i remember what i’m here for. a priest… you, the gorgeous and beautiful priest with a body to make me drool. a body that deserves so much more than to be locked behind the church. 

“tell me more, child.”

you’re young, for a priest. young and pretty and lovely. i want nothing more than to have you as mine, but i have been patient. i have visited you in the past, devout and mournful of my sin. supposedly. 

“I have pictured you, father. in my nights alone, i have pictured you on my bed, devoid of clothes. i have imagined your supple flesh quivering with pleasure from my touch.”

you do not respond but with a sharp intake of breath. my lips reveal sharp teeth as i smile, a scent of shock and arousal slipping through the slatted holes separating us. 

“i have imagined your soft thighs opening for me as you plea for my touch. you beg vulgar things of me, father. you beg for me to touch you and breach you and spear you onto me.”

“i- i see.”

“i have seen it in my dreams, father. you ask me to break you open on my cock and keep going even if you cry. you beg me to take you, body and soul. to make your hole and so your entire body feel as though holy, bewitched by god’s light.”

“interesting…” you sound breathless. you smell desperate. 

“you promise me that you will save me from my sin, and that you can only do so by letting me release it within you, as you, holy father, can handle it. that you will cleanse me with your touch and your hole.”

“they say…” you say, and it comes out as a whimper. “they say that dreams are sent by god.”

“as guidance, father?” 

“indeed. That god offers us answers and communicates with us through our dreams, should we only listen.”

“how must i repent, father?”

you try to hide it, but i hear the soft thump as you rest your temple against the wall between us. so too can i hear your thighs rubbing together for the slightest relief, and your hand making way of your clothes to reach your own heat. 

“if god has so graciously shown us his path, we must take it,” you answer, and i can hear your robes shuffling as you dig your hand down further between your legs. “but you must finish confession, first.”

“only after you beg of me, in my dreams, do i take you viciously,” i answer, listening to the sweet sounds of your wetness as you shove fingers as deep into yourself as you can reach. “i satisfy you with my cock and you cry out at how it feels. i thrust into you with enough force to bounce your voice and force you to cum around me and again until you shed tears of ecstasy, father, and told me that i was cleansed with the holy light of god’s love within your body.” your breathing and the scent of your arousal both spike as you near your own orgasm, every word of mine and every thrust of your fingers bringing it closer until you tremble and shake through it. i see the shadow of you leaning back into your seat as you listen. “and i felt the euphoria, father, of the holy light that i spilled into you. i was cured of my sin, father. surely my lust was balanced by my connection to the spirit.”

“in the dream, it was,” you answer, breathless and smiling, “but you have not repented from your waking lust. i shall save you, as such i did in your dream.”

“i’m so glad,” i say, my teeth sharp and claws sharp as i tear aside the wood between us, revealing to you my muscular frame, my slitted eyes, my wicked horns, my predatory smile. “for I shall make my dream real.”

it takes me only a moment to lift you from your seat and strip you, demonic magic only helping in pulling your robes from your body, before i spear you deep onto my cock, your hole loose and wet with orgasm. 

“cleanse me, father,” i growl, forked tongue circling your ear before my lips latch to your neck, working your blood to the surface. “free me of this sin and i shall worship you as i worship our lord.” 

you grip onto my shoulder with one hand and my horn with another, locking your ankles behind me, dropping your head back and moaning like the best succubi i’ve seen. your hips buck lewdly and your hole grips around me with the tightness and heat of hell itself. your spend drips from you and joins my precum, smearing both your thighs and mine before painting the floor. 

i cushion your head from slamming into the wood, feeling it as your so-called holiness slips from you. i drink it up from your veins as it escapes my demonic power, which i pour into you with every kiss and caress and thrust, which you accept with every cant of your hips, every tight grip onto my body, every moan to be heard throughout the cathedral. 

you flutter and clench and ripple around me with your second orgasm, body going taught and earthquaking in my arms. i can’t help but sink my teeth into your perfectly pleasured frame, my magic following my fangs and pouring ever further into your body. it has you trembling even more, whimpering in prolonged pleasure the likes of which you’ve never experienced, shaking and tensing and ignorant to how your holy light shatters and focuses into tying you to hell, where a tempting sinner belongs. 

i can only withstand so much of your perfect sloppy hole before i cum into you, spilling into you with unholy light and darkness. i watch the glow of it fill you, and watch as your orgasm drags ever on, even to where your eyes roll back in your skull and you go limp in my arms, still trembling through the pleasure in your sleep. 

this means that, lovingly, i can watch as my glowing demonic magic reshapes within you, to a binding mark so beautifully painted between your hipbones. i watch it climb your veins to your hairline, where it spouts nubby horns from your perfect hair. finally, it bleeds down to your face, and when you open your eyes, they resemble a snake’s. 

“you are cleansed,” i whisper, reverently, kissing you softly. “an angel all for me.” 

“angel,” you breathe in response, tremoring still around my cock within you. “an angel you are, sent to rescue me.”

“to raise you to the unholy light you deserve. to rapture you to your higher purpose.” i kiss you as i speak, all over your chest and neck, with worship and adoration on my lips. 

“higher purpose,” you simper, clenching yourself around me again. “take me to this higher purpose. show it to me. fill me with it.”

“as you wish, my angel,” i tell you, invading your mouth with long tongue and loving kiss, and fucking you anew. 

[kaciidubs]

Curious Cat

❣ Summary: Perhaps being curious wasn't all that bad. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 1.48k ❣ Warnings: Slight Sub! Chris, fluff, smut, comfort, use of safeword, sex toys [vibrators], slight overstimulation, aftercare ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, Baby, and My Love, Reader is referred to as Baby, unedited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back - and boy, was this cat satisfied.

Chris didn't intend on snooping around your room when you left to get snacks for your impending movie date, nor did he intend to find a few hidden objects in your sock drawer.

Who knew him wanting to coo over your cute Sanrio themed socks would've turned into him holding not one, but two of your sex toys?

"Alright, I think I have every- Why are you holding those?"

His head snapped in the direction of your voice, your hands holding two convenience store bags filled with the snacks you'd promised.

"I-I, um, I didn't mean to-"

"Are you trying to skip the movie and get to the good part of the night?"

The suggestiveness in your tone made his heart skip a beat - sure, he was ready for you no matter what, but he genuinely wasn't trying to come off as entirely horny, he was just curious.

"I wanna watch the movie, really, but..."

Looking down at the toys in his hands, he couldn't help the thoughts brewing in his head; how do you use them? Do you use them by themselves or do you watch the private videos you two have made while touching yourself? Do you use one or multiple in one night? Do they make you come just as hard as he does?

"I... I think I wanna know how these work."

"On me?" You mused, a sly smirk growing on your lips, "Or on you?"

Oh.

Was that even possible? Could your toys work the same on him as they do for you? Could they make him come just as hard as you do?

Chris was curious, some may say too curious for his own good, but he wouldn't let that deter him.

Which is how he found himself now; naked and writhing on your bed as you held a small blue vibrating toy to the leaky head of his cock, the two bunny shaped ears vibrating in a pattern that left him breathless.

The rabbit vibrator, you'd told him - it was your go to for nights where you just wanted to get off and go to bed.

It made his head spin just simply knowing that the toy currently on the flared tip of his dick was also used on your clit.

"How's it feel, baby?" You cooed, the only piece of clothing still on your body being a basic pair of cotton panties. "Feels good, right? I didn't even have to use too much lube with the way you're dripping right now."

He whined out a sound of agreement, too focused on the pulsing of the toy to pay you any mind.

"This next one is new, I haven't even used it on myself yet but that's okay - you can be my little test bunny, yeah?"

"Y-Yes, fuck yes, please." If one toy was able to make him feel this good, then whatever you had planned for him next was more than welcome.

The small, targeted vibrations of the rabbit left his cock, prompting him to open his eyes and look down at you in question before his gaze locked onto the next toy in your hand.

It was bigger, sort of shaped like a microphone, and was slightly intimidating based on the simpler, theme-less design.

"It's a Hitachi wand," you explained, turning it to give him a full view, "it's supposed to have more power than the rabbit, but since I haven't used it yet, I don't know how it's supposed to feel on me - so, make sure you tell me everything you feel, okay?"

Chris nodded, his dick throbbing in anticipation, "Okay, yeah, I will."

You took a moment to coat the soft bulbous tip with lube before turning it toward him; rubbing it along his shaft to give him a general idea of what it feels like while it's not running.

"Ready?"

"R-Ready."

The click of a button was all he could register before a strong wave of vibration forced a choked gasp from his plump lips.

He could feel it everywhere; from the tip of his cock to his abdomen - he could even feel the vibrations in the taughtness of his balls, it was insane.

If it weren't for the fact that you were sitting between his legs, he probably would've been folded like a chair from the pleasure.

"Channie? How's it feel, baby? What is it like?"

His hands fisted the sheets, chest heaving in uneven breaths as he tried his best to collect the brain cells to form words.

"I-It- oh fuck, fuck, it's so- it's everywhere, baby- oh my god don't stop, please don't stop!"

His stomach was coated in precum, his cock leaking in ways you haven't seen before - you were almost jealous it was being wasted on him instead of in you, but that would be fixed later on.

Pressing the vibration button, you kicked up the speed and pressed the toy against the underside of his cock, right against a vein you were graciously familiar with.

The sound he let out was crossed between a grunt and a gasp of air, eyes rolling to the back of his head, and before you knew it, thick ropes of white streaked across his chest and stomach.

It was like he was frozen in time, stuck between breaths and stomach contracting with each wave of cum leaving him, numb to everything but the constant vibrations now spreading throughout his body.

At the same time, you weren't fairing any better; watching in shocked amazement as your usually loud finishing boyfriend was resorted to nothing but choked breaths and twitching limbs. It wasn't until a certain gasped word forced it's way past his lips that you were brought back to reality.

"R-Red- Red-"

You turned the toy off immediately, tossing it behind you as your hands moved to hold his shaking ones, knuckles white from his grip on your sheets.

"Okay, Channie, it's okay - we're all done, yeah?" You could see the faint streak of tears shining down the sides of his face, watching as he tried nodding his head. "You're okay, baby, just take a deep breath with me - slowly, just breathe with me."

He took a shivering inhale, broken between soft hiccups, before sighing it out slowly, his body relaxing just a bit.

"Good boy, just a few more times for me, alright?"

With each breath taken, his body finally relaxed and the tension in his hands released enough for you to slip your hands into his palms, thumbs caressing his undoubtedly sore knuckles.

"You did great, Channie, such a great job - will you be okay if I leave to get a washcloth to clean you up? Do you want me to run a bath?"

Chris shook his head softly, squeezing your hands, "Just... Just a washcloth... A-And some water, please."

Nodding, you leaned down to press a kiss to his right hand, "Alright, baby, I'll be right back."

It only took a few minutes for you to return with the warm washcloth and a bottle of water, gently wiping up the mess of cum from his skin and lube from his softening dick, before helping him sit up to drink.

He finished the water bottle in record time, chugging it as if he just finished a set on stage before letting out a deep sigh, leaning his head against your headrest.

"That was..."

"Intense?"

"Amazing." He laughed lightly, "And intense too, yeah, but it was... I never felt anything like that before, but I feel like if I didn't tap out then, I would've passed out."

Small giggles bubbles from your mouth, shaking your head at his honesty, "Well thank you for letting me know - do you need me to do anything for you? More water? Food? Wanna talk it out some more? Where's your head at, my love?"

A small hum left him as he opened his eyes to gaze at you through a soft haze, "Food sounds great, and we can definitely talk about it more but not before you tell me how you're doing. I'm alright, really, just a little overstimulated - but what about you? I didn't mean to scare you with the safeword."

"You didn't scare me at all! I was just worried about you, trust me - I'm just glad you're okay." Scooting closer to him, you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, smiling as he press himself into you. "I'll order the food, you just focus on cooling down, yeah?"

He nodded before looking at you with puppy eyes, "Can we order a pizza?"

Rolling your eyes, you laughed, "Yes, we can order a pizza - find something to watch then we can talk about the toys some more."

With a hum of agreement, you set off to put your date night back on track.

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