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repulsiveliquidation · 2 months

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The White Suit || Jill Roord

based on that suit. good lord. save me. lock me up. anyway, it's just smut lol

warnings : mommy kink, swearing, aftercare, strap-on's, vibrators, oral sex.

“Lieveling, you really can’t make it?”

“I’m stuck in the airport, my love. My flight got canceled and there aren’t any flights to Heathrow till tomorrow.”

“I really wanted you to be here,” Jill says to you sadly.

“Me too baby, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you when I get there tomorrow okay?”

Jill hangs up with tears in her eyes. It’s her first game back since her ACL injury and you had promised to be there to watch her take her place back on the pitch. She steps off the team bus in her suit and sulks the whole warmup, the rest of the girls feel bad for her when she tells them you couldn’t make it.

Little did she know that you managed to get a seat on the next flight out of Spain where you were. You still missed the game but hid out in her room after texting Leila to delay Jill and steal her spare key to get you into her room.

You changed quickly, Leila managing to drag Jill for some coffee before coming back to the hotel to give you some time to get ready. You pulled on a light blue lingerie set that was reminiscent of the Man City blue, thigh-highs pulled up nice and taut secured to your bottoms. Your harness lay waiting on the bed, an acceptable array of straps right beside it.

Your hair fell perfectly around your shoulders, skin soft and supple with every move you made. A light pink lipstick perfectly lathered on your lips. An aromatherapy machine gently spews lavender-scented mist, permeating the room. You smiled, towel laid out on the bed right in the middle ready for your night of celebrations.

Leila texted you that they were in the elevator up so you sat on the bed with your legs crossed waiting for Jill to walk in. You were a little nervous and there were butterflies in your stomach, hoping that Jill would be surprised and not upset.

“Leila, stop being so touchy I’m not going to leave this room till she comes tomorrow–baby?” Jill says in surprise, standing in the doorway in shock. Leila and Laia grin and cheer as they walk to their room, cackling away as Jill stutters.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to see my baby,” you tell her and stand, sauntering over to her. She shuts the door behind her and drops her gear bag, her white suit a little crumpled on her shoulder. You tsk and stand in front of her a little too close to smooth out the wrinkles.

She stands with her jaw dropped and you close it for her, looking up at her beautiful eyes that slowly begin to gloss over. You fiddle with her lapels and smooth out the rest of the creases from her jacket, pressing your lips right on the collar of her jacket leaving a perfect lip stain.

Jill’s knees visibly buckle and she catches herself, muttering incoherently her apologies. You smile softly and cup her face, tilting your head in for a kiss. She meets you halfway and you smile into the kiss, her lips soft with a hint of coffee and caramel.

Jill moans when your tongue swipes her bottom lip and you slip your tongue into her mouth, exploring and dominating her tongue. You wrap your arms around her neck and pull her towards the bed, before fisting her lapels that were perfectly tailored for Jill.

You pull away and admire her outfit, her slightly damp hair draped perfectly on her shoulders and you gently adjust her necklaces and she whines, reaching to take her jacket off.

You tut and she looks down at you again, eyes full of expressive features. You take her hand and guide her in front of the bed where your harness sits. You nudge your head for her to take it and she does, helping you step into it. She secures the sides and you smile, cooing at her gently.

Jill eyes the array of dildos that sit perfectly straight on the bed. She sees her favorite, one that’s too big, one that’s too small, and one that she’s never seen before.

“May I pick one, Mommy?” Jill asks obediently, fidgeting with her vest.

You stand behind her and caress her arms, chin resting on the Dutch’s shoulder.

“Yes, you may angel. You get to pick because you won that game today and look so pretty in that suit hm?”

Jill nods and you frown a little. She catches a glimpse of your face in the window across from her and immediately corrects herself.

“Thank you, Mommy.”

“Good girl, Jill,” you praise, walking around the bed and onto it. Jill drags her fingers over the toys and predictably picks her favorite one. She picks it up and hands it to you.

“This one please, Mommy,” she says quietly, eyes meeting yours. She’s dazed and a little lust-hungry, shoulders sagging and knees about to buckle again. You pity her and decide that that’s enough teasing and take her toy of choice to put on.

It clips in securely and you have her sitting on the edge of the bed. You kiss her neck gently and shrug her jacket off, throwing it over to the chair in the corner. Jill shudders at the sudden cold air on her exposed skin, goosebumps littering her skin. You climb off the bed and stand over her, fiddling with the buttons on her vest.

You undid each one slowly, getting down to your knees with every pop of a button. Jill was breathing a little heavier now, leaning back on her elbows as she understood your intentions.

Once her vest was off, her pants were not far behind. She smiled a little drunkenly as you pulled them off, nails raking over her strong thighs. Jill shuddered again and smiled, throwing her head back.

You smiled and watch her relax into the premium bedding, her bare ass tense against the 400 thread count linen. You caress her tired muscles and kiss up her thighs, her knees parting way for you. You grin up at her and see a light blush on her cheeks, eyes hooded a little as her pussy throbs achingly between her legs.

“Where do you want me, babygirl?” you ask teasingly, perfectly manicured nails running through her wet pussy. Jill whines and hides behind her forearm, nodding softly.

“Words, you useless whore.”

“Anywhere, everywhere, just touch me Mommy please!” Jill cries, eyes filling with tears as your fingers along her pussy tug her folds just a little.

You lean in and lick her up her slit gently, tongue a little warmer than her folds that were exposed to the colder room. She jerks but keeps her ass planted on the bed obediently as your tongue fondles her peeking clit.

Jill bites her lip hard, eyes screwed shut tight. A slender finger pushes into her and her knees fold up onto the bed to ease your access. She moans and cants her hips down onto your finger slowly before your palm rests on her hip as a warning. You stand and slide another finger into her pussy and hover over her, eyes dark and voice deep.

“One more move that I don’t fucking ask for, I stop and you go to bed with nothing, do you understand me?”

“Yes Mommy,” she whines out, nodding her head profusely.

Her ass never leaves the bed and you grin proudly down at her when you feel a rush of arousal coat your fingers inside her.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

“Yes Mommy, feels so good when you touch me,” she answers, feeling a third finger push in beside the other two. Jill throws her head back and whines while her hips can’t resist one more cheeky grind.

You stop your fingers right on her sweet spot, having just decided to reward her for being a good girl when you feel her hips move when you told her not to. Your fingers pull out of her pussy and you get off the bed. You pull her to the middle of the bed and smile, kissing down her chest. She shifts nervously and smiles back, unsure if she’s messed up or not.

You reach up and under the pillow, pulling out a vibrator. It’s turned on immediately and your hands pull her legs wide open, lips right beside her ears.

“I told you not to move, princess.”

The wand head is pressed to her clit and she barely has time to process the transition into her punishment. The rush of pleasure goes straight to her head and down to her toes. She struggles to find something to hold on to, the sheets taut as she grasps them and pulls them tight.

“You getting close, darling?” you taunt, wand pressed harder on her clit. Jill grips your wrist and whimpers, nodding hard.

“Please Mommy,” Jill begs beautifully, “Please let me come.”

“No.”

Jill’s thighs which have been flexed to force blood toward her core dissipate the moment you pull the wand away. She cries out your name and her eyes begin to water, her pleasure dropping back to zero.

“What did you do wrong, sweetheart?” you ask softly, kissing down her bare chest. You suck bright red hickeys all over her chest, her lips struggling to form a sentence.

“Moved when you didn’t allow me to,” she manages, tears falling down the side of her face. You suck on her breast gently, hand bringing the toy back towards her core. It barely touches a bit of flesh, the light vibrations driving her crazy.

“What must you say so you can come, baby?”

She answers much more composed this time.

“I’m sorry Mommy, won’t happen again.”

“Good girl,” you whisper to her, the vibrator pressed hard against her clit. Jill cries out your name again and tries her best to stay still, eyes screwed shut again. She bites her lip and slowly smiles deliriously, a sign that she’s close.

You pull the vibrator away and give her no time to argue when your cock slips right into her dripping pussy. Jill gasps and looks up at you in shock, thighs shaking as your thrusts are powerful and precise.

You press the vibrator into her palm as your hips never falter, hands pressing her thighs wide open.

“Be a good girl and don’t move that off your clit unless I say so.”

She does as you say, shaky hands pressing the vibrator right on her clit, and her expression changes. You press her legs wider and pound into her pussy hard, feeling the vibrations fizz out into your strap-on and lightly onto your clit.

“Faster Mommy, I’m so close please!”

You fuck into her faster and suck on her breasts gently, helping her hold the toy right on her clit. Jill swears she sees white when she comes, eyes rolling as far as they go into her head. She shudders and jerks as she comes, toe curled up tight.

“Fuck!” she screams as you keep railing her into the mattress, the first orgasm fizzling out and the second fast approaching. Jill chants your name like a mantra and her hands shake too much to hold the vibrator on her clit. You lean back and pound up right into her sweet spot, holding the vibrator right on her sensitive clit.

“One more for me, darling,” you coo, throwing your head back as your pleasure slowly rises too. “Think you can give me one more pretty orgasm sweetheart?”

“Yes Mommy, it’s yours!”

Jill concentrates on your movements, her lust-driven focus solely on you. She feels the tug in the back of her belly button, the buildup of pressure just in her core. A hand wrapped around her neck and squeezes, that was all the triggers she needed. She barely had time to warn you she was coming, the sheer power of her orgasm pushes you out as she squirts all over your lower half. You watch in amazement, her legs shaking like a leaf as you fondle her clit fast. You pull away just as she reaches her tipping point, eyes zoned in on you.

She can barely remember most of what happened next. She was in a warm bath and lots of bubbles within ten minutes, wrapped in your arms under the soft lights of her hotel room bathroom. You’re kissing her ear when she properly comes to, smacking her lips and blinking her eyes.

“Hello gorgeous,” you whisper, hands caressing her arms. She snuggles back into you, eyes closing as the smell of her favorite lavender Epsom salt fills the air. She feels your arms around her and the warm water helps her aching muscles, tilting her head back to kiss you.

You pull a hand out of the water and cup her face, kissing her earnestly as she gently turns into your arms. Jill pulls away and smiles, rough hands doing their own exploration under the bubbly water.

“Did you come earlier, love?” she asks in her slight Dutch and English accent, she frowns when you shake your head.

“I was close but I didn’t come.”

“That’s not good,” Jill states matter-of-factly. Her hands drag down your soapy thighs, the water making the glide extremely easy. You lean back and let her have her fun, feeling the Dutch’s fingers dance over your clit.

“Just relax, I’ve got you,” Jill reassures, smiling when she feels your muscles relax into the fragrant water more. She rubs tight circles over your clit and you feel yourself getting close already. She tilts your head up and presses her lips to yours hard, fingers rubbing your clit faster and faster. You moan into her mouth and grip the edges of the bath. The water spills a little but you couldn’t care less. Jill sneaks two fingers into you and you cry out her name, coming hard on her fingers.

Jill smiles and cups your face for a kiss, feeling you melt into her arms. She pulls away, grinning from ear to ear.

“I should tell management to get us more suits huh?”

#jill roord #jill roord smut #jill roord imagine #jill roord x reader #man city women #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso one shot #woso smut

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nanamiya3 · 1 year

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CEO nanami x fem reader - reader is nanami’s wiiife - mentions of food and gojo - reader probably has some anxiety and self esteem issues but it’s not super major - fluff & comfort - wc. 2.9k

hiii i haven’t posted in so long but i’m back just for this because what would happen if you visited nanami at work?? what would happen if he *gasp* forgot his lunch at home??

As Kento’s stay at home wife, your days usually go something like this:

The alarm rings at exactly 7AM, Kento’s glaring default tone waking you both. You frown, groggy and disoriented and still stuck in that land between awake and asleep as Kento’s arms tighten around your middle. He mumbles a little something, meant to be your name but completely unintelligible, before begrudgingly untangling himself from you. He rubs at his eyes and sits up, your soft, sleepy whines tugging at his heart. Kento heads to the bathroom as you head back to sleep, and he gets himself ready for the day while you curl up beneath the blankets. He cooks breakfast for both of you, wrapping up your plate and setting it on the counter with a sweet little note before wolfing down his own portion. He puts his coat on, grabs his briefcase and the bento you pack him every night, and presses a soft kiss to your forehead before leaving for work.

Except today, Kento makes a terrible mistake. He cooks breakfast, sets aside your plate, elegantly writes “this is the huckleberry jam satoru recommended, no promises that it’ll be good. endlessly yours, kento” on the sticky note by the food, tucks into the huckleberry jam toast (which is unfairly delicious) and eggs, dons his coat, grabs his briefcase, and kisses your forehead before heading out the door. The bento sits in the fridge, untouched and forgotten.

So, you wake up almost an hour after Kento leaves, yawning and stretching this way and that. You run through your typical morning routine before downing the breakfast with the huckleberry jam toast, cursing Satoru for being right about something for once and sending Kento a good morning and thank-you-for-the-breakfast text.

You move on, still oblivious to the bento sitting in the fridge, opening up your laptop to search for the perfect birthday gift for Kento. After an hour of research and brainstorming, you’re smiling down at the list of potential candidates: a new leather notebook (his current one is on its last leg, bursting at the seams with half-sentences and spontaneous thoughts scribbled across the pages), a new mouse (since his current mouse is apparently “too small” for him), a set of custom tailored suits in an array of colors (because if you walk into his closet and see one more row of sand beige suit jackets you might actually have to divorce him), a massage oil gift basket (Kento works so hard :( sometimes after a long day you give him a massage, letting the aromatherapy and kneading relieve his tension), a nude polaroid for his wallet (because… because… because he’s always calling you beautiful and pretty and before him you never actually believed it), and a pair of noise cancelling headphones (apparently Satoru makes the office too loud, and Kento’s been commenting on how noisy the newcomers at his gym are). The gifts aren’t very extravagant, especially considering Kento’s wealth, but you’d feel cheap if you used his own money to buy him an expensive watch that you both knew he’d never wear—he loves his current watch too much to replace it anyways.

Satisfied that you’re the best wife on the planet and deciding to treat yourself to a snack, you poke your head into the fridge and realize with a start: Kento left his lunch at home.

Knowing this is equal parts frightening and exciting. You’re worried, because Kento never forgets his bento, claiming your cooking is way better than the cafeteria that provides free meals for his employees. And, you’re excited, because Kento never forgets his bento, and that means you’ve never had to drop it off for him before. Kento doesn’t try to keep you away from his work—you’ve been to the dinners and charity events and whatnot—but he doesn’t encourage you to visit the office while he’s working either, claiming he’ll be too distracted to function. On the rare occasions that you do visit him, it’s late at night after everybody else has left, with you there to offer… moral support. So, while you’ve met most of the executives (like Satoru, who leaves a pretty abysmal impression), you’re still pretty unfamiliar with the actual office workers. And now, with the perfect opportunity to snoop around at Kento’s other life, you feel a small smile rising up on your lips.

You load the bento into your car, tucking it into the passenger seat gently. The drive over to Kento’s company’s building is filled with excited humming, and you’re grinning as you pull into in the underground garage after telling the security attendant you’re here to drop off your husband’s lunch. Kento doesn’t know you’re here yet, and if you’re being honest, it’s because you know he’d just meet you in the lobby to pick up the bento, signaling the end of your adventure. Even though you were certain Kento would never cheat on you, you knew there were definitely some people in the office that had feelings for him—look at him, for Christ’s sake! You wanted to figure out who: the receptionist? His secretary? Maybe even the head of HR? You’d never get all your snooping done if you couldn’t get past the lobby.

And of course, just because you wanted to get past the lobby, the universe didn’t let you you get past the lobby.

The issue is that you don’t have a badge. Every employee needs to scan their badge to get past the turnstile guarded by the receptionist and two security guards. So, you make a beeline for the receptionist, hoping to plead your case. You tell her your husband’s left his bento at home, holding the lunch up as proof. She remains stoic. You try again, telling her you’re Kento’s wife, that you’re married to the CEO. She laughs in your face, giving you a pointed once over. You’re upset now, because you know Kento’s out of your league but that’s not for her to point out, especially considering he’s miles above her as well. You narrow your eyes, setting the bento down on the counter with more force than necessary to text Kento that you’re in the lobby with his lunch. The receptionist tells you to leave the building. You spin the phone around, trying to prove to her that you really are messaging Kento, that you really are married to him, scrambling to find pictures from your wedding to show her—

There’s a tug on your arm, a rough “That’s enough” sounding from somewhere on your left and a firm “You need to leave” from your right.

You can’t believe this is happening. You try your luck with the two heavyweights about to throw you out of the building, pointing to your ring, pulling up the most recent picture of Kento you could find (a photo you secretly took of him at a small coffeeshop the two of you visited this past weekend). They shake their heads, rumbling about how you can’t enter the building without a badge or visitor’s pass, and then there are hands around your biceps, tugging you, and you’re digging in your heels, making a scene but beyond caring, twisting to try to go back and grab the bento from off the counter—

“Take your hands off my wife.”

Kento’s voice is loud, angry, and stern as it rings across the marble and glass in the lobby. The arms around you let go immediately, and you hang your head, nervous and ashamed about all the trouble you’ve caused. You hear Kento’s voice barking orders to the workers, you see him walking towards you, but your mind is a flurry of activity and it won’t settle down. This is so embarrassing—Kento just watched you get pushed around and he had to come to your rescue. What if you were interrupting a meeting? What if he’d been busy with paperwork before you texted him? What if he’d been mid-conversation with someone? What if he didn’t care about the bento at all? What if he’d already realized he left his lunch at home and decided it wasn’t worth trying to pick up? Maybe he’d already had lunch at the cafeteria and you were just bothering—

There’s a big, familiar palm caressing your cheek, a deep, familiar voice asking if you’re okay, a handsome, familiar blonde filling up your line of sight, a familiar warm brown pair of eyes catching yours. You snap out of your own head, nodding quickly, practically lunging to grab the bento off the counter, stringing together half-sentences and barely there statements in a rush to justify why you’re here. Kento’s nodding patiently, waiting for you to finish, gentle eyes watching your own dart around—he’s always been an excellent listener, attentively hanging on to your every word, even when you’re just stuttering out random, incoherent thoughts. You cut yourself off once you realize you’re probably wasting Kento’s time, extending the bento towards him, hoping your ramblings got your point across. He pauses, concerned about how jittery and anxious you look, before pushing the bento back towards you. You think your heart has just cracked and shattered so violently it was audible, because of course Kento’s already eaten—

“Why don’t we have lunch together in my office? We can share the bento and grab some food from the cafeteria,” Kento proposes gently. He doesn’t want you driving home while so nervous, and he’s more than willing to bet the receptionist said something nasty to make you so insecure and shaky. He knows you’ll overthink your relationship if left alone, so he wants to spend some time with you, making sure you don’t let anything that just happened get to your head.

And of course you agree, happy to spend time with Kento, letting him lead you away from the lobby. He’s murmuring a quiet “Wait right here” as you guys get to the elevator, walking back to the lobby to give the receptionist and security guards a stern talking to. He reprimands them for being so handsy and quick to judge, telling them that they’re to let you in immediately should they ever see you again. Kento’s exceedingly calm, but his low tone is steeped with anger, and he thinks these 3 should call themselves lucky given that they’re still employed. After a few more stammering “yes sir”s and apologies are divulged, he walks back to where you’re waiting, chewing on your lip while clutching the bento for dear life and stressing about how terribly wrong this has all gone. Kento’s hand travels down to your lower back as the two of you wait for the elevator, rubbing small circles to alleviate your anxiety. He apologizes again for how you were treated, asking if you’re okay, if you need anything, if you want to go home instead of coming up to his office. You shake your head—it’s rare that you get to share lunch with Kento on a weekday, and plus, now that you’re finally in the building, you want to maximize your snoopage.

So, the two of you make your way up to Kento’s office, some part of his body touching yours the entire way: a hand on the curve of your back, an arm snaked around your middle, his hand laced with yours. And boy do people stare. This is the Nanami Kento, so strict and efficient in his work that people doubt his capacity for emotion. It’s no secret that Kento’s married, but just knowing that he’s married is very different from actually seeing his wife. And when the Nanami Kento’s wife is such a sweet, pretty thing, there are some raised brows. It’s so shocking that some people actually do a double take, squinting to check that your hand holding the bento really does have a ring on it.

The whispers follow the two of you until you’re finally standing in front of his secretary’s desk, right in front of his office. Kento introduces you, and you give her a nervous smile, extending your hand for a handshake and regretting it immediately, worried it might be too formal. As for his secretary, her mind is racing as well, all the times she’s tried to get him to stay later for drinks with the team, clearly interested in hooking up with him drunk, all met with a kind but firm “My wife is waiting on me,” flashing back to her. She reaches up to shake your hand, exchanging pleasantries, but her eyes are locked on your other hand, the one with the ring, the entire time.

Finally, you’re ushered into Kento’s office, and before you can even place the bento safely on his desk, his arms wrap around you, pressing you to his front, breathing you in. You feel a smile creep up onto your face, setting down the bento and twisting to face him, dropping your head onto his chest.

All of them. Every single one. That’s what you’ve decided. Every single worker in this building is undeniably in love with your husband. You nuzzle against Kento’s chest, mumbling about needing to cover his face when he leaves the house. Kento peers down at you, a little confused, but you just continue to press your face into him, letting your mind calm down before reminding Kento about lunch. Kento, if we’re being completely honest, has already forgotten about lunch, but he quickly straightens up, adjusting his glasses while muttering, “Right… right… the cafeteria.”

And you’re excited to snoop around the cafeteria as well. You’ve heard Kento’s laments about the budgeting: “We allocate so much money to providing the free meals and they still can’t make a decent loaf of sourdough. Do you know how much it costs us quarterly to source the ingredients and pay all of our kitchen staff? Love, it’s ridiculous. Some of these guys get paid more than our office workers and their budget goes up every year, but I still can’t get a good loaf of milk bread. If I had the time, I’d proof the dough myself.”

So, imagine your surprise when the elevator opens up to what might be the most well-designed canteen you’ve ever seen—it’s practically a maze of food. You’re shocked and excited, hands flying up to cover your mouth, and Kento’s looking at you like you’ve grown a second head. “It’s just food,” he mutters, clearly unimpressed with his company’s cafeteria—the same cafeteria which you’re now realizing spans the entire floor and includes a traditional wood fired brick pizza oven, an entire sushi bar, a self serve gelato station, and rows of peking duck roasting in a rotisserie oven, just to name a few. You’re completely flabbergasted, pulling a reluctant Kento forward, insisting on trying every single dish displayed. He grabs a tray, dutifully following you as you ooh and ahh over every section, the furrow between his brows deepening every time the tray becomes weighed down by another plate.

Eventually, Kento stops you, worried about the structural integrity of the tray, how the two of you will finish all of this food, and the fact that the dish with the chocolate cake is sitting fully on top of the crab cakes. You’ve got the sense to at least look a little embarrassed, offering to help carry the tray knowing full well you’d drop its contents in a heartbeat.

Back in Kento’s office, the two of you sit side-by-side with the tray in front of you and the bento in front of him. Kento seems content with the home-packed lunch, shaking his head when you try to offer him a bite of your food. As for you, you’re quickly realizing you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.

“Wasting food is a sin,” Kento comments, pointedly glancing at the tray of food, still three-quarters full, his own lunch already polished off.

You blush, shooting him a half-hearted glare as best you could with a mouth full of food, doing your best to chew and swallow before giggling back, “You could at least help me! It’s your company’s food, if you don’t like it you should just change it. Come on, get to work!”

You’re both laughing, shaking your heads at each other, but Kento picks up his chopsticks and starts to help with the food. He makes faces at the butter and garlic steamed clams, claiming yours are better, but you just swat at him and remind him that lying is also a sin. He thinks you’re ridiculous, but even so, he cancels the rest of his meetings for the day, spending the remainder of his 9-5 feeding you bite after bite of chocolate cake, taste testing meringues off your tongue while lounging in his office.

And when Satoru barrels into the office to complain and ask Kento why he’s leaving Satoru to fend for himself at the executive meeting, he’s not the least bit surprised to find you curled up on Kento’s lap, dozing off while your husband reviews a stack of paperwork. Kento’s raising a finger to his lips, shushing Satoru, glancing down at you with so much love in his eyes Satoru might actually become physically sick. You shift in your sleep, snuggling up against your husband, and Satoru has to stop himself from laughing at how quickly Kento drops the file in his hands to stroke your hair, ensuring your nap is as comfortable and uninterrupted as possible. Kento almost forgets Satoru’s even there, slipping off his suit jacket (camel beige, starchy, ugly) and draping it over your curled up form, releasing a deep sigh when he hears obnoxious giggling and a singsonging “Nanaminnnn” coming from across the room.

“There’s a reason why I’m married and you’re single, Satoru.”

- yea, gojo stumbled out of the office with his hand clenched over his heart, pretending he was stabbed or some shit & everybody ignored him bc this is normal and he is dramatic (nanami pls throw away the tan colored suits)

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esmedelacroix · 3 months

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"I hate your big dumb combat boots,"

husband!miguel x f!reader ♡

10 Things I Hate About You ← mini-series masterlist

"I hate it when you stare," ← previous part

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Home was quiet. Not too quiet but just right for your current state. You had just successfully pulled yourself out of a writing slump and started working on your new novel.

You needed everything to be a certain way when you wrote your first paragraph or two. You sat in your shared room at the desk in front of your window. You had an aromatherapy eucalyptus candle burning, your cat sleeping right next to your laptop, and you were wrapped in a warm faux blanket.

The soft hum on the heater could be heard but that was all. It was perfection. Until it wasn't. Your balance was disturbed by the most annoying sound. The creak—creak—creaking of the floorboard.

Heavy footsteps that would sound like stomping to anyone. Followed by the sound of footsteps slightly lighter and Miguel whistling "Girl From Ipanema"

"Hey baby," he said as he popped his head into the bedroom now completely disrupting your peace. You couldn't even bring yourself to say anything to him, you simply picked up a pillow and threw it at him. "Hey, What was that for?" he chuckled.

"You ruined my writer's homeostasis," you sighed.

"Aw, look at you using nerdy little biology words," he tested as he plopped on the bed and urged you to join him. You rolled your eyes but still cuddled into his side.

"I can't help myself, you're starting to rub off on me," you quipped as he took your hand and pressed little kisses into it.

"Did you get some work done though baby?" he asked.

You hummed in response before joking, "Yeah, until you interrupted,"

"Okay, sure," he hummed.

You didn't have to tell him because he knew. He knew that the moment you heard his boots stomping about, that's when you felt most at peace.

He always arrived at home being extra obnoxious with those winter boots of his and the whistling because he knew that the moment you knew that he was home, you could finally calm down knowing that he was safe.

Making sure that nothing happened during a mission. Truthfully you loved his big dumb combat boots.

. . .

next part → "And the way you read my mind,"

₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡ ₊˚⊹

taglist: @lilscast @lazyjellyfish300

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sisitrip · 5 months

Text

More Like Me, With You

Palate cleanser from some heavy. Don't know what this is, but it made me feel warm.

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

Mickey’s key’s clatter against their door and Ian stretches on the couch, wiggling his toes in relief. Finally. A rare, full day apart from Mickey had reminded him of what it felt like to not have his husband at kissing distance.

What a shock. He’d hated it.

He’s been askew in his skin all day and his mind sparked chaotic like so many pop rocks on a wet tongue. An empty apartment and being alone with his thoughts has never before, or now, been a good thing for him.

Cold chapped and smiling, Mickey steps into the tropical heat of their apartment. Ian’s set up a trap house tailored to his husband’s tastes and he doesn’t feel guilty at all. The apartment was humidly redolent with dinner - a crock pot full of brisket, potatoes, and the veggie puree he’d snuck in. Cold beer was sitting in the refrigerator and various other items he knows Mickey loves are scattered around the apartment. He probably gets more out of doing these things for Mickey than Mickey does himself. It’s a poorly kept secret that he mainline’s Mickey’s happiness shamelessly.

“Ah fucking yesss,” Mickey hisses when he closes the door behind him and the warmth hits his face. “You’re getting all the blowjobs.”

Ian laughs and drops his book on the coffee table.

“That’s a pretty tall promise, husband.”

Mickey starts shedding his shoes and clothes as he walks over.

“I mean that shit, husband. It’s jungle perfect in here,” Mickey says, finally stripped down to his boxers and tank top. He flops down onto Ian, pulling a laugh from him.

“We aim to please,” he chuckles, wrapping Mickey up in his arms. The cold clings stubbornly to his hair which makes Ian shiver in his own shorts and t-shirt. “How was it without me today?”

“You want a lie or the truth?” Mickey asks, burrowing.

“The truth.”

“It sucked. Not the work, but the rig. That shit’s loud as fuck when you’re not in it.”

Ian smiles and rubs Mickey between his shoulder blades. Loud is code for lonely.

“Sorry I couldn’t be there. Lip rarely uses the emergency child care card.”

Mickey snorts into his neck and hooks a leg over his thigh.

“Fred, good?”

“Perfectly slobbery. He put applesauce in my hair.”

Mickey chuckles. “Fred put his favorite thing to eat on his favorite thing. That kid likes your hair as much as I do.”

He hums and noses into Mickey’s hair, sniffing past the cold, smoke and city smells to find what he’s looking for. When he does, he inhales deeply. “Speaking of favorite things,” he murmurs and smiles when Mickey laughs.

“Fucking sniffer,” Mickey mumbles into his collar bone. “Repeat offender sniffer.”

“Then stop being a human aromatherapy candle,” he teases, sniffing again. He stops when Mickey’s belly rumbles against his.

“Tell me what you ate today and I better not hear Snickers once. Your last dentist appointment was a miracle.”

“I had food.” Mickey shoves his hands under Ian’s back and hides his face. He can feel Mickey trying to cross his lying little fingers.

“Like?”

“Mountain Dew and a candy bar.”

“What’d I say about the Snickers?” he faux gruffs.

“I never said the word Snickers,” Mickey says with a sniff.

He grins, giving Mickey’s temple a peck. “You eat like a bachelor when I’m not around.”

“Then stop ditching me for Fred. He can’t even talk,” Mickey says, nipping his neck.

They lie quietly for a bit, listening to the muffled city sounds and wind pelting snow at their windows. Although the world is ordered now that he had Mickey close, he can’t quite let go of the discomfort he’d felt all day. It was like he wasn’t himself until Mickey was around. As a matter of fact, it’s been a long time since he’d thought about who he was without this soft, heaven-scented man in his arms.

“Mick?”

“Mmmm?”

“Did you feel like yourself today?”

Mickey makes a noise of confusion.

“Uh, kind of?”

“Explain please,” he says, stroking Mickey’s back.

“I mean, it’s having a routine, you know? If it gets out of whack, anyone would feel out of sorts or whatever.”

“Was it because I wasn’t there?” he asks softly.

Mickey pulls back, face comically sad.

“My world caved in,” he begins, sober as a grave.

Ian flushes. Here it comes.

“I looked at the long devastation of the day and nearly gave up because you weren’t there.”

“Shut up,” he says, starting to laugh.

“When I thought the snow would drown me in the hole your absence made, I reached for a potion, nay! An elixir.” Mickey bows his head solemnly. “Yes. A flagon of Mountain Dew. Without it, I might have perished.”

Ian’s laughing hard now. “You’re a dick.”

Mickey settles down, laughing too.

“And you’re in your head again. Stop that shit. You’re Ian, and I’m Mickey even when we’re apart.” Mickey nuzzles into his neck. “But, truth? I feel more like me when we’re together.”

He kisses Mickey’s cheek. “Me too.”

Mickey hums against his neck then stills when his stomach grumbles again.

“Alright, are you ready to eat?” Ian asks, giving him a squeeze.

“Yeah.”

He makes as if to get up. “Come on then. I got brisket on.”

Mickey grumbles and sags his weight down fully, hiding his face in Ian’s shoulder.

“Wait a minute.”

“Why? Thought you were hungry.”

“I am.”

“Then let me up so I can get us some food,” he laughs when Mickey doesn’t budge. “You need to eat, baby.”

Mickey kisses his neck and squeezes close.

“Need this more.”

He liquifies to absolute besotted goo, sliding his hands under Mickey’s tank and down into his shorts, squeezing softly.

“You are several levels of sweet, Mickey Gallagher,” he whispers into his hair.

“It’s the Snickers,” Mickey mutters.

Ian holds him tight, head and heart full of all the things that are completely true about Mickey, but would be brushed off by his husband as romantic nonsense.

“Nope. The candy hasn’t got a damn thing to do with it,” he murmurs, accepting Mickey’s soft kiss.

“Yeah?” Mickey whispers.

“Yeah.”

They curl into each other in the loving humidity of the life they’ve built together, needing nothing more than to be this close for a while.

#gallavich #gallavich fanfic #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #my fic #writing #ian x mickey #shameless #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich fic

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bullet-prooflove · 2 months

Text

Something Else: Bode Leone x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @jeysbae @cloveroctobers @dizzybee03 @a-porcelain-gir1 @missy203 @floydsglasses @@alixw22x @shelbygeek @muligatorrr @jaybae @yousigned-upforthis @kmc1989 @brenobikenobi @mini-bee-bee @timmybradford @zippeylay @rhilee91 @switchbladeclub @itzkiarabxtches @girlinwounderland @choppedgalaxynerd @drunkangels @freecreationpost @stefani-topaz @chlo-lo14

One of Bode’s favourite things about being out on parole is the upgrade in shower facilities.

In prison you get ten minutes in the company with at least one other person, you try not to look but it’s incidental. The water was always freezing cold or scalding, there’s no in between. It was different at fire camp, you get fifteen minutes to yourself but the water pressure was shitty and the temperature tepid at best.

At home with you he gets as much hot water as he wants for as long as he wants, and baths…

They are a game changer after a hard day working construction or volunteering with Cal Fire.

Another thing he enjoys is the aromatherapy aspect. He’s used to relying on the shit they have in commissary and then what Cap was able to source from the General Store. It was always nameless, scentless, rough on his skin.

When he comes across the Wild & Sage stall at the Farmer’s Market he’s overwhelmed, he’s always liked the idea of natural products he’s just never been able to try them due to his legal predicament.

“I don’t know what to choose.” He says softly to you, his fingertips trailing over the silver reuseable containers. “There’s so many…”

“That’s what samples are for.” You say quietly, taking his hand in yours. You dab your fingers into the moisturising cream before spreading it across the back of his hand. He raises it to his nose inhaling it and that scent, the woodsy overtone, it makes everything feel a little lighter. His skin feels softer, less tight, less dry.

He spends over thirty minutes in front of that stall, talking with the vendor, trying all the samples. He works out what he likes, what he doesn’t like. He ends up spending a small fortune on toiletries, something he’s never done in his life.

“It’s nice to see you investing in yourself.” You tell him, when you come back from the florist with a bouquet of sunflowers tucked into the crook of your arm.

He smiles when the bathroom door clicks open, he sees your shape beyond the frosted glass, hears the sound of your clothes falling onto the tiles. This is the other thing he likes, the company.

“Hi.” He murmurs as you step underneath the stream of water with him.

“Hi.” You say, your fingers threading through his damp hair as you press against him.

“God you feel good.” He whispers against your lips, your fingers wrap around his cock and he inhales sharply because the sensation of your hand working him over, it’s bliss.

“But this is better right?” You tease, your thumb tracing over the tip of his cock.

He moans into your mouth because you, you have magic hands. He’ll never get tired of the way you touch him, the light brush of your fingertips, the steady intense pressure of your palm. The ecstasy, it builds in the base of his spine, searing through his synapses as you stroke him a little faster, a little harder. His breathing becomes ragged, his kisses messy, he’s right there at the edge of the precipice when your pussy envelops him.

He can’t think, he can’t breathe, all he can do revel in the sensation of that tight wet heat as it grips him.

“Baby.” He drawls as you clench around the tip of his dick. “Fuck baby, fuck!”

He comes so fucking hard that he sees stars, his release spilling into you. When he pulls out, it coats the head of his cock. You grasp his shaft, smearing his spent all over your pussy and he almost loses it all over again. You kill him with this shit, he swears to God, you do.

“You are something else you know that?” He murmurs, his forehead coming to rest coming to rest upon yours. “Truly you are.”

Love Bode? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#bode leone #bode leone x reader #bode leone x you #bode donovan #bode donovan x reader #bode donovan x you #fire country #max thieriot

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kozi-wellness · 6 months

Text

youtube

Best Aromatherapy Wraps | Eye Mask Spa Essentials Kozi Herbal - Kozi Wellness

At Kozi, we handcraft all-natural, hot, and cold aromatherapy wraps. Our wraps alleviate muscle pain, enhance sleep, relieve stress, soothe pain, reduce swelling, and improve circulation.

Kozi products are designed to distribute weight and apply pressure in ways that foster ergonomic health and deep relaxation.

Each one is filled with an herbal blend for aromatherapy and flax seeds for weight and contouring.

Visit: www.koziwellness.com

#healthcare #aromatherapy #aromatherapy wraps for neck pain #kozi wellness #Youtube

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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aldryrththerainbowheart · 9 months

Text

Aromatherapy

Warnings: little nsfw, please thread with caution

Lifeweaver x GN reader

Note: Welp, there it is! My first drabble starring our favorite Overwatch Support. I got this idea when helping @cerezzzita finding her own ideas for a smut fic. Her encouragement for me to write this is honestly the main reason you're reading this.

Happy reading 💕

He watched you from his spot on the bed. Skin flushed from the shower and a few droplets of water still clinging to your hair. Even completely exhausted and cranky, you were still beautiful to him, and when he extended his hand towards you, you circled the bed with a small smile and walked between his knees as his hands held yours.

„Gods, you look awful darling. When was the last time you properly rested?“

Niran rubbed his thumbs over your knuckles, playing with your hands as his eyes ran over your sleepy countenance. Your eyes were bloodshot and barely opened, your shoulders hunched over as if bearing an invisible weight.

You chuckled, swaying a little to relax your sore feet. „I think the only proper rest I get is when I’m dead.“

„Ah, but there are ways to gain euphoria even in the world of living.“ He gives his most charming smile.

„Is there?“ You let him wrap his arms around your middle and pull you with him on the bed. You let out a silent oof as you fall into the freshly changed pillows and soft blankets. How wonderful it would be if you could fall asleep, but for that to happen every muscle in your body should not ache. Niran carefully turned you on your stomach. He could do whatever he wanted as far as you were concerned. You were too exhausted to fight him anyway.

Instead, you buried your nose in the pillow, scenting a familiar aroma of lavender. Ever since Niran started to live with you he brought a sense of comfort and relaxation to your place that you’ve never known you needed. He sprinkled the pillows with lavender pillow spray. Your eyes squinted into the soft warm light of scented candles of his choosing – mostly jasmine and cedar. And, of course, being given the exclusive privilege of partaking with him in his evening self-care routine. He turned your bedroom into an oasis of peace and serenity.

As you were dozing off on your shared bed, Niran looked through his bedside table through the assortment of bottles when he finally pulled out a sleep bottle from brown glass and translucent liquid swishing inside.

„Hng? What’re you doing?“ you slurred a little from your position on the bed.

„There’s no need to worry. I am only giving you a massage. You looked so stiff since you came home. Let me take care of you.“

Right. Only massage. You tried to ignore the shiver that ran through you as your robe slipped past your shoulders and settled at your hips. You heard the swish of the essential oil in the bottle, then pop of the lid and then felt coldness pool at your lower back. You gave an instinctive flich.

„Sorry, love. Should’ve warned you it’s a little cold.“ He cooed at you while he rested his warm hands at your back, spreading the liquid over the expanse of your back.

„Ish ok…“ you slurred into the sheets, already feeling yourself melting into his touch. With expert movements, Niran woked out small knots and tints in your back. His thumbs circling your spine, his palms smoothing out along your ribs. All the while you whined and groaned into your pillow. When he firmly ran his hands from your shoulders to your necky ou let out a full blown moan.

„Right there?“

„Hmm-mmm a little lower“ You let out a blissful sigh as Niran’s hands dig into your back, applying pressure to the stiffest parts of your muscles and undoing the stress that had gone into your body. You groan indelight when he digs his fingers in between you shoulder blades.

„That was quite the knot.“ Niran chuckles, drawing back his hands as he pours some more massage oil into his hands.

" Alright, please relax your back a little more,”

You hum in response and try to relax your body a bit more. You let out a sigh as you feel his slippery hands rub at your sore muscles. Whenever he found a stiff spot, he pressed his palms into it firmly until the tension dissolved away. You hear yourself let out hums of contentment as Niran’s slick hands slide down your lower back, thumbs rubbing along your spine.

“Your hips are also quite stiff.”

“Hnn!” Your eyes snap open when his warm hands squeeze your hips, electricity shooting through your body up and down. It didn’t matter how long you’ve been together, intimate touches like these always made you flustered.

Niran chose to ignore that sound and kept on rubbing your hips. You twist your head back to look at him. His own robe slid open, revealing a sliver of his tawny sculpted chest, his plump lips were pursed in concentration, and damn if he didn’t look good enough to eat. Your thoughts on relaxation went straight out of the window.

“Does this feel good?”

“Ah…yes.”Niran hums, giving your hips a gentle squeeze before trailing his hands further down until they’re rested on the plush of your thighs and you shudder, your voice hitching in your throat. He only peers at you once to observe your reaction to his touch, and continues massaging your thighs, kneading them and rolling the muscle under his skilled hands.

You bite back the appreciative keen bubbling out of your throat.He smiles at the sight of you squirming under him. You groan softly some more as his finger slide closer to your crotch, so deliciously close but still too far away for your liking. You buck up your hips, hoping that’ll be enough to communicate your need to him.

Niran leans closer, blowing warm air on the shell of your ear with every word spoken.

“My, my, looks like I’ve finally got you to relax. Why, you’re practically blooming in my hands.”

You let out another choked groan and try to lift off the bed, pressing your bare back to his chest. The only answer is a dark chuckle, as his hands slide higher to the place you need him most.You moan his name desperately.

“Shh, my love. Just lay back and let me take care of you. I promise that by the end of the night, you’ll be thoroughly relaxed.”

#overwatch 2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #lifeweaver x you #overwatch lifeweaver #lifeweaver x reader #lifeweaver #niran pruksamanee x reader #overwatch niran #niran pruksamanee

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soubi122 · 1 year

Note

Heya hope ur doing great so here's another one of mind dumps

So rindou x a very laid back reader who's very chill and cool with everything and has a bit a hobby for figure skating ( the figure skating is optional)

So he was invited to a friend's house to hang and smoke weed/and drink so he went to the basement and saw you with the weed pot (idk what's it called:']) and decided to join in and u guys were having small talk and rin felt very comfortable with you and had he's arm wrapped around your waist and playing ur hair (y'all got teased a bit but didn't mind it all) late reader helps rindou get to his but was clingy ( horny (⁠☞⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)⁠☞) so reader being chill about took him home with and yk what happens ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ (btw sorry for the bad grammar)

—☁️

Hello my love! I'm so sorry this took a really long time to write. It is finally here, I hope you like it! ❤️

Highs

Rindou Haitani, smut, drug use, alcohol use, unprotected sex, slightly rough. ALL ADULTS, MINORS DO NOT READ!

"So, remind me again…who is going to be there?" Rindou asks a friend who was taking him to a party. As much of a partygoer he was - he still remained cautious. "You know, just chicks and some guys." The friend replies with a carefree tone. His goal was to score a chick and Rindou was the bait. It beats bringing Ran's womanizing ass to the party and having him steal all the women for himself.

Heading into the house, Rindou noticed that there were a bunch of people he was familiar with - the same people that hit up Roppongi on weekends. Good, so I don't have to watch my back. He thinks to himself. Being taken to a Yakuza hideout once by accident was enough for him to be careful about where he's going, compliments of Kakucho of course. The music was loud, the drinks were everywhere but he had yet to find anyone that could hold his attention. He thought it was going to be a small party, this was quite the crowd.

Some time passed and he was getting rather annoyed that his friend would ditch him every 5 seconds to chase a piece of ass. After being turned down by half of the party girls, they decided to head to the basement to take a break. Usually the chill folks are down there and would have some aromatherapy to help relieve some stress. "Man, those girls are fucking stuck up." His friend complained as he was walking down the stairs. Rindou could only chuckle at his friend's defeated attitude. The scent of Mary Jane hit them square in the face the moment they were headed down. A small group of people were just chilling on a sofa and floor, completely unbothered by the loud noise upstairs and vibrations of the music.

Rindou recognized one or two people but the others were complete strangers to him. The strangers began to almost chant "Toke! Toke! Toke!" over and over again when someone was taking a hit of the bong. Rindou's eyes looked over to the person whose head was tilted down and he could hear the bubbling of the water and the sound of someone inhaling. Everyone paused when the bubbling stopped and everything in the room almost went dead silent. When you lifted your head and exhaled through your nose, everyone cheered and yelled. That was the longest Rindou has ever seen someone hold it before.

"Did you see that shit? That was a good fucking hit." His friend says and introduces himself and Rindou to everyone. Your eyes met his and you smiled while waving your hand at him. The hazy look in your eyes and that cute smile on your face made some warmth creep up his face. They were welcomed into the circle, "Take a seat anywhere you like." You say and reach for the red plastic cup that had beer in it. "You've been babysitting that beer (Y/N)." One of the guys says and throws you a cocky grin. So that's her name. Rindou thinks to himself and plants himself right next to you. Taking it as a 'drink up' hint, you chugged your beer, impressing both guys that just walked in. “So, what brings you two to this lonely little circle of ours?” You say with a hint of playfulness on your tongue. The man sitting next to you was absolutely handsome - you could tell he works out by how the lines of his muscles show through his shirt.

When his friend took a seat across the floor, you passed the bong to him and the moment his eyes met your face - he paused. The awkward pause made you clear your throat. “Umm, so are you taking a hit or…?” You ask. “Aren’t you that chick that’s constantly on the ice?” He asked and piqued Rindou’s interest. Ah yes, your little hobby painted you as a goody two shoes but in reality you were nothing like that. “You are! Rindou, this is the chick who’s always in the rink at night.” You had no intention of going pro for figure skating but still practiced to get some exercise in. “Ah, the figure skater, right?” Rindou asked and proceeded to take the bong out of your hands. He was so close, you feel the warmth radiating off of him. Those beautiful lavender orbs were scanning every inch of your face behind his frames.

“Oh - what’s this? You have an admirer (Y/N).” One of your friends said out loud. There was no mistaking it - Rindou was showing his interest in you. The little comment made some pink dust your features. He proceeded to take a hit and keep eye contact with you while he did so. Looks like he was trying to hold it in just as long as you did, and of course - he did. The ambience was super relaxed by the time the bong made its way around the entire circle. Throughout the night, the conversations and jokes allowed Rindou to feel comfortable and rather bold around you.

“Aren’t figure skaters supposed to be good girls?” He asks and starts lightly toying with the ends of your hair. His finger wrapped itself around the strands and your heart skipped a beat. The first touch gave him an idea of your comfort levels, does he proceed? Your sultry laugh made him want to dive deeper into the rabbit hole with you. “And who says I’m a good girl?” You ask and look at him, both your eyes are glossy and hazy. “Get a room you two. You’re practically fucking each other with your eyes.” Someone says. Both you and Rindou cracked up, it was true - the things you both were thinking about were communicated in looks rather than words. Now that it was out in the open, he slithered his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him. The butterflies in your belly were starting to run a little rampant the more he touched you. Rindou kept toying with your hair or lightly brushing your hair back to get your attention back on him when you would talk to someone else.

Several hours of lightly teasing each other and messing around with friends, the sounds of footsteps slowly started to dwindle down, it sounded like the party was coming to an end. Little by little, the circle began to get smaller. People were heading home as it was already 3:00 am. It gave him a little more resolve to continue running his hands alongside your waist and making subtle moves that sent chills down your spine. His large palm began to gently squeeze your thigh, almost as if signaling something to you. You bite your lip and turn to face him. He was not expecting you to tease him in return. “Too bad the night's over.” You say and reach over to take one last hit of the bong before heading out. Inhaling, you closed your eyes and leaned back into the couch - wanting to take your time before exhaling in bliss. Right as you were beginning to exhale, Rindou leaned in, parting his lips and inhaled the smoke that slowly came out of your mouth. He cupped your cheek and connected his lips to yours, giving you a shotgun kiss. Rindou was feeling more than just the effects of weed. He was feeling a tight sensation around his cock.

“Can I take you home (Y/N)?” He asked and nibbled on your lower lip. You could tell he was needy. The entire time he was stuck on you and couldn't keep his hands off you. “Will you make it?” You snicker and run your hand through his hair making him hum. "Everyone is almost gone…we can just stay here." He whispers in your ear and gives a kitten lick to the shell of your ear. "Please…" Rindou's eager tone almost made you feel bad about teasing him. Is this how he is when he's high? Horny and needy? Not wanting to get caught or kicked out, you decided to feed the monster but in your territory.

Leading him to your place, you kept doing little things like hold his hand or press your chest against his arm so that he could feel your tits. He was already falling apart for you. When you arrived at your door, he couldn't keep his hands off of you. Stepping in, you immediately led him to your room. Next thing you knew, you were both on the bed, rolling around on the mattress.

While fighting to be on top, clothes started to fly off bit by bit. Seeing the tattoos that adorned his body, you couldn't help but submit to him, he was gorgeous and toned. You were almost entranced by the fact that his tattoos extended from his collarbone to his arms and down to his legs. "Do I have your complete attention now?" Rindou asks and pouts. "You've had my attention since the moment you sat next to me." You admit and reach down south to stroke him. The way his lips parted and let a moan escape his throat - you wanted to see him completely break. The unholy amount of precum was dripping on your lower belly. He was going to fill you up and have you dripping for days.

Not wanting to waste another second, you guided him between your folds and let his tip slide in. The sweetest whimper dripped from his lips and you couldn't help wanting to hear more. "…oh fuck… you feel so good." He barely manages to say before you rip another whimper from him as you take him in even further into your core. Being pussy drunk was no joke, once a man tastes a bit of heaven - he will never want to come back down to earth. Pulling him inch by inch, you felt his cock twitch and throb, making you pant. His length alone was enough to have you clawing at his back. Slowly reeling his hips back, you could feel the difference - your walls were spasming around him and trying to suck him back in.

Rindou was gentle and passionate, kissing your lips each time his tip hit your cervix. His menacing demeanor only applied outside in a world full of strangers. Between the sheets, he was sweet and almost innocent. His lavender orbs were glossy and filled with desire, if you would have let him take you at the party - you were sure everyone would have heard his moans. You met his hips, slowly grinding with him. The more friction on your clit, the more your hips picked up the pace. “...(Y/N), can I go faster?” What a gentleman, asking you for permission to destroy your insides. You nodded unaware of what his next move was going to be. He shifted his position to get on his knees and lifted your hips to get a deeper angle. Leaning in he took your hands and pinned them above your head, there was almost a glow in his eyes when you looked at him.

In one motion he thrust so deep that you felt a numbing sensation in your spine, making you scream. “Mnh…too deep!” You whimper and try to free your hands. Rindou crashed his lips into yours to silence you. It only took one hand to pin your wrists, the other gripped your hips to keep you in place. His thrusts were hard and fast, it was making your eyes tear up. "Ngh, f-fuck…you feel so damn good." Rindou said once he broke the kiss. You could have sworn you felt your eyes roll back into your skull. The way his length kept hitting the right spot had your tongue almost lolling out. "Look at you…drunk off my cock already. Yeah?" He went from sweet to devilish the moment you gave in.

"Hah, you're fucking clenching so tight." Rindou pants as he continues to wreck your insides. The way his hand gripped your hip, he left indents in your skin - almost bruising it. It was painful but it didn't stop you from feeling the immense pleasure that he was giving you. His kisses were making you melt, his tongue was dominating yours and you felt the drool dripping down the corners of your mouth. Breaking the kiss you moan out loud, "Rin-aah! I'm - oh god!" The amount of pressure he was putting on your hips had you almost crying. Everything started to get stuporous, the combination of alcohol, weed and sex had you knocking on the white pearly gates.

Rindou felt how your velvet walls pulsed and clenched repeatedly around his cock. It was feeding his appetite but he had yet to get to the main course. Slowly he released your wrists and cupped your cheek. That sincere and tender gaze gave you but a moment of peace. Rindou pulled out sitting up on his knees - he was towering over you and you couldn't help but feel anticipation. What else can this man do to get you to scream? "Roll over, beautiful…" He says with a smirk on his face. Just as he ordered, you got on your stomach and looked over your shoulder. It felt like his figure dwarfed your own. His broad shoulders that had defined muscles had you in a daze.

Rindou snatched your hips and lifted them so that you were now on your knees. His right hand gently ran down your spine - he was giving you goosebumps. In one thrust he buried himself inside you, you screamed into the pillow and clenched the sheets. "Fuck, fuck, fuck…your so wet." He moans and keeps a steady pace. Your thighs were trembling as he kept going deeper and deeper. He was bruising your cervix. “Oh god! Rindou, I’m gonna cum!” You moaned and the coil that was tightly wound began to snap. Your incoherent babbles and whines only made Rindou go faster. The satin ring that adorned the base of his cock had him on cloud 9. He too felt his coil snap, it made him double over and lean into your shoulder. Nipping at your shoulder as he emptied himself in your womb, he wanted to keep you full and keep you for more than just one night.

When you both regained your breaths, you both turned on your sides and he wrapped his arms around you - he was still buried inside you. “Can I stay the night?” He asks and buries his face into your neck. There was no response, only soft snores and slight clenching. For a moment he got worried but when he sat up on his elbows he noticed the smile on your face. Rindou Haitani has a habit of not only knocking his opponents out but of also knocking his partners out too.

END

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