#📝 my writing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

promisingyounglady · 30 days

Text

four eyes. | BF x Reader

PAIRINGS: Bob Floyd x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: asking bob to make a mess of himself on your face while you wear his glasses? absolutely.

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

WARNINGS: ahem, SMUT, established relationship, profanity, oral (m!receiving), deepthroating, facial, handjob, cum eating, dirty talk, begging, slightly sub!reader, praise, aftercare and such sweet affection from bobby, not proofread and mdni!!, reader is a minx, brief mention of term ‘slut’, size kink, awkward sweetheart w a big dick!bob,

A/N: this is the most filthiest shit I’ve ever written and if you like this ur crazy… *reblogs, comments and likes the post*

“What are you up to?” he drawls, watching carefully as you crawl over his naked midriff and through the sea of bedsheets. Post-sex endorphins were through the roof right now for Bob, a wave of happy tiredness sweeping over the pilot.

You huff, hand outstretched as you reach for Bob's glasses perched on the bedside table.

“I wanna try these on” you say to him, balancing yourself as you try to grab the frames. Bob chuckles, a hand coming to rub your ass lovingly.

You bit your lip to fight the feeling of a grin spreading on your face, the feeling of Bob's soft hands tickling you as you playfully pushed him away, all the while he simply beams at you.

The hand supporting yourself on his hard chest slips, causing you to collapse on top of your boyfriend, your naked breasts brushing over his cock and sending a shiver down his spine.

A firm hand comes to still yourself. “Careful” he says softly, hands warm.

Bob looks over, grabbing the glasses just as you were about to pick them up, and holding them out of your reach. You protest, trying to get ahold of the frames you loved so much. Bob puts them on, allowing himself to properly see his girl.

“You don’t wanna wear these, they don’t look good on anyone. Including me.” he mumbles, adjusting you on top of him.

But you're quick to swipe them off his face, ignoring Bob's laughs when you put the glasses on yourself and straddle his hips. “I like them, they’re cute,” you tell him.

“Well what d’ya know?” Bob utters softly to himself when he sees you, gazing up at his girl wearing the steel rimmed aviators and looking absolutely breathtaking.

“Hi there, four eyes” he chuckles, finding it odd saying a phrase he’s been nicknamed all his childhood. Hell, even Seresin has no problem calling him that to this day.

Bob smiles, strong but soft hands coming to rest on your hips as you sat dangerously close to where his happy trail leads to. Your brows furrowed as you viewed the world through his lenses.

“Jesus, Bob, you really are blind!” You uttered, looking down at the blurry man seated against the bedpost.

Bob’s become busy at the moment, pressing pecks to your hardended nipples. He simply nods, pretending he’s listening.

“You should go to the eye doctor, honey”

Bob peaks through, giving you a look. “That’s where I got them”

“Hm.”

The room is silent, a soft glow of the afternoon sunlight peeking through the white shutters. You feel the corners of Bob’s lips curling into a smile against your skin, a silent worship to your body.

“You’re so soft.” he murmurs.

“Honey,” you call to your boyfriend.

“Hm?” Bob replies absentmindedly, still brushing his face along your chest, hugging you closer.

You tug on his brown locks, pulling his head from your body and looking down at him.

“I wanna try something.” you grinned, a mischievous glint in your eyes mixed with a bottle of excitement. You quickly press a kiss to his lips.

Bob watches as you pull from his grasp, lips forming a small frown from the loss of contact as you shuffled down the bed so you were now kneeling on the floor by the edge.

Bob looks over at you quizzically, wondering what you were up to before you beckon towards him, ushering him to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Come sit, Robert” you directed, calling him by his birth name to get his attention.

His soft cock limps near his thighs as he adjusts himself, sitting before you in all his naked glory, hair tousled by your hands and a pink blush ghosting his cheeks. His hand comes up to play with your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. You look up in seriousness and confess.

“I want you to cum on these glasses”

Bob stops all motion, hand still tucked behind your ear. The room falls silent.

“What?”

You ignore the bafflement of your crimson cheeked boyfriend, bending down to lick a long stripe up his veiny shaft. A loud moan and harsh tug against your scalp brings you to take him further, almost triggering your gag reflexes. It all happens so fast. Bob mutters incoherently from the sudden gesture, both of you going slightly insane when your nose presses against his pubic bone as tears form near your eyes.

“Baby, hold on a moment, Jesus fuck!”

You’re worried you’re going to make a mess on the floor from the way your slick almost drips from your pussy.

You’ve been thinking of this fantasy for a while if you were to be honest. Bob pulls you back, gasping for air as a proud feeling settles in your chest. It’s not everyday you hear Bob cuss like that.

He’s panting hard, watching as a bit of saliva is smeared on your lips, eyes glossy. Bob sighs in exasperation as you decide to stroke his cock with your hands.

“You gotta let me speak-“

“Please, Bobby” you beg, pressing kisses to the pink tip and relishing in the way you feel him harden in your hand. A loud groan escapes Bob's throat, feeling sensitive despite having had sex the whole afternoon with you.

“I want you to cum while I have your glasses on” you told him, kitten licks getting the best of your boyfriend. “Like in those pornos” you mumble softly, your shy giggles driving Bob insane.

“Nobody says pornos anymore” he mumbles telling you, swallowing hard when you tug on his cock tighter for not responding.

Bob clears his throat. “You, um, want me to give you a facial?” He asks softly, holding onto your hand that's stroking his cock.

You nod eagerly.

“A-Are you sure?” He says, worried that taking him like this is gonna wear you out. In all honesty, the boy can’t help but grow hard at the thought of cumming all over your innocent face, big eyes covered by his glasses milked by his seed.

You nod, excitement and horniness flowing through your body.

“Please, honey, I want you to see me painted” you sighed, thumb brushing over the thick tip, smearing precum over the slit.

Bob thinks he’s gonna cum just from this angle, but he needs you so badly he tries to regain composure. He bends down to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips and letting your face be held in his soft touch. “Let me know if it's too much baby” he addresses in concern, the tears on your cheeks worrying him.

You sniffle, nodding your head to assure him. “Want you so bad, Bobby, let me suck you”

Your last few words are incoherent from the way you let Bob’s big cock stuff your throat, making you gag but desperately hold on. Bob lets go, both hands coming to balance himself on the edge, one gripping the bed sheets.

The sensation is fucking marvellous. You feel so full, loving the way the stretch of your mouth and untouched ache of your pussy turn you cockdrunk on Bob Floyd’s dick.

You look up, desperate to see how he's taking you, wanting to see the expression of him getting the daylights sucked out of him.

Lieutenant Bob ruts his hips pathetically, trying so hard not to make a mess of your mouth and hurt you. His head is pulled back, groans falling from his soft lips as he praises you so good.

“That’s it baby, doing so well for me” he sighs, now two large hands coming to push you a little further, a groan falling from his lips as you take him fully now.

“God, I love you!” he cries out loud, an instinctive response coming from your boyfriend as he caresses your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. You smile, aviator lenses reflecting the light as your lips are wrapped securely around his dick.

”So pretty, such a pretty girl” he says under his breath, admiring the way your tits bounce along with every stroke on his cock. You gasp, pulling away as you let your fist do the rest.

“I love you too, Bobby” you gasped, looking up to find Bob staring at you intensely, with such a fierce gaze of love, sensuality, and pure awe.

”H-How,” he begins, starting to feel a familiar feeling settle inside him. “How did I get so lucky with you?” He admits, wanting nothing more but to see his cum painting his glasses you’re wearing. He thinks he might just let you have them. Being able to see is overrated anyways.

“I think I’m gonna cum, baby” he lets out, watching as your eyes get eager, adjusting your sore knees so you can get the perfect angle.

“Please baby, give it to me” you begged, pussy so sensitive you have to make sure you hold yourself up enough so the cold wooden floors don’t brush against your folds.

Watching you rub his dick like that, mouth open and face ready is an image Bob will have ingrained in his mind forever, a hot spurt of milky liquid shooting onto your lips as Bob finally gives you what you wanted.

Incoherent mumbles fill the sweaty bedroom, letting one hand cup his balls as the other makes sure to smear the warm fluid all over your lips, glasses starting to get foggy.

“Fucking hell” Bob cries out, spilling your name from his lips like a sacred mantra.

You hum, a wave of both happiness and satisfaction washing over you as you sit in front of Bob’s glory.

You let the man come down from his high, tasting salt and your boyfriend in your mouth. Before you can even clean yourself up, Bob is ripping off the dirtied glasses framing your face, and grabbing you towards him for a passionate kiss. The action makes you dizzy, your red, sore knees almost buckling under.

It’s only a while after when he pulls away, grabbing for a box of tissues near the nightstand and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’m sorry for the mess” he replies shyly, the image of this tall, naked, handsome, and yet totally awkward giant taking care of you making it all worthwhile.

“It’s okay” you reply, voice hoarse. You couldn’t help but feel happy, even if you didn’t cum (Bob would see to it later of course).

You feel him use the tissues to wipe your chin, face, and tits, or really, what was leftover after you sucked it all up like a slut.

“You’re crazy sometimes, you know that?” Bob mumbles, shaking his head as he smiles at you, his soft touch so rewarding.

You laugh, latching your arms around his neck and letting him hoist you up so easily. His semi-hard cock limps against your stomach, both of you standing up and lips pressing together in another soft kiss.

”Thank you for the most mind blowing head of my life.” He jokes.

”Thanks for the facial” you gleam, sucking your fingers with a pop that makes Bob weak, falling back down on the mattress and taking you with him so you’re straddling him again.

Bob reaches for the glasses, getting a tissue so he could wipe them before an idea pops in your head and you stop him.

You put on the glasses again. He looks up.

“Bobby, where’s the Polaroid camera?”

819 notes · View notes

cynnkk · 23 days

Text

mammon. oh mammon.

since he's competing w/ all the other devils for your attention, he decided to be owned by you, not the other way around.

He opened up and admitted that he fell in love with you at first sight. if you remember, you were resting on his chest when you woke up in the hospital and he spent all that time thinking about how wonderful, breathtaking and powerful you were and what it would feel like for you to own him, for him to belong TO you.

He would be solely and exclusively devoted to you and to your well-being. Mind you, he's not a low level demon: he's the king of Tartaros, the wealthiest kingdom in Hell and everything belongs to him but, as his master, everything will belong to you as well.

The whole thing is new to the both of you but he's resolute: he likes you "just because", not because you're solomon's descendant but because you are you.

You'll come around someday and love him like he loves you. He wants you to surrender to your greed, to take everything from him and he'll accept everything you have to offer: from lovely dates along the tartaros river to long fucking sessions on his throne, he would lap it all up, like the good sub he was always meant to be.

in a world where you are seen as somebody else's stand-in, he's the one asking you to recognise him.

You're his master after all, no one can replace you.

He's yours. you just have to accept it as a fact, because he's not letting you go.

#what in hell is bad #whb #whb mammon #mammon #dom! reader #dom reader #sub character #sub! character #I WANNA OWN HIM #master kink go brrrr #he's my favourite king so far i want to eat him up grrrr hopefully leviathan will understand #the “take me” was too much for him i want him BAD (respectfully)#yandere vibes if you squint #nay writes 📝

423 notes · View notes

saleeba · 6 months

Text

fool ; jude bellingham

summary ♡ betting on the phenomenon of unrequited feelings, you and jude have never dared to make the first move with the other until a reunion forces new questions to be answered.

pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+, smut, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, cursing, kissing, both jude & reader are pining idiots, fingering, p in v sex, marking, missionary, unprotected sex (jude pulls out but still pls practise safe sex!!)

a/n ♡ she's baaaack :D but first☝🏽alexa play fool by nct 127 !!!! the lyric "you’re a goddess but i’m a fool, what should i do?" was written for this fic in particular i just know it was :] anyway hehe this fic is based off this request so tysmm to anon for sending such an exciting prompt !! i hope yous enjoy 🫶🏽💗 WAIT P.S this isn’t proofread bc i lowkey am not rocking with it so i didn’t wanna put myself thru having to read it again & again … im sorry for any mistakes :’)

you had just gotten off work to a stream of relentless texts from your best friends’ groupchat — phone pinging off the rails whilst you were on shift, muffled buzzes from your bag making you wonder what on earth was worth blowing up in that whatsapp group on a random friday afternoon.

on the train back home, you tap open the green app, anticipating yourself easily spending the entire journey catching up on the three hundred-plus texts from your closest mates. you decide to start right from the beginning of the influx, thumb scrolling nonstop and eyes blurring from the rapid movement until they focus back on the screen where you stop, finally having reached the destination of the first text that set it all off.

it was from none other than jude bellingham, and you were nearly embarrassed by the way your face instantly lit up upon reading his message. the groupchat’s golden boy had popped up after weeks of minimal contact, asking if he could take everyone for a night out tomorrow to make up for it, stating that he finally has some small gaps of free time between hectic pre-season schedules to allow him to do so.

it honestly warmed your heart that the first thing he wants away from football is to see you all. you’d been a band of good friends since the first year of secondary school, contact not necessarily strained as you all had a lot of love for each other but rather unspokenly reduced after leaving school two years ago and falling into busy university or career ventures.

instead of scrolling through to read and react to the plethora of follow-up texts after his, you ignore them and jump straight to typing your reply to his invitation, casting aside that nagging voice asking you: doesn’t that seem too desperate?

no, right? i’m just accepting his invitation, getting straight to the point, the convo ended half an hour ago anyway. you’re arguing with yourself now, feeling the need to give unnecessary excuses to nonexistent accusations. if you were to be honest with yourself, you were always self-conscious of the way you behaved around jude, even now debating on whether to add your signature heart emoji or if it’d come across as you trying too hard given your feelings for him; albeit them being feelings that no one knows about, not even him. you made sure for it to be that way.

with a mental note to get over yourself, you send an affirmative ‘i’m up for it!’, signature heart included, and quickly shut off your phone. heart beating so rapidly, you scolded yourself for getting so worked up over a mere reply and for definitely not getting over yourself. god knows how you’re going to handle seeing him in person.

a sudden double buzz from your device does nothing to calm you down, instead dampening your hands with sweat when you grab it and see a pair of messages from him.

jude 🌟: heyy i’m so glad you can make it tomorrow :)

jude 🌟: can’t wait to see you!! ❤❤

he had messaged you separately for some reason and he had included two hearts… the overthinking starts for you again, without even beginning to think about what to reply this time, and you question why he couldn’t have just replied to you in the groupchat or why he couldn’t have just left the end of the messages with a ‘x’ like he usually does or why he would even say what he said in the last message. mind frantic and unable to clear itself, you thank yourself for having your read receipts turned off so you can have your mini meltdown without worrying about jude knowing you’d seen his messages multiple minutes ago. god, you were down so bad.

you force yourself to open the messages app and send the most casual reply you can type.

you: can’t wait to see you too! ❤

you try to keep it short, sweet and nonchalant even if your fingers are itching to type more – more about how much you had missed him, more about what he was planning to wear tomorrow night so that maybe you could match your own outfit with him, more about your true, unfiltered feelings for him. it’s pathetic really; you hadn’t seen him in two years and the first thing you wanted to do was throw yourself at him, spilling all the secrets you’d been holding close for so many years. you leave it at that, put your phone on do not disturb mode and head on home, waiting for the long hours of friday evening to pass and saturday night to arrive.

***

and so saturday night rolls around and you just about finish touching up your makeup and smoothing out your dark blue dress before the doorbell rings, and you’re whisked away to the club by a couple of your girlfriends.

as soon as you step your high heels into the building, you’re met with the sight of flowing booze and the noise of noughties r&b beats bouncing around the brightly lit walls. dragged by the hands of your friends, you find yourself standing next to a booth at the back of the club, the rest of the group now welcoming you latecomers with a loud cheer.

“finally, girls. you took your time!” one of your male friends remarks, ushering you all to sit down.

“oh god, what have we missed?” you beam, trying to scan the group amongst the strobing lights to catch a glimpse of the person you were really there for.

“nah, you’re just in time because… first round’s on mister madrid!”

the callout breaks your friend group into a raucous holler as your gaze fixes onto the six foot-one footballer who stands up with an amused grin and a sigh of feigned defeat. your heart quickens and your smile turns into a state of near disbelief over how good jude looks right now – graphic white t-shirt hugging his biceps in all the right places and hanging over a pair of smart-casual black trousers.

“yeah, yeah, anything for my groupies,” he winks at no one in particular but your brain almost convinces you that he was looking at you while doing it. you send a shy smile his way just in case but what he says next has your mouth running dry. “help us out, will ya, y/n?”

you hesitate for a second too long for your liking, stumbling over your words while your friends peer at you. “uh… uh-huh, yeah, of course.” you answer as quick as you can, standing up on your feet slowly as to not trip over your now-shaking legs and send yourself flying into jude, and to avoid embarrassing yourself more than you think you already have.

he responds with a grateful smile and you follow him to the bar where he places an order for a round of drinks and some shots to be delivered to the group by the two of you. there’s an odd unfamiliarity to the silence between you both and you realise that you aren’t normally this quiet around jude, and neither is he around you; you would always joke that he’d be eligible to talk for england if he wasn’t already playing football for them. he’d retort with a comment about how his ears could almost fall off with the amount of chatting you do, and you’d dryly reply with a ‘well, they’re too big for your head anyway. look at the size of them!’ the pair of you were always as thick as thieves in the eyes of everyone else. which is why you didn’t expect it to be like this, especially after two years of not seeing each other – there was so much you wanted to catch up on from his world and so much you wanted to share from yours. you decidedly gain some courage and take the initiative to spark some conversation, get something going at least.

“soo, how have you been, then?” you’re both facing the bar, your head barely tilting in jude’s direction to indicate that yes, it is him that you’re talking to and not some random like he assumes you are with the way you’re positioned away from him, eyes just about turning to steal a glance of his figure but not to hold eye contact. “how’s la vida española?”

jude finds amusement in your sudden flaunt of the spanish language, a smile breaking out on his face, unseen to you since he’s still facing the same direction that you are, preoccupying his eyes with the myriad of bottles on the shelves while his mind searches for an apt reply.

“yeah, it’s been great, i think i wanna stay there forever,” jude laughs, his fingers tapping on the black surface of the bar. you can’t help the selfish feeling of your heart dropping at his confession. “i miss you, though, y’know… a lot.”

this one confession forces your whole body to turn itself towards him, eyes now chasing after his to seek some form of sincerity, to see if he was just messing about or if he really meant what he just said. he shifts his head to face you now, a bashful look painted onto his features. the expectant silence says it all really; of course i mean it.

you gulp and decide to break the quietness with a sarcastic, jesting “ugh…”, jude’s face dropping at what he thinks is genuine disgust from you. you realise your attempt to denounce the awkwardness has backfired.

“oh my god, you dickhead, i’m joking,” how is it that mere moments ago you were shaking at the sheer real-life presence of him but now you’d transformed into having this confident playfulness? and all of it without a drop of alcohol in your system as well – you’re quietly proud of yourself. “i missed you too, jude… a lot.” you coyly repeat his words.

upon your turn of the confession, the bartender sets down your drink orders and the two of you wordlessly carry the trays over to where your friends are situated, the silence way more comfortable now that you’re both basking in assurance, unbeknown to the other that your hearts were racing at a hundred miles per hour.

***

not even two hours and an innumerable amount of shots later, you’re all a drunken mess; definitely not a surprise to a single one of you. what is a surprise is the way you’re strewn across jude, right leg wrapped around his left, head on his chest, swirling and sipping from what’s clearly an empty glass to any sober, sane person. you grumble and mutter a complaint about the lack of liquor in the booth, taking it upon yourself to head to the bar and order another round for everyone.

“i’ll come with you,” jude announces over the pounding of the music, standing up so quickly that his next five steps are staggered and he has to cling onto your arm to steady himself. “i’m fine, i’m okay.” he assures nobody that asked.

the two of you stumble your way into the path of the bar, determined to drink until the sun comes up and forget every strand of stress until the hangovers come knocking. jude’s soft grip on your arm has you being led in the opposite direction all of a sudden, though.

“uhm, where are we going?” you question, head still turned to where the bar is located, about to ask him if he was so hammered he couldn’t walk in a simple straight line to get to where you’d planned to go. “jude?”

he’s silent, save for humming his way to his desired destination, and you question if he even knows where he’s leading you. before you make the choice of going along with him or leaving his clearly confused self to go cop your next cocktail, you find yourself in the disabled toilets, pushed up against the sink with the door not even shut properly, gasping at how rough jude is handling your body compared to his soft touches from before, and how close his face is to yours, warm breath fanning the skin of your lips. you weren’t strictly against it all but how the hell have you ended up like this? The alcohol and the questions come at you fast, dizzying your brain but you can’t help but feel so keenly anticipative.

“i’m sorry, i just…” he pulls away from you, eyes fluttering closed so he can re-evaluate his actions, exhaling through his nose as if he was letting go of all doubts before continuing. “am i okay to do this?” he places his hands on your waist, pushing himself back into your space, his full lips more or less about to take yours. you have to refrain from letting the effects of alcohol take over your tongue and uttering back with a breathy ‘you can do whatever you want to me’.

instead, you answer with an earnest, eager nod, inviting his lips to finally do that one thing you had been dreaming of for so long, to kiss yours so silly that they’re left with the imprint of him. and jude does just that.

his mouth takes in yours so determinedly, shyness and hesitation now long-dissolved feelings for you both as your hands find home around the back of his neck, pushing his head further onto you, feeling the need to taste him more and more until you’re both consumed by each other.

it’s a messy makeout, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but it’s oh so hot, the way he gasps into your mouth from breathlessness and pleasure, running and gripping his large hands over the material adorning your waist and hips as the need to rip it off you nearly overtakes him. to you, he’s so utterly intoxicating that a gallon of alcohol would pale in comparison to how dizzy his skin on yours makes you feel.

you release a moan at the meagre thought of jude all over your body, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue over yours, filthy noises of wetness and carnality from the both of you reaching high pitch as jude somehow simultaneously pushes you against the sink and pulls you against his chest, his manhandling of you getting you even more hot and bothered before you’re both interrupted by the hub of people passing by and huddling right outside the bathroom, their self-occupied shouts and cheers dragging you out of the bubble that the two of you had wrapped yourselves in, almost sobering you up on the spot.

you push jude out of your way, gentle but abrupt, and give him a look of apologetic regret. “i-i’m sorry,” you say, jitterily walking past him and exiting the room without a second glance or word, heading straight to the booth where your friends are hollering and hurraying, occupied with shot-drinking contests.

your girlfriends offer to go home with you when you lie and tell them you’re not feeling very well, but you decline them, instead telling them to have fun on your behalf and letting them know that you’ll try to text them once you get home safely. you can tell they’re confused by your shaken state and the absence of jude but you grab your bag and make your exit before the interrogation can even begin to brew.

you manage to grab a taxi back home, surprised by how competent you are despite the alcohol in your bloodstream and confusion in your brain. on the way there, you can’t stop the bouncing of your knee nor the racing of your psyche, asking yourself how and why whatever went down with jude went down like that. you curse at yourself for being so impulsive in starting and finishing the whole ordeal with him in the way that you did – you don’t know if it’s the empty, depressive drunk thoughts or just clarity from the whole jude thing that makes you feel like there’s no coming back from this at all. you feel like crawling into your bed and never coming out from it ever again.

the taxi driver has to call for your attention multiple times until you reach earth again and pay him the journey’s fee. you go skulking all the way up to your front door, only letting out a breath that you feel like you’ve been holding since the beginning of the night once the door shuts behind you.

the rest of the night is quiet and orderly for you, telling yourself to not invite any more chaos into your brain and to simply drink some water and to go to sleep. waking up tomorrow morning is going to be painful in more ways than one.

***

you spend the rest of the weekend nursing a ferocious hangover and a frazzled heart, only contacting your friends to tell them that you got home fine and to joke that you probably need a century or two for this hangover to be gone. you thank the high heavens that they don't bring up the topic of you and jude

you try not to think too much about jude, you really do, but sunday night has a couple of taps landing you on the instagram app and you learn that he’s already back in spain, pictures of him in training sliding across your phone screen on his story along with selfies with his teammates. usually, you tap that small red heart at the bottom and hope that he sees it amongst his millions and millions of notifications, a tiny ritual of yours that now has you feeling so pathetic that you don’t dare to do it anymore.

running a hand over your weary face, you set your phone down and opt to nap the night away, finding comfort in the non-intrusion from your friends and the no contact from jude, hoping to keep yourself busy and distracted with whatever the work week brings.

a ring from the doorbell rips through your flat just as you’re organising your pillows, forcing you to stop what you’re doing and ponder who could be at the door on a sunday while the clock ticks some minutes past one o’clock. you don’t recollect ordering any food nor are you expecting a delivery, especially not this late.

trudging your way to the front door, you open it to find jude bellingham standing there and you feel an instant pang of regret, wishing you had peeked through the window to see who it could be, wishing you had pretended to not be in, wishing the ground would open up right now and swallow you whole – anything to escape the confrontation that you’re now having to face. your face heats up with embarrassment and nerves but you manage to rupture the silence before your mouth can turn dry.

“j-jude, hi,” you try and keep your greeting as polite and cordial as you can, even when all you really want to do is to chase him off your doorstep. “what are you doing here?”

your query has jude visibly gulping, hands fiddling with each other as he attempts to hold eye contact with you, his vision a bit blurry from exhaustion. “y/n… sorry, can i come in?”

you oblige, holding the door open wide before you guide him to the living room and invite him to sit down on the plushness of your sofa, settling yourself on the opposite end of it. you silently prompt him to say what he came here to say with a nod of your head.

“uhm, i’m sorry for turning up unannounced, and so late…” ever the courteous. “i had to sneak away from the lads and catch the last flight to here so it was all a bit down to the wire.” he lets out a small, uneasy laugh.

you cut off his rambling with a curt “what do you want, jude?” you don’t mean for it to sound so rude but you still hold the attitude of wanting to get this over and done with, already feeling annoyance at yourself for even letting him into your home.

“right, yeah, i actually wanted to talk about what happened on saturday,” he goes back to fiddling with this thumbs, eyebrows furrowed but he avoids looking at you this time. not that you can blame him because your own vision shifts to anywhere but his direction. “i’m so sorry for making you uncomfortable a-and please tell me if this is inappropriate, but i haven’t stopped thinking about last night, i haven't stopped thinking about you, i-i’m sorry, i know this is all so silly and you probably don’t even feel the same bu-”

you stop him right there, this time with good reason as you can’t bear holding back your real emotions, not when he’s practically given you the green light to spill the contents of your heart.

“no, jude, i didn’t feel uncomfortable at all,” you assure him, gaze now on the footballer in front of you and you almost can’t believe the words leaving your mouth right now. “i wanted it to happen, i’m glad it happened, you know, i think i’ve had dreams about it happening,” you try and offset any tension with a timid chuckle before turning quite pensive. “i really like you, jude, i have for a long time… god, sorry, this is so embarrassing.” you return to making light of the situation you’ve put yourself in, the timidness sinking back in as quick as the relief lifts you up.

jude moves closer to your now-cowering body, knees touching as your heartbeat surges with worry and self-consciousness all wrapped up into a tight, miserable ball. he puts his sweat-dampened hands into yours and squeezes in silent assurance before raising them up to his lips and laying a chaste kiss on the heated skin.

he can’t help but break out into a sweet smile, eyes threatening to crinkle at the edges. your face is still sketched with tension and now confusion has joined the mix.

“i can’t tell you how long i’ve waited to hear that from you, how much i needed to hear it,” your eyes meet his, widening in surprise a little. “i’m a fool for not telling you sooner… i like you, y/n, i really like you.” he repeats your own words back at you, leaning in with a smattering of amusement dancing in his vision.

“can i kiss you?” the question leaves your lips faster than you can even process it in your brain.

jude wastes no time in replying with a firm pressing of his mouth on yours, deepening it within seconds, the need to cement his feelings for you being told through the way he cradles your head in his hand, leaning you back onto the arm of the sofa to further intensify the kiss. your lips move along with his, the soft weight of his body pressed against yours making you whine into his mouth in ecstasy.

he lifts off of you with a puckering of his swollen lips, the both of you taking the chance to draw in some air and attempt to regulate your breathing pattern.

“please take me to the bedroom,” you beg, breathless from the sheer sight of his dark eyes and pretty pout. there’s no fight nor denial from jude as he picks you up and prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, quickening his pace once you point in the direction of your room.

he lays you down on the bed so gently, lips latching onto yours once again before they travel down your jaw and over the warm skin of your neck. the light touch of his fluttering eyelashes married with the pressure of his soft lips has your head spinning, hands tentatively laid on top of your sheets since you don’t trust yourself to not grab his head and bring it back to your lips. his fingers tinker with the waistband of your pyjama trousers, stretching it off your skin before he asks permission to peel them down your legs.

once they’re cast away in some corner of your bedroom, jude divides your legs by the underside of your knees, tucking himself into the now available space between them, turning onto his side and resting on his left forearm. he leaves a small kiss over your covered cunt and you try your best to not just clamp his head in between your thighs and smother him with your growing wetness here and now.

“need to get you ready, baby,” the sudden mention of the petname has you throbbing, squirming even more when he traces a line from your clit down to where there’s a small damp spot forming on the dark material of your underwear.

“jude, please,” you whine out, lifting your hips in a desperate bid to get the boy to strip your lower half completely.

he shushes you in his own charming way, making sure to comply with your demand by getting up onto his knees and discarding your soaked panties in a matter of seconds, the cold air generated by his large hands whipping them off you hits your exposed pussy, making you hiss through gritted teeth.

jude returns to the gap between your spread legs, sitting back but still on his knees, his higher position causing you to shift onto resting your body weight on the palms of your hands in order to peer at his actions – which start with him re-tracing that same teasing line from your aching clit to your hole with his thumb, the feeling now so intense on your unclothed skin. he hums in what sounds to be satisfaction when you throw your head back in pleasure, taking it in his favour to slip his index finger into the tightness of your pussy.

you release a guttural groan at the feeling of finally having some part of him inside you; you of course don’t want this to be the only part but you’re still so very grateful, so fucking grateful he’s now rubbing at your clit in delicious rounds, thumb tracing circle after circle while his fingers form a pair, pistoning in and out of you so easily due to the way your cunt douses itself with every move of jude’s.

“fuck, baby,” jude moans at the sight of his soaked digits every time they barely pull out of that pretty pussy, his thumb torturing your sensitive bud increasingly so, the cries and whimpers spilling from your lips an incentive for him. “feel so good and tight around my fingers, can’t imagine how you’ll feel around my dick.”

his words have you absolutely reeling, writhing against his hand to try and chase that moment of release.

“please, jude, i’m so close,” you’re warning and demanding at the same time, almost begging him to not stop or even think about moving his fingers out of you. “god, please, i need it,”

jude suddenly retracts both of his hands, leaving you bare and empty. “no way, baby, need to have you cumming on my cock or not cumming at all,” he comments with a shake of his head, denying you the opportunity of leaking your cum over his hand. upon seeing your bewildered face, he makes up for it by putting on a show of licking your juices clean off his fingers, the digits popped inside his mouth and dragged right back out with a low moan, him praising the way you taste.

“move up the bed for me, angel,” he orders, watching you while he stands up and unclothes himself as quick as he can. you scoot backwards, legs still spread open like they’ve been locked in that position, before pulling your oversized t-shirt off of you, chest void of a restricting bra . “good girl,” he praises, crawling up to hover his body over your laying one, cock in hand as your legs come to wrap around him. “are you still okay with this? we can stop at any point, okay?”

the sincerity of his voice has you melting. some would remark that the bar is in hell for you but the truth is that you hadn’t been with anyone like this for more months than you could count on your hands. you've been touch-starved and lacking words of affirmation for so long, and you needed something to be only about you for once.

“i’m more than okay with this,” you smile up at him, nodding to make your approval fully known. “and yes, i know i can stop you if i need to.”

jude reciprocates the same smile before leaning in and smothering your lips with his, pushing his cock into your tight wetness, so tight that your pussy almost pushes him back out, not used to being penetrated by something so thick.

“oh my god!” the feeling of tightness/fullness has you both gasping out the same thing at the same time, erupting into quiet giggles when the two of you realise your matching reactions.

jude’s mouth finds its way back home in the embrace of your lips and you swear this is heaven, the way his cock slides in and out of your sopping cunt, set at such a perfect pace, the slight friction causing you to grow even wetter – the filth of it all contrasts so well with the sweetness of his muffled moans and tender kisses on your neck, moving down onto your collarbones and tits.

a particularly harsh thrust of his cock has your back arching, chest pushed up to his heated face, and he takes this golden opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipple, spending a good while sucking and tugging on the skin around it. you’re amazed at how his cock doesn’t relent inside you, the speed still so quick and consistent even when he’s so occupied in painting splotches on your tits with his mouth.

“there,” he pants out, pulling his head back and marvelling at his own creation. “now, there’s no doubt that you’re really mine.” the smile he gives you is a killer.

you whine at his declaration of you belonging to him, scratching at his shoulders and calling out his name to indicate that it’s all too much for you, that you’re so, so close to cumming on his cock and really giving him what he wants rather than pleasing yourself. you figure that’s you gone now; you’re more willing to put the boy above your own needs because you’re down that fucking bad for him.

“fuck, jude, i’m gonna cum!” you sob, your moans becoming more frequent and higher pitched, legs starting to shake from the intoxicating mix of exhaustion and delight. you’re frantically chanting “please, please, please” into his mouth which parts to swallow your whimpering, wet lips kissing your trembling ones.

“go on, baby, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he groans out, eyes squeezing shut when the feeling of your pussy clamping down tightly on his thickness proves too much to handle, face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. he knows you don’t need his permission, he would’ve let you orgasm as many times as you wanted to, would’ve let you use him like your own personal sex toy, but the words were only there to keep you going when his hips felt like faltering – he needed you cumming on his cock like he promised before, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up himself.

a final scream rips from your throat as you cum hard around jude, pussy clenching and pulsating around his cock so sporadically you thought you were having two orgasms at once. jude can’t handle it anymore, pulling out with a myriad of moans as he pumps his shaft with a hand, decorating the expanse of your lower abdomen with warm, white liquid. you’re still squirming, slowly trying to wheeze out the remaining whimpers from your lungs which you’re finding hard to do with the way jude pants and moans above you, the boy so spent he can’t help but breathe like he hasn’t had access to air for the past hour.

he flops down by your side, arms and legs sprawled like a starfish, chest rising and falling as he attempts to recuperate from the mindblowing sex you two just had. the image is so unserious that you can’t stifle your giggles but you decide to take another step of courage to lay on your side resting your head on his shoulder, fingers stroking his abs and playing with the curly hairs of his happy trail.

the room is quiet now with the scent of sex wafting through your nostrils on occasion but it’s the most comfortable silence you’ve experienced with jude, the feeling of his hot skin on yours so soothing to you.

after a period of panting, jude clears his throat and your ears prick up at the presence of sound. he turns his head towards you and you lift yourself up and off him out of instinct – you want full attention on him.

“i don’t want this to be a one-time kinda thing, y’know,” he proclaims, biting his lip from saying too much in one go.

“what, is this your way of saying you want round two already?” you joke, nose crinkling at the way he rolls his eyes playfully.

“shut up,” he delivers a poke to your side. “i mean, well, i don’t want either one of us to see this as a spur-of-the-moment thing, i just…” you look at him expectantly, silently telling him to continue. “i want you to be my girlfriend, y/n.”

you’re nearly knocked back by his words, wondering if they’re real or if you’re simply just hearing things. you thought dialogue like that, coming from him, was only reserved for your imagination, kept secret and only spoken to you in late-night mental scenarios that would comfort you on your way to slumberland.

you let out a laugh that’s an odd mix of relief and disbelief, quickly replying “yes, yes, of course” to his awaiting face, which releases a look of relief itself before jude captures your lips with such passion you’re both knocked back onto the plush pillows, giggling into each other’s mouths until your hands find themselves running down the defined muscles of his abdomen and over his hardening cock.

#girlies i’ve never had alcohol in my life so i hope the way i wrote reader & jude being drunk was ok !!! 🫶🏽#then again i’ve never had sex in my life and i write extensively about it so u know . 😭😭😭#guys imagine if before every smut fic i wrote a disclaimer like ‘guys i-i’ve never had sex before but i hope i did okay with this 🥺🥺' LMAO #ALSO omg im sorry abt the inconsistencies in tone + tempo i legit wrote this over a 5 month period + came back to it at times when i didnt #feel like writing + i was just tryna get to the good bit iykwim ( ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)#˗ˏˋ 📝 ˎˊ˗#˗ˏˋ 💬 ˎˊ˗#jude bellingham #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x fem!reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #football imagine #footballer smut #footballer imagine

969 notes · View notes

xhdream · 1 month

Text

18+ mdni hendery #just the tip

you hold up hendery’s tee which you slept in last night with one hand, exposing the skin of your stomach under the sunlight that’s coming from the open window. your legs stay wide open dangling in the air

“baby, please… need more,” you beg between hitched breaths and little moans. “p-please…”

the slow nudging of his soaked tip at your entrance has been going for too long now

you watch through pleading eyes how focused he is on provoking more and more arousal to spill from you on the cold surface of the counter he has you placed on. your unfinished coffee is turning cold next to you

“shhh, i know, baby…” hendery looks up at your face contorted by how needy you are right now. the sun catches every little twitch it makes, making it even more mesmerising. “i know…”

he can tell by the strong way you clench around his tip as he glides it in and out of you, filling the kitchen with lewd squelching sounds that only frustrate you even more. your desperate voice continues to ring in the air, it’s soft and quiet, but enough to turn his head dizzy and make him almost give you what you’re waiting for

your sensitive clit is swelling under the lazy circles of his thumb while his other hand holds the base of his hard cock that keeps overwhelming you with miniature pumps when the last thing you want this morning is to take things slow

#— 📝 short writings #time to pay some attention to my other crushes too ><#wayv smut #hendery smut #hendery hard thoughts #wayv hard thoughts #wayv hard hours #hendery x reader #wayv x reader #nct hard thoughts #nct smut

211 notes · View notes

bonniepop · 2 months

Text

character: iwaizumi hajime words: 1,000+ warnings: cheap sexy outfits, also a little mature! but nothing too bad. notes: here's a new one for ya!

“fuck!”

you hear the steady thud of padded footsteps before a soft knock on your bathroom door. “baby, are you okay?”

you fight down the scream that bubbles in you throat. “perfectly fine, babe,” you muster, wanting more than anything to just rip this… this… abomination apart. and this kind of stuff was sexy?

“you sure?" your sweet, sweet husband asks. but your side is starting to cramp, you're getting hungry, this outfit is tiring you out, and you're running out of patience.

“yes, i am fucking fine!” you practically shout, taking a bright red ribbon from behind you. you angrily pull it through a lacy white loop and—fuck, no, that’s not right.

you wail.

the knocks come again, this time sharper and more urgent against the wooden door. “babe, i’m coming in.”

“NO!” you scream, flinging yourself against the door to hold it shut. “do not come inside! i mean it, hajime!”

iwaizumi starts, "you sound like you are in a lot of pain—”

“i'm fine!”

you can imagine what he looks like—backed away from the door and rolling his eyes. when you texted him that he had “a sexy surprise waiting at home,” you're sure he didn’t exactly picture himself waiting on the bed for the past twenty minutes and his apparently irate wife cursing her head off behind their bathroom door.

"sweetheart, can you just tell me what's going on?" he bargains.

you whimper, trying to find the right red string for the right white loop. "just—give me a—ah!"

“baby,” iwaizumi says patiently, "no offense or anything, but this entire situation is seriously turning me, well… off. can i just go to bed? i’ve had a long day.”

your fingers freeze in the middle of fiddling with the garment. after a long pause, you reach for the door and poke your head out, eyes seeking out your husband. he's standing in front of the door, arms folded over his chest. (you observe how tight his sleep shirt is on him now. you try not to drool.)

you sigh and pull your head back. "fine," you say in defeat, taking a few steps back. "come in."

of all the scenarios he'd imagined, this was one of the ones iwaizumi lease expected to see.

to be honest, he'd half expected you to just stand there naked. a "sexy surprise waiting at home" entailed a lack of clothing, more or less. but what he didn't expect to find when he pushed open the door was you standing awkwardly in the middle of your spacious bathroom, donning a particularly bright and lacy… thing with a frilly skirt and frilly sleeves and way too many ribbons but wrapped snugly around your waist.

admittedly, it did very nice things to your breasts.

very, very nice things to your breasts.

iwaizumi tried to find the words. "wha—what—” he stutters, unable to think let alone form coherent sentences, eyes wide and disbelieving. the outfit was one thing, but the angry flush you had on your cheeks that made him—um… well, tiny him—stand at attention.

overall, the visual was very... stimulating.

“what is that?” he finally said, his voice cracking at the end like it hadn’t since he was a teenager.

you obviously mistook his breathlessness for absurdity and scowled. “you were supposed to come home to a sexy nurse,” you admit rather gruffly, gesturing to a pathetically crumpled excuse of a hat with a red cross lying near the sink. you fail to notice the way your husband was gaping at you, oblivious to the things you were doing to him by merely standing there.

“wh—how—” iwaizumi shook his head, trying his hardest to form coherent thoughts. “where did you even get this?”

“oikawa thought it would be a nice bridal shower gift.”

"wh—you invited him to your bridal shower?"

"yeah. didn't i tell you?"

"i—you know what? i'm not even going to ask. for the bridal shower and the gift."

"good idea. both are very suspect." you shook your head in frustration and tugged at the messed up ribbons. "but yeah. this is it."

silence. you close your eyes and sigh.

"can you just help me get this off?" was what you meant to say, but didn't get to finish, because at some point in the sentence, your husband pressed his mouth to yours in a devouring kiss—how’d he cross the room that quickly?—and pushed you against the wall, grabbing and pinning your wrists next to your head. “hajime,” you breathe, and he drags his lips down her neck.

“you are so hot, babe,” he whispered earnestly.

“wh—really?” you blurt, eyes wide. “you don’t find this ridiculous at all?”

“oh, it’s pretty stupid,” he admits frankly, and you feel what the characters on the office feel when they stare right into a camera. “but, i mean,” iwaizumi continues, "i always think you’re sexy. you don’t have to… you know, dress up for it.”

your chest warms a little. "that's so sweet, baby."

“yeah, well,” he says, his cheeks turning the slightest bit pink.

“well, then,” you declare, “I should take this off and we can get right to it.”

iwaizumi grinned wickedly. “no, you know what? this might be fun."

"we really don't have to—"

"i’m actually feeling pretty feverish. what do you think I should do, nurse?” he leans in and nips at your earlobe, sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine and to other, more excited places of your body.

you're quiet for a bit. "i'm so sorry, i know you're trying to turn me on and kick off this whole role play thing, but i'm trying to figure out what the medically accurate thing to recommend is."

iwaizumi stares at you with the blankest of expressions. "it's role play, baby. you play a role."

"yeah, but like, does that mean we can't incorporate any medical accuracy here? i'm sure grey's anatomy is somewhat accurate."

he sighs. "you know what, how 'bout we just take off this ridiculous outfit and skip straight to the sex?"

you nod. "great idea. let me just—oh my god, hajime!" you shriek.

without warning, he tears the outfit right down the middle, unveiling your bare skin. your jaw is slack at the sheer display of power. (also, this turns you on. by a lot.)

"now," he says, tossing the garment to the side and dusting off his hands. "where were we?"

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi fluff #hq fluff #hq fanfic #hq x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader fluff #x reader #📝 — my writing

259 notes · View notes

lovelyhan · 10 months

Note

elaborate in that shua imagine rn 🔪🔪🔪

JOSHUA — 00:51

i wasn't going to but i'm sooo horny worked up for shua these days that maybe i can use a little self indulgence 🧍attached the fansite pics that drove me insane in the middle of the day for funsies too <3

warnings: school uniform kink? smut (MINORS DNI)

"it wasn't this tight before." joshua pouts as he checks himself out in the mirror right after buttoning his shirt. "my friends used to tease me for being all lanky back in tenth grade, too."

it takes you a while to formulate a response—definitely not because you're distracted by the way the taut fabric of his old high school uniform visibly strains against the delicious circumference of his biceps. joshua glances behind him with a quizzical look.

"uh." you gulp, hoping to god that he didn't notice the way you almost drooled. "you go to the gym like thrice a week. i think the gains are very much spoken for."

your clipped response makes him arch an eyebrow but your boyfriend doesn't really comment on it. instead, he turns back to gaze at his reflection and promptly flexes his arms—the poor short sleeves doing their best not to tear at the seams.

fuck. you can feel your core throbbing at the supposedly innocent sight of your boyfriend admiring his own hard work. you cross your legs from where you're seated on the swiveling chair by his desk, silently pleading for your brain to please get out of the gutter.

"guess you're right," joshua laughs softly. "didn't expect that it'd be tight around the chest too though. maybe all that weight training was worth it after all."

"but baby, why are you looking at me like you wanna fuck?"

long story short, that's how you ended up on top of joshua's childhood bed with your skirt bunched up your hips—his long, thick cock sliding into your velvet heat with a torturously slow pace.

"you're such a filthy girl, aren't you?" he chuckles, tongue swiping along his bottom lip as he watches his length disappear inside you. "my mom is kind enough to cook us dinner downstairs but here you are getting worked up because of an old uniform. you like my arms that much, baby?"

you hate how joshua knows you like the back of his hand. you barely even gave away any hint of being turned on by how his shirt emphasized his broad shoulders and beefy arms, but he's got killer intuition after all.

"y-yes," you dole out pathetically, helpless from how deliciously he stretches you open. "so fuckin' hot, shua... got wet just looking at you. couldn't help myself."

your boyfriend sighs, planting his palms flat on either side of your head as he gazes at you lovingly and ravenously at the same time. he halts his movements completely as he lets you feel the way his cock throbs inside you.

"so impatient," he scolds. "couldn't wait until we got home before giving me those pretty bedroom eyes, huh?"

not seeing any incentive in saving face with a lie, you nod. "need you now. p-please fuck me shua. wanna get split in half on your cock—!"

he meets you halfway with a harsh thrust that makes the headboard thud against the wall, momentarily startling you out of your fucked out haze.

"god. fuck, baby," joshua rasps before leaning down to graze his teeth along the cut of your jaw. "don't say those kinds of things. we need to be quiet. wouldn't want my parents knowing how much of a dirty girl you are—wanting to get fucked stupid in my bed on the first visit—now do you?"

you shake your head—a prickle of rationality miraculously still floating amidst your lust-addled mind. joshua's parents are absolute sweethearts. they welcomed you into their house with open arms and wanted nothing but to make you feel at home.

what they don't know—and you hope to god won't ever find out—is that you feel most at home with your hot boyfriend fucking you stupid.

"joshua," you whimper quietly as he pounds you into the mattress—his arms flexing with the strain of thrusting into you with vigor while staying as quiet as possible. "you fuck me so good, baby. fucking love your cock s-so much!"

"you sure it's my cock that you love, not this uniform?" he breathes with a condescending smile—the muffled noise of skin slapping against skin ringing in your ears. "i've never seen you get horny so fucking quick over any other outfit i've worn before."

you can't even chide him for insinuating that you have some sort of school uniform kink or whatever—too delirious with how the vein running along the underside of his dick slides along your gummy walls. the wet sound of sex fills the room and you can only hope that neither of his parents would hear what's really going on in their only son's bedroom.

"'m so close, shua," you plead, tears catching along the line of your lashes as you hook your arms around his neck. "fill me up, please, please. need to feel you come in me, baby—i want it."

"needy fucking girl," he growls before hooking the back of your knees across his elbows—fucking into you with waning precision. "i'll finish inside this needy pussy and you'll sit at the dinner table with my cum dripping out of your hole. you want that, huh?"

before you can wrench out a semi-coherent response, joshua crushes his lips against yours before lifting your ass higher from the mattress. the new angle makes the fat head of his cock graze the sensitive patch of flesh deep inside you—making you cry out pathetically against his mouth.

your pussy clamps around joshua's heavy length with a vice grip, eyes fluttering as your orgasm washes over you like a storm surging into calm shores. your boyfriend isn't too far behind as he starts muttering obscenities against your lips before you feel his hot cum surge into your battered cunt—filling you until overflowing.

he strokes your hair lovingly as you both come down from your high, shared pants saturating the air with heat as he flashes you a ditzy smile. lightheadedness aside, you roll your eyes before mustering what little strength you have left to lean in and press a kiss on his lips.

then, a knock on his door interrupts the quiet afterglow.

"joshua, dinner's ready. both of you head back down, okay?"

he looks at you before stifling a soft laugh, slipping his softening cock out of your ruined hole before flashing you another heart-rending grin.

"we'll be right down, mom."

#svthub #seventeen smut #joshua smut #hong jisoo smut #📝 drabble #writing this was not in my bingo card tonight #but look what 071023 joshua did to me anyway 🧍#lovelyhan

460 notes · View notes

dix0nvix3n · 4 months

Text

MDNI 18+

Murphy definitely dirty talks and praises you in different languages. I mean he knows so many, why not use them?

In bed he'd fluently switch between languages. He loves watching you get all flustered because even though you don't know what he's saying you know it's absolutely sinful.

You'd lay with him in bed after you're done fucking for the night and your mind is still swimming in euphoria, you'd giggle and sweetly ask him what languages he was using and what he was saying to you. He'd repeat the words back and translate them with a straight face and he'd laugh as you hide your face in his chest, feeling your face heat up.

Eventually because he's translated enough to you during pillow talk, you end up being able to dirty talk in other languages too, usually just simple phrases but you'd be somewhere in public and say something to him and laugh as you watch his cheeks flush pink and prepare yourself for the night ahead of you.

#murphy macmanus x reader #murphy macmanus x reader smut #murphy macmanus #the boondock saints #norman reedus #i don't know how to write for murphy but i needed to get this out while rewatching the boondock saints #murphy my beloved <3 #;daggerwrites 🗡️📝

139 notes · View notes

self-ships-ahoy · 11 months

Text

"I'll see you tomorrow then," Corinne smiled as she began to head for the office door, "G'night, E.dgeworth."

"Miles." He said after a brief pause.

She stopped, turning to look back at him, "...Really?"

He nods, "So long as we're alone. You know how nosy some people can be."

Another smile, followed by a nod of understanding. "Yeah. Well...g-goodnight, Miles..."

And she leaves.

He didn't move from his spot for what felt like hours, replaying the sound of his name on her lips.

He realizes he made a good decision.

#💗 turnabout romance #📝 my writing #just spilled this out #had this in my head since i saw the post so yeah #self ship #self shipping

4 notes · View notes

pompompurin1028 · 8 months

Text

His Smiles

Summary: You observe Dazai's smiles

Feat: Dazai, Reader

Genre: Character study(-ish) Drabble

Warnings: None

A/N: It's been a long time since I've written something, here's just something I wrote up really quickly while trying not to judge my own writing too hard but here's Dazai because I miss him :(

My Masterlist

More often than not, you spot Dazai with a smile on his lips.

A close-mouth smile was his favourite one, you supposed, after having watched him from your desk at the Armed Detective Agency for days on end. In a way, you would describe it as cute, especially that one time you saw him pressing a piece of paper to his lips with a grin on his face, with a little glint in his eyes.

Or perhaps, they were merely his most common smile that he put on his lips. Because though you call them a smile, you could never quite tell how he was really feeling underneath the expression.

As you continued your observation of the enigma that is Dazai, you noticed his smiles seems almost mechanical, unnatural in a way that was ineffable to you, or perhaps even calculated. Though every day you found a similar expression on his face: his eyes were closed and his lips lifted slightly upwards into a grin after a round of teasing his other coworkers such as Kunikida or Atsushi, it seemed that he had something hidden beneath his smiles. Because you could swear… there was, sometimes, an unnerving consistency to his expressions.

And once, when his eyes pierced yours across the room, you could almost swear, just by the tension in the air, that he knew about your observations. Though the sharpness in his eyes melted into a usual grin, and his behaviours returned to that of a dramatic clown, the image of his piercing gaze remained fresh on your mind.

Perhaps due to such, after that day, your later observations of his smiles only grew to unnerve you. Especially as the Agency had been involved in more missions than it ever had in recent years, and you saw first hand the grins he gave to his enemies.

His expressions were more calculated as before, you found. And you could feel the added sharpness you sensed before in his gaze, in his grins, and just with that, you thought, it was like he was cutting his enemies with a knife before the fight even started. For some time, while looking at him in these conditions, you had it set in your mind that this was the true nature of Dazai Osamu.

And yet…

Though rarely do these days come across, but there were times when his smile revealed to you a vastly different nature of this man you thought you knew.

Because there was one time you caught him alone, looking at the fallen petals of the cherry blossoms in the spring that showered down on him from a gust of wind. His bandaged arm upstretched towards the sky, as if wanting to catch one of the petals in his hand. Among the bright coloured flowers and leaves, and the bright blue sky above, lacking his typical dramatic demanour and smile, to you, he appeared almost grey among all the colours surrounding him despite being embraced by his sand-coloured coat. Though not a single petal landed in his outstretched hand, a smile revealed itself on his face.

His gaze was dull, no longer piercing with the harshness you once naively thought he could never achieve, nor glistening with momentary mirth. In contrast, you could vaguely see a few creases under his eyes, which you thought made his expression much more gentle, much more… human. His lips are turned upwards into a closed-mouth smile, one that you have seen many times from him. But this smile does not seem forced, nor does it feel unnatural like some of his smiles you have observed. Despite the melancholy you could feel in his eyes, he smiled at the bittersweet scene before him, for some reason, the smile felt kind.

Having viewed this scene that you knew you should not have witnessed, you felt your chest flood with warmth. This was the smile you had been seeking, the smile that allowed you to witness Dazai Osamu.

Send an ask or comment HERE to be added to my tag list!

@requiem626k @shadyteacup @alittlesimp @greenshirtimagines @jadegreenimmortality @sakikoshi @KENMASBBYGRL @DAZAISUSEDBANDAGES @jessbeinme15 @MIKASA-STAN-ACCOUNT @missrown @ginswife @tender-rosiey @sonder-paradise @darlinqserenity @whorefordazai @shamelesspastawobblerland @rirk-ke @dazaiaiko @planetxiao @sebtomm @izukus-gf @lavidadelavie @swrdemon @ARIXSUX @beautiful-is-boring @seisitive @sigmafied @STORIES-FROM-SAINT-PETERSBURG @thekaylahub @xo-cuteplosion-xo @SIMPLYASIMPSBLOG @kisara-16reblogs @straydogsbungou @titamaow @kaus-quietis @thatdazaikin @yelanwifey @kunikida-simp

#dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #dazai osamu x y/n #dazai osamu x you #bsd dazai x reader #bsd dazai x you #bsd dazai x y/n #x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd fanfiction #bungou stray dogs fanfiction #kat writes📝#✒️ . he that reigns and lives within my thoughts

223 notes · View notes

promisingyounglady · 2 months

Text

stranger. | BB x Reader

SYNOPSIS: drunk hookup, no names exchanged, bradley is a pussy eating king.

PAIRING: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

You pant, breathing heavily

“W-What’s your name again?”

A head pops up from in between your legs, giving you a sight that makes you delirious from the sheer sexiness of it all.

He’s golden, the warm light from the bedside table lamp, casting a glow on his pink cheeks. Dog tags hang from his collar bones.

He’s got pretty eyes, a strong nose and a shit-eating grin covered by a mustache that’s dripping in your slick.

You hadn’t even had time to even exchange names, only knowing that you were mutual friends of Jake who met at tonight’s party. One too many shots later and you’re here getting eaten out by a fighter pilot you don’t even know the name of.

He comes forward, leaning into your breath as he mutters softly. “Bradley. Bradshaw.”

You moan, feeling how his hands slide up your body as he utters his name, embarrassingly squirming under his touch.

“Say it back” He requests, deep brown eyes gazing into yours.

You oblige, moaning his name in a breathless whisper.

“Bradley”

He smiles, kissing you to shut you up before he goes down back in between your legs, pecks littered against the flesh of your inner thighs.

“Say my name and then ask me to eat you out”

You almost can’t believe your ears. You look down, gripping the sheets as you stare the smug bastard down.

“Nicely” he adds, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit as he smirks.

You throw your head back, eyes shutting as you mumble embarrassingly. “Eat me bradley”

His hands roam to your tits, giving them a squeeze

“Louder” he replies, muffled as he’s concentrated in stuffing his face in your vagina, choosing to give small unsatisfying licks until you say it properly.

You cry out, chest rising. “Eat me out, Bradley” you grit, moaning when he finally swipes his nose along your pussy, giving you what you want.

“I don’t like you.” you huff, glaring at the head of hair you’re running your hands through.

You feel him smile against your mound, coming up to snarkily change the topic.

“What’s your name?”

700 notes · View notes

sadderdaazee · 4 months

Text

“𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬.”

pairings; choso kamo x fem!reader! (she/her)

warnings; hair-down choso, fluff, ooc choso (kinda?? idek lmao 💀) very insomniac reader, car rides, overspeeding, reader is kinda shorter than choso + not proofread!

wc; 3k ish

insp; a playlist. song recc below.

“you still up?”

“yeah...”

the mattress shifts and whispers beneath you.

“can’t sleep?”

“mhm,” you murmur against your pillow, skimming your fingers delicately against his jaw, thumb caressing that tattoo adorning the bridge of his nose.

wondering if they’re mistakes of adolescence or marks of fashion. you don’t ask him, though. you like to unravel the reasons by your own.

“why?”

“mmm…” your moan stifles within choso’s shoulder as you press your face deeper into his bare skin, not quite answering his curiosity.

he chuckles.

“you gonna be fine, lovey,” he doesn’t ask further. he knows you’ll tell him when you want to. so, in a breath, choso’s calloused hand tugs against your neck, pulling you into his bare chest in a groggy embrace, kissing the top of your head again and again and again.

you smile into his chest, fingers drawing circles against his tattoo laden limbs and cheeks pressing against his warm skin.

“try countin’ sheeps in y’head,” he places one deep murmured kiss against your head, your leaden eyes fluttering in a sigh.

“already tried that.” you confess among listening to the thunder brawling beneath his ribs.

he doesn’t reply, lips pressing about your head and feeling your stress ebb under his skin.

then, he’s sitting up till the blanket billowing about his limbs covers less of him and more of yours.

you ache the lost feeling of his bare skin burning within yours when he’s standing up.

“where’re y’goin…” you mutter in a leaden sigh, draped in a muzzy contorted whine.

choso doesn’t reply, disappears into the closet as you sit up, blanket falling from your nude limbs.

the cool air seeps about your skin, drooping from your collar to your bare breasts.

you await, fiddling with your fingers in that renowned anticipation he’s memorized. worried that this time, maybe choso’s finally had it with your nightly plights.

and when he’s appearing back from the closet, more modest — a sweater concealing his tattoos that paint about his abs, his hair sweeping against his shoulders, he’s throwing a hoodie towards you.

“what’s this— oh, i need to wear my bra—” you scurry among the blanket’s waves, searching for your bra laying somewhere, but with a tut of choso’s tongue, you sit still.

your gaze imprisons his sight, one thats drawing closer till distance is a plaything amongst you and him, his breath becoming one with yours.

his eyes haphazardly trail to yours, to your perky nipples that harden under the scarce heat of your blanket and the hiraeth of the lingering heat from his skin.

and just when you’re expecting him to press himself to you, kiss and burn what’s left of you in embers, pin you against the bed till he’s one with you and your bare bodies speak more than words, he’s only forcing your hands up.

they face the ceiling, loose and submitting, and with the confusion draping your gaze, he’s picking the hoodie thats fallen onto your lap, a knee on the mattress as you slither closer to him.

he’s pulling the hoodie over your head and taking each of your arms, weaving them through the sleeves of his hoodie without meeting your gaze once. the hoodie sheaths against your skin, his scent drawling into your skin and nose, scent leaving the fabric

his fingers comb through your scalp, arranging the stray tufts of hair that fall against your face, and you sneak a glance his way, only to find his eyes already doting yours, trailing from your gaze to your lips and to your eyes again.

you suck a breath, parting your lips because obviously, he has something on his mind, something involving you and him to go out.

at 1 a.m, that is.

“where are we go—” but you’re already being picked up, choso’s fingers pressing by your flesh and holding you in a bridal carry.

and like a reflex, your hands circle around his neck.

“shh,” he kisses your head again, gesturing toward the key holder. “relax that pretty little head, we’re only goin’ out.”

“this late?” you take the key to his car and he carries you out of the house, uses the key to unlock his car, hands still pressing you into his body.

“mm, yes, the roads will be clear.” he smiles. “promise bubby, you’ll love it.”

then, he’s gently placing you in the passenger seat, closing the door and seating himself by the driver’s seat.

he leans by you, and finds confusion still plaguing onto your lips, pulls your seatbelt and straps you by the seat.

his dark locks flood by his face when he’s turning the music on.

and you’re admiring it. urging to fish the wayward strands behind his ear and kiss the curve of his jaw.

yet, you stare at him with an eyebrow perched, despite the endearing gaze that melts within your irises.

“is it today?” you ask, eyebrow threatening to mend with your hairline.

“what’s today?”

“the day you kill me and bury me in a forest?”

a hearty giggle births among choso’s succulent lips, flourishing into a laughter that entrances every thread in your body.

the faintest fluster bruises the flesh beneath your skin at the sound, within the heat thats billowing across your face, not that its visible anyways.

“no, no,” he wipes the tear slipping away from his lashes, “i’d kill myself before killing you.”

“wow. at least leave me alone in the afterlife.” you find yourself swallowing the small rumble of that chuckle that breathes within your chest.

“nah, nah,” he says as he steers and turns, trees sprinting about, the veins beneath his skin flexing, urging you to do something unwise. “don’t want no man up there take any chances with my girl.”

“ew.” you roll your eyes, mischief gripping your gaze taut, “so possessive and jealous.”

“ah, maybe you’d take your chances with the hot guys up there.”

but you’re already throwing yourself onto him, playfully punching him as he dodges them, laughing and warning the road ahead. and with a huff, you settle back in your seat, hands folded by your chest.

“perish.” you pout.

“aww,” he smiles. “you resemble a cat— oh, you wanna eat something?” choso asks, pulling through a small 7/11 store open nearby.

you nod with a grin. “ice-cream.” you reply, watching him get out of the car.

he walks over to your side, opens the door for you and you’re reminded how you’re not even wearing your sandals.

but alas, choso is leaning over you, taking your sandals from the backseat, which you wonder when he’d put them there. he’s crouching again, taking your sandals and slipping them over your socked feet.

you grin up at him, mouthing a small i love you that’s weaved beneath your words when he takes your hand and leads you out of the car.

“my prince charming.” scarred, that is.

the aisles are dimly lit and choso’s fingers entwine amidst yours. he looks at you, watches your eyes spry about when you’re shuffling through the different varieties of ice-cream in the freezer.

and he’s reminded yet again, how every second with you makes him fall over and over for you. and maybe he will fall in love with you more, he doesn’t know the limits. doesn’t even want to know the limits. all he knows is he’s content till there’s still a smile hidden beneath your lips.

he hates the pang in his chest when he sees your weary eyes every second night, unable to succumb to rest. or when your lids would flutter anxiously amidst sleeping. he would kiss them to a soft still, closer, pulling you into him.

“butterscotch or mint chocochip.” you ask, finger pressing against your bottom lip with a frown plaguing your gaze.

“both.” he kisses the side of your head, “i’ll take whichever you wouldn’t.”

“we’ll just kiss and mix the flavors, no big deal.” you shrug.

“you want me to kiss you?” he smirks, its cheesy.

“what if i do?”

his hand slides lower till they hover right above your waist. God darn him for being tall, because when he’s so close, his eyes entrapping yours, you can’t help but look up. he has to lean down a bit, so his lips are meeting yours and caressing them like a quiet soliloquy.

it’s not a deep indulgent kiss, rather a peck. coupled with another, peppering against your own. you smile. he pecks it too.

pecks the corner of your lips, your nose, your forehead, then your lips again — until a stifled cough musters your attention.

the girl skimming through her magazine at the counter physically scowls at you both.

you kiss choso’s cheek, the fluster right at the corner of his tattoo, tucking the drooling strands of his hair that fall against your face before pulling back, taking two of the ice-cream cones out of the freezer, heading towards the register and billing the stuff. choso pays.

then, he’s circling his arms around your waist from behind, letting you lead him to the car as his lips keep pecking your neck. you tell him to stop, voice laden with intangible chuckles he could store into the chambers of his heart.

the tufts of his dark locks fall against his eyes as he combs his fingers through them, pushing them back as you both lean on his car.

you unwrap both of the cold desserts, and you feed him mint-chocolate first. then you raise the butterscotch one to his face, and he licks it too. you follow, licking mint one first then butterscotch.

“i like the butterscotch one,” you tell him and give him the mint one. “you?” your hand tucks into the pocket of the hoodie you were wearing when a small gust of winter breeze kisses your skin.

“i like you.” he replies, arm snaking around your waist to pull you so close to him in the empty parking lot with only a street lamp to flicker amidst.

your back presses against him, and you can feel his heartbeat rumble within his ribs and reverb against yours from the back. and you’ve come to realize, your hearts beat in sync. it makes yours skip a beat. love him more.

“i like butterscotch more.” you tease, a giggle slipping from your lips as your eyes meet the sky, grey clouds staring down at you, blanketing the sky with its sweater.

he chuckles softly before turning you around. you look up at him, and he watches your eyes bloom, with a kind of bubbly and unconcealed excitement and happiness, so absurdly precious — he can’t help but fall for you once more.

you kiss him again, lost within the strawberry blooming by his tattoo you dote so much. the taste of his mint-chocochip mingles with your butterscotch, and you chuckle. he chuckles too.

you both can taste it. the cool peppery butterscotch on your tongues.

he likes it better mixed. like you and him. mended together. one together.

he licks his ice-cream, and you just stare at each others eyes, the crisp of winter lingering beneath your tongues, the flickering street lamps shadowing what it can.

then, you bite your ice-cream with mischief hugging your grin.

impish horror flashes choso’s eyes.

he grimaces.

“that has to be borderline psychotic.” he licks and uses his lips to bite the ice cream.

you laugh, and he loves the way your chest quakes and reverberates within his.

“you’re just weak.” you kiss him again, taste the winter flurrying against his lips. you shiver onto his lips, and he nuzzles you deeper within his chest.

you both enjoy the moment, dimly lit under the moon as the clouds move by, and when you’re finished with the dessert, you’re sitting back inside the car. choso’s revving the engine, and you’re watching him with a dreamy gaze.

wondering how you’d gotten so lucky?

you don’t remember the first time you saw him. you thought he was like a cat, you called him a cat, and he was combing his hair back in the parking of your college. you didn’t fall for him at first sight though.

you barely remember when you fell for him.

he was a curiosity you wanted to pet at first, knowing at the back of your head that unraveling that curiosity would sink his presence beneath your ribs and settle its home right beside your heart.

but he only settled his home within your heart.

“you’re so beautiful,” you don’t acknowledge you’re speaking your thoughts.

he doesn’t mind it. you don’t either.

instead, he smiles and turns the music on, hand giving your thighs a squeeze.

“yeah?” he asks with that small voice that rouses your melting heart to collapse into a puddle.

“very.” you reply. “i love you.”

i love you too. he wants to say. so utterly, madly, so desperately that you’ve become the lighthouse of my thoughts, i barely want to enjoy anything without your smiles and teasing marks. he could add.

he doesn’t.

he smiles wider.

you lean back within your seat adopting his smile, but the biting worry still claws at the back of your throat like a prickly knife stuck between your ribs. worry of what had been keeping you up tonight. how long will you be stealing your boyfriend’s sleep like this?

so you sigh.

if choso notices it, he doesn’t speak on it.

he decides to accelerate his car, just a notch that would bubble up fuzzy excitement within your guts and would pull a smile on your lips.

“told ya’ the roads would be empty.” he grins, and grins wider when he sees your toothy one.

then he accelerates more, and you’re sinking into your seat from the pressure. it doesn’t deny the laughter fizzing at the back of your throat, and choso laughs among yours, feeling the engine of his car roar.

like an interlude of choirs singing amongst your breaths, and your hand latched against his bicep despite the big, giddy smile on your face.

you trust choso with your life, but the delirium that came with speeding so fast on this lone road had you pressing your fingers deeper into his skin, that if you were to let go, you’d be washed away.

“heyy, open y’eyes, you’re missing out!” he shouts over the roaring engine with a breathy laugh that creases his eyes. you slowly pry your eyes open, and had that sight not stolen your breaths, you would tell him how beautiful it is.

the stars are kissing, all blurry as choso slows down. they draw clearer, and finally, at the edge of road, they picture against your gaze, twinkling over the gleam thats spry within your eyes.

choso huffs an exhale, his hair falling against his shoulders.

“come,” he says, exiting the car and opening the door for you. he doesn’t give you the chance to help yourself as he picks you up in his arms. you use your feet to remove your socks, barefeet within his arms. he doesn’t forget to take the big cozy shawl you forgot in his car.

the fleeting blue luminates against the underside of choso’s face. the fleeting blue from the ocean that’s lighting in sparks and glittery blue from the bioluminescence.

the vast sky sways to the breeze along with the palm trees, the cool wind nipping at your skin. you digress, mind completely delved unto the admiration of what was in front of you. and if you were lying, even a little, you’d say this wasn’t the most enthralling sight you’ve ever seen.

everything smelled of saltwater and winter, eyes lighting with hues of blue at the mercy of the sea.

choso places you down to your feet, the wet sand instantly kissing your feet that makes you cringe. but you digress that too, when you see how your footprints leave marks when you’re walking against it, glittery, your mouth pried slightly apart awaiting words you can’t speak yet.

“choso…” you coax, in a tone meant to say his name, breath flurrying within the air in vapor. you can taste the salt hanging within the air. wonder if his lips would adopt the taste too.

for a while, choso smiles, hugging you from behind and kissing the top of your head.

“like it?” he asks, his hands within the pocket of your hoodie as you walk towards the lucent water.

“i’ve never seen anything like this…” you’re whispering, too amused by the water under the black silk draped over the sky. “it’s beautiful.”

“more than me?”

“yes.” you elbow him lightly with an impish tease draping your tone.

you feel him shiver above your head, and you think if he’s cozy enough.

you pull him closer anyways, stopping by where the starry sea bruises the shore. he shivers foot to foot. you tuck his hands deeper within yourself, feel his teeth cease to clatter, when you’re turning around and embracing your arms around his awfully muscled limbs.

“you’re an idiot,” you scold when you feel his shivers dissolve beneath your embrace.

“why?” he asks, sitting by the wet sand, still within your arms as you’re placed on his lap.

he has a smile on his lips. a grin under his teeth, a hand rubbing against your back and other fiddling with the countless white specks of seashells within the sand.

the tip of his nose is scarlet, a compliment to his tattoo drawing about his nose. you like to kiss it. so you kiss it. once. maybe twice. or thrice. you never count.

you play with the countless blues shimmering beneath your fingers when you touch the sand, pressing your cheek against the middle of his chest, eyes meeting the blue of the ocean across your shoulder, then looking up at his gaze, one thats trained about the expanding ocean where the sparkles of blue dissolve to dark water. “because—”

but his lips are ceasing your words. he kisses you. kisses more. kisser even deeper. and he has to think if he’s even been so lost in a kiss before. he pulls you closer, closer than he’s ever let anyone, till theres just no distance left amongst you. your hands draw up, cupping his face and he physically feels the ocean wash him away, heart an erratic thing missing the beats somewhere within the salty taste of your lips and the crisp of the air.

and when he pulls back, a little breathless than before, he chuckles.

“idiot in love with you.” his fingers dance about your hair as he drapes his shawl over you two.

he wants to tell you how he’s visited this beach before. how he’s seen all of this already. what he also wants to tell you is that visiting then was never the same as now. he couldn’t find the beauty of it as mesmerizing as he does now, couldn’t put a finger on that spark that illuminated the sea like he can now.

you lay your head over his collar, kissing the bone endlessly till your eyes are quietly lulled by the washing waves of the ocean, sleepy. you quietly admire the beauty of the sea a little more, for a while more, till your head is lulling within him and you’re submitting to slumber completely.

he gazes at the endless sea till he cannot think anymore, hands rubbing over your limbs in an endearing caress.

and when his eyes are finally looking down, he’s met with a sleeping you.

softly breathing against his chest, the quiet rise and fall beneath your ribs in sync with his.

he has to bite back that overly impish grin, steal himself to not kiss your sleeping face. he finds himself carrying you back to his car, laying you in the seat with the shawl draped about you.

and just when he’s about to close the door, sit by the drivers seat and take you back home, he leans and pecks your lips.

you smile.

“i love you.”

(reblog + like)

104 notes · View notes

son-of-starlight · 5 months

Text

"Hello?" Rusty calls out, slamming his breaks to a stop, causing his train to jostle a bit behind him. Rusty turns around and apologizes quietly before standing up as tall as he can and calling out to the fellow piece of rolling stock who seemed to be by themself on the rail. Rusty was uncertain of how to proceed. This wasn't just some debris he could pick up and move...this machine could be hurt. He didn't want to travel any further until he was certain they were okay. "Are you alright?" Rusty calls out again, and for good measure, he whistles loudly. The kind of whistle used as an attention getter by little switching engines...he hadn't quite grown out of that habit.

#starlight express #starlight express rp #stex #stex rp #roleplay blog #📝Starter Prompts!#gonna post a punch of starters because I have been thinking abt my Rusty SOOO much I wanna do things with him #but I can't write fics for some reason. brain won't let me.#so rp is the easier and more fun option

105 notes · View notes

saleeba · 1 year

Text

infatuated ; jamal musiala 🥀

summary ♡ just a short, sweet smut about sucking dick innit <3

pairing ♡ jamal musiala x gn!reader

content ♡ 18+, smut, oral (m receiving), cum eating, zero plot as per usual 😍

a/n ♡ requested by this lovely anon!! i’m not too in touch with jamal but he seems adorable so i just wanted to explore him a little more with this short fic!! i hope u guys like it esp u anon :D

there was no feeling in the world that could come close to what your mouth feels like on his cock for jamal. not even winning a match nor scoring a goal could fill him with so much elation, he was just that infatuated with you.

when you innocently asked if you could feel him cum in your throat before he had even put a leg into bed, he was far from taken aback, the softness of your voice immediately pulling his lips to yours to place a deep kiss before he replied with a yes please.

and there the two of you had been for the past few minutes — jamal’s legs spread to accommodate your body, flat on your stomach and lips wrapped around the seething-red tip of his cock, not yet wanting to move further, not wanting to rush any bit of this.

“baby, please don’t tease,” jamal whimpered, hips bucking in an attempt to seek relief further into your warm mouth. luckily for you, you had a hand on the base of his cock, your grip just enough to hold him down before you pulled yourself off to scold him.

“i’m not teasing, jamal,” you say with a painted pout on your face. you knew you were teasing, he knew you were teasing, but you still feigned being offended, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to deny you and would let you have your own way. “now, will you let me do what i need to do?”

before jamal could dare to speak out in defense, you tongued his tip, leaving the tiniest kitten licks on the head before you navigated your mouth to the tiny hole in the middle, puckering up to sip away at it. he sighed in defeat, although taking note of how you hadn’t done that before but yet welcoming the new sensation of your mouth giving special attention to his most sensitive part.

“where did you learn to do that?” jamal quizzed, panting as his fingers found refuge stroking your cheek. “i mean, i’m not complaining but-”

“dunno, it was an intrusive thought, i think,” you cut him off with a giggle, hand wrapping around his cock to keep it occupied while you two conversed. you said the next part whilst avoiding eye contact with him, shyness casting your gaze to where your hand was working him slowly. “just wanna drink all of you in.”

the shyness didn’t stop you from taking jamal’s dick back into your mouth though, finally granting his wish of engulfing the throbbing length deeper into you. jamal’s moans dropped a couple of octaves as you moved lower, cheeks pulling in to suck tighter around him while your head dipped up and down.

“oh, fuck, baby,” he huffed out as your tongue talentedly swirled around him, lips running along the few prominent veins on his pretty cock. “you’re taking me so fucking well, love the way your mouth feels, oh fuck!”

his muttering was cut off by the way you sloppily mouthed at his balls, tongue laid flat to coat the smooth skin in your spit as your fingers focused on jerking the first two inches of his cock off. already missing the way he filled your mouth to the brim, you replaced your fingers with your swollen lips, head easily sweeping down to let his tip kiss the back of your throat.

the sounds coming out of jamal’s mouth were becoming desperate with each passing second, his lungs operating even harder to push out sighs and pants of pleasure, which set off your own arousal; the butterflies in your tummy flew even wilder.

“you’re fucking unreal, baby,” jamal praised you, lungs still grabbing onto oxygen to make sure you were hearing how good your mouth felt around him. “gonna cum right inside that tight throat, want you to take it all, angel,”

you moaned around his length, a muffled please sending vibrations right to jamal’s core, the cacophony of filthy slurping sounds, his moans and yours making the tense knot of ecstasy unravel in a split second. with a guttural groan, he came right inside your eager mouth, spurts of milky fluid flooding your throat, your lips insistently tightened around him to draw every drop from his twitching cock. you audibly swallowed his cum, tongue darting out to collect the last few drops that were trickling down his shaft.

“oh, oh my god, baby, oh fuck,” a few moments had passed since he came and your mouth was no longer on him but jamal still felt like he was on fire, the waves of his orgasm still rippling through him. he looked across to see you licking the tips of your fingers, slightly moaning at how determined you were to clean up and take in every bit of him.

once you felt satisfied with your cleaning job, you laid next to his spent body, snuggling up to his side and planting a chaste kiss to his chest. “how did i do, babe?” you pressed, your turn now to stroke your fingertips along the heated skin of his cheek.

“fucking amazing,” he breathed out, laughing in pure dizzy relief before rewarding you with a kiss on the forehead. “once i get my breath back, i’m repaying you so quick, just give me a few minutes.”

you laugh humorously, telling him to take his time, the flame of arousal still burning ferociously in your core.

#y/n when jamal interrupted them: [tyler the creator voice] oh my god can u let me do what i need to do ✋🏽😐#me 🤝 finding pics that don’t match colour wise but still putting them in bc fuck it we ball #also this is my first time writing in past tense so pls lmk if there’s any grammatical issues #safe to say this is my only time writing in past tense i just don’t like it for some reason 😭#˗ˏˋ 📝 ˎˊ˗#˗ˏˋ 💬 ˎˊ˗#jamal musiala #jamal musiala imagine #jamal musiala smut #jamal musiala x reader #jamal musiala x gn!reader #jamal musiala x fem!reader #jamal musiala x you #football imagine #footballer imagine #footballer smut

341 notes · View notes

bonniepop · 2 months

Text

character: miya atsumu words: 1,800+ tags: the comedy that comes with killing bugs. literally that’s it. notes: i wrote this two years ago and it's still fucking funny. re-wrote it to make it fractionally funnier.

“YO!” atsumu cries, flashing you a panicked glare from over his shoulder. “don’t push me!”

“then move faster!” you snap, pressing yourself close to your boyfriend’s back as he creeps around your apartment in search of the cursed cockroach that you’d spotted on the wall earlier that night. after locking yourself in your room, you made a panicked phone call to atsumu and he came over (after a few minutes of sighing and grumbling).

immediately, you'd pressed a slipper in his hand and nearly kicked him into your living room to deal with the problem. atsumu had grumbled about how much of a little bitch you were being, but when he saw something flash through the air, he nearly steamrolled you in his effort to run away.

you'd wanted to call him a little bitch, too, but you were too focused on the fact that the cockroach was still on the loose to quip.

“i think—AGH! ATSUMU!” you yell, jumping and shaking out your leg when you felt something brush your ankle. frantically, you look at the floor around you, and whimper when there was no bug to be found.

“WHAT?!” atsumu shrieks in a rather high pitch, nearly whacking you in the head with his slipper. "WHAT?!"

“no, sorry, i think it was the edge of the curtain,” you sniff, pushing his arm with the slipper away. "or i think it was just my hair. it was nothing." your relief fades to irritation. "also, if you so much as touch my face with this thing i will make you eat this goddamn slipper.”

atsumu's jaw goes slack. “what the fuck, you asked me to come over and help you—”

“do you know how expensive the skincare i have on my face is?!” you demand, glaring. “there’s no way in hell—”

“wh—you’re so ungrateful!” he cries, just like a little bitch would, throwing his hands up in the air. “i woke up at five a.m., had a terrible day at training, and when i finally relax at home, you ask me to come over to kill a cockroach—”

you gape. “you said you wouldn't take that against me!”

“yeah, before i found out that you're literally just being a little bitch about a bug!” atsumu declares, wildly gesticulating. in his haste, though, he lets go of the slipper and it lands near your armchair. something dark darts up from the ground and flies across the room.

you both shriek (one of you hit a higher pitch, you can't tell who), and run back out into the hallway.

“atsumu,” you shudder, wriggling around as if trying to shake off something invisible. “oh my god, oh my god—”

he panicks, rubbing his arms in nervousness. “fuck, that thing is huge!"

you jump around in anxiety. “oh my god. oh my god, atsumu, get back in there and kill it—”

“what?! like hell i will!” he grabs his other slipper from his foot—he’d been walking around in just one slipper the whole time—and frantically pushes it towards you. “you kill it!”

“wh—” your jaw drops, whacking his hand away. “you little bitch!”

his face looks absolutely offended. “you’re just as little of a bitch as me—”

“what are the point of your muscles if you can’t kill this one bug—”

he’s so mad he flexes his biceps in your face and points at them, slipper flopping around in his fist. “these are for winning v.league championships, not killing a god damn cockroach!”

something black crawls along the wall behind him, and you try not to panic as you grab his hand and turn him around to serve as a human shield. “atsumu, oh my god, atsumu, it’s behind you, kill it, killitkillit—”

he yells and hurls his slipper at the wall, running into the living room. he greatly misses, and the thing is now crawling to your ceiling. in a frantic hurry, you run to your room on the other end of the hallway.

you slam the door and try and hear your racing heart in your ears. there’s a cockroach on the loose in your apartment, and you are trapped in your bedroom.

your boyfriend is out there, but better him than you, really.

your bedside buzzes, and you find your phone screen brightening, device still plugged into the wall.

atsumu 💘: WHAT THE FUCK atsumu 💘: WHY DID U LEAV EME you: I PANICKED I DIND TKNOW WHAT TO DO atsumu 💘: WHERE IS IT you: I DONT KNOW you: HALLWAY??

silence, then a yell, followed by quick, heavy footsteps that get louder and louder. he nearly breaks down your door as he pounds it, so you run from your bedside to let him in. he pushes himself in and locks the door behind him with a swift slam!

“YOU LEFT ME!" he recaps, looking absolutely betrayed.

"i'm sorry, i panicked!" you reasoned. "is it still out there? were you able to get back your shoes?”

“yes, it's still fucking out there,” he snaps, clambering to your dresser. “pack a bag. you’re coming with me.”

“what?" you ask, watching him in confusion, "where?”

“you're moving out,” he says with finality, yanking a backpack from the back of your closet and yanking your sock drawer open. “you're moving out, you're gonna live with me from now on, we're gonna put this place back on the market—"

your jaw drops. “atsumu, it’s one cockroach!”

“if it’s just one cockroach, then you go kill it!” he cries, pointing at you, and that shuts you up.

this is pathetic. you’re thousands of times bigger than that bug and you’re practically let it take over the apartment you pay rent for.

“oh my god, baby, i just remembered,” you say, and he looks back at you. “i have bug spray in the cabinet under the bathroom.”

the blond freezes, your open bag in his hands, stuffed with a dozen pairs of socks. after a beat, he throws it to the floor. “are you serious?! you made me face that thing unarmed when you had bug spray this whole time?!”

“i don’t have time to argue with you,” you snap, opening the door and taking a tentative peek into the hallway. “come on, let’s go get rid of it.”

“i’m gonna—” he grunts. he takes a calming breath before bending over to pick up the bag, and re-stuffing your socks back into your drawer. “fine. fine. let’s go kill the damn thing.”

—

some time later, you finally, finally, manage to kill the cockroach, thanks to around half a can of bug spray haphazardly sprayed that it stunk up the whole room (you) and a lot of screaming (atsumu). the screaming probably didn’t help, but it happened.

atsumu puts on the mask you handed him before he steps into the living room. “i found my slipper. it was next to the door.”

“your other one’s here,” you say from behind your own mask, pointing to the armchair. you open your windows and curtains, airing out the room. “where’d you throw the roach?”

“your kitchen trash bin,” he answers, shaking out his damp hands. “also, i kinda used a lot of soap to wash up, so your sink is bubbly.”

“it’s fine,” you say with an exhausted sigh. that whole exchange tired you out. “i’ll wash it down.”

“okay.” he sniffs. “do you need anything else?”

“i’m good,” you answer, dusting your hands when you tie off the last curtain. you fan your hands in the air in wide, weeping motions. “god, bug spray stinks.”

“you sure you don't wanna spend the night at my place?" he says, fanning the air, too. “it’ll at least smell better.”

“are you sure you’re not inviting me over just so i can clean something up?” wouldn’t be the first time.

"first of all, okay? you made me come here. you owe me. second of all, i take offense to you suggesting that i could be that big of an asshole.” when he sees the blank look on your face, he backtracks. “no, i swear it’s clean. and it smells better than this. samu left for the weekend, too, so it’ll just be you and me.”

“where’d he go?”

“some restaurant owner seminar.”

time to ask the important questions. “did he leave any food?”

“it's samu, so yes. but we can pass by a drive through, in case there isn’t any.” he pads over and wraps a gentle hand around your wrist. “come on, please?”

you let him gently pull you into a loose embrace and say nothing.

“besides, this place’ll smell better when you come back in the morning,” he continues to barter.

you purse your lips.

“you didn’t even thank me for coming to your rescue,” he pouts.

you roll your eyes. "okay, now you're—” you stop mid-sentence when you see something crawl at the corner of your eye. “oh my god. oh my god, atsumu, don’t move.”

“what?” atsumu says, alarmed, his torso stiffening against yours. “what? what is it? what happened?”

you turn your head and find that another cockroach crawling into your living room through the gap in the window.

five minutes later finds you in the passenger seat of atsumu’s car, with nothing but your keys, your phone, and a can of bug spray, as he drives you to his apartment with one slipper on.

(he forgot the other one.)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq fluff #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu x you #haikyuu x you #hq x you #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu fluff #atsumu x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #hq fic #haikyuu fic #haikyuu writing #hq writing #📝 — my writing

199 notes · View notes