#you’ve screwed me over again

[jaejoongs-nipple-piercing]

F U ⬇️

[starlooove]

“There is no fanfic on Stephs treatment I have checked” that’s like the whole point.

[tteokdoroki]

yuuji looks so good when he cream pies omg his eyes roll back in his head and he drools <333

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, characters aged up to 20s, creampies, breeding, overstimulation, implied multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, afab!reader - anon pls…. grabs my head like choso </3

because when yuuji cums he’s literally throwing all of his weight into his thrusts — bucking into you so wildly with your legs folded up by your ears. it’s easy to forget how strong he is when he looks so sweet and those brown puppy dog eyes stare down at you with so much lust.

…but when yuuji gets close he has this sudden burst of energy, chasing his high like a madman or someone looking for that same dopamine rush that their addiction gives them. he wants his cum to be so deep inside of you, doesn’t want to pull out of your tight, hot heat that ripples around his aching cock. just begging for him to fill you up.

that’s what you want, right? it’s what your body’s telling him.

“oh. oh my god. fuck—“ he stutters, his warm breath ghosting along your wet Cupid’s bow, honey brown eyes screwing shut every time you clench down on itadori’s cock through the after shocks of your high. “‘m gonna cum baby, all over… all over this pretty pussy. gonna fill you up, gonna cum inside you — gotta cum inside you.”

and he’s so desperate, gyrating his hips in circles while keeping his leaky cock nice ‘n snug inside you — yuuji doesn’t want to waste a drop, it’d be a shame if he couldn’t watch that thick white ooze out of your tiny hole.

it takes the pressure of your nails raking down his freckled back and the tug of his pink hair for yuuji to finally burst — the entire heaviness of his body collapses against your frame, his thrusts never stop as he pumps a thick, heavy load into you until your tummy swells from how much there is.

yuuji’s pretty brown eyes disappear into his skull, his jaw goes slack while he trembles weakly above you — drooling into the crevice of your neck while he twitches and shakes. “‘m sorry,” he moans hoarsely, pressing sloppy kisses to the corner of your mouth, your neck and your lips. “can’t help it, you make me cum so much ‘nd i want it all of it inside of you.” he pants against you like a promise, flinching at the smaller spurts of his arousal that paint your swollen folds and clit opaque white, causing more of it to seep out of you.

and it’s not long before itadori has the energy to go again, determined to push all of his cum up against your sensitive walls to make it stick. the night isn’t over until you’ve had your fill and yuuji itadori’s heavy balls are completely empty.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, size-difference, captive darling, punishment, deepthroating, bondage

fem reader

You beg your big bulky kidnapper not to take your virginity because you’re waiting to give it to someone you love, and he just smiles at you crookedly – stroking your teary cheek as he rests the hefty weight of his big fat veiny manhood on your belly, leaking hot pre while cooing at you with deceptively kind eyes, saying that he thinks that’s a lovely idea.

Flipping you over, he starts prepping your virgin ass instead – spit and four fat fingers stretching it out while you sob and wring your wrists in your fluffy cuffs – all pointlessly as the pink hole starts to give, becoming soft and squishy, swallowing his digits up in wet velvety squelches.

And filling the taut hole up with his massive cock, he rubs your clit and whispers darkly that he’ll save your pretty cunt for when you fall in love with him.

He’s overjoyed to see you’ve already fallen in love with him after only one round of pounding your poor butt into a sore sloppy opening – all but begging him to take your pussy instead. 

Obviously, he obliges, sucking the bloated fat of your teary cheek with a hum and a firm squeeze to your sore buttcheek before flipping you back around.

He kisses your lips, your neck, your tits, your stomach – laving down until licking through your pretty pussylips, promptly tongue-fucking the sweet hole until you cum with a shudder.

Smiling into your trembling cunt – he chuckles, feeling it pulse against his lips. “Come on, baby ~” He encourages. “Tell me how much you love me – tell me how much you want my sweet, sweet love.”

He pulls your thighs around his torso, rubbing his messy cock against your slick cunt while nipping at the corner of your lips – patiently waiting for your forced consent. Grossly amused – and aroused.

“Ah – please…” Your lips warble – eyes screwed shut where you try angling away from his steamy breaths.

“Please what, baby? Please make love to your sweet pussy?” He suggests with a moan – hunched over your smaller form with his cock licking your clit as he slides it back and forth between your thighs. “Or do you maybe miss it in your tight ass?”

“No – please-”

“Then tell me, baby. Tell me you want it – tell me you love me, and I’ll give it to you.” He purrs – still while laying open-mouthed kisses on your lips and cheek.

You whimper, crying wetly. “I love you – please make love in my pussy…”

He hums in return – a satisfying rumble as he slips his cock-head through your folds until it settles in your opening.

Your breath hitches at the stretch – then you suck your teeth – hissing as he splits you open and treads your tight virginity over his girth – hugging him air-tight like a condom bought two sizes too small.

“Oh, baby~ so tight~ so tight and good~ wet like a good virgin should be~” He groans, sinking every thick inch inside despite the way you squirm, ignoring your sweet cry when you beg him to slow down. 

He’s down to the hilt in a moment – kneading against your womb with his chubby cockhead. Big hands squeeze your ass – using it to pump into you in steady deep-hitting thrusts – his lips on your forehead in a prolonged kiss.

You pant out sticky whines as he ruts inside you – fat cock stretching you badly for your first time – making everything sting numbly, only partly soothed by a tickling pleasure – tummy feeling hot and tight until it all snaps again, leaving you to shake on the massive member, throttling him all so sweetly.

“I love you, baby~ love you and your tight pussy~ squeezing me so good~” He slurs against you, drooling on your skin. “Gonna fill you up with love – all of it – all of it in your sweet pussy~”

BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Denki, Enji, Hawks

JJK - Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji

HxH – Uvogin

[faux-ecrivain]

Yan Cheater

(Fifth official post)

(Character’s name-Isaiah)

Yan Cheater who shameless cheats on you, the whole town knows, and then smirks when you berate him for his promiscuous ways.

Yan Cheater who always manages to keep you with him, usually by threats of blackmail or begging. 

Yan Cheater who, despite his hedonistic faults, doesn’t want to leave you. He still loves you, but sometimes you bore him.

Yan Cheater who become panicky when you start to ignore, then he starts to throw a fit when you give him the cold shoulder.

Yan Cheater who temporarily halts his promiscuous actions to try and woo you again. He doesn’t want to loose you, he loves, really he does! (He doesn’t, but he’s too much of a coward to leave you)

“Please baby, don’t leave me! I swear I’ll never do that again!” He begs, desperate to bring you back into his arms. He reaches for you, his arms open and attempts to embrace you. 

Unfortunately for him, his actions are undesired and therefore you slapped him, then told him to screw off and then  you kicked him out of your house.

Yan Cheater is absolutely devastated when you kick him out, this is a bad sign, what if you leave him? His mood isn’t even lifted when that annoying neighbor he hooked up with invites him over. (He rejects her invitation politely, then decides to just wait on the porch until you let him back in or give him his clothes)

Sadly, he doesn’t get invited back into your house, nope, instead you toss his clothes out and then you hand him a sleeping bag. You locked him out, he can’t understand it and he has no idea how to repair this relationship.

Yan Cheater who mourns your break up, even after weeks have passed. He doesn’t understand what happened, he thought for sure that you would’ve stayed with him. (He knew all your secrets after all) But you didn’t care of he told the world about your crimes (not that there were any serious ones going on). In fact you only seemed to encourage him to inform the whole world of what you’ve done.

Yan Cheater who still hasn’t gotten over you, you and him were dating for so long and he just can’t fathom the idea of being separated from you.

Yan Cheater who snaps when he sees you flirting with your best friend, he decides then and there that he will get you back, and nothing will ever separate the two of you again.

Hence he kidnapped you, locked you in his basement (don’t  worry it’s fully furnished) executed your best friend, blocked all other contacts on your phone and then began his to try, and salvage your relationship. 

It doesn’t work, but he has all the time in the world to try and it’s not like you’re going anywhere anytime soon.

Yan Cheater who swears to be true to you and to stay with you for all eternity. 

(Short post today, but enjoy it anyways and feel free to comment)

[fastandcarlos]

The Littlest Surprise » Daniel Ricciardo

caption: hello im a new f1 content creator and would love some feedback if you enjoy my fics tysm 🩷

summary: you’ve not been seen at the paddock for a while and the fans are getting worried, little do they know the reason for your absence is about to make everyone’s dreams come true

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by schecoperez, georgerussell63 and 842,420 others

danielricciardo: always a pleasure to have the fam on my side, excited to show the little ones what uncle danny gets up to 🥺

49,302 comments

username1: is this yet another race y/n won’t be at this weekend??

username2: I cannot wait for the day that this man becomes a dad

username3: if y/n doesn’t hurry up and make him a dad…daniel i’m happy to offer my services 😊

maxverstappen1: how big is y/n/n now! she looks so grown up 🥺

danielricciardo: @/maxverstappen1 she’ll be 6 soon, where does the time go??

oscarpiastri: don’t forget your little adopted aussie nephew

landonorris: and your british nephew too!!

danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri @/landonorris hey! i might be a bit older but not old enough to be your uncle thank you

username4: anyone else think something might be going on, daniel posting about his family without y/n there is strange

username5: @/username4 let’s not overthink this too much, y/n might just be busy

username4: @/username5 it’s been ages since we last saw her, you gotta admit it’s a bit sus

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lewishamilton, alex_albon and 629,301 others

danielricciardo: another great weekend of racing, nice feeling to be back on the podium…man how I missed hearing that champagne pop 🏎️

38,402 comments

charles_leclerc: congrats brother, nice to be up there with you once again

username6: y/n not distracting you anymore to stop you getting on the podium??

username7: @/username6 wtf? why would you suggest such a thing?

carlossainz55: always knew you’d be back up there one day, long may it continue!

yukitsunoda0511: you gotta give me some tips bro, those manoeuvres were lethal today 🔥

pierregasly: danny ric just doing danny ric things

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, charles_leclerc and 922,547 others

danielricciardo: hey team! just wanted to clear up some things after miami this weekend…me and y/n are absolutely fine, had some things going on that I promise we’ll explain soon ❤️❤️ for now tho, here’s an update on life recently ☁️✨

92,174 comments

ynusername: 🥺🥺🥺🥺

username8: I knew you guys would be okay, take as long as you need my two favourites!!

username9: a big screw you to those who doubted you…real fans love you guys

landonorris: I love you guys, here if you need anything brother ❤️

username10: hope whatever is going on clears up soon, we’re missing you guys around here🩷

lilymhe: tell y/n to gimme a call! ily guys ✨

visacashapprb: can’t wait to welcome y/n back into the paddock soon - see you for race week!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, iamrebeccad and 310,409 others

ynusername: it’s been a long few months, but we finally feel ready to share with you our happy news. pregnancy has been tough, I’d love to say it has treated me well, but it hasn’t. I cannot thank daniel enough for being by my side and helping me out whenever I’ve needed him…baby spam incoming ⛅️🍼

ps. each of us chose a picture to share, guess who chose what 🙄

28,461 comments

danielricciardo: words cannot begin to describe how proud I am of how brave you’ve been, the worst of it is over now my love, the countdown to baby ricciardo starts now

danielricciardo: ps my photo is way cooler than yours is

landonorris: omg I can’t believe you guys didn’t tell me, uncle Lando reporting for duty!

carlossainz55: the biggest congratulations you two, you’re going to be the best parents

carmenmmundt: so glad to hear y/n is doing better, may the rest of your pregnancy be a dream ✨

lilymhe: the strongest girl I know - so excited to see you become a mum 😍

username11: all my manifesting has paid off, baby ricciardo will be the luckiest

oscarpiastri: AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE!!

estebanocon: my spidey senses were spot on, I knew a baby was on the way!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, lance_stroll and 102,585 others

ynusername: life lately 💫 exhausted but loving all the little things (including daniel 😂)

17,492 comments

username12: y/n looks like she’s living the dream, mum life suits her well 🥺

danielricciardo: im definitely not a “little thing” how else did we end up like this?

landonorris: @/danielricciardo excuse me sir you are about to have a child, sort your humour out

maxverstappen1: glad to see you’re feeling more like yourself again y/n, brunch on me soon!

ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 yes - let’s not tell daniel #gatecrasher

danielricciardo: @/ynusername you know your comments are public…right?

username13: anyone else wishing they could brunch with y/n too??

lance_stroll: sending all the good book recs your way!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 738,603 others

danielricciardo: babymooning 🍼 the smile says it all, so happy to have my girl back on her feet and feeling like herself again…making the last few memories just the two of us 🥺

83,500 comments

ynusername: thank you for the best couple of days and being my personal taxi driver

username14: look at his face - you can tell daniel is buzzing to be a dad

pierregasly: where was my invite?? I thought we were friends

carlossainz55: and mine!

georgerussell63: me too!

landonorris: looks like we were all forgotten!

visacashapprb: enjoy the break daniel! you and y/n absolutely deserve it 🏁🩷

username15: i speak for all your fans when i say keep the holiday photos coming pls

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, georgerussell63 and 920,355 others

danielricciardo: mum and dad 🔥🥺

tagged: ynusername

58,429 comments

landonorris: adopt me pls, im less problematic than a baby

danielricciardo: @/landonorris debatable

lewishamilton: so glad to see you both so happy, good luck with everything

charles_leclerc: wow!! y/n looks insane (suppose you look alright too daniel!)

ynusername: mum and dad?? i can definitely get used to hearing that 🤩

alex_albon: it’s not fair how adorable you two are, this kid is hella lucky!!

username16: pls keep the baby spam coming, you guys are the sweetest 🍼💫

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lilymhe, yukitsunoda0511 and 109,446 others

ynusername: the many faces of a man who has just remembered he’s just signed up for no sleep for the next 10 years 😂

tagged: danielricciardo

23,201 comments

danielricciardo: after all I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me? you just wait my love 🫢

ynusername: @/danielricciardo this was too good of an opportunity to miss

carlossainz55: make the most of that middle photo whilst you can danny

georgerussell63: you have NO idea how much I just laughed at this y/n 😂😂😂

schecoperez: speaking from experience, you could not be more correct y/n #dannynosleep

username17: embarrassing dad before even becoming a dad 😬

oscarpiastri: call me for anymore embarrassing daniel pics 😂

danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri no one asked for you to show up here

username18: I just want you to be my mum and dad instead 😭

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, carmenmmundt and 113,999 others

ynusername: can you believe this man is really about to become a father?? 🤦🏻‍♀️

32,694 comments

charles_leclerc: sometimes i really do wonder what you see in him y/n

landonorris: the biggest clown known to man, still the world’s biggest kid 😂😂

danielricciardo: is that really how you want to talk about the father of your child? I thought you were supposed to love me

ynusername: @/danielricciardo i do, ily very much 🥰

username17: not y/n releasing all the humiliating photos of daniel now they’re about to be parents

username18: y/n’s clearing the phone album for baby spam and giving us daniel spam in return

logansargeant: more to the point, this is the guy you chose as the father of your child??

lilymhe: the two of you are perfect for each other y/n ❤️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, oscarpiastri and 1,403,407 others

danielricciardo: welcome to the world baby ricciardo 💕

after a lot of hardships and tricky times, y/n and i are beyond excited to share with you that our little one is here. everyone is safe, loved and doing well, my heart has never felt so full 🥺

tagged: ynusername

[nereidprinc3ss]

Happy 2k babe! I have a request for fluffy Spencer smut based on the song "touch tank" by Quinnie! (the song gives me like golden retriever vibes so maybe you could put something about reader playing with his hair in there? I don't know I'm having later seasons fluffy hair Spencer brainrot and I never make requests, obviously feel free to ignore or change things if this is too specific! <3)

hi angel babe!!! i love this song!! and i too am always having later seasons fluffy haired spencer brainrot!! i wrote this super quick, please let me know if its any good, ILY!!! xo

warnings/tags: fem!reader, softdom!spence, sub reader, fingering, oral f receiving, sorta kinda overstimulation, implicit consent, praise n stuff, not proofread, written at 9 pm on a tuesday night, so fluffy

18+ (smut)

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

Spencer is clearly almost asleep on the couch next to you. That’s one of many things you find endlessly fascinating and charming about him—his ability to fall asleep anywhere at any time within minutes. 

So you probably shouldn’t speak. But the stakes are low; it’s barely 7:30 in the evening. 

“Spence?” You whisper. His eyes don’t open, but his thumb goes back to making little passes where it’s settled over your hip. 

“Hm?”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

He smiles, slight but beautiful—yet his eyes remain stubbornly closed. 

“Why not?” 

“’Cause I want you to be awake.” 

“Then you can’t keep playing with my hair like that.”

You pout as if he can see you.

“But I like playing with your hair.”

Spencer hums, and you can tell you’re losing him again as you continue carding your hand through stupidly soft locks. 

“One or the other. You can’t have both.”

“I love you both, though,” you complain. “I don’t know who to pick.”

The grin has been steadily fading from his relaxed face but it flickers back to life for a moment. 

“I’m getting a haircut tomorrow. That should make it easier for you.”

“What?”

It’s the genuine horror in your voice that finally gets him to open his eyes. A little line appears between his brows as he regards you with bleary eyes. 

“What what?”

“You didn’t consult me!”

The momentarily tensed muscles in his face relax and he rolls his eyes affectionately before craning his neck to kiss your forehead. 

“I’m not in the habit of requesting your approval before I make choices like that.”

“Spencer, please don’t cut your hair,” you beg, genuinely distraught. “You can’t. It’s so so pretty.”

“It’s too long, baby. I don’t want to grow it out again.”

“You don’t have to grow it out! Just don’t get it any shorter! It’s perfect how it is,” you insist. Spencer narrows his eyes as you plead with him. But you stand firm in your position. His hair is sort of shaggy, sure—too long to be considered cropped and too short to be considered long. It’s like a beautiful curly halo and it’s perfect playing-with length. “I’m serious. I’m asking you to not cut it short, please. This is what I want for my birthday.”

“Your birthday’s not even—”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top? I love your hair so much and I love you more but I just really don’t want you to cut it, please—”

He’s laughing when he silences you with a soft kiss, and you melt, sighing against him as his hand slides up and down the back of your thigh. When he knows you’ve been sufficiently soothed, he pulls away, still smiling. 

“Oh my god, baby—are you about to cry?”

“Stop!” you whine, burying your face into a throw pillow and screwing your eyes shut. Your nose crinkles up with embarrassment. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and though he’s no longer outright laughing, traces of humor still color his lowered voice as he kisses all over the side of your face.  “I had no idea you felt that way. I didn’t realize I’d be causing you so much emotional distress if I cut my hair.”

You sniffle away any unfortunate emotional reactions and turn your head back to him. He’s ducked down slightly, still peppering kisses over your jaw and neck, and you lace your fingers through the contentious hair. 

“Obviously I’m not the boss of you. If it makes you uncomfortable I want you to cut it. But I really like it how it is.”

He hums against your throat and the vibrations send a chill down your spine. You arch against him unconsciously. 

“You are definitely the boss of me. I don’t know anyone else who I like receiving orders from so much.”

“Hotch,” you whisper, and you can feel Spencer’s teeth against your neck as he smiles and presses another loving kiss to the sensitive spot above your collarbone. 

“Not the kind of orders I was talking about. And I don’t particularly care what Hotch thinks of my hair, honey.” He kisses tenderly until he earns a tiny whimper from you—which sates him enough to raise his head until you’re eye-level again. His hand, however, has other plans—it creeps south, slipping under the waistband of your pajama pants. “What if we compromise? I just get it trimmed so it doesn’t keep getting in my eyes when I have a loaded gun in my hands, yeah?” You nod dutifully, looping your arms around his neck as his fingers dip beneath your underwear. When you don’t reply verbally, he prompts meaningfully, “okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, voice small as you look into his searching eyes. 

For a few moments, when he finally pushes his fingers against your clit and begins rubbing with slow, gentle strokes, his eyes are everywhere on your face—then they focus back on your eyes, watching with that habitually intense interest permeated with a sense of devotion—like he wants to see exactly what pleasure looks like reflected in your irises. Like he could see through them to your brain and watch your dopamine transmitters working overtime. A soft moan escapes through parted lips, which seems to spur Spencer on. He drags more arousal over your aching bud and openly chuckles at your airy sigh of pleasure, unable to resist from giving you a short kiss. 

“Feels good?”

“Mhm,” you breathe. 

“Mhm,” he agrees, kissing you again just as quickly before pulling back to study your face once more. “Pretty girl.”

“You’re pretty,” you insist, with what little brain power is available to you as you rake one hand through his hair. He smiles, eyes pinging between your own and your mouth like he can’t decide where to look.  

“I’m pretty?” he asks, speaking over another quiet, yet unabashed moan. You nod, hips bucking slightly off the couch cushion as he speed up the motion of his hand. The grin widens and his soft amber eyes soften further. “You’re so sweet.”

You give him a moan he can’t ignore and he takes it as a signal to slip two fingers into you, sighing in what sounds like relief just as your breath catches. The way he seems to feel your pleasure will never get less erotic. Once he’d explained it—something to do with mirror neurons—but whatever the reason, watching the way his arousal rises with yours is exhilarating. 

A squeaking sound is expelled from your lungs and your whole body tenses, propelling you maybe an inch upward involuntarily. 

His lips part the same as yours��but only allowing another dry laugh to pass between them. 

“Relax. I’ll come to you.”

You hum as he leans down and kisses you back into the pillow—a proper kiss, this time, lips parted and the tip of his tongue grazing yours—all the while, still pumping his fingers much deeper than your own could ever manage. Each moan and gasp he allows you to release freely, only barely parting from your lips every few seconds to let you breathe and make your noises. When his fingers begin pumping faster, and you can hear it, you whine, knees clamping shut as the small of your back jumps away from the couch. 

“Fuck,” you pant against his lips. 

“Need you to keep your legs open, baby,” Spencer reminds you gently, giving you a peck and a moment to relax as his hand stills. 

“I don’t think I can,” you admit shyly, still wriggling. “Um, can you—can you use your mouth, please?”

Your boyfriend chuckles again and your cheeks get warmer. Momentarily you allow yourself to be grateful that his face is pressed too close to your own for him to be really be looking at you. 

“You still have to keep your legs apart for that.”

“I know. It’s easier when—when you’re not inside.”

The smile in Spencer’s voice when he replies gives you butterflies as if he’s not knuckle deep in you already. 

“I bet you think that’s true.”

“It is!” you whine. 

“You’ve never had your thighs wrapped around your head so tightly your ears pop, have you?”

“That did not happen.”

“Only once,” Spencer reassures you. “And I happen to like your thighs. So no harm done. Go lie down on the bed.”

You let out a small chirp as he withdraws his fingers from you and your waistband snaps back into place against your skin. 

“Where are you going?” you ask suspiciously, once you’re on semi-steady feet and watching him rise from the couch too. At once he kisses your forehead and grabs your ass—the contrast is dizzying. 

“To wash my hands,” he says, popping the fingers that were just in you into his mouth like a preliminary clean up. “Go,” he urges, jutting his chin in the direction of the bedroom door. You hang from him just a second longer, biting back a smile, before tearing yourself away and only half-skipping to the bedroom. 

Only a moment or two after you flop joyfully down on the mattress, he appears in the doorway again, immediately noticing the way you’re practically vibrating with excitement and unable to hide your grin as he approaches. It seems the smile is contagious—he’s sporting one of his own as he climbs over you. 

“You’re adorable,” he murmurs toothily, kissing you once and then speaking again, “I love you so much.”

It’s exactly the kind of thing that makes you feel all soft and shy and giddy and speechless—even as he gives you one more parting kiss and then is sitting up to slide your pants off. 

Maybe even especially then. 

The sweetness dissipates only a little, still hanging thick in the air as you kick your bottoms off, and he leans back down, pushing your shirt over your chest and pressing kisses to your ribs and down your tummy. He doesn’t waste much time, only taking one brief detour to suck a mark and sink his teeth into your inner thigh until your breath catches loud enough to appease him. Then it’s all easy—his cool fingertips trailing up and down the backs of your thighs as he kisses all over and around your core. Intimacy with Spencer is definitely a spectrum, and while you can always feel the depth of his love for you in every touch, right now it’s so tangible, so potent you can feel it in your teeth. 

You coo when one of the kisses finally sticks, lacing your fingers through the hair you love so much and pushing it out of the way as he laps gently at you. He looks as beautiful as always in the golden hour light as it filters through the window, but you’ve always thought he’s just that extra bit prettier when he’s eating you out. 

Visually you’re entranced—it’s only when he begins easing you into the deep end with the flicking of his tongue that your brow knits and you gasp. 

“Spencer,” you whisper, and it melds into a louder gasp. “Baby.”

He hums into you, reaching around your thigh to grab one of your wrists. You allow him to drag your hand from his hair and intertwine your fingers, his hand on top of yours, pressing them against your stomach where he sweeps his thumb back and forth over your knuckles.

The display of tenderness only makes you ache deeper in your belly, singing in airy, open-mouthed praise for him with a moan you know he would describe as pretty. Spencer says things like that often. He always talks about you like you’re an art form. When it comes to talking about touching you, he’s especially poetic. 

When he begins to suckle, your moans get a little more explicit. 

But he likes those ones just fine, too.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, though it’s a little choked, as you writhe just slightly against him. “That’s so good—oh my god.”

The hand that’s not holding yours rapidly changes position—pressing your thigh to the side with his elbow while he slips his fingers inside you once more. 

At that, you really do choke, your body attempting to sit bolt upright but set off balance by the way your hips buck. You moan, loud, lilting, head still lifted to watch as he begins fucking you with his fingers. Your fingers brush through his hair several times before you’re anchoring your hand in it and falling back. 

“Wh—please, baby, I can’t—”

But you can, and you both know it. You always do this; your body sends you signs that you’re over-indulging and fights to escape the stimuli and Spencer has learned to recognize your false flags for what they are. His hand speeds up along with his tongue and you cry out again, fighting to keep your legs open and your hips on the bed as every nerve in your body seems to light up neon. 

“Oh—Spencer I’m gonna come,” you warn, all high pitched and synthesized into one word. He simply hums a long mhm in acknowledgment, and decides at that moment to brush his fingers over that spot inside of you which proves to be exactly the right button to trigger your detonation. 

You can’t help the way you twist then as your orgasm washes you out—jaw dropped as your final keen starts loud, sputters into silence, and melts into an exhausted whine as your hips wind down. Spencer (wisely) adjusts his position, letting go of your hand only so he can sit up as your thighs clamp shut hard. But he’s still pumping his fingers as you writhe, his own mouth hanging open and groaning as you mewl. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, ready to beg him to stop—but as usual, he knows your body better than you do. An orgasm that you had thought was on its way out gets a second life and you can’t even breathe as you feel it so deep within you, pinpointed to one spot of focus, that you have to curl in on yourself, keeling onto your side because it’s simply too intense. 

Either your vision goes black or your eyes are simply closed—regardless, time ceases for an unquantifiable moment, and you come to with Spencer rubbing your back and murmuring your name. 

“What did I do to you?” he laughs, not unkindly.  

Your back arches as mild aftershocks trickle through your system. 

“I don’t know,” you slur. “Dark magic.”

He allows himself to be pulled on top of you once more, and you tangle your hands in his hair again. 

“But you’re okay?” he murmurs, using his dry hand to play with your hair and brush over your cheek. 

“Mhm,” you nod, eyes fluttering shut once more. Then you laugh, sudden and unexpected to both of you. “I think. That was intense. I felt that one in my soul.”

You smile as he exhales a laugh against your skin. 

“Okay,” Spencer sighs after you catch your breath, bumping his nose against yours before sitting up—this time, not allowing you to pull him back down. “I need to take a shower. You should come with me.”

“Five more minutes,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows. 

“But this is your last chance to wash my hair before it’s a whole inch shorter tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you laugh, but it turns deadly serious very quickly. “Spencer, I am not letting you cut a whole inch off your hair. I need that inch.”

“For what?” He snorts. 

You smile big, glad he didn’t see your joke coming for once. 

“Handles! Duh!”

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “you just had to go and ruin something good, didn’t you?” prompts

“…Maybe you should have kept that to yourself.”

“I really wish I didn’t find out about what you did.”

“You should have trusted me.” “How dare you— You can’t be serious right now. You made it so fucking difficult for me to trust you.” 

“Things could have stayed the same if you didn’t go and run your mouth.”

“There are days when I wish you didn’t tell me how you felt.” 

“You’ve done nothing but fuck things up, so thanks a lot for that.” 

“So… What was I supposed to do? Hide how I felt and just carried on like my feelings meant nothing? Like my emotions hold no weight at all?” 

“This could have been avoided if you didn’t—” “If I didn’t what? If I didn’t tell you how I felt about you?” 

“Why are you letting my feelings get in the way of our friendship? I’m not asking you to like me back! I’m not asking for any of that so why… Why? I just don’t understand what I’ve done that was so fucking wrong that I’m being literally condemned for it by you.” 

“So you’re saying I wouldn’t have lost you all if I had just sat there and bit my tongue.” 

“I’m sorry for telling the truth. I’m sorry I didn’t want to lie.” 

“If telling a lie was the only way I could keep us together than I think I’d prefer things this way. I don’t want us to be built on lies. It’s happened before, and it fell apart right in front of me and… I don’t want to risk going through that pain again. Especially knowing I could have done something to save it from crumbling like that, but I was not brave enough to make that step.”

“Curiousity more than just screwed us over, didn’t it?”

“We wouldn’t be here if you were capable of telling even an ounce of truth.”

“It’s the fact that we lost something so dear to us because of one small detail that really didn’t need to be aired out like that.” 

Join my Discord server: Steaming Dumplings Nation (so you can also join in on yelling at me to go to sleep at an appropriate time)

[lovebugism]

❛ if you die, i'll kill you. ❜“i cant live without you” “don’t die on me, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet” “i lied i never hated you”

eddie x reader enemies to lovers 🥹🥹

pls enjoy this absolute heartache of a fic :D — you and eddie hate each other until he almost dies (angst, enemies to lovers, cw for mentions of gore, 1.1k)

“Wanna make out?” Eddie had asked you, some hours ago now, when you first arrived at the Upside Down version of Skull Rock. You’d just narrowly survived a gang of demobats, and the stale air smelled distinctly of copper pennies. He managed a smug smile anyway. “I mean, we might as well. Looks like we’re gonna die out here, anyway.”

You scoffed and rolled your tired eyes. The annoyance you felt for him then momentarily distracted you from the fear swirling in the pit of your stomach. “I’d rather,” you’d quipped.

You feel a little like you’ve prophesized something now.

Eddie bleeds out in your arms with a hundred little bites on his stomach that were supposed to be yours. He’d distracted the circling demobats when you twisted your ankle, too hurt to run away. And now he’s dying. And it’s all your goddamn fault.

You sit with him while Dustin rushes into the Creel House, in search of help from the older crew. You watch him attentively over your shoulder until he disappears behind the rotted front door. When you turn back to Eddie, you find his eyes have fluttered shut.

“Eddie—” you call for him, clearing your throat when it comes out garbled. “Eddie! Hey!”

“Hm…” he hums tiredly in response, eyes still shut.

You sigh with the subtle relief that he’s not dead. The breath catches in your chest. You try to fight away the panic attack clawing behind your ribcage, even though it makes everything around you seem more and more distant. You try to stay as present as you can despite the horrors swimming all around you — for Eddie The Freak Munson.

“You have to stay awake,” you tell him, voice thick with emotion. “Open your eyes.”

“I’m just… I feel a little tired right now,” he mumbles, slurring slightly. 

Your chest wrenches. He’s getting paler and paler by the minute. The tourniquet you made from the bottom half of your shirt is now soaked with deep red blood. Panic burns a wildfire in your chest because you’ve done everything you could think to do. 

You can’t lose him. That’s all you’re telling yourself now. You can’t lose him, you can’t lose him, you can’t lose him.

“I don’t care. Keep your eyes open, alright?”  Your heart wrenches again, with something short of hope this time, when Eddie’s eyes flutter open. They’re glassy and dilated, but the deep chocolate of them hasn’t changed. You muster a small smile. “There you go, Eds. There you go— Now, just keep talking to me, okay? Keep talking.”

“I’m tired,” he mutters under his breath, too weak to do anything more.

Your face screws together as you choke back a sob. You swallow down every instinct to cry. You’ll cry when this is over, you tell yourself, when Eddie’s safe and back in Hawkins.

“I know, Eddie. I know,” you babble through stinging tears. “But you gotta— you gotta keep talking, alright? It’ll help you stay awake. And I need you to… I need you to stay awake for me, okay?”

He nods. At least, you think he’s nodding, because the movement is terribly faint. 

His eyes fall shut again. You feel the loss of his melted chocolate gaze like a stab in the chest. Your hand grips his jaw, a little less than gentle.

“Eddie,” you bite through gritted teeth.

“Mm…”

“If you die, I swear to god, I will fucking kill you.”

The familiarity of your aggression reminds him of home. He opens his eyes and cracks a small, barely-there smile. Blood glistens on his mouth. “I thought you hated me?” he slurs in an inaudible mumble.

“I do,” you tell him without thinking twice, laughing through the sob in your throat. “But I’ll love the shit outta you if we make it out of here together.”

Together, you say, because either both of you make it out or neither of you do. 

His grin widens softly, chapped and lopsided. “Metal,” he murmurs.

A whimper sounds in your throat when his eyes flutter shut again. “Eddie…”

“‘M sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers, breathing sharply through his nose. 

It’s getting harder and harder for him to breathe. You can tell by the harsh rise and fall of his chest. There’s little oxygen getting to his brain, accompanied by the weeping bites on his stomach— where the fuck is Dustin Henderson?

“I don’t know if I…. If I’m gonna make it outta here, babe…”

Your chest tightens. He only ever called you babe to piss you off. You wonder if he’s still being the annoying asshole you knew back home or if the term of endearment is too engrained in his head.

“Don’t say that.”

“If I don’t—”

“Eddie.”

“If I don’t make it out,” he repeats, sterner this time. He drags a sharp breath in and opens his eyes, just barely. “I want you to know that I never… I never hated you… ‘M just a liar… And a total fucking coward…”

“You can make it up to me when we get back home, okay? You just gotta stay awake.”

His lip quirks into a faint, crooked smile. “I’ve been dyin’ to kiss you since ninth grade… Did you know that?”

“I know,” you nod with an emotional laugh.

“I did make it kinda obvious, didn’t I?”

“You can kiss me when you get better. I swear.”

Eddie nods. You feel him grow heavier and heavier in your arms. His smug smile starts to fade, and you panic. “Eddie? Eddie, don’t— don’t die on me, okay? Please. We haven’t— We haven’t gotten to the good part yet, asshole. You have to stay awake.”

You shift him in your arms, trying to sit him up more when he slumps. He does little to fight you. He doesn’t have the strength to anymore.

“‘M sorry, babe,” you hear him whisper.

“No— No, don’t— Don’t fucking say that,” you scold bitterly, less angry at him and more at the rest of the world. It should’ve been you lying here, after all, not him. You’d trade places in a heartbeat if you could. “You can’t die, you asshole! How am I supposed to— fucking— keep going without you annoying the living shit outta me?”

“Henderson’ll annoy you for the both of us,” he manages to joke as life spills from the weeping wounds on his stomach.

“Fuck that. It’s not the same— I need you, Eddie. I need you, okay? I can’t— I can’t fucking live without you,” you cry over his pale, bloodied body.

You hear yelling and a set of rushed footsteps. “Eddie!” Dustin calls as he dashes down the decrepit porch steps of the old home — with Steve, Nancy, and Robin following close behind.

The sight of them makes you sigh. Your chest starts to sparkle with a hope you’d thought you lost — damn near aching when Eddie’s glassy eyes flutter open once more. 

The fucker grins weakly up at you. “I knew you had a crush on me, babe.”

[ghoulbrain]

Happiness is a Warm Gun

18+ 4.5k ghoul x f!reader. predator/prey roleplay, lite bondage lite cnc into enthusiastic consent, heavy gun kink/play, pet names, clothed/naked sex, creampie, aftercare. ends tender bc i can't help myself. gif credit. written for my darling @luckytiggertalia, who asked for excessive gun kink and captor/captive. thank you! 🖤 written as a successor to Saddle Up, Sweetheart, but can be read as a stand-alone.

Being in a relationship with the world’s most notorious bounty hunter lands you in some strange situations, but none stranger than those you concoct for yourselves. You run, and the Ghoul hunts you.

The Ghoul is one of the fiercest bounty hunters in New California, yet regardless of how terrifyingly efficient he is, everyone knows he only takes on payouts worthy of his time. With his long shadow stretching out across the west, most hunters are reluctant to take on bounties over a certain threshold, lest they accidentally come between him and his quarry.

Which, at this moment, just so happens to be you.

You’ve made it to a Red Rocket truck stop just half a mile west of Junktown. What was once a glorified gas station in a world long-gone now serves as little more than a hollowed out shell providing shade for all manner of miscreants and creatures wandering the dusty wastes, still decorated in tiny reminders of life before the war.

Crouched down behind a counter, your back pressed to the grime painted wall beneath a window, you spot a heavily aged cardboard carton labeled Grey Tortious Famous Cigarettes wedged at the very back of the second shelf behind the counter. Clicking your tongue softly, you reach for it, using the barrel of your pistol to catch the corner of the box. Carefully–and quietly–you drag it close enough to grab.

Your hopes aren’t high, but–

Jackpot.

Smiling faintly, you extract a crumpled but still half-full pack of cigarettes from the carton. You glance around, eyes wandering until you spot the decrepit remains of some poor bastard collapsed against the far wall, still garbed in their threadbare signature Red Rocket uniform. With a slight nod, you fish a single cap out of a small pouch on your belt and slide it onto the shelf.

“Pleasure doing business,” you murmur to the corpse, tucking the cigarettes carefully into the pack strapped to your thigh.

A shrill whistle, the kind you’d call a dog with, snaps your attention back to the moment. You press your back tight against the wall, sucking in a sharp breath to hold.

“Alright, darlin’, y’little goose-chase is over,” the Ghoul calls into the lot. Your heart begins to race. He sounds close. “I’m man enough to admit y’outfoxed me back at the yard, that was clever. But’cha got nowhere to slip to now,” he says, voice gradually growing louder. It’s not long before you can hear the crunch of his boots in the gravel.

You screw your eyes shut, steeling yourself with a silent breath before opening them again. He’ll have to circle the building to get where you are. The crunch of his boots is louder with each step. If he keeps yapping, it’ll be even easier to track the moment he moves out of eyesight of the window you’re hiding under, and you’ll be able to creep out to get behind him. Your grip on your pistol flexes, finger poised off the trigger.

The footsteps outside grow quiet enough that you can no longer hear them over the thundering of your heart. He hasn’t said anything, but you give it an extra few seconds to be safe, holding your breath as you gingerly lift out of your crouch, careful to keep your head beneath the window frame, eyes on the door across from you. Even if he sees you, you’ll have time enough to–

You’re jerked backwards suddenly by your jacket, a scream yanked out of you as you’re pulled against the window, knocking into it.

“There y’are,” he says through his teeth, hauling you up to your feet. Fuck, he faked you out with his steps. He holds you against the window, the edge of it biting into your back, his fist curled tightly in the collar of your jacket. “Give it up, darlin’. Y’all mine now,” he coos, his voice a sinister rasp at your ear. 

Out of desperation, you drop your pistol and throw your arms up, slipping out of your jacket and stumbling forward onto your hands and knees. Your boots skid on the floor as you scramble to your feet, launching into a run. You look over your shoulder just in time to see him vaulting in through the window, scaring you into running faster.

Where you intend to run is a problem to be solved as you go.

Unfortunately for you, the Ghoul is a step ahead. Gunfire startles you halfway out of your skin, but it’s the sign that falls in your path that stops you in your tracks. You look up and see a woven cable swaying, frayed from where the crazy son of a bitch managed to shoot it clean apart. You gear up to bolt to the left, but it’s already too late. The tell-tale hiss of a rope whipping through the air is your only warning before the lasso tightens around your arms and sternum, one sharp yank pulling you off your feet and down onto your back.

The world spins. You let out a soft groan, moving to roll onto your side, but he keeps you from it with a hardy pull, gathering the rope in his hands as he walks to you.

The Ghoul lets out a low whistle, his shadow falling over you. “Close, but no cigar, sweetheart,” he drawls, crouching over you. 

Disoriented, you stare at his upside down face. He’s got his head tilted, lips parted in a crooked sneer of a smile. His eyes are dark enough that you can see yourself in them, glinting with predatory glee. You can’t hide the trill of excitement that runs through you over being looked at like that. He clicks his tongue.  

“N’aw, don’t you look plumb tuckered,” he says, voice laced with condescending sweetness. “No rest for the wicked, m’afraid,” he says, slipping his hands under your arms and hauling you up to your feet.

“You could’ve killed me,” you rasp, throat scorched by the dry desert air.

“Don’t be dramatic,” he deflects, amused. “Y’all in one piece, ‘ain’t’cha?” His breath is a warm tickle on your neck. With the rope tight across your sternum, arms pinned to your sides, he slides his gloved hand up your thigh, over your hip. His fingers tap along as he does, tickling your ribs, cupping your breast before sliding all the way up to your throat. 

The barest hint of his lips brushes the spot just behind your ear, the feeling so faint you could have made it up entirely. You shiver, pulling sharply away, but he pulls you right back in, the worn leather of his glove soft around your neck, his grip firm. 

“Mmhm, seem perfectly intact t’me,” he says, giving your throat a steadying squeeze. “No need t’put up a fight, angel. Y’comin’ with me either way.”

This time he presses his scarred lips properly to your skin, the feel of them warm and wet. Wanting. You swallow the lump in your throat, clench your thighs against the heat building between them. 

“Let go of me,” you say, fighting to put conviction in it. 

“No can do,” he says, his breath prickling goosebumps from your scalp to your thighs. “I’ve struck the motherlode with you.”

 The rope is tied low and tight enough that you can’t elbow him or shoulder your way free. Impulsively, you move to kick at his leg, but he outmaneuvers you, catching your kick with his boot and spinning you around so suddenly you gasp.

“Oohh, y’ve got fire,” he says, lips pulled thin in a devilish smile. “I’m gonna enjoy breakin’ you.” Something hard presses into your rib, and you don’t need to look down to know it’s the muzzle of his revolver. He draws the hammer back into place with a distinctive click. 

“Why don’t you be a good li’l captive and mosey on ahead?” He says, turning you until the gun is pressed into your lower back. You suppress a shudder. That’s when the world suddenly goes black, the press of the gun briefly vanishing while fabric is pulled tight over your eyes.

Wherever he’s taking you, he wants it to be a surprise.

The Ghoul walks you at gunpoint. He keeps the rope between you taut, the barrel of his gun pressed firmly to your back. The venture there is quiet, your gait tense with anticipation. A sick little thrill runs through you every time he yanks the rope or gives you a deep jab with his gun. There’s pleasure in his voice when he tells you, “Mind your step, sweetness.”

He knows precisely the effect he has on you, even if it took him time and a half to believe it.

His knuckles dig into your back as his fingers hook over the rope, holding it like a harness as you descend a flight of stairs. He catches you when you stumble on the last step, but it still startles you.

“A warning would have been nice,” you say, turning your head blindly, angling to try and get any glimpse of your surroundings from beneath the blindfold.

“Apologies,” he drawls, not sounding very sorry at all. He nudges you forward with his gun. “I like watchin’ you struggle.”

“Yeah, you make that very–” A hard tug on the rope cuts you off and stops you in your tracks. The rope comes loose after that, full circulation returning to your hands in a rush that makes them tingle. The Ghoul’s steps resonate in the room–it sounds large, mostly empty–as he walks away from you. You stay still for a hesitant moment, head jerking at the sound of something scraping across the floor towards you.

“Awwh, ain’t you sweet, waitin’ for permission,” he says, making you flush. You quickly reach up and pull the blindfold from your eyes, blinking to adjust to the dimly lit room. 

It looks like a cleared out storage facility of some kind, with cement support beams lined up in a row down the center of the room, the walls lined with ransacked steel shelving. There’s a wire frame bed braced against one of the beams, heaped haphazardly with some pillows and blankets. 

The Ghoul sits on a rusty wrought iron chair in front of you, staring up from beneath the wide brim of his hat. From his thigh, he has his revolver fixed on you. 

“Atta girl,” he says as the blindfold hits the ground. “Now take off the rest.”

The low resonance of his voice easily commands the room. You swallow the lump in your throat, glancing down the dark barrel of his gun. Biting your tongue to keep yourself from showing too much excitement, you hurriedly reach for your–

The gunshot is deafening in the echoing expanse of the room, drowning out your scream. Already high on your own anticipation, the shot of adrenaline that goes through you with the startle nearly knocks you off your feet. 

His gun smokes in the wake of the shot that narrowly missed your reaching hand.

“Slow,” he tells you, cocking the hammer once again with his thumb.

The pound of your heart is rivaled only by the aching throb between your thighs. Breathing shallowly, you keep your eyes trained on him as you–slowly, this time–reach for your belt, pouches shifting as you unbuckle it. You lay it carefully on the ground, mindful of the treasures you acquired at the gas station, before you kick off each boot.

His gaze is heavy on you all the while, eyes dark and attentive to your every move. Your focus is on the tip of his gun, how it subtly follows along with your hands. You peel each layer off without taking your eyes from him, a shiver moving through you once your hands touch bare skin, purposefully sliding them down your hips, your legs, and then moving them slowly back up as you stand back up, stepping out of the garments pooled on the floor.

He tilts his gun sideways and beckons you forward with it, tipping his head back, dark eyes tracking your every move as you approach him. One at a time, he spreads his legs. “On y’knees, darlin’.” You obey, sinking down–slowly, he told you slow–onto your knees between his legs, bringing yourself to eye level with his gun. The cement floor feels harsh against your bare skin.

“Y’got my gun dirty runnin’ me out into the wastes like that,” he chides, leaning forward, pressing his gun to your sternum. With agonizing slowness, he drags the muzzle up through the valley between your breasts, to the notch beneath your throat, pressing into it briefly. He continues up, the metal cool against your burning skin, though not by much. He hooks the barrel under your chin and tips your head back.

“Clean it for me,” he says, pushing it between your lips.

While you open your mouth too readily for the game at hand, he doesn’t protest. The taste of the gun is bitter and metallic, but what strikes you most is the black powder residue. It’s charred with a sharp tang. A moan escapes you for the way he pushes it deeper, forcing your lips wider apart.

“Don’t be shy. Give ‘er a good spit shine, sweetheart,” he encourages, pulling the gun back only to push it deeper yet. You comply, welcoming the slide of it deeper, pressing your tongue into the grooves on the underside, your eyes half-lidded and glazed with desire. “Good,” he says, voice rough with the effect you’re having on him.

Hands braced on your own bare thighs, your nails bite dull little crescents into your skin. The rock of your body is entirely subconscious, your eyelids fluttering. It’s easy to lose yourself to the work at hand, to luxuriate in the weight of his gaze on you while he uses you, fucking your mouth with the full barrel of his gun. He’s so committed to the fantasy, you can’t help but buy into it wholly.

By the time he pulls the gun away your chin is spit slick and your tongue is tingling where you’d been pressing it to the barrel. He gives an appreciative whistle while inspecting the wet shine of his gun. “That’s better,” he says, gaze sliding to you. He stands, grabbing a thick handful of your hair to haul you up to your feet with him. The noise you make is humiliating. Needy. His answering grin is wicked.

“Time t’oil it,” he says, voice frayed at the edges. He doesn’t let that trace of impatience impact his movements any. He walks you to the bed with that same loose devil-may-care swagger, assured that he has all the time in the world to take you apart piece by piece. 

The mattress’ metal coils groan with your weight as he tosses you onto the bed, standing at the edge of it. The bed stands taller than most, bringing your pelvis parallel to his when you’re on your knees. He grabs your thigh and yanks your ass up into the air, smoothing his hand over the swell of it. He gives a sharp little slap to your rear that wrings a gasp out of you. The way he smooths his leather clad hand over the smarting spot afterwards almost feels like an apology, even if he’s really just admiring his handiwork.

“Spread,” he orders simply. You do so eagerly, widening the splay of your knees, folding your arms to rest your head on. “Look at you,” he breathes with genuine wonder, gripping your ass cheek and holding it firm while he inspects you. You can already feel what he’s looking at, how wet you are from his teasing. “Y’fuckin’ drippin’ for me.”

A shiver rolls through your whole body at the feel of his gun against your inner thigh sliding slowly upwards. Your hips give a reflexive little buck at the first touch of that warm barrel against your soaked cunt, your clit throbbing so hard it aches. “Don’t move,” he tells you. He sounds wrecked. He moves it back and forth, teasing your clit with just the muzzle of it before drawing back, and your thighs tremble with the effort to keep yourself still when all you want is to chase that precious relief.

The hiss of his zipper is the most thrilling noise you’ve ever heard. The gun disappears from between your thighs.

“Up,” he tells you, taking a rough hold of your shoulder and yanking you upright before you have the chance to comply. He holds you still while he lines himself up, the familiar thick head of his cock grinding through the wet slide of you, the length of him rubbing from taint to clit. “Y’made this big mess just from suckin’ down my gun? Christ alive, darlin’. You’re somethin’ else,” he says through his teeth. The ruin in his voice makes it feel like praise, and that feels good.

Almost as good as the slow burn of his cock pushing into you, the sound of it obscenely loud and wet. You tip your head back against his shoulder and reach back over your own, grabbing at his coat, holding onto him for dear life while he sinks deeper and deeper, pulling you back until your bare ass falls flush against him. Feeling his clothing against your bare body intensifies that intoxicating feeling of vulnerability. Never in your life has the thrill of danger been safe to explore.

Not until him.

He gives you no time to adjust, thrusting almost as soon as he’s bottomed out. 

“Fffuck,” you exhale, eyes screwed tightly shut. You start to lean forward, but he catches you by the throat, pinning you back against his chest at the same time he fires his gun, shocking your eyes wide open. Your body goes rigid, cunt seizing up so tightly around him he hisses out a breath.

“C’mon, little bunny,” he whispers in a vicious grit, pressing the still-warm muzzle firmly against your temple. “Bounce for me.” He cocks the hammer back, the smell of black powder filling your senses. 

You nod fervently, lifting up on your knees and using the mattress to bounce yourself on his cock, gravity bringing you down into every one of his hard thrusts. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, sighing his pleasure in strained little sounds. His hand slides down your throat to your chest, cupping your breast and squeezing, thumbing your nipple until you shudder.

“Close,” you moan, fist twisting in the fabric of his coat, your other hand clutching the wrist of the hand he’s fondling you with. “Please.”

His only response is to slide his hand down further, fingers slipping between your thighs. His middle finger finds your clit first, the friction making your hips jerk out of rhythm. He persists, fingering your clit in smooth circles while he fucks you hard.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs, his breath hot and wet on your neck. “All that fight’s gone now, ain’t it? Just a needy li’l thing beggin’ t’cum.” You’re so close you’re starting to shake, breath caught in your throat. “Go on, angel. Lemme hear how pretty you can beg.”

His fingers slow enough that your ascension falters. “Please!” You rasp immediately, squeezing his wrist, begging in every way you know how to. “Please, m’so close, please make me cum, please,” you plead, voice pitchy, your thoughts empty of everything but pleasure. He’s fucking you hard, chasing his own release just as fervently.  

Just like that his touch returns to full force, deftly working your clit until your pleasure crests and your pleas turn to cries. Your orgasm hits like an earthquake, a sudden eruption that renders you silent, your lips falling open on a noiseless scream. Your body locks up like a vice, euphoria turning your vision white and emptying your mind of all thought while pleasure cascades through you in hot liquid waves.

He doesn’t stop, though his thrusts slow. He fucks you deeply through your orgasm, savoring every quiver around his cock while he uses you. You don’t hear him come, but you feel it, the deep rush of heat that he empties into the core of you, his body going still against yours. Your whole body shudders and you exhale a broken little noise, dizzy from the magnitude of it all. Everything around you feels bleary, your vision fading in and out. For a moment, you feel as though you might float away from your body entirely, your consciousness barely holding on, but the feeling of him pressed against your back, holding you to him, grounds you.

He moves the gun from your temple and holsters it, adjusting his grip so that he can ease you down onto your stomach, slipping from between your legs. You pant hot puffs of air into the bedding, your vision blurry at the edges.

“Coop,” you call, signifying the end of your little game of pretend.

“M’right here,” he soothes, his bare hands upon you not a moment later. There’s a marked difference in the way he touches you now, a subtle tenderness that he’d forced out of his touch for the sake of play. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it until now, feeling it as if for the first time. 

He slides into bed next to you, having shed his gloves, coat and bandolier. You find the strength to slip an arm around him, clinging despite the tremble in your limbs. The next several seconds–moments, maybe hours, you can’t be sure–pass by in a haze of touch.

He kisses your forehead, your nose, your lips. He makes you aware of your entire body, grounding you with sweeping touches to every part of your body. It’s an intoxicating intimacy that leaves you feeling warm and drunk, still hungry for more.

 At some point Cooper gets the blanket over you, skirting his scarred fingers up and down your arm beneath it. The adrenaline crash that follows your orgasm is unlike anything you’ve experienced before, leaving you exhausted on a level beyond physical.

“Still with me?” Cooper asks after a time, fingertips tapping idle patterns on your skin as if to call you back to your body. “Mhm… Intense,” you say, the lone word slurred by your lazy tongue.

“Warned you,” he gives back, sounding nearly as ruined. His voice is deeper than usual, thoroughly frayed at the edges. It’s true, he had warned you that you were playing with fire. It’s unclear how much of that had been play, and how much was just him. Still, it had been… thrilling. Amazing. Everything you’d hoped it would be. 

“How ‘bout it, darlin’, do I scare you yet?” He asks, making it sound like an inevitability. He must believe it is.

You sigh a low hum, pretending to give the matter great thought. “Mmm… Mm-mm. Not one little bit,” you say, the words hardly legible.

“Shucks,” he says simply, feigning something like disappointment.

“Why’re you so determined to scare me off?” You ask, adjusting where your head lay on his shoulder so that you can look up at him. You’ve grown accustomed to his unique silhouette, but more than that, you’ve started to figure out what it is that makes him handsome. He’s got a wide chin and a fine jawline, and on the rare occasions you see it, a charming smile.

Much of it is in his eyes. They never fail to make your heart stutter.

“A saner question would be why you’re so determined t’stay,” he counters, those very eyes dropping to meet yours. You can’t help but smile, which–as per usual–catches him just a touch off guard.

“I got a thing for pretty men,” you say, caught up in your own musings.

His expression flattens. “Very funny,” he says, and you realize he thinks you’re mocking him.

“Hey, I mean it. I was just thinking about how handsome you are,” you say, reaching up to touch his jaw.

“There’s a specific kind’a philia for finding corpses handsome, y’know,” he says, though in his afterglow the words lack their usual sharp cynicism. They come to him more like habit than anything else.

“You’re not a corpse, Cooper,” you tell him firmly, cupping his cheek in your palm. “You don’t need to keep living like one.”

He considers you in silence for a long moment. With the back of his knuckles, he brushes your cheek. There it is again; that deep sadness that sometimes appears in his eyes when he looks at you. As if he’s mourning something.

“What?” You whisper. “Why do you–”

He kisses you, swallowing the words clean off your lips. He takes your face between his hands and kisses you, kisses you, kisses you through your meager protests until your lips move with his and you sink back down into the warmth of it. He grows progressively more relentless with it, stealing your breath until you’re forced to break away, turning your head for air.

“You can’t kiss your way out of every–”

“I know,” he interrupts you, lifting his head to level you with a hard stare. “I know, alright? But it’ll come on my terms, in my time, yeah?”

You stare, pinned by the weight in his expression. After a beat, you nod, feeling dazed by both the onslaught and his words. It’s the only time he’s acknowledged that there is something, which you suppose is progress. “Okay,” you say softly, and then again more firmly, “Okay.”

His expression softens, taking in the look of you before he kisses you again. You reciprocate, pressing into his lips with the weight of your conviction, willing him to feel how much you really do mean it. 

“Thank you for today,” you murmur, settling back down against him. “I never thought that I’d be able to… do something like that. And live,” you say, adding the last bit with a rueful smile. “I feel safe with you.”

You wait for some kind of dismissive or self-deprecating remark from him, or even a sly jab at you and your sanity, but neither come. You glance up and find him staring at you, thoughtful and–if your eyes don’t deceive you–a little sentimental.

“I don’t make promises,” he tells you, sounding resigned. “But for what it’s worth, I’d never want t’do somethin’ I thought might hurt you.”

“You’re sweet,” you say, that same sentimentality slipping into your own voice. If not a bit ominous.

“Not really,” he replies, adjusting against the bedding, his eyes falling shut. “Y’standards are just too low.”

You sigh, closing your eyes with an incredulous little smile. “Shut up.”

The two of you drift into comfortable silence, his fingers idly traipsing the contours of your body. It’s like he’s memorizing the feel of you, hyper-aware that these intimate moments together are stolen. You reciprocate, seeking out what bare skin you can with gentle brushes of your fingers. He’s never admitted as much, but you’ve long suspected he struggles with pain. He’s rarely ever unclothed, and sometimes you see him wince when he goes too long between hits of those vials.

Cooper started living on borrowed time long before he met you, but it doesn’t stop you from hoping that he might someday see something more permanent in you. With you.

In the meantime, you’ll make the most of every second.

[pucksandpower]

Achilles Come Down

Charles Leclerc x soft dom!Reader

Summary: sometimes you have to take control to get Charles out of his own head

Warnings: 18+ content

Based on this request with some little hints here and there that the reader is Charles’ race engineer (inspired by him getting a new race engineer all of a sudden in real life)

The garage is eerily quiet as you make your way towards Charles’ driver’s room, the usual buzz of activity muted in the wake of his DNF. His familiar red race suit is marred by streaks of oil and rubber, a physical reminder of the mechanical failure that ended his race prematurely.

Charles stalks ahead of you, his body taut with frustration. You can practically see the negative thoughts racing through his mind, the self-recrimination and second-guessing he’s so prone to despite the circumstances being completely out of his control.

“Charles, wait up,” you call out, struggling to match his clipped pace. He pauses with his hand on the door handle, jaw clenched.

“What is there to say, Y/N? My race is over before it could even properly begin.” The defeat in his voice cuts you deeply.

“This wasn’t your fault,” you insist, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “A rear brake malfunction is out of your hands.”

He shrugs you off, throat bobbing with repressed emotion. “I’m the one behind the wheel. I should have sensed something was wrong, made adjustments ...”

“You can’t control every little thing on that car, no matter how talented you are,” you interrupt firmly. “Sometimes factors outside your control are going to screw things up. Dwelling on it won’t change that.”

Charles lets out a harsh exhale, raking frustrated fingers through his sweat-dampened curls. “Easy for you to say. It’s not your championship hopes slipping away with every botched race.”

You resist the urge to snap back, knowing his irritability stems from disappointment rather than any real malice towards you. Taking a calming breath, you change tacks.

“Okay, let’s go inside and get you out of that suit at least,” you suggest in a gentler tone. “We can debrief the data after you’ve had a chance to reset.”

Charles hesitates, chewing on his full lower lip in an unconscious gesture of indecision. You frame his face with your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“Trust me, baby. Let me take care of you for once.”

The rigidity finally seeps from his stance as he gives a jerky nod of acquiescence. You push open the door and usher him inside, the familiar smells of his favorite Dior cologne and heat-weathered leather enveloping you both.

Once the door clicks shut, blocking out the distractions of the paddock, you move in close to begin unzipping Charles’ kinetic race suit. He stands stiffly as you peel away each layer until he’s stripped down to just his snug fireproof undershirt and shorts.

Running soothing hands over his tense shoulders and neck, you knead at the knots of muscles corded there. A low exhale shudders from Charles’ lips as some of the pent-up stress bleeds out of his frame.

“That’s it, let it all go,” you murmur. “Your only job now is to relax and let me take over for once.”

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbles, the barest ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You circle around to face him again, hands roaming over the lean muscles of his chest and abs through the thin fabric. Leaning in, you capture his lips in a deep, probing kiss, slanting your mouth over his again and again until his tension fully dissolves and he melts into your touch.

“Better?” You ask with a quirked brow as you finally pull back, taking in his dazed expression.

“Getting there,” Charles replies, pupils already blown wide with arousal. He surges forward to recapture your lips hungrily.

You allow him to control the heated kiss for a few indulgent moments before taking charge once more, pushing firmly against his chest until the backs of his thighs hit the edge of the sleek, ultra-modern sofa. He flops back with a breathless chuckle as you crawl over him, straddling his waist and rocking your hips against his in a pointed grind.

“Just relax and let me handle this,” you rasp against the hinge of his jaw, relishing the full-body shudder that wracks his frame.

Your hands deftly slip beneath the hem of his undershirt, pushing it up and over his head to expose his toned upper body before latching your lips to the hollow of his throat. Charles tips his head back in blissful surrender as you lavish hot, openmouthed kisses along the thunderous pulse point and down the sculpted grooves of his chest.

His hands struggle to find purchase as your mouth trails lower still, tracing nonsensical patterns through the trial of hair. Every swirl of your tongue is deliberate, thorough, a reminder to him to stay grounded in the present moment, focused solely on the exquisite sensations you’re lavishing upon his body.

You pause with your face hovering inches above the waistband of his shorts, reveling in the pure want burning in Charles’ lust-darkened gaze as he watches you through his veil of tousled chestnut curls. Hooking your fingers into the stretchy material, you ease it down, never breaking that heated eye contact.

Charles is already achingly hard, hips twitching upwards in search of some kind of delicious friction. You blow a teasing stream of air over his length, relishing the way he squirms and lets out a guttural moan. Only then do you take him fully into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the velvety crown before sinking down in one smooth glide.

“F-Fuck ...” Charles’ head thrashes against the armrest as his hands scrabble uselessly at the supple leather, trying and failing to find purchase. You hum in satisfaction around your mouthful, the vibrations jolting through him with dizzying intensity.

Knowing he’s dangerously close already, you ease off with one last lingering lick. Charles whines in protest, hips canting upwards to chase that incredible heat and suction. But rather than continuing with your talented mouth, you throw one lean leg over his body to straddle his hips once more.

Charles swallows hard as you reach behind to unclasp your lacy bra, shrugging it off your shoulders and allowing it to puddle onto the floor. He tracks the motion with rapt attention, fingers twitching with the overwhelming need to touch.

Before he can make a move, you halt him with a stern look and guiding hand wrapped around his wrist. “Nuh-uh, I’m in charge here, remember?”

Charles makes a thin, desperate sound but complies, allowing you to pin both wrists above his head. His chest heaves with each shuddering inhale as he watches you shimmy out of your skin tight jeans with your core hovering just above his straining length.

Then, maintaining that heated eye contact, you sink down unbearably slowly until he’s sheathed fully inside you. Charles’ mouth drops open in a low keen as you begin to move in an unhurried grind, savoring each delicious inch.

“You feel that?” You rasp, leaning down to capture his plush bottom lip between your teeth. “You’re not alone in this, baby. I’ve got you.”

Charles nods frantically, hips jerking upwards in a broken rhythm to chase that incredible friction. You release his wrists in favor of framing his face, anchoring him to this intense connection amid the swirling sensations.

“Don’t think about the race or the championship,” you order in a low murmur. “There’s only you and me, here and now. Got it?”

“Yes ...” Charles moans in affirmation as your pace picks up the tiniest bit, guiding him closer and closer to that blissful edge.

Perspiration sheens over both your bodies, slick skin sliding together in an intoxicating glide. His hands roam hungrily over every inch of you, mapping each sculpted curve and plane like a long-cherished map. You snake one hand between your joined bodies to stroke him in counterpoint to your rolling undulations, determined to shatter him into a million ecstatic pieces.

Charles’ breath grows increasingly ragged, each strangled cry of pleasure driving you higher towards your own shattering peak. “Look at me,” you demand, cupping his stubbled jaw. His glassy emerald eyes lock onto yours obediently. “I’m all that matters right now.”

He shudders beneath you, mouth dropping open in a choked groan as his orgasm slams into him with full force. You bear down harder, chasing your own release to the soundtrack of his gasping whimpers. White-hot pleasure detonates through your nerve endings, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake.

Collapsing bonelessly atop him, you nuzzle against the slick hollow of his throat, placing a tender kiss over his pulse as you both struggle to catch your breath. Charles’ arms envelop you, his frame still quivering with aftershocks.

“Better?” You murmur against his salted skin, unable to resist a teasing smirk.

A breathless laugh huffs from his lips. “So much better. I ...” He pauses, seeming to search for the right words. “Thank you, mon ange. For not letting me spiral.”

“Always,” you vow simply, tilting your head to capture his lips in a deep, searing kiss. When you finally break apart, his eyes are warm and clear, no longer clouded by that self-destructive darkness.

A tender smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you brush back the damp chestnut curls from his forehead. In this quiet moment, with his body and soul laid bare before you, you know the roles have switched once more. He’s gone from race driver to simply Charles — your Charles — and you’ll protect that brilliant light within him with everything you have.

“We can debrief the data later,” he murmurs, mirroring your earlier words with a contented grin. “For now, I just want to stay right here with you.”

[k-hotchoisan]

from the back

<Wooyoung x fem!reader>

part two of 🔥to the side🔥

where Wooyoung finally gets to fuck you so good

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs

Genre/Warnings: pervDILF!Wooyoung, smut, sexual tension, backshots, dirty talk, cream pies, orgasms, alcohol consumption, Wooyoung drinks but he keeps it within the limit because he’s driving y/n home (please do not drink and drive)

Needless to say, you were holding up pretty well, despite the countless times you squeezed your thighs when Wooyoung’s hands slid too close to your cunt. It was still driving you crazy from how full you felt. Your plate was half cleared, because half of the time the feeling of how full your cunt is with Wooyoung’s cum made you want to just spread your legs and let his cum leak all over out of your pussy and onto your thighs and chair. Maybe you’d beg Wooyoung for forgiveness for letting his cum spill out of your poor pussy, and let Wooyoung breed you so full, over and over again until he was satisfied.

Fuck. It was driving you nuts. Alcohol was served during the dinner, and even without it, you felt your face flush.

Your thighs are still tightly pressed against each other from the feeling of his cum just ready to pour out of you if you made any sudden movements. It doesn’t help that Wooyoung has his eyes on you—watching you like a hawk. He’s good at keep his face neutral and poker, almost perfectly nonchalant as he takes a sip of water. You stand up, feeling your thighs shake slightly. Screw this. You decide to go to the kitchen for a breather. It’s the only reasonable place to escape to for now. Not mention, it was big as fuck anyway, no one would know if you hid in the balcony for a breath of fresh air.

Wooyoung casts you a side glance, deeply and sickeningly satisfied that you’re squirming because of him. But in all honesty, he plays the facade very well, because he knows, given any moment if he were to be stuck with you alone, god knows what the fuck he would do to you.

And when you’re missing for a few long minutes it’s when he decides to take the gamble. Nonetheless he was quite concerned that you’ve been missing in the kitchen for a while. Even your friend noticed.

“Where’s y/n?” She asks, swirling the wine glass in her hand, casting glances around the table when she finally realises that you’re missing.

Her brother is about to stand but Wooyoung is quick. He cuts his nephew off, taking his niece’s words cue to go off and find you. “I’ll go get her”, Wooyoung says coolly.

He plasters a smile at his nephew as he gently pushes him down back to his seat. “Enjoy the dinner. Your plate still looks pretty full.”

You hear footsteps approaching behind and your back immediately straightens, well, barely because you’re still feeling all over the place right now. You expect it to be your friend, but when you turn and your eyes land on Wooyoung with his loose polo shirt, a hand in his trousers and the other holding his wine glass. The sight is just making your face heat up even more.

“Are you doing okay?” He asks, joining you at the kitchen balcony. You can’t meet his eyes. You think you’d just combust if you did.

“Barely”, you reply, biting back another moan when you feel his cum about to seep past your folds again. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Wooyoung.

Wooyoung is insanely horny but he isn’t stupid. At least, not yet, he thinks. He would gladly take you right here and then, but he knows he’d enjoy it even more if he had you confined within his walls instead of here. He’s also not in the mood to ruin a happy occasion and a family relationship. At least, not yet.

“A little longer, darling”, he says, almost in a whisper. “Good girls get rewards.”

“Stop teasing me”, you pout, giving him a light slap on his shoulder. Wooyoung only laughs.

You glance at the glass he has in his hands. “Aren’t you driving? You shouldn’t drink too much.”

Wooyoung lifts the glass in his hand higher and tilts his head. “It’s my first glass for the night, and I’m not planning to down another.” He takes a step dangerously close to you. “Wouldn’t want to miss my plans with you later too. We’ll leave when I squeeze your thigh.”

Red flushes on your cheeks again, and you break eye contact, only for Wooyoung to shift your glance right back at him with a single flick of his wrist on your jaw.

“Uncle, what are you doing?” The voice snaps the trance the both of you were in. Your eyes dart to the intruder, who stands with crossed arms, staring daggers at the both of you.

Wooyoung doesn’t falter. He shoots his nephew a glance and slowly releases his fingers from your jaw and smiles curtly at his nephew.

“Just making sure she doesn’t throw up”, he replies, knowing that your eyes are widened and glaring daggers at Wooyoung. He turns back to you, amused by your expression before he messed your hair with his hands. “Let’s go”, he gestures to the both of you. He doesn’t miss his nephew furrowing his eyebrows, so he plays it off by messing his hair up to, and your friend’s brother running off after his uncle, berating him about messing his hair that he took hours to style. You release an exhale. You’re in the clear, at least for now.

It’s not evident to the rest of the dinner table except you, that Wooyoung is getting irritated by the way your friend’s brother keeps trying to get your attention, and that only makes you friend satisfied, as she only eggs him on to openly flirt with you.

Throughout the dinner, Wooyoung keeps topping up the other male’s wine, and he observes the way his nephew progressively gets more tipsy, encouraging him to have more since he was back in the country.

Midway through the conversations, you feel a gentle squeeze on your thigh. You glance over at Wooyoung who’s laughing at something his brother is saying. His hand trails higher up your thigh.

“I think I’ll take my leave now”, you say, slowly standing up. “Thank you for the dinner.” You walk over to your friend who gives you a tight hug.

“How are you going home? By cab? I’d ask my brother to send you home but Uncle Wooyoung made him drink quite a bit.”

Before you answer, Wooyoung cuts in, “I can send her back safely.”

Your friend’s father raises an eyebrow. “You sure you don’t want to stay a little longer?”

Wooyoung shakes his head with a smile. He goes over and gives his niece a hug before he hand hovers over the small of your back, as he leads you out of the estate.

The car ride back felt agonisingly slow. The anticipation was just surging through your veins, and evidently leaked into the atmosphere in the car with Wooyoung. Wooyoung still keeps his soft and light tone when he talks to you in the car, but it’s obvious he’s at his limit, especially from the way he’s gripping the steering wheel with force.

The moment you step in his penthouse, his fingers intertwine with yours, and your jaw drops at how fucking huge his place is for a singular person to reside in. His hand is warm against yours and you wonder what he’s thinking.

He leads you to his bedroom, and when the door shuts, Wooyoung immediately has you pressed against the shut door, trapping you with his body as he tilts your chin to face him.

“Fucking hell. I think I’ve waited long enough”, he hisses before he dives in for a messy kiss. You let yourself be claimed by him, raising your arms to let Wooyoung pull your clothing off your body, letting him admire at your bare chest. You feel like you’re at your limit from the way Wooyoung is teasing you—his hands tugging your pants off, but he doesn’t touch you there just yet. But he leads you over to his bed, letting you fall onto his plush bed.

“Look at your panties. Ruined by yours truly,” Wooyoung hums, tugging the piece of pink clothing, completely stained dark with cum and fluids, now almost transparent. When your panties are finally removed, a drawn out whine echoes around the room, your head throws back, and Wooyoung watches in breathlessly as his cum leaks out of you, load by load, listening to you moan in relief.

“I’ve been good. Kept your cum in my pussy like a good girl”, you whine, tugging against your wet folds, thighs twitching as Wooyoung’s cum continues to spill out of your hole. Wooyoung plunges two fingers into you, pushing his cum back into your pussy, and it makes you flex your abdomen from the pleasure.

He smiles.

“Indeed you have, darling. So well-behaved”, he hums, as his hand brushes against your cheek, swallowing hard when you lean your face into it, staring at him with kitten eyes.

He’s so fucking weak for that. So he pushes his fingers deeper in you, drinking every single fucked out expression you wear. Oh god, he wants to break you so bad. Wooyoung’s fingers press against your g-spot, and your hands clasp onto his veiny, muscled arm, as you jerk with a gasp. Wooyoung tilts his head back slightly, and he wears a smirk when he feels you clench around his fingers.

Then he curls his fingers in you as he finger fucks you, making sure he draws out every dirty moan out of you.

“Wooyoung! Oh fuck. Right there”, your hands slip off his arm, back now completely on his bed letting yourself succumb to the pleasure.

“I know, baby. Feels good doesn’t it?” Wooyoung coos, watching your body jerk from the pleasure. “Look at you, fucking yourself on my fingers too”, he teases. And he’s right—you don’t realise when you even let your hips snap against his wet fingers, but at this point, shame is the last thing you’re worrying about.

The feeling builds so dangerously quick that soon enough, you completely let go, letting your jaw hang open as your orgasm hits, your cunt fluttering and your mind flooded with dopamine as moans leak out of your mouth freely like your cum.

“That’s it”, he encourages, applying light pressure on your clit with his thumb, feeling you convulse around him. “Good girl. Cum on my fingers like that. Dirty them for me just like that.” Your eyes are shut, your mind completely turned into mush.

Wooyoung pulls his fingers out of you slowly, watching the way your eyes slowly open as you catch your breath. At that moment is when you catch the way Wooyoung is eyeing you down, licking your glistening release from his fingers.

“Fuck me, darling. If I had known you tasted this good, I would have stolen the panties you keep in your little friend’s room when I came over for dinners”, Wooyoung sighs.

“Pervert”, you mutter, although the thought of him rubbing his cock onto the fabric, making it as wet and as dirty as possible, and leaving his cum stains all over your pretty little panties makes your cunt flutter.

“No better than you are, darling”, he shoots you back playfully when he watches your cheeks turn red, as he inches closer to you onto his bed, capturing your lips with his.

And you completely surrender to him, melting into the kiss that tasted more than just desire and lust. Wooyoung’s hands slide to the back of your neck to pull you as physically close to him as possible.

You pull back, breathless a few seconds later, a small prick blooming in your heart as the reminder that this man is your friend’s uncle sticking out like sore thumb at the back of your hand. You knew it was wrong to do this to your friend. What would happen if she found out then? What kind of repercussions would there be? Wooyoung senses the slight shift, and has his hands cup your cheek, and your eyes focus on his handsome face again.

“What are you distracted about, darling?” He asks, concern reflected in his expression. “Do you want to stop?”

You shake your head instinctively. “It’s just.…”

“-that I’m your friend’s relative?”

You bite your lip.

“But we’re both consenting adults, aren’t we? I can’t help it if every time I see you, I just want to make sure that you’re only looking at me.”

Oh gods, he was making your head spin.

“It’s just that it’s making me have a lot of thoughts”, you mutter, your hands toying with the bedsheets. Wooyoung plants a firm kiss behind your ear, before he leans into you and whispers, “then I’ll fuck the thoughts right out of you darling”, Wooyoung assures with smile, then he turns you over, now your stomach on the mattress. You hear him unbuckle his trousers, and your heart beats in your ears.

“I’ll take good care of you. I can definitely promise that”, he assures, letting his hands run down your sides, leaving goosebumps across your skin. He gives the nape of your neck a kiss before you feel his very hard erection pressing against the curve of your ass. You can’t see it but his cock is just wet with precum, but you hear the sounds he makes as he strokes himself before he presses his cockhead at your entrance.

Then he slides his cock in, inch by inch, so fucking good that you’re gasping and drooling. His cock fits in you so well, and even though he fucked you just hours before, he feels so different now.

“You’re so fucking thick. Fuck”, you curse, your eyebrows scrunched. Wooyoung chuckles behind you, trying to hold his composure as he watches your pussy stretch perfectly to accommodate him, as he sinks deeper into you. It doesn’t take long till he’s completely in you, and you’re drawing shallow breaths from how full you feel, his cock just resting in you.

“Gonna move now, darling”, he says, giving your ass a soft squeeze before he pulls back and thrusts in again, and a squeal leaves your lips. He’s definitely fucking every single thought out of you tonight, and you weren’t about to complain.

Every time his hips slam into you, you grow slightly light headed from the pleasure. Wooyoung has his hands grabbing your hips as he fucks you into the mattress, groaning himself as he watches you fuck his cock. “Fuck. You’re so fucking perfect, baby”, he groans, watching you swallow his cock in once more.

“So good. Keep fucking me like that, Wooyoungie”, you cry, feeling his cock grow bigger in you.

“That’s a cute nickname you’re giving me”, he smirks, biting back another moan when he feels you clench around him again. “I swear you’re gonna make me cum at this rate with how cute you’re acting.”

“Then do it. You promised me right?” You pout, and then jerk with your eyes rolled back when his cockhead presses onto your g-spot again. Wooyoung swears you could drive him insane just with the shit you say.

His cock twitches in you and another soft moan escapes from you.

“I’m cumming, baby. Fuck”, Wooyoung curses as he forcefully shuts his eyes, white spots splattering beneath his eyelids and cum filling you up again. You whimper softly as he fills you up, fisting the bedsheets beneath you as your body shakes. You could get addicted to this, you swear.

You almost lose feeling in your lower body, but Wooyoung catches you, littering your neck with more kisses once more before he sits you on his lap.

That’s when you realise—he’s still fucking hard. His cock is still covered in a sheer white layer of cum. His hands slide up and down your thighs, giving them squeezes.

“Sit on my dick, baby. You know you want to”, he coaxes, assisting you in lifting your hips over his cock. You’re completely entranced by Wooyoung’s expression and you slowly sink onto his cock—he looks as fucked out as you are, and so fucking beautiful. He sucks his teeth at the sensation of being deeper into your warm, cum-filled pussy.

“One more load to go, baby”, Wooyoung hums as he cups your breasts, giving them circular licks with his tongue, making your cunt leak another layer of fresh slick once more. Your arms wrap around his neck, tugging against his hair as he licks and sucks your nipples.

“Wooyoung, please-“ you cry out, only to be ignored as he switches to the other nipple, making sure he stimulates you to his liking. He finally pulls back, licking his lips. His eyes are glazed out, fucking horny from the feeling that he’s seated inside you, sensitive and overstimulated.

And when you start bouncing on his cock, his jaw slacks, his fingers finding yours to intertwine with. “So fucking good. You’re so warm baby. Oh my fucking god”, he groans, squeezing your hand. This position granted easier access to your g-spot and Wooyoung watches you wordlessly as you chase the feeling of his cockhead hitting that perfect spot over and over again.

“Gonna cum. Your cock feels so good, Wooyoungie,” you whimper, at one point pushing your hips down and slightly grinding to have his cockhead just rub against your g-spot, which evidently drives Wooyoung up the wall when he throws his head back and lifts his hips by instinct.

When he barely gains an ounce of rationale, he moans, “cum all over my cock, baby. Oh fuck. Such a good fucking girl you are for me.” And you do, clamping against his cock as your orgasm hits you for the second time, with Wooyoung holding your thighs down, watching you squirm and twitch as your orgasm sends you into a fucking orbit. Wooyoung can’t help but cum in you once more when the feeling of your pussy fluttering around him, which causes you to squeal and lift yourself off his cock, cum and fluids just trickling out of your abused hole and onto Wooyoung’s cock.

You don’t have time to react before Wooyoung cups you by your jaw and brings you in for a steamy kiss again, his hand snaking around your ass to give it a good squeeze before he lets go.

His eyes are as blown out as yours are, but he still manages to ask, “you doing good, darling?”

You nod, combing his wet bangs back, the both of you catching your breaths from your high.

“Time for a shower, baby”, Wooyoung says, lifting you off him completely, before he takes your hand in his to lead you to the bathroom.

Wooyoung’s arms are curled around your waist and he buries his nose into your neck, breathing deeply at the fact that you smell like his shampoo. It almost makes him horny again. Almost.

The thought of your friend and her brother pops into your brain again, but gets muddled when you hear Wooyoung groan softly before he gets pulled into slumber.

Well, that’ll be a problem for another day when Wooyoung comes around to your friend’s house. But you make a mental note to keep more pretty panties over for Wooyoung to steal the next round.

[hanasnx]

rafe wld so get off on u being scared. like you’d be watching a scary movie together and he’d have his hand down ur pants to calm u down when u get scared and jumpy

-🎀

MINORS DNI 18+

u don’t know what this did to me .. maybe it’s a lil different than your original idea but it’s where the voices took me

It’s not that you don’t like horror movies, it’s just that you have a hard time handling them. When your boyfriend expressed passing interest in a certain film, you didn’t want to tell him no, there’s hardly anything that earns his attention. But the entire time, you haven’t been able to sit still. Susceptible to every jump scare and every surge of music, you act like a child. Even his gentle chastising doesn’t get it through your head. After a sudden movement on screen and a blast of noise from the speakers, you squeak, clutching onto RAFE CAMERON’s shirt as you curl into him.

“Thought you said you could handle this.” he mutters, unresponsive to how you cling onto him. The arm draped behind you on the back of the couch remains there as you silently wish he’d wrap you in it.

“I can, I can.” you insist. “How are you not scared?” Your face buried in his chest means you can’t see how he eyes you up. Darkened pupils and rolling his tongue between his lips as he watches you peek at the screen every so often.

“C’mon. Could see the boom mic like five minutes ago.” he replies, but that’s not the real reason. It’s because he’s been too busy with his attention on you. Every time you’d jump, and scream, and claw at him… sure, it was annoying, but it was also getting him hot. It’s not something he fully understands, but his hips shift forward anyway when he adjusts in his seat. His free hand subtly rearranges himself, letting his halfie get some breathing room. Your temple lays on his upper chest, and your fingers fidget with your lower lip uneasily, finally working up the courage to peer at the television again. While you’re captivated, his arm discretely winds around you, and you’re so locked in you don’t even notice.

“C’mere, baby,” he murmurs, and you listen to him, shuffling impossibly closer into his side you’re practically on his lap. “Yeah, that’s right.” A mess of tingles travels up your spine, but you’re sure it’s the fact your hair is already standing on end when in reality it’s his low voice whispering praises in your ear. “Wanna be my brave girl?”

A hand wedges in between your bodies, in between your legs, and your temperature rises with every inch he gains. From your thigh to the inside, down and over, long fingers stroke at your sex through your pants. Your attention torn between the movie and where his hand is, you’re not sure entirely what’s occurring. At least not until his fingertips dip into your waistband and you unconsciously adjust to make room for him. To reward you, his arm curls up from your back, cradling your head as the hand pets your hair. You relax as he rubs you in two different places.

The pads of his fingers apply pressure to the skin above your clit, screwing sweet little circles. You whimper through your nose and you shift.

“Keep your eyes on the TV.” he tells you. Those fingers slide down, pinching your clit between them, collecting a little moisture from your slit to bring it up, and smear it on your bud. “Yeah, baby, doin’ good. Jus’ like that.” he breathes, commending you for sitting pretty for him and taking it. You can barely keep your eyes open, fighting them not to squeeze shut. Curiously, his middle finger traces your hole, and sinks in to the first knuckle. Sharply, you inhale through your nose, and he holds on to you a little tighter. “Not even here, princess, don’t worry about me.” he whispers against your forehead, drawing his finger out only to dip back in, introducing you to more this time.

You’ve been watching, like he told you to, and a jump-scare does its job, jolting your whole body with fear as you scream. The movement causes his whole middle finger to plunge into you, and a groan he’d been holding releases from his throat. It’s visceral, and something snaps. He gives you two whole fingers, then three. Shoving them into your cunt over and over again with vehement as you writhe. His hold on you keeps you where he wants you while he relentlessly finger-fucks you. Out of instinct, you try to hide your face, but that hand that had pet your hair grabs onto your scalp, fixing you to face the television again. He grips onto your head, raising your brows as if to force your eyes open himself, “Keep your fucking eyes on the movie.”

[emmyrosee]

You went to bed before Kiyoomi.

You never do that. Ever since you’ve moved in with him, your nights end with a massive pile of cuddling limbs and sweet words of sticky nothings that have you cocooned and ready for a peaceful night.

But tonight, he snapped at you. Something about being too “irate” over “something small.”

He missed dinner. And normally, that wouldn’t be a massive issue for you. But he was with asshole of a PR member who’s been trying to get with him for months, calling themselves his “work babe.” Who were you to think nothing funny wasn’t going down?

It's not a lack of trust from Kiyoomi that has you choked up. It's a lack of trust with them.

You know more than anyone when kindness turns to love, it's the same thing that happened between you both, and it kills you to think they could preform the same spell and potentially take your man from you.

You tell yourself that if they can take him, they can have him.

But the idea hurts none the less.

It hurts enough where you're curled up on your side of the bed, far from Kiyoomi's, where his smell lingers and the coldness on your body isn't offset by his warmth like it usually is. You whimper and bury your face in the meat of your pillow when you hear the front door open, and a soft call of your name follows. You didn't even know he left, to be frank, but you don't say anything as he stalks into the bedroom with another call of your name.

"Are you awake?"

"Am now," you murmur.

"Can we please talk about things?" He sounds desperate, like he knows this is killing you, weighing you down like a sac of bricks and keeping you from him.

"You talk," you say, nodding into your pillow. "I have nothing to say."

"Okay. I understand."

A muscular arm reaches over your frame to reach for your hand, and when you don't put up a fight to keep his hand away, he sighs shakily.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, linking his pinkie finger with yours. You screw your eyes shut and sniffle, and you hear him swallow thickly. “I was just so upset to know that you were right to worry-“

“What?”

“Wait- No!” He says quickly, panic in his voice. “No, wait, that’s not what I meant.” He’s never been good with his words. You let him continue, your heart sinking into your stomach all the same. He sighs shakily, “I meant that you were right about me being here. I should’ve been. We haven’t had dinner together in weeks, and I just… I got so caught up in new sponsorships and gigs that I wanted more, and I thought they had more to give.”

“They want you, Kiyoomi,” you mumble. “I see it. It’s the same way I bugged you when we first started dating, just to show how much I liked you. They’re doing that.”

“I know,” he sighs. Then, he pauses, squeezing your pinky, “I went to talk to them. Told them if they couldn't keep it professional and cut the shit, they can search for other clients. Because I don't want them making either of us uncomfortable anymore. And even if they did want me, I don't care.” He crawls over to you and bends slightly to have his head dangling in front of you, curls flipping upside down at the action. “Because I want you.”

You snort at the sight.

“So can we please cuddle, and you grab my teeth or sniff me or whatever feral thing you usually do?” He asks, leaning forward to kiss you on the nose. “Miss your stupid affections.”

“I miss giving them to you,” you say, moving a finger up slowly to try and pick his nose, just to make him squirm, a sign of a truce. He grunts and whips his head back, letting your laughter fill the room, rather than your tears. When you feel him sit back on his side of the bed, you take your time in flipping over, finally meeting his dark eyes again, filled with hope and adoration that has you falling in love with him all over again.

"You are irresistible," you say, reaching for his hand again.

"Don't care. I don't want anyone looking at me if it means you and I never fight again."

You laugh and gently kiss his hand, flicking your gaze up at him, "we'll go look at paper bags for you to wear this weekend."

He removes his hand from yours to gently cup your cheek, thumb stroking over the swells lovingly.

"It's a date."

[luvring]

WEDDING MOMENTS

gn!reader | kuroo, bokuto, akaashi, hinata, atsumu, osamu, ushijima hello everyone i'm back 🫶 these are more reception moments than wedding but y'know. give me a break man...

KUROO leans in and whispers in your ear as you dance, “is it bad i want to go home and just lie in bed with you now?” “why are you whispering as if someone can hear you?” you snicker back. tetsurou shoots you a cheeky smile. “so it looks like i’m saying something romantic.” you hit his shoulder, and he only laughs before pulling you into a tight hug. you wait for him to let go before replying. “idiot. but no, it isn’t. my back and feet hurt.” he hums, and you can feel his fingers tapping your back. “do you think it’s possible for newly weds to sneak out of their own wedding reception?”

BOKUTO is walking down the aisle again as everyone disperses to talk or get ready for the reception. you walk up to him, curiosity piqued as he bends down. “what are you doing?” “huh?” he drops a few petals that he was clutching. “crap—hi, baby. i’m just, uh, picking up some of the flowers to take with us. i saw someone do it online, and i thought we could press them or put them somewhere,” he explains softly, as if a little embarrassed. your heart flutters at the thought, and you smile before reaching down yourself. “we better get some flowers, then. and a ziploc bag or something.”

AKAASHI relaxes and rests his head against yours while you watch your guests mingling and dancing. you reach for his hand and intertwine fingers. “you okay?” he nods in response and presses a chaste kiss to your jaw. “yeah, i can finally calm down and not worry about something terrible happening.” “mm, something terrible could still happen.” “love of my life, can you please give your husband a break?” keiji blows air against your skin, eliciting a laugh from you. his tone is light, and you can feel him smiling even while you apologize.

HINATA takes one of the polaroid cameras that you got for the guests. you watch as he poses and takes a picture of himself before handing it to you. “do you want me to take a selfie?” he nods with a grin. “yeah! and also sign it so i can put it in my wallet, or maybe the back of my phone?” his sentence ends as a question to himself. you get your phone so you can check your appearance before mimicking your now husband’s pose. “sho, i swear if mine is bad i want a redo,” you say. he sputters as he looks at his forming photo. “well that’s good because i definitely screwed mine up. i’m like half in the frame.”

ATSUMU’s knee bounces as the video of your relationship the both of you got done nears its end. you shoot him a look, but he doesn’t seem to notice, gaze fixed on the scene. that’s when you hear a familiar voice, but unfamiliar clip start to play. “it’s, fuck, what day is it? november 13, and i’m pretty sure i need t’look for an engagement ring,” your now husband says into the camera. you gape, shock evident across your face. atsumu’s voice is soft as he says your name. “i love you, really. and if you’re seeing this then i didn’t fuck this up, and you decided to marry me, and i’m probably ‘bout to have a heart attack,” he nervously laughs. you turn to atsumu next to you, whose face is flushed red. “don’t look at me, the video isn’t done yet.”

OSAMU keeps holding your hand, and if he isn’t holding it he’s probably thinking of doing so. you don’t mind, finding comfort in the way he rubs the back of it. you’re sitting together when he silently reaches for it again. “i’m pretty sure you’ve held my hand more today than this entire week.” osamu rolls his eyes but smiles. you stare as he gently takes hold of your ring and fidgets with it. “sorry, can’t stop thinkin’ about how we’re actually married now.” you stare at each other, and he rests his chin in his palm. with his other hand, he brings yours up to press gentle kisses against the ring and your skin. “just another excuse to stay close t’you.”

USHIJIMA looks over when you poke his shoulder, and quickly realizes you’re trying to feed him some cake. “say ahh,” you sing song. it’s a half-joke, and you don’t fully expect him to accept, but he leans forward and opens his mouth, hand underneath the fork to catch any crumbs. despite his serious expression and stature, you can't help but think he looks cute. “i know we picked this flavour, but does it taste good?” you ask. wakatoshi nods. “it was a good choice.” he gets a forkful for who you assume is himself. but instead he lifts it toward you. “do you want to try now?”

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @dimslover @kuroaka @vampyrkookie @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist

[sweet-as-an-angel]

OMG HII I'M A NEW FOLLOWER AND I LOVE YOUR WORK!! May I please ask for HCs or a one shot of Ghost with his s/o being self conscious/ashamed (YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN LOL) about squirting so much that he AND the bed got soaked?? THANK YOU SO MUCH MANY KISSIES MUAH 💋💖

Ghost & König w/ an S/O who is Self Conscious about Squirting a Lot

Warnings: 18+, Sexual Content, Heavy Implications of Smut, Squirting, Insecurity, Embarrassment, Dom Ghost, Dom König, Unprotected Sex, Profanity, etc.

Ghost:

First time it happened, Ghost couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

He just stared down at where his hand connected with your cunt, your cum spattered across his arm, reaching all the way up to his elbow.

The sheets below you were covered, too, a heavy downpour of your juices coating them, soaking them.

“Fuckin’ Hell,” Ghost rasped, licking his lips.

You lay wide-eyed and stationery beneath him, chest heaving with the coat tails of your orgasm.

You’d never done that before.

And the fact that Ghost only looked upon you with a heavy gaze did nothing to soothe your nerves - did nothing to reassure you that what had just happened was normal. Or appreciated.

Sweat-skinned and face flushed with embarrassment, you tried to withdraw, to cover yourself and hide from Ghost’s dark eyes.

They were unreadable. Void of anything discernable.

Before you could pull the soaked bed sheets over you, Simon’s hand tore it from yours.

“Oh no, Princess,” he said. The corners of his lips turned up, not a smile, but one of its off-colour variants, one that spelled devious.

“I’m not lettin’ you go until you’ve covered me.”

Your eyes almost popped out of your head, face burning. You tried to object.

“You…you don’t think it’s weird?” you said, testing. Receding. “I-I don’t think I can do it again–”

“Let me put it this way,” Ghost began. He pumped his fingers into you, four strong, making you squeal, sensitive from your orgasm. He began unbuckling his belt with his other hand.

“We’re not stopping ‘til you do.”

König:

König didn’t stop pummeling into you until you’d finished.

And, upon doing so, your orgasm tearing through you, you ended up spraying.

Hard.

König felt your warm cum shoot against his abdomen, coating him in a thin layer of you.

You noticed, but your mind was far too hazy with the after effects of your high to register it properly.

König finished inside you shortly after, unable to contain himself any longer.

He flooded you, painting your insides white, much how you’d painted him.

Minutes passed, your conjoined, deep breathing filling the silence.

Head somewhat clearer, giving way to distinguishable thoughts, you looked down at König.

He was, simply put, wet.

Not damp, not moist - wet.

And then, the memory hit you.

Your heart sank.

“König…?” you said, voice meek. You watched his chest and shoulders heave, with him bent over you like a bridge, eyes screwed shut.

You went to call his name again, but his lips on yours stopped you.

Between laboured breaths, he muttered dark words into your skin as if they were incantations.

“Why did you hide this from me?” he said, breathless.

You blinked, confused.

“Wha–”

“You thought you could keep this little trick of yours a secret from me.”

He said it as if it were true. The actual truth was that you’d never done that before; not with König, not with anyone.

“I should punish you,” he said, retracting only to roll his hips against yours.

You gasped, a shock of painful euphoria tightening inside you.

“I can make you do it again,” he said. There was no mercy in his eyes. No negotiation. 

“And I will.”

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