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nervoussagittarius · 3 days

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do you still have wisdom?

matt sturniolo x reader

summary: in the midst of your wisdom teeth removal, your boyfriend and his brothers become your caregivers, request

warnings: fluffy, language, one suggestive comment, talk of needles and surgery,

the camera started rolling as you lethargically placed yourself in matt’s arms. today was the day you were getting your wisdom teeth removed and it was safe to say you were extremely nervous.

“tell everyone how you’re feeling y/n/n” nick said.

you lifted your head from matt’s chest and you replied, “i feel nervous about being put under anesthesia and i’m just really tired.” you felt matt footing shift slightly as he chucked.

matt moved from holding you to just wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “yeah so y/n didn’t really sleep last night, but you’ll have all the time to sleep tonight, okay?” you looked up at him and nodded with a small smile.

“so we’re going to go to the dentist and we’ll see you guys there.”

about an hour went by before you were sat in the chair, laying back, getting ready to receive your iv. you were not excited. you didn’t have a big fear of needles, you could tolerate them. it was the idea of the needle being in your arm for a long amount of time.

the three boys stood around you in a comforting manner. nick and matt stood to your right. nick filming while matt held your hand and soothingly ran his fingers through your hair. chris stood to your left paying attention to what the doctors were telling you guys.

“we’re going to put your iv in and it will give you the anesthesia so you’ll be out shortly after that. we’ll be in and out for the next couple minutes to see how you’re doing.” your doctor said as he started prepping your arm for the needle. you turned your head towards matt as he made goofy faces at you as a distraction.

“thank you.” you guys all stated as the doctor left your room. your eyes almost instantly started to become heavy and you felt sleep begin to take over.

the drowsiness became more prominent as the boys started to make jokes. “y/n, what kind of cup doesn’t hold liquid?” chris asked laughing. your eyes fluttered shut as you held a finger to your lips to shush him. “a cupcake.” chris finished making nobody laugh but himself.

you reached your arm up over your shoulder to gets matt’s attention. you blindly hit him and he looked down at you. “what’s up, love?” he asked.

“please ask chris to stop making jokes. i can’t focus on him right now.”

chris gave you an offended face as nick and matt broke out into a laughter. “you heard her chris, stop talking.” nick said almost in tears from laughing.

the doctor came back in just as you fell fully asleep. “okay y/n, we’re going to test your memory later. your password is grape.” you deliriously nodded in agreement. matt stayed by your side rubbing your shoulder for as long as he could before ultimately getting kicked out of the room.

the three boys stood in the hallway half focused on eachother and half focused on you. “how are you feeling matt?” chris asked, patting him on the shoulder and coming around to stand next to him. “i feel okay. i know how much pain she’s been in so i’m glad we’re getting that taken care of. i’m happy we’re all here to support her.”

the camera panned to you in the chair just as you started to lift your head slightly. you quickly side eyed the doctors as they readjusted you to leaning back.

a short time passed before all four of your wisdom teeth were extracted and your three best friends were allowed back in your room.

“how are you feeling y/n/n?” chris asked.

your were still a bit out of it and the gauze in your mouth slurred your words. “i’m cold.” was all that you got out. you were feeling emotional so when the three boys all looked at each other because they forgot your jacket in the car tears started to brim your eyes.

“awe sweetheart don’t cry we’ll figure it out. here you can have my long sleeve.” once you realized matt was next to you it was like your heart did a one eighty. “oh hi matt! i missed you!” you exclaimed lovingly as your words blended together.

“i appreciate the offer but i can’t put the shirt over my iv.” you said with a tiny frown. almost instantly chris started removing his zip-up and draped it over you. “hey! thanks chris.” you gave him a loopy smile.

“hey y/n, do you remember your password?” your doctor asked as he came back into the room to type on the computer. you instantly gave him, and the three brothers around you, a very confused look. “like for my phone?” you were extremely confused at this point and you couldn’t get much out of the three boys who were laughing their asses off. your doctor took over trying to explain. “we gave you a password that you were supposed to remember. do you?” you shook your head at him. “that’s okay we’re going to give you another on and if you remember then you can leave and go home. your password is ocean.”

“ocean, got it”

you thought for a second before speaking up again. “hey doc, how long until i can suck dick again?” nick and chris had officially lost it at this point. cracking up at the fact that you had no idea that your exposing all of your and matt’s secrets. matt only blushed and tried not to smile when you smiled up at him and grabbed his hand in yours. you tried to wink at him but it came out more as a delayed blink.

the doctor didn’t look shocked at all. you figured he’d been used to receiving this question. “you have to wait until your incisions heal. so a couple weeks.” and with that the doctor left the room again.

you looked at matt with a sorrowful face. “sorry matt.” you remorsefully said. trying to change the subject matt spoke up, “what’s the password, sweetheart?” you looked at him lovingly. “you’re pretty.” you said reaching you hand up to rest on his cheek.

“thanks baby.”

“hey, between me and nick whose your favorite?” asked chris as he poked your shoulder in an annoying but excited manner. you looked at him, then at nick, and then back to matt. you looked straight into the camera nick was holding before firmly stating, “i don’t have favorites.” chris rolled his eyes at you.

“and if i did have a favorite it would be matt, duh.” hearing this matt leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“y/n, what’s your password to go home.”

“um? lake?”

“ohhhh so close. it is a body of water. it was ocean.” chris cooed at you as he rubbed your shoulder.

“your new one is sushi.” “oh i love sushi.”

you reached up to rub your eyes forgetting that your were still connected to a couple of wires. “ow you mother fucker.” you commented looking down at you arms. “please kiss it.” you said lifting your arm up to chris since he was closest to your iv.

“listen kid, i love ya but i’m not kissing your arm.”

“that’s so fucked up. i’d do it for you.” you complained. hesitantly, chris leaned down to place the lightest peck possible to your arm. “thank you. matt, i love you” you quickly changed the subject. he was caught off guard at your sudden outburst. “i love you too, y/n”

“nick, chris, i love you guys too.” “we love you y/n.” “love ya y/n/n.”

the doctor made his way back to the room to see that your medicine was all injected through your veins. and started to take your iv out. “do you remember the password to go home, y/n?”

“yep it’s sushi.” you said as you kept your eyes on matt to avoid noticing the needle coming out of your arm. he ran his hand up and down your arm to comfort you. “that’s right.” nick said patting your leg to congratulate you on remembering.

the doctor got a wheelchair to take you to the car. when you made it to the parking garage matt helped you into the passenger seat and gently kissed your cheek letting you know he had to go get the parking pass.

you leaned back in your chair and sighed contently. “i just love him so much. he’s so perfect and babygirl.” nick and chris laughed as matt came back to the car.

you held your teeth to the camera showing them the container. “i have to put my teeth under my pillow so the tooth fairy brings me money.”

“you’re bloody teeth are not going anywhere near my bed.” “our bed.”

the video ended shortly after that with you grabbing matt’s hand and telling the viewers to enjoy the video while you enjoyed the dominic fike album chris put on for you.

comments:

i love how flirty y/n is in anesthesia

matt was so boyf in this video

y/n is right matt is babygirl

chris is such a little brother it’s unreal

nick is really giving us the content we need

an: this is all i’ve been thinking about for the past day. also i started a tag list so go comment on it if you want added 🤍

taglist: @norr1ssturni0lo @recklessmatt

tags for this post: @thetriplets3 @mazzystar111

#nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic

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cutielando · 3 days

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mr. and mrs. ~ oscar piastri

Summary: Wedding of the year is finally here between the two favorite youngsters on the grid. Everyone is invited!

Words: 1.3k+

Other works: my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

Oscar and Y/N.

Y/N and Oscar.

Everyone knew them, everyone loved them.

Ever since the young Australian lad had entered the Formula 1 world, Y/N had entered it with him. Always by his side, always attending his races while also attending university.

They had been together for many years, practically having invented the term “highschool sweethearts”. Despite Oscar’s busy schedule and Y/N being at university, they always made it work, never letting the distance affect their relationship.

Moving together to the UK had represented the first sign that they were both in it for the long ride. Packing up their entire lives and moving across the globe to follow their dreams proved that their relationship and the love they had was real.

Real and pure.

When Oscar got the opportunity to drive in Formula 1 and Y/N started her studies, the time they spent together shortened by a significant amount, but they managed to make it work.

They talked on the phone every day, texting when neither of them could speak on the phone, they took every opportunity to visit each other when they had free time, with Y/N visiting Oscar at his races or Oscar coming home when he would have 2 weeks off between races.

They made it work.

But Oscar wasn’t satisfied. He needed something more. He needed something that would put his mind at ease when he would be away.

He needed to officially make you his.

Towards the end of the season, you had a few weeks off uni and decided to join your boyfriend in Qatar for the Grand Prix.

You hadn’t really chosen the best race to attend, the heat and the humidity making it really strenuous on your already tired body. But seeing the smile that Oscar had while doing the grid walk with you by his side made it worth it.

Being there for Oscar’s sprint win had been the highlight of your entire year. Seeing him cross the checkered flag first, seeing his name on that first position on every monitor around the paddock, the feeling was unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Up until the moment Oscar got out of the car.

He made his way over to where you were waiting for him after he celebrated a little with the team, taking off his helmet and balaclava and giving them to one of his assistants.

“How about that?” he asked, chuckling as he pulled you into his arms, careful not to squeeze you too tightly because he was sweaty.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Os. I can’t believe I was here for your first win” you said, your voice muffled because you had your face buried in the crook of his neck.

“It’s technically not considered a win bec-”

“Shut up and enjoy the moment” you interrupted, making him chuckle and continue hugging you.

As he let go of you, you didn’t notice him reaching for something behind his back, not even his assistant subtly handing him something as he appeared again from the garage. All you could focus on was him, and nothing else around you.

It only really hit you when Oscar lowered himself down on one knee in front of you, a red velvet box in his hand.

“Oh my God” you said, your eyes widening and your hands flying up to your mouth.

All around you, the McLaren team gathered in a circle, phones ready and cameras rolling to catch the sweet moment on camera.

“Y/N, I don’t even know whether words will suffice to say what I want to say right now. You’ve been by my side since we were kids, you moved to the UK with me and left your entire family in Australia just for me, and I can’t even begin to explain how much that meant to me. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, I frankly don’t think I could survive on my own if you weren’t here. I want to grow old with you, I want to have kids with you and build the life we’ve always talked about having. Y/N, will you marry me?” the words got stuck in your throat, so you settled for nodding feverishly.

The entire team around you cheered, but you could only see Oscar. As he got up and slid the ring on your left hand, you threw yourself into his arms and softly cried, the moment far too emotional to be able to hold back.

Your engagement had become national news in a matter of a couple of hours. Every media channel from the world had written about Oscar’s proposal in Qatar, speculating about when the wedding would be and whatnot.

It didn’t even feel like it had really happened when you stared at the ring on your finger, the feeling foreign but so welcome and like it was meant to be.

You and Oscar had multiple talks about when you would get married, where you would have the wedding and many other problems that came with being away from home and everyone’s families.

Which is why you decided to have the wedding back home in Australia.

After the season was finished and the winter break came, you and Oscar had started planning the wedding, which you settled to have after the last race before the summer break. He had already sent invitations out to the rest of the drivers, all of them very eager to attend the young lad’s wedding.

Lando was especially thrilled, but couldn’t help making jokes about how he had never thought Oscar would be the one getting married so young.

“What did you do to him, Y/N? You charmed him pretty damn well” he’d always joke whenever you guys would hang out in the garage before a race.

Yours and Oscar’s mothers took care of most of the things regarding the venue, the flower arrangements and catering, wanting to take the load off of you while you were halfway across the world.

The only thing that you had to worry about was picking your wedding dress and flying over to Australia to get married.

And when the day had finally come, excitement flowed through your veins.

Nicole and Oscar’s sisters had helped do your hair and make-up, your mother only watching as she sobbed quietly in the background.

“Mom, you’re gonna make me cry too if you don’t stop” you told her as you watched her through your mirror, making the other girls laugh.

“I just can’t believe my baby is getting married” she laughed, wiping her tears and walking up to stand behind you.

You smiled and took her hand, mostly to calm your nerves as well.

You were really getting married. And to the love of your life, which was a plus.

After you were prepped and ready to go, your father came to fetch you to walk you down the aisle. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you held his arm tightly and clutched the flower bouquet tightly in your other hand.

But your nerves disappeared like they had never even been there when the doors opened and you locked eyes with Oscar waiting for you at the end of the aisle, Logan beaming behind him as his best man.

The ceremony went by in a blur, the only focus on your part being on Oscar. You only vaguely remembered saying your vows and saying “I do”, your memory only having imprinted the first kiss you two shared as husband and wife.

You were positive that nothing could ever top this moment, getting married with all of your friends and families present, stepping into your new life with Oscar by your side.

Nothing could ever be better.

Nothing could top you becoming Mrs. Piastri.

Being Mr. and Mrs. Piastri.

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hedgehog-moss · 2 days

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The blueberry tart moral quandary has been very fun to ponder! Thank you for sharing it with us. I think the real question, however, is what each of your animals would think about ordering two slices of tart under the circumstances

You're right, that IS the true question here. Let's situate this in a universe where blueberry tart is safe & delicious to eat for all animal species.

CHICKENS. The chickens would definitely want that second helping of tart because chickens live in a solipsistic moral universe and would hesitate to share tart even if it was their dying sister's last wish. However if you place two slices of tart on the ground for 2 chickens, they will immediately and violently start fighting each other over the same slice, thus giving you the opportunity to discreetly retrieve the first slice for yourself. Moreover, if a chicken manages to break off half of the slice and starts running like hell to go eat it elsewhere in peace, the other chicken will take off after her instead of eating the other half happily by herself. If they then break this half in two while fighting over it, they will resume fighting over that half of the half, allowing you to retrieve 3/4 of the second slice. And so on. This is Zeno's paradox applied to chickens and tart: the hens will spend the rest of eternity fighting over diminishing crumbs while you get almost all of the second slice back (albeit broken in increasingly minuscule halves.)

CATS. Not only would the cats want that second slice regardless of who else wants it, they would also sit & start grooming themselves on the rest of the pie with great serenity, rendering it inedible for anyone else. However, my original post established that the pies were under large bell jars. Two of my three cats are (to their everlasting torment) stymied by this sadistic human invention. If the bell jar is heavy enough that you can't push it off the table (a popular strategy), then Mascarille and Merricat will just circle it a few times, ram their faces into the glass, do a full body swipe against it in case this might open a secret door, and then walk away in frustration. Morille on the other hand is a cat possessed of extreme patience, diabolical intelligence and acute interest in forbidden food. She will get the tart no matter how long she has to lie in wait.

DOG. Pandolf would not want a second slice or even a first one, if he is made to understand that this might make other people sad. The thing with Pandolf is, he can smell disappointment. His great big nose picks up on every particle of human disappointment in the air and they go straight to his heart. He is also too polite to even defend his bone from thieving chickens. There's no way he would claim any tart at all unless someone gave it to him and made it clear they would be happy for him to eat it. However Pandolf is very cute when he sits there with a lolling tongue, happy for others to have a good time, and there is also no way one or several persons wouldn't give him their slice of tart. He would definitely end up with tart.

LLAMAS. Pampelune is the matriarch and since her duties involve dying to protect her herd in case of predator attacks, she considers it her prerogative to eat first and as much as she damn pleases in compensation. She would get two slices. I believe Poldine would choose to have only one slice and kiss everyone in the restaurant on the cheek for good measure, and I also believe she would actually get zero tart. As shown in the salt video, Poldine understands her place in the pasture hierarchy (the one who eats last) and has to resort to subterfuge to get even 1 lick of salt while others are gorging themselves. She will be very dependent on other people's temperance and decency to get any tart (so, Pandolf is her best bet.) Meanwhile Pampérigouste is trying to figure out how to escape the restaurant undetected to go on an adventure while the sheeple are talking about tart. She will get one or two or three slices but only if they can facilitate her various stratagems (for example, to bribe a guard at the door.)

The FISH—do not have the cognitive abilities to worry about morals but more importantly, do not experience soul-deep desires in the way the birds and mammals in this list do. My fish live in a smooth and quiet world where the gods make food rain from the sky every day. In this luminescent existence of untroubled abundance their capacity for longing has atrophied. They do not understand what wanting tart means, let alone the complex philosophical agonies humans can put themselves through when faced with culinary conundrums.

DONKEY. Pirlouit's first instinct would be to claim all the tart he can eat and then some. However donkeys and fish sit at opposite ends of the philosophical spectrum; Pirlouit strikes me as an animal who would be interested in exploring the ethical ramifications of the issue, as an intellectual exercise. 70% of his life consists in quiet deep ponderings. I think Pirlouit could get distracted ruminating the blueberry tart quandary in light of the rich philosophical heritage of donkey civilisation, and arrive too late to get any tart by the time he determined whether one or two slices is the right answer. Kind of like that time he got distracted by his need for revenge and was late for breakfast and the llamas had already claimed the hay.

IN CONCLUSION.

#ask #thank you for the question this was also fun to ponder!#morille & the hens were the most obvious answers

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wesstars · 3 days

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crush

cairo sweet x fem!reader (no pronouns used)

summary: when cairo goes home, what comes to mind are thoughts of you. wc: 2.3k tags: explicit, minors DNI!! all characters 18+. university au. masturbation, smoking, non-linear narrative. reader is cairo’s teaching assistant, reader described as masc presenting. a/n: let me know what y’all think :) for the vibes

masterlist

“Is Professor Miller not coming?” Winnie had just dropped into her unassigned assigned seat next to Cairo, two minutes before Greco-Roman Literary Theory started. The flipping of pages punctuated the chatter of other students waiting, a comfortable sound. “He said he’d be gone today,” Cairo replied absently. “There’s a ‘guest lecturer,’ our teaching assistant.”

“Oh, right. Who’s that?”

Cairo shrugged. “Who knows.”

As if on cue, the door swung open. Cairo didn’t even look up—Miller mentioned that he kept a handful of research assistants that would be there to help with the advanced reading. But honestly, Cairo wasn’t sure what they could tell her that she didn’t already know. A melodic hum fell through the air for just a moment, a chorus.

“Good morning.” At your lilting voice, rough with the edge of 10am, Cairo started. She watched you set your messenger bag on the desk. Your white shirt pulled over your shoulders; there was a glint at your collar, a necklace peeking through. A thin watch adorned your wrist. Winnie, along with some of the class, echoed your greeting, and Cairo blinked.

Late spring afternoon draped across the furniture in Cairo’s room, the quickly waning light giving easy way to a blue hour. Dropping her bag at the door, she tore off her shirt and skirt with the confidence of one standing before a crowd. Running a hand up from her sternum to her neck, she stretched languidly, sinking down onto her bed. After so many uneventful days—when she applied to Yale, she didn’t think that there would be any uneventful days—she finally had a story to turn over in her mind.

You. You were a mystery. Even as you had started the class with an introduction, telling Cairo you’d graduated from a middle-of-nowhere college in California and sought a writing career in Vermont before delving into research, she longed to lay out the details and pull them out from under the rug. Where did you learn to teach? Did you like to drive, or be driven? Mountains, or the sea? Where did you grow up? Was there coffee or tea in your cupboard? Cairo’s stomach burned to know. Her dark eyes burned the ceiling with smoke signals, searching for you even though you were god knows where in that seaside state.

Arching her back, Cairo let her hand travel down, palm flat against her stomach, to trace the seam of her upper thigh. As the class had progressed, your keenly observant nature did not elude Cairo. Maybe listening was something that your pedagogy instilled in you, but the way you held each student’s question in the cant of your head, an answer in your crinkling eyes, listening seemed to be in your nature. It was meticulous, the way you picked apart the class text, weaving in references and tying it all in. In that two hour lecture, Cairo learned that you watched the same way you listened.

Balmy as it was, the humidity made her dark waves cling to her skin, and she shivered as she brushed them back, thinking of a different pair of slim hands. Your scrutiny of each student had an intention that she couldn’t quite place; a determination that thrilled her. Cairo imagined that you’d observe her the same way, that she would be the one you were most fond of. It was only natural that her own attention would draw yours onto her. Holding the weight of your envisioned gaze made Cairo’s core twist, a pleased little flush that she prayed you could see. Your affected impartiality didn’t bother Cairo—in fact, it pulled her into your shadow. In her bed, she rolled onto her stomach then her knees, shaking her hair out.

Her hands were steady as she reached for her bedside table, thumb rolling on the wheel of her zippo as she held the cigarette to her lips. Cairo took a drag, blowing out neat smoke rings as she settled back on her heels. The skin of her own fingers was cool against her lips, and when she took the smoke away, she studied the pattern of her lipstick on the white paper as she had so many times before.

She’d watched, unabashedly and unafraid of being caught, as you drummed your fingers on the chalk tray. Would your fingertip be soft or work hardened if it pressed down her tongue? Would your skin carry the stain of her red lip as deeply, as obediently, as the malleable wrapping paper?

“Alright, class,” you cleared your throat, turning slowly around the room to make eye contact with each student. “As you know, Jonathan’s away on a conference today. I’ll start with a bit of role, just so I can learn your names. Not many of you come to my office hours, I know.” You smiled easily. It was so guileless, Cairo mused, nearly childlike. You had the class go around the rooms with names and majors, a circuit that Cairo gave no attention to other than your lilting rhythm of hums, the tapping of your foot on the floor, the way you flicked the corner of the role sheet with your thumb. Your gaze was soon on hers, waiting expectantly. She looked right back with a blink.

“Cairo Sweet. English major.”

“Cairo.” Her name rolled off your innocent little grin, making her cock her head. “Wonderful.” Fascinating. Would you whisper midnight black desires in her ear, so deep and dark they might be murmured into the ink of your own empty room?

You continued, circling back to the front and easily transitioning to the lesson plan. You had an awfully effortless way of grasping the class’ attention, holding gently and never forcing. It wasn’t like Professor Miller, who always seemed to hasten through the lecture so he could return to his research. She could tell you liked the woods of the text, to fall down into the depths of each word, feeling its weight in you and letting it rock. Just like Cairo.

She sighed into the warm air prickling up her skin, the curl of your voice around her name making her nipples harden in her bralette, even in retrospect. Exhaling around her cigarette, Cairo brought her hands up to palm her breasts, feeling the drag of her rubied nubs on her palms. Was it the high of the nicotine, the blur of smoke ridden air that made her float straight up into the lofty space you’d created in her mind? Though the feel of her own fingers scraping the lace against her skin was familiar, she found herself keen to think of your soft or callused hands. She was wet already, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten wet so fast.

The weight she imagined of your touch on her flushed skin was completely, deliciously foreign. Unbidden but intimately welcome, Cairo wished that your caress would find the map of her chest as familiar as a classic, something you had searched a million times over yet always managed to find something new. Shamelessly, Cairo trailed her fingers down her stomach, nails catching on every rib as she arched her back in the spilled moonlight. The mystery in the crossing of your long legs as you’d leaned back on the desk climbed up her belly, curling in the thump, thump, thump, of her heart. The uneven roll of your sleeves clung to the corners of her eyes, eidetic and oh, so, tempting. She had watched you so ardently—did you like to watch? Would you watch?

The space between her thighs was achingly empty, craving the set of your narrow hips. She was comfortable there, and she remembered the taut stretch of wool as you dropped into your chair and set one ankle over your knee. There was something endearing about the way your trousers had pulled up to reveal slouchy black socks, and darker her mind went as the material pulling creases around your lap made her shudder and—she reached behind to pull one of her fluffy pillows under her, smoke billowing into the air.

Cairo gave her hips an experimental roll, imagining it was the soft fabric of your slacks against her aching cunt, and grinned around her cigarette. Unlike the pillow, you would be ever so solid under her, grabbing for her thighs like a dog yearns to please. Were you more likely to bruise her skin, yanking her into you without care for blood—or would you guide her gently, make a home in her innocence and hold her more dearly than life ever could? Either way, your desire for Cairo would be so apparent that you couldn’t help yourself.

The dip of your tongue in her navel, the little smirk you’d undoubtedly wear as you went down further—would you go for her throbbing clit first, or would your lips press so warm—she didn’t know. She didn’t have to, content with all those different versions of you unfurling before her. In her bedroom, each time she moved her hips, it became easier to imagine you guiding her actions, the bump of your nose on her folds, damned if not addicting.

Cairo grinned as she fell onto her forearms, hips pushing into the soft pillow without abandon. The slide of her panties soaked with slick against her sensitive clit felt like the delicate press of your splayed hand on her desk as you’d passed, eyes occupied by the text you were holding. It had only been a split second, but it was enough for her to memorize every crease, every vein. Cairo let out a whine, a demanding little sound, as her movements grew erratic. Looking up into the heaven where you must be, she imagined that you’d murmur to her, “I’m here, I’m here, how could I be anywhere else but here?” as you traced the dip in her back. Her arousal took her down every sullied path she’d ever dreamed of, but her mind stuck on one gesture that made her mouth go dry.

She remembered the way your shirt got just a bit untucked when you stretched during the class break. You’d instinctively tucked it back in, quick as you surveyed the class. Cairo thought that you’d dress yourself back up the same way after you bent her over the desk after class, pushing her skirt up and shoving your fingers into her, painting bruises onto her hip bones with how tight you held her.

The two of you would share a mutual understanding that she wanted this, wanted it bad enough for you to take it whenever you saw fit. Cairo decided that today, this time, you’d be as rough as you pleased, a cup of pens clattering to the ground as you pushed her down, forearm across her shoulder blades. Your necklace would be cold on her warm skin, would it be cold on her tongue? You’d put two, three fingers inside, humming in that absentminded way you did. She thought you’d nuzzle into her ear, all lips and sharp teeth, asking if she’d sprayed your favorite hair mist of hers because she hoped you’d notice—she did—and take her, break her, whatever you wanted.

You’d send her plummeting down towards a deeper hell (or was it higher, up to your majestic heaven?), already knowing everything that her body needed. Cairo imagined herself coming so helplessly around the stretch of your fingers, so high strung from nights of trying to mimic the press of your touch on her clit, unable to reach the same heights you sent her to. As she held back tears, eyes on the ceiling in reverence, feeling herself drip to the floor, you’d sigh as your mind wandered to other things already, carelessly running a hand down her back.

Cairo gasped, dropping her nearly finished cigarette in favor of gripping the bed sheets. The white fabric wrinkled around her fingers, reminiscent of your shirt creasing as you’d rolled your sleeves up. This was something new you could show her, just how fast she could come and just how wet it made her. It was a marvel, feeling the fabric cling to her cunt, almost as good as how you’d feel. Resting her forehead in the crook of her elbow, she murmured your name over and over again, a little susurrus of a litany, so similar to your preoccupied hum. Panting, Cairo giggled in her bliss, soft and bright as Californian oranges clinging to rich leaves. You were dark enough to be tucked into the wrinkles in the soft pillow, dark enough for Cairo to love, as a journal loves a secret.

Sated, Cairo grabbed her phone and typed your name in. The results spilled out, and she scrolled, looking for all of the details in the background of your social media posts, curiously drunk on the year’s gap in your CV. Cairo noticed the perfect little circle where the cigarette had burned when she dropped it, and she brushed away the remnants. The gesture smeared the ash on the sheets.

—

Walking into your office with barely a knock, Cairo took in the familiar room of an academic, but with your unfamiliar knick knacks around the place. A lighter, a leather wallet, glasses and wired headphones. You didn’t look surprised as you glanced up from your laptop. Instead, you smiled.

“Cairo, isn’t it?”

A flush of pleasure shot straight into her—you remembered. She nodded. Your shelves were covered in books and stacks of reviews, the morning’s leftover cup of coffee sitting on one of the ledges. Did you smoke before, or after your coffee? The terrible, terrible want to replace the taste of smoke on your tongue with the taste of her gave Cairo just the confidence she needed.

“What can I do for you?”

Cairo leaned over your desk, watching the way your eyes dropped to her burgundy lipstick. “Would you be able to help me on the Aristophanes reading?” She pushed her copy of The Clouds towards you. “I can’t seem to grasp it.” Your eyes met hers. “Of course.”

a/n cont'd: can you read my mind, i’ve been watching you… there’s just something about you, baby… ♪ / hope you enjoyed @woewriting :)

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

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lcvclywon · 3 days

Text

in sickness and in health

back to masterlist

synopsis After a long fight with Jay you find yourself giving him the silent treatment. Leaving you curled up alone sick in your room, with your only comfort being the instant tteokbokki you had microwaved for yourself earlier. However it seems Jay knew where to be and what to say at exactly the right times.

warnings: mentions of food, mentions of sickness, mentions of kissing, pet names (honey), slight angst, I made YN as the 6th member of lesserafim so that the whole same building thing made sense so...js roll with it pls 😁, also not proof read!, slight fighting

genre ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ hurt to comfort

pairings: idol!jay x idol!reader, established relationship

wc ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ around 1.14k

thoughts frm yuya 💭 i know i said i was gonna go on a hiatus but i needed a serotonin boost from writing after doing a horrendous maths paper.... so semi hiatus i guess ^^ anywaysss this drabble has been rotting in the back of my mind for a while soo here u are, i'm a huge huge HUGE sucker for hurt to comfort tropes so >,<

A week. It had been a week since you and Jay had a massive argument causing the two of you to give each other the silent treatment for god knows how long. However, as if the world was out to get you, the next morning after the fight you had been plagued with a sickness that you couldn’t quite pin down, all you knew was it left you bedridden until Friday.

Due to said sickness, you obviously couldn’t join your group for schedules and barely entered the building for dance practice. You hoped Jay would at least notice your absence, send a message asking where you were or something. But to your dismay, radio silence.

“Who cares about some stupid guy anyways…” Grumbling under your breath you reached for your chopsticks to skewer another rice cake from your measly plate of instant tteokbokki and shovel it down your throat. Maybe excessive spice you couldn’t handle and soft pillowy rice cakes could solve all your problems.

Ding dong! Weird, you didn’t think the members would be back this early?

Begrudgingly ripping the covers off and placing your bowl back on your table, you went to the door. Hair still an oily mess from not showering properly and clothes stuck to your body from sweat, you clearly weren’t in pristine condition to be meeting anyone. Please don’t be a delivery man, please don’t be a delivery man.

However, after opening the door, you found yourself standing in front of the one person you’d been longing for the whole week. Park Jongseong. Your gaze softened slightly and a small smile crept onto your lips, but then you remembered that you were still mad at him. Fighting the urge to embrace him and cry out for his name, you plastered on a stoic expression of indifference.

“What are you doing here.”

“Chaewon told me you were sick,” he said before entering into your dorm, not bothering to wait for you to let him in.

Making his way over to the kitchen he placed a white takeaway bag onto the counter before emptying its contents onto the table: a warm bowl of your favourite porridge and a cup of tea from your favourite cafe.

“What’s this?” positioning yourself in front of Jay, you scanned the table to see the numerous small boxes of side dishes sprawled across.

“Porridge, it’s good for you when you’re sick.” he replied before shooting his head over to the remnants of your tteokbokki “Honey why are you eating tteokbokki, you’re sick you shouldn’t be eating instant food.” he scolded before reaching over throw your lukewarm leftovers in the trash.

“It’s not that bad…” you mumbled whilst picking at the side dishes “And why do you suddenly care, thought you weren’t talking to me” Scoffing you shot him a dirty glare.

“Correction, you weren’t talking to me; I thought you needed some space, as you usually do after a fight.” well he wasn’t wrong, you did express to him that after arguments you wanted some time to cool down by yourself, “and also, I’m not ‘suddenly’ just caring YN. Who do you think Yunjin got all those drinks, medicines, and snacks from.”

Oh… so she didn’t buy them herself. Your gaze reached his eyes as you felt your heart soften slightly, “Okay, well you could’ve sent me a text or something. You could’ve come here and given it to me yourself, why today out of all days do you decide to come huh?” meeting your glossy eyes, Jay could tell how hurt you were over his actions. He couldn’t deny that it pained him to see you this upset.

“Okay look, I’m sorry. I wanted to come over, but Sakura said whatever you caught was contagious and that you isolated yourself to make sure you got nobody else sick. As I mentioned earlier, you told me you liked to have time to cool down after fighting, but it was stupid of me not to even try to text you. Today it all just-” Jay stopped his rambling, catching his breath before sighing out, “I just really missed you YN”

That was all the confirmation you needed to run into his arms and hug him so tight he didn’t even think about leaving again. Jay was quick to reciprocate, arms wrapping around you to engulf you into his warm embrace, head buried into the crook of your neck whispering sweet nothings.

Breaking away from the embrace and tilting your head up you were graced with a warm and familiar smile painted across Jay’s face; a smile you so badly missed the entire week.

“Don’t ever do that again.” you said with a pout

“Promise I won't honey,” his hands reached to cup your face before adding, “Only if you promise to stop eating that stuff when you’re sick.”

“Hey, it’s yummy! I can’t help it that I can’t cook soup or anything, tteokbokki has never failed me.”

“Guess I’ll have to keep bringing you food then.” he replied with a smirk

“Well, I could use a personal delivery man.” giggling you reached up to mirror his actions, cupping his face with your warm hands.

“Oh really, would a delivery man do this?” and with that he pressed a playful peck onto your lips; soft and gentle, something you missed dearly.

“Jay!” you exclaimed, “You can’t do that, you’ll get sick!”

“So. What.” he said between pecks, peppering your face with kisses as you giggled and placed your hands on his chest to try and push him away. Pulling away he looked into your eyes with a warm and gentle gaze, smiling softly before leaning in to give you a proper kiss. Feeling the worry of your sickness transferring to him vanish, you melted into the kiss whilst wrapping your arms around his neck. In response, his hand found its way to the small of your back while the other reached up to cup the back of your neck. It always astonished you how easily he could pull you into his orbit, almost made you forget about the soreness of your body and the fever plaguing you.

Retreating back he giggled at your pouting face. “I’d love to continue, but I wouldn’t want the food I bought you to get cold” intertwining your fingers with his, he led you over to a chair before sitting you down. “Let’s eat okay?” he muttered before taking his spot right next to yours, hand still intertwined with your fingers. His other hand however reached over to spoon you some porridge, moving the utensil closer to your mouth.

You happily bent forward to enjoy the bite he crafted for you, an all too familiar sensation bubbling up within you—a warmth you could only describe as, home. Jay felt like home. And you hoped he would for the rest of your lives.

perm taglist ♡ (send an ask to be added!) @floweryang

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sincerelyneo · 2 days

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could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐

mad at you | l.mk

“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”

💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we

❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.

❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex

❯ words: 4.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.

an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.

The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had.

But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales.

You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.

So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment.

He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think.

He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous.

The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.

“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”

You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy.

“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”

You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”

"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."

Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath.

“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”

“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”

“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”

“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”

You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.

“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug.

“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”

“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap.

Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair.

“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”

You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought.

“Oh, so you want to break up?”

He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”

The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other.

Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.

Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.

“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”

“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it.

Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument.

He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.

After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys.

It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy.

Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.

Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to.

As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes.

You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.

The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.

However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.

You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”

Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.

His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head.

"I thought you left..."

Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.

“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw.

You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap.

He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”

His kindness only amplifies your guilt.

"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."

Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."

"No—"

He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."

Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.

"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."

"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"

Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"

His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.

"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."

You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”

You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.

Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.

His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.

Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.

You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.

He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.

“‘s okay,” you whimper.

Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.

He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock.

He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too.

And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers.

“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”

You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud.

“Mark…”

“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.”

You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.

And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.

As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been.

You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.”

He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock.

Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does.

The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.

You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick.

You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment.

Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.

Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.

And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more.

You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you.

So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...

“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”

You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.

“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”

And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax.

And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back.

The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do.

You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed.

You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.

"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.

"I’m sorry," you say softly.

You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."

#🏷frompaige #mark lee smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #mark lee x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct x reader #kpop smut #nct hard hours #nct oneshot

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ourautumn86 · 3 days

Text

in heat

dom! alpha abby x sub! alpha ellie x sub! omega reader

a/n; i’ve made my research about aob and female alphas have dicks, so if you don’t fw it don’t read it!!❤️

cw; +18 content, minors dni!!, synchronized heat and ruts, dom! alpha abby x sub! alpha ellie x sub! omega reader, different positions, breeding kink, oral sex (all three receiving kinda??, ellie and r for sure), making out sessions, dirty sex, cum eating, creampies, multiple orgasms, praising kink, ellie being a sub mess, abby uses her alpha voice for a sec, tit and nipple play (r and ellie receiving), hickeys, biting, hair pulling…

okay so everybody knows how hard ruts and heats are. how brutal they can be when there is no alpha or omega to spend it with. but nobody talks about the disaster that conveys when both sync at the same time.

your gilfriends and you didn’t really keep on track the timings of your ruts and heats. why would you? you were there for each other. so when ellie’s turns up is no big deal. or so you thought. ‘cause the moment you took a whiff of her scent your heat hit you like a wave, triggered by the auburn headed, and so abby’s, triggered by yours.

so now here you were. caged in between two alphas in rut, who couldn’t give you just a mere moment to rest. it’s not as if your body needed it. all your mind could think about was having either one of them inside, fucking up their cum inside of your womb, digging their fangs on the juncture of your neck, knotting you…

the thing is… that ellie and abby were unstoppable.

“oh, fuck!” you cried out as abby’s tip hit your cervix, the mix of the blond’s and red headed’s cum flowing out of your abused and swollen cunt with every harsh thrust of her hips. her lips were harshly sucking on your neck, strong arms surrounding you from the back to keep you still, warm big hands palming and squeezing at your breasts and reddish eyes focused on the other alpha in between your legs, whose tongue lapped messily at your slicked cunt and the peeking base of abby’s dick. your back was arching, your golden eyes shining with tears on them as ellie sucked on your swollen and sensitive clit. you didn’t know how many times you’d already cummed. but by the way your pussy kept swallowing them up, you guessed that not enough.

“good girl. such a good girl letting us use her like this. look at her. she just wants to be stuffed up full, isn’t that right baby?” abby smirked, slightly bitting at your shoulder as she gave you a particularly harsh and deep thrust, what made you moan.

“yes, yes, please… want your cum, want you to cum inside.”

—it was a good thing that you were on tablets, or else you three would have probably ended up with babies a long time ago.—

“yeah? want me to cum inside? want me to cum inside your pretty little pussy, baby?” she panted, feeling her dick twitch when ellie’s mouth sucked on her balls. “fuck ellie.” one of her hands left your chest to take ahold of her auburn locks. the alpha moaned at the tugging, her own throbbing dick painfully hard in between her stomach and the sheets she humped herself against. “someone’s desperate down there, huh?” she chuckled, making the alpha growl, her normally green eyes taken by a deep red.

“you’re the one inside her.” she answered, and the blonde tugged on her hair, pulling her away from you and making her scoff. there was a smirk showing off her soaked lips.

“smart, aren’t you? could be using your mouth for something better instead of talking back but here you are. maybe i should just let you watch and talk instead.” ellie whimpered, thrusting against the sheets, her demeanor changing as quick as the smirk disappeared from her lips.

“just want to cum.”

“i know.” abby said, focusing on rubbing your clit for her. “but you already got your turn. look at the mess your cum made out of my dick.” ellie’s eyes went back to the base of abby’s cock, were a white ring formed, her recent load dripping down her balls and onto the sheets. she moaned. “fuck. you like the sight, don’t you? like to know i’m fucking your cum deeper inside her?” she nodded, bitting on her lip.

“please. let me help.” she begged. it was funny. how out of the bed abby and ellie would always fight for dominance, but once they were inside this four walls she’d give it to her so easily.

“gonna make our girl cum?” she inquired and ellie nodded once again. “atta girl.” the blonde let go of her hair, relishing in the pornographic moan you let out once ellie was back at sucking at your clit.

whimpers fell out of your lips as you clenched around abby, making her grunt.

“fuck. you’re milking my cock baby. you close? gonna cum for us pretty girl?” you nodded.

“yes.” you cried out, feeling yourself reach your peak. “i’m cumming!!” abby was not too far behind, not when she felt you cream all over her dick, her hips pistoning inside your pulsing and warm walls.

“gonna cum. gonna knot you up and breed you, princess. gonna get you all round and pretty for us.” you moaned, tears swelling up your eyes. “that’s what you want? wanna make ellie and me mommies, hm?” you nodded, thighs shaking as ellie whined, still suckling at your clit.

“yes, yes. want you to get me pregnant please, please cum inside, cum inside, please.”

“fuuck.” abby growled, your words making her with one, two, three more thrusts cum, her knot swelling and making you cry as she kept thrusting, abusing your walls to reach your womb, where she stilled, warm loads of heavy and creamy cum filling you up with a grunt.

“shit, it’s too big.” you whimpered, feeling abby’s lips on your neck and her hands on your breasts, pleasing you to relax and take it all.

“you can take it. take it for me. for us. be a good girl.” you nodded, watching as ellie got on her knees in front of the two of you, her cock dribbling with precum as her dazed red eyes focused on you.

she crawled her way to your lips, capturing them in a wet hungry kiss that left you with spit dripping down your chin.

one of her hands surrounded her dick, pumping it with a growl as your tongue glided around hers.

abby cooed. “look at her. so fucking desperate.” ellie groaned. “she just can’t wait to fill you up, baby.” abby whispered, her hands coming up to play with ellie’s breasts. “so fucking cute.” ellie panted, her hips thrusting against her hand. abby clicked her tongue, maneuvering the two of you —since you couldn’t get away from her due to her knot keeping you in place— ‘till she was down on her back, her head at the edge of the bed. “come here, use my mouth.” she ordered, and ellie couldn’t help but moan, hurriedly getting up on her wobbly feet to get herself in front of abby, her dick throbbing when the blonde’s mouth fell open for her.

“fuck.” ellie cried out when abby took her cock and wrapped her lips around her tip, her warm tongue gliding through the slit to savor every last drop of her salty pre cum. you whimpered at the sight. sure, you had to bend your body slightly to turn around and watch, but it was truly a sight of sore eyes, watching ellie slowly pick up her pace down abby’s throat, who was so pliant to please the smaller red head. the sight alone was making you drip down onto her thighs, your hips subconsciously starting to grind against her for some kind of relief, making abby groan in pleasure and consecutively ellie moan.

abby’s hands strongly gripped on your hips, bouncing you up and down her dick now that her knot’s swelling was going down, filling the room with now you three’s moans.

“stop. stop. i’m gonna cum.” ellie whined, feeling the band on her lower stomach about to snap.

abby let go of her dick with a pop, calling out for you. “get up here.” she ordered as she licked ellie’s length from base to top, over lining the veins with her tongue and making the alpha shudder.

you made quick work of following her orders, getting up from her dick to move and present yourself to ellie, back arched and leaking cunt showing for her hungry eyes. abby pumped her with her hand a couple of times before guiding her to your pussy, once she had pressed inside with a moan (which turned into two since you too couldn’t help but cry out at the feeling of being stretched out by her once again), pulling you up to your knees to start to kiss your chest. ellie’s pace became brutal pretty fast. she was close, desperate to cum inside you. and you were desperate for her to fill you up. abby took ahold of her face with one of her hands, kissing her over your shoulder as her free hand came down on between your bodies to rub at your clit.

you weren’t gonna last.

“i’m cumming.” ellie gasped against abby’s lips, and abby smirked.

“yeah? gonna fill her up?” she nodded, whining, feeling her knot swelling. “atta girl. cum for me.” it’s not as if she wanted to disobey to her voice, letting out a whimper just as her seed spilled into your womb, making you gasp as well due to how fucking full of cum you were. the feeling of it all made you fall apart once again, your knees failing and making you lean against abby’s warm and exposed chest. “did so good for me, my good girls…”

you closed your eyes. hoping that maybe just for a few minutes you could get a rest.

a/n; 😔 i can take them both (not in a fight)

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faetreides · 2 days

Note

Art seems like such a sub, like he’d be so down pathetic when he sits between your legs, back to your chest while you give him an hj. He whimpers while you whisper dirty things in his ear and shakes more with each pump OOH I NEED HOLY WATER 😭

he gives switch vibes with a sub lean for suuuuuuure 😮‍💨

cw: 18+ mdni, handjob, sub!art, set more in the college era, reader’s a switch too btw but art makes them feral, very loving tho, taking care of him after a tough practice, afab reader

“That’s it, just lie back on me. You must be feeling so sore.” You coo, caressing his biceps and getting into position on his bed.

You recline against the wall and open your legs. Art can’t hide the way his eyes light up as he eases onto the bed and swiftly turns around, resting his back against your chest with a soft sigh. You pick up on the groan he attempts to stifle in his palm, knowing how his muscles be absolutely aching right now.

It’s a big deal for you to show that you support him by showing up to his games and practices, so that’s what you doing earlier. You’ve always admired his determination when it comes to tennis, so you don’t mention that losing a college game isn’t the end of the world. Still, you won’t deprive yourself of the eye candy that comes in the form of your boyfriend sweating and grunting as he practices his drills.

Once it was over, he bounded over to you with a tired grin and jokingly pushed your face away when you tried to kiss him. “Angel, i’m all gross now.” He’d laugh, and you’d shut him up by licking some of the sweat of his cheek.

“Did I do good today?” He asks and looks up at you with his big eyes.

You’ll never not be grateful that he seeks out your approval like a dog with a bone, because you’ve never been so proud of someone in your entire life.

“You always do the best, babe.”

Art blushes and tilts his head back onto your shoulder. And for a cliché moment time stand still, the sunset outside casts an orange glow over the room and the two of you. Your boyfriend looks beautiful like this, eyes shut in exhaustion and nestled in your arms.

But you have other plans for the evening than just admiring your boyfriend, there will be plenty of that later during pillow talk.

Art cracks his eyes to see your hands trail down his arms to end up at his crotch. He’s so relaxed that he doesn’t squirm as much as he usually does, but he turns his head to nuzzle your shoulder.

You soothingly murmur to him, “My boy worked so hard today, i think he deserves a reward, don’t you?”

“I want whatever you have to give me.” He genuinely smiles into your skin, shifting his hips to push up against you palming his bulge.

And it’s true, he’d throw his head back like a whore and moan unabashedly no matter if you were edging him with a vibrator of if you were gently grinding your fat ass against his dripping cock.

You teasingly squeeze his clothed bulge and then dip your fingers under the waistband of his white boxer briefs. Thank god for the fact that Art likes to strip down as he soon as he gets back to his room after practice.

“Lift your hips for me, baby boy.” You tell him with a nip to his earlobe.

He sighs again as he gives you the suitable free space to push his underwear down enough to free his cock. It’s so long and pretty, such a good size too. Flushed blush pink at the tip and veiny, your mouth waters but giving your boyfriend head is a reward for a different day.

Art whines when you get your hands on his bare cock, “You know ‘m sensitive, feels so good already.”

“But your tears are so pretty when you’re overstimulated.” You peck his temple and lean your head on top of his, curling your hand around the base of his dick and steadily beginning to pump him. “You should be happy to cum as much as you want, sweets.”

He whimpers and spreads his legs over yours. You hook your feet around his and keep them there.

Pearls of precum bead to the tip of his cock, making the slide easier. You grip him tighter and move your wrist in quick circles as you speed up your thrusting.

“Oh- F-fuck!” He keens, latching onto your hips and arching his back against you.

“Shh, if you can’t handle this how are you supposed to handle my pussy? It’s so much tighter than my hand, baby, you’ve felt how warm and wet it is.”

He cums embarraingly quick when he gets like this, all doped up on how you make him melt. It’s adorable and a huge ego boost, but he can only cum inside you so much before he’s out like a light.

Art gasps at the mention of his treat, and awkwardly twists his torso around to face you, “I can handle it, can i have it now? Please please please please.”

“I don’t know…” You hum, pretending to consider his begging.

You clasp your fingers around his leaking dick and thumb the tip, spreading the precum. You fuck his length with your fist and you’re going so fast, you’re making a ‘thwop! thwop! thwop!’ sound.

“I think I want you to cum just like this, love.”

Art keens as you furiously jack him off. You rile him up by whispering in his ear.

“Got me so hot watching you today. Seeing the sweat on your body when you pulled up your shirt to wipe your face, i wanted to ride you into the ground.”

Art gapes, trying to kick his legs out on reflex but your ankles over his keep him right where you want him. He screws his eyes shut tightly and moans in between his babbling.

“Unh- unh- ‘s so good, gonna cum, can i cum? Please say i can cum, ‘m gonna burst- FUCK!”

You don’t know who’s crying more, Art or his cock. He’s leaking so much that you had to concentrate or you’ll lose your grip.

You don’t let up until he’s heaving a strangled cry and shooting his hips up, spilling on and over your hand like a fountain. He gets so sloppy with it, fucking himself with your fist through the aftershocks.

“That’s it, such a big load for me. I bet you were aching holding all that in, baby.”

And he’s so gorgeous, mouth open wide and tugging on his hair in random intervals. You grab his face with your free head and rub your thumb over his cheek. You let him come down at his own pace, and when he focuses his pretty eyes back on you, you bring your sticky hand to his mouth.

Art cleans his own mess, maintaining eye contact with you. The fierce tomato red blush he’s sporting deepens. You wink at him and slurp up an equal amount of his cum, like a couple sharing a milkshake in an old fashion diner.

#im more of a sub bottom but sometimes im possessed by the urge to peg a man #challengers #challengers x reader #challengers 2024 #challengers smut #mike faist challengers #challengers movie #mike faist #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #mike faist x you #mike faist x reader #mike faist smut #art donaldson challengers #🎧.asks #🕊️.alivedove

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onlyjaes · 2 days

Text

hands (p.sh)

pairing. stepdad!sunghoon x fem!reader

— 𖦹 warnings. taboo relationship (stepcest), pwp, choking, fingering, cunnilingus, degradation, hair pulling, multiple orgasms

authors note. don't like it, don't read

(18+) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

you're thinking about hands.

long, slim fingers and knuckles that are a little prominent, a little pinker than the pale skin it is against. rough but careful ministrations, cradling the back of your head even as they yank your hair, pulling your head around so your gaze meets his.

hands, hands, hands... thumb brushing your lower lip before pushing past to rest on your tongue. hands on your neck, just enough pressure to have you seeing stars. or maybe no pressure at all. maybe they sit loose around the base of your throat like a collar to remind you of your place. they dip just below the neckline and you hope they’ll go further.

hands that press forward, hands running along your body, along every tender place—neck, waist, thigh. hands that still at the slightest response from you, pausing in a way that you can feel the smugness through his fingertips.

he loves it when you beg, he demands it of you; not with his words, but with fingers curled just right, with your legs draped over his and his breath hot on your neck. the only thing he loves more than hearing you beg is knowing you’re too far gone to do so, too fucked out to form words. he can pinpoint the moment it happens, too... feels it in the skip of your pulse, the way you clench around him. he loves making you look at him with a hand on your jaw and another between your legs, watching as you struggle to pull your eyes back into focus. "c’mon, baby, look at me, you can do it, yes, good, so good for me..." you want to pull him closer after that. sloppy open-mouth kisses, his tongue sucking yours as you cry out and ankles locked around his waist and hands clutching at his shoulders desperately, and...

“class dismissed for today! remember to turn in your papers by..."

class is over already? but you could have sworn you’d just opened up your laptop and logged on but your professor seems very clearly to be wrapping things up. a quick glance at the clock confirms that yep, you’ve been checked out for the last half hour of the lecture.

you need to spend more time focusing on your schoolwork, and less time lusting over your stupid hot stepdad.

sunghoon isn’t an idiot. he knows hooking up with his own stepdaughter is a bad idea. it is probably the worst idea he's had. he knows his wife would kill him.

but you’re making it incredibly hard for him to remember that.

you, prancing around the apartment in ankle socks and tiny little shorts paired with oversized sweaters that hang off your shoulder and make it look as though you aren’t wearing any shorts at all. you and all your casual touches... a kiss on the cheek when you thank him for doing some chore for you, a head resting on his shoulder when you sit next to each other on the couch, a hand on his arm as you pass him in the hall. you, sweet-voiced and soft-eyed and blushing at everything he says... dirty or otherwise.

you, buying a vibrator.

he’s always been curious about your sex life yeah, but you haven’t given him much to work with. you weren’t really in the habit of bringing anyone home. there was that one asshole named jungwon or whatever you’d been dating long-term when sunghoon first married your mom, but you always slept over at his place. sunghoon met him a few times and seen the way he treated you. it didn’t take him much more than five minutes of knowing the guy to be pretty sure there were zero orgasms happening.

and now… you broke up with jungwon. now you spend your nights in your room. now you share a wall with... your mom and stepdad.

and now you own a vibrator.

he wonders if he’ll be able to hear you. he's been living here almost for a year. surely you must have gotten off in that time. he can just picture you biting down on your lip, brows slightly knit as you shake and tense and arch off the mattress.

he’s always liked his partners vocal but for some reason the thought of you in his bed trying so desperately to stay quiet just makes him want to rise to the challenge. already you make the prettiest noises whenever you’re startled or excited or shy. given the chance he could coax a fucking symphony out of you, he just knows it. he just doesn’t know when such an opportunity will ever come.

as it turns out, though, opportunity does knock... and sooner than either of you would have ever thought.

friday night. your mom is working late and you're eating dinner with your stepdad. he has that stern look on his face 24/7 so you suggest cracking open a bottle of wine to share. to your surprise... sunghoon agrees.

he's always been on the stricter side. he always frowns when you do anything... risky. so you didn't think he would say yes to drinking with you.

neither of you are drunk drunk yet but the combination of alcohol and being alone together makes you both start playing never have i ever in your room. you both have glasses of wine in your hands. his pretty hands.

"never have i ever... uh... gotten married." you smirked and your stepdad just rolled his eyes at you.

"very funny."

"okay you go."

"never have i ever gone my whole life without cumming even once."

you turned completely hot as you wondered if he meant that.

"what?! where did that come from?"

sunghoon nods at the box with your vibrator. you just now realize that it's sitting wide open on your nightstand and you blush.

"just assumed."

you sit up quickly. "i just got out of a yearlong relationship okay. what... you think i've never cum?"

"have you?"

"yes..." he tilts his head and you get flustered. "yes god, yes! yes, i've had an orgasm before!"

"but...?"

you aren't sure what it is about this night, this moment that makes you so honest with him. is it the alcohol? or his gaze? the clear and cruel behind his glasses? "only by myself," you whisper and cross your legs to hide the ache between them. "never because of someone else..."

to your surprise he doesn't laugh or mock you for your answer. he purses his lips and shrugs. sighs. "at least you can get off on your own."

"yeah i guess... i just," you look back at the box, "it's different having someone touching you. i'd rather have that... without the orgasms.... if i had to choose." you look up at him shyly and look away. the atmosphere grows serious, vulnerable, and intimate. and then your stepdad snickers. you look up at him. "what?"

"you don't have to choose."

you roll your eyes. "yeah right."

"i'm serious."

"pfft. aren't you confident? are you sure no one's faked it with you?"

"faked it? possibly. but unlikely."

"jungwon couldn't tell i was faking it."

your stepdad scoffs, "he's a boy. he doesn't know how to pleasure you like a man."

"like you can do any better."

he goes quiet. it's unlike him... so unexpected, and you almost ask him what's wrong. but he says "come here" in a low voice.

"what?"

"come here y/n."

you haven't had enough to drink to be drunk. but as you move across the mattress toward him, you kinda know what's coming and you want to jump into him. you've been touched before, cuddled, but there's something different tonight. something about the way he pulls you onto his lap so that you're straddlign him. something about the feeling of his hand on your thigh, his palm on your cheek, his warm chest against yours.

"was that a challenge dear?" he asks.

"what if it was?"

sunghoon isn’t sure which one of you makes the first move or who leans in first but it doesn’t matter, because how many times has he fantasized about exactly this? how many times has he sat there on the couch with your head on his lap as you watched some mind-numbing chick flick, run his hands through your hair and beat back the urge to yank?

he doesn’t hold back now. one hand curls into a fist and he pulls your head back, forcing you to look up at him. but that's his stepdaughter! he can't just... fuck your cheeks are flushed and lips slightly parted—

he wants to fucking ruin you.

your hands are still against his chest but they went slightly limp in surprise at having your hair pulled. when he slides his hand up the back of your shirt, you seem to come back to life, winding your arms around his neck. you’re breathing faster than usual and he can feel your nipples through your shirt and you’re tugging at the collar of his shirt and yeah, if he doesn’t get your clothes off sometime in the next thirty seconds he’s going to go insane.

he doesn’t tear your shirt in half... he has more self control than that. much easier to just pull it up and force your arms above your head, and then before you can bring them back down, push you gently so that you fall on the bed, legs still parted around his hips and eyes wide. he tugs off your shorts and underwear, and you grab a fistful of the front of his shirt to bring him crashing back into you for a desperate open-mouthed kiss. he catches the back of your neck with one hand mostly for support, his hand big enough in comparison to your neck that he’s able to rest his thumb just below your jaw. when he gives your neck an experimental squeeze you gasp into his mouth.

interesting.

you as quiet as he'd expected. just gasps and whimpers. it’s cute. it’s also infuriating. he wants to hear you. he wants to hear you moan, beg, scream. and he doesn’t need a vibrator to do it.

you’re playing with the hem of his shirt. your fingers are electric against his skin and the slight touch sending flickers of desire careening through his veins and it’s too much and not enough and he reaches around your back to snap open the hook of your bra a moment before he lets you pull his shirt over his head, and there are no words to explain how it feels to have his stepdaughter's bare chest flush against his... to reach down and feel how wet you are. you’re soft and warm and so so wet, it’s driving him crazy and he isn’t even inside you yet.

as he pulls away and backs up to stand once more by the edge of the bed, you get into as upright a position as you can manage, trying to brace yourself on your elbows. “what are you...?"

the mattress slips out from under you as he pulls you forward by the waist, positioning you so that your hips are in line with the end of the bed as he sinks to his knees and buries his face in your cunt.

he doesn’t move slowly and doesn’t ease you into it. one moment you’re lying there bewildered, and the next you’re trying to buck your hips up against his face. trying because he’s holding you down with enough force you half expect to find his fingerprints there tomorrow.

he listens to you, pausing until you whisper yes and please. he takes each twitch of your legs and sharp intake of breath into consideration as he finds each sweet spot and latches onto them with precision.

you scrabble for something to hold onto, grasping at the sheets. he takes enough pity on you to reach one hand up... the other on your hips keeping you firmly in place... his pretty fingers interlacing with yours. another lick has you arching off the bed with your head thrown back and it takes you a moment to realize he’s guided your hand to the back of his head.

you thread your fingers loosely through his hair careful not to pull. he can tell you’re holding back because he makes a frustrated noise against you and then he turns his head and bites your thigh, his free hand pushing your hand against his hair. when he sucks on your clit again it’s startling and sweet and so intense that you don’t think twice about tightening your grip... unconsciously guiding him exactly where you need him.

the first time you really let go and tug at his hair he lets out a growl, pleased and primal. sunghoon's hold on your hips loosens, allowing you to ride his face in earnest with all your shy manners gone and forgotten as the overwhelming wave of sensations narrows to a point of pure excruciating pleasure and you finally cum.

he doesn’t stop.

why would he? now that he finally has you where he wants you. and vice versa if the way you’re still writhing on the bed is any indication. you’re still frustratingly quiet but the sight of you so lost in sensation and twitching with the aftershocks is enough to sate him for now.

you’re overstimulated for sure with your hand weak against his temple but all your protests are replaced by whispered pleas for more, oh fuck, more, daddy, more please as he slips one finger inside you. slowly. wet as you are and relaxed from your first orgasm of the night.

did you really think he’d stop at one? the thought makes him chuckle against you. he's two knuckles deep and to his delight he gets something more than a gasp. he repeats the motion and adds another finger and oh, oh, you sound just as good as he’d imagined. better, so much better. he moves harder and faster, working you out until he feels you tensing, feels you right on the edge...

... and he stops.

you whine. you’re turning your head up to look at him. he’s pleased to see what a mess you look: flushed face, messy hair, your lips kiss-swollen. your eyes still clear and soft with the afterglow of your previous orgasm. “why did you stop?”

he lets out a low thoughtful hum before turning to face you. “what’s the matter?” you’re taken aback by his eagerness across his face. he licks his thumb and smirks and you bite your lip. “one isn’t enough?”

"ah... uh..."

he climbs up the bed to meet you in another bruising kiss, the taste of you still on his lips and your legs spreading further to allow his hips to slot between them. once you’ve helped him get off all clothing below the belt you melt into his touch only to be jolted back when he rolls over to pull you on top of him.

“i stopped,” your stepdad grunts, getting a good handful of thigh to squeeze and smirking when he hears your moans, “because this time you’re going to cum on my cock my pretty girl.”

he pulls you against him as if to demonstrate and you can’t help but let out another louder sigh at the feeling of him long and hard and throbbing against you. you sit up to align yourself and the first press of him inside you is so good that your head tips back and your lower lip caught between your teeth as you bite back another moan.

sunghoon's voice is mocking but he breaks as you slide down to be seated fully against him with the tip of his cock practically kissing your cervix. “fuck... such a cock hungry whore.... cum once already and you’re still so tight. is this what you needed?” he starts leading you in an achingly slow rhythm and relishing in the way you clench around him with every thrust. you nod as your eyes flutter shut. the sting of his hand on your ass makes you whimper. “c’mon little girl. want to hear you say it.”

“say... oh fuck, i, fuck, daddy." you moan.

“you act so innocent. i bet you think about me fucking your pretty pussy all the time huh? you think of your stepdad fucking you? behind your mom's back? huh? tell me.” he fucks up into you hard, his hands on your hips pinning your hips to the mattress. “convince me you deserve to cum.”

when you reach for your clit he catches your wrists in one hand. “please.”

“please what?”

“please let me cum daddy.“

he shakes his head. “not good enough. if you’re desperate enough to grind on my cock then your slutty enough to tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”

desperate, slutty... you’d never realized until now that degradation was something that turned you on. you bite your lip one last time and your eyes fix on his. “i want to cum on your cock. please daddy, fuck."

"that so? you want your stepdad to fuck you? aren't you such a dirty whore?"

"y-yes... i want you to fuck me hard. want you to fuck me all night." he rewards you with a few fingers circling your clit and you almost choke on a moan. ”i want you to fuck me into the mattress until i can’t think straight.”

sunghoon can’t help but shudder at that... at the sound of you. you, his shy and not-so-innocent stepdaughter. such filthy words in your sugar-sweet voice.

it’s only a matter of seconds before he has you on your back with your legs draped over his shoulders and he's filling you up at an almost brutal pace. he’s rewarded with the shaking of your legs and the frantic drag of your nails across his back, and most of all the way you can’t help but moan with each thrust as you grow closer and closer to falling over the edge.

when you cum again you seem to melt into him, clenching and squelching around him with the prettiest cries he’s ever heard and that’s all it takes for him to pull out so that he can come on your stomach. you’re still twitching as he does and all he can think as he collapses next to you is that he’d give anything to see you like this, fucked out and hazy and covered in his seed every day for the rest of his life.

“two orgasms,” he finally says, once the two of you have spent a few minutes in silence. “easy. your ex must be even more of an idiot than i thought.”

without thinking you press a kiss to his shoulder. “thanks,” you whisper. he doesn’t answer... not at first. not out loud. but a moment later you feel him shift, reaching across you to grab something from the nightstand. then he’s above you and kissing you. it's soft, deep, sleepy in your mutual post-orgasmic haze and you sense some mischief behind it. when he pulls back you see it in his eyes as well.

you blink up at him. “what are you..."

“making you cum a third time.” you can do nothing but grab your stepdad's shoulder again as he reaches down to lower the vibrator to your clit and as you whine again at the sting. you feel his free hand on your cheek and take two of those long pretty fingers into your mouth. he smirks at you. “why don't we test your limits baby?”

#enhypen hard hours #sunghoon smut #enhypen smut

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wileys-russo · 1 day

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Emily fox, on the pitch, (sarcastically) “aw baby I’m sorry did that hurt”

I’m thinking enemies to flirts to lovers

frenemies II e.fox

"well good morning sunshine!" lotte laughed as you sat down beside her with a huff, dropping your bag to the ground and rummaging through it with a hum.

"woke up on the wrong side of the bed did we?" the girl teased pulling on her boots as you sighed. "you have no idea. this is going to be a long day!" you warned as the girl squeezed your shoulder sympathetically, the pair of you falling into conversation.

you smelled her before you saw her, the familiar waft of perfume hitting you before the sound of her laugh did, glancing up to see her walk in with alessia, chirpy grin on her face as usual.

"now now, play nice today even if you are grumpy!" lotte warned with a grin as you knocked your knee against hers with a playful roll of your eyes. "its not me whose the problem lots, you know that better than most." you quipped tugging your socks up as emily sat down across the room.

catching her eye yours rolled again as she sent you a wink, tuning back into her conversation with alessia. "i know you're both as bad as each other, she's been here for months now. wave the white flag! be the bigger person." lotte cautioned gently.

"so you admit she's not the bigger person? so she is in fact, the problem?" you grinned gleefully as your friend sighed at the take. "theres that selective hearing. you might want the long sleeve, we're set for rain!" lotte warned as you groaned quietly and unzipped your bag again.

though as you pulled out the top you quickly realised the number on it was not yours and pushed it hastily back in. "i'll survive." you brushed off her concerns as lotte only shrugged. "come on miss holland, off we go." you teased pulling her beanie down over her eyes and standing.

"not again with the tom holland reference! i don't look like him at all." lotte groaned in annoyance as you only grinned. "no i think its more like one of the robbers from home alone." your smile dropped at the familiar voice, lotte shoving emily with a playful glare before walking off with alessia.

"fox." you greeted shortly, the pair of you following after the girls in front who'd fallen into their own conversation. "as if the english weather isn't cold enough, that tones gonna give me hypothermia." the american shuddered rubbing at her arms as you rolled your eyes.

"oh come on! that was funny, you're allowed to laugh!" emily protested as you strode ahead, hurrying after you. "maybe at you, never with you." you warned, holding back a smile as your boots touched grass and you were able to hurry off to another group of girls.

your mood didn't improve during training, in fact it only got worse as indeed lotte was right and the skies opened up, the rain pouring down the last fifteen or so minutes of training.

given it was the last one before the game this weekend you didn't let it stop you, pushing through at the management teams instructions, breaking off into smaller teams for a round robin of games and a cool down.

all morning emily had been trying to get on your last nerve, her own patience wearing thin as you ignored her time and time again taking lottes advice to be the bigger person albeit the white flag.

but as the rain became near torrential and suddenly you were taken down to the ground a lot harder than necessary considering you'd already given up the ball your tolerance grated.

again and again your back hit the turf with only one culprint taking your legs out each time, your training top coated with mud and bib soggy against your chest as beth whipped a goal into the top corner to end the game and the whistles to finish training finally blew.

right as you'd completed the pass to her again your legs were swept out, wincing as your ass thumped into the ground but you clapped at beths goal none the less not wanting to be a bad teammate.

"aw baby i'm sorry, did that hurt?" a smirk hovered over you accompanied by an american accent and a very punchable face as the girl held out her hand to help you up.

with a glowering scowl sent up at her you smacked her hand away, climbing to your own feet and storming away, hearing her follow after you as the rest of the girls sprinted back into the building to shower and change before media.

but right as you went to step foot into the locker room a hand grabbed yours, tugging you away into one of the recovery rooms as the door closed with a click.

you sighed deeply at the grin which shone back at you, crossing your arms and glaring at her when she refused to move out of the way of the door.

"come on stop the frowning. i said i was sorry!" the american laughed stepping closer as you shook your head. "that doesn't mean i have to accept your apology." you reminded firmly, unwavering as she rolled her eyes.

"no. but only one of us is currently wearing something with a collar and ah...the rain has not been kind to you." emily tutted her hand moving to settle on your shoulder and you hissed as her thumb pressed into a deep red mark on your neck and you smacked it away.

with a groan you moved toward a mirror in the corner, turning your head left and right inspecting the marks you'd covered this morning before leaving, the rain indeed having washed most of the concealer off.

"this is your fault fox!" you advanced toward her as she only smiled, meeting you chest to chest. "yeah. so?" she challenged with a quirk of her eyebrow, your mouth opening and closing trying to find a comeback.

"exactly. you weren't saying anything last night when they appeared!" emily grinned cheekily as you only huffed, shoving her and making a beeline for the door before her hand grabbed yours and twirled you so you wound up chest to chest with her again.

"kind of hard to with your tongue down my throat." you scoffed only widening her beaming grin, her face near split in half as tattooed fingers traced the hickies with a feather light touch.

"let me take you to dinner tonight." now that did catch you off guard, stepping away from her with a frown. ever since she'd signed the american had wedged her way under your skin, the pair of you clashing heads and forever arguing, broken up and told off by your teammates.

though it never translated to the pitch, the two of you working seamlessly together down the right side much to everyones shock given how you seemed to loathe one another in every other sense.

but little did they know it was due to the release you two had figured out helped your contempt for one another, and for weeks now the two of you had been sneaking around one anothers beds, always gone by the morning and never more than that.

so you'd hardly expected these words to come out of her mouth.

"what?" you managed out in shock, emily stepping closer with a nod. "dinner. at a nice restaurant, the two of us. tonight ideally!" the defender explained, sticking by her words.

"but thats not-thats not what we do." you declined with a shake of your head as she shrugged unfazed by the rejection.

"well there has to be some middle ground in this enemies to lovers pipeline, you think you hate me but really you don't even know me. i'd like to change that, to change whatever this is." emily confessed confidently again catching you off guard.

when you didn't reply the girl only grinned, pulling off her spray jacket and handing it to you to put on to cover the marks on your neck.

"great, i'll pick you up at seven then baby. wear something...dry! oh and i want that jacket back, since someone else stole my long sleeve." she winked teasingly, and just like that she was gone.

#woso #woso community #emily fox #emily fox x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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iliektehhaxs · 3 days

Text

I was thinking of the calling your boyfriend your husband trend on tiktok and I started thinking about the 141 boys reaction to it, so enjoy 🥰

Simon

It’s completely on accident, you’re checking into a hotel for your anniversary and it slips out, not even aware you’ve introduced him as your husband until the receptionist repeats it back to you.

“Mr. And Mrs. Riley, correct? Here’s your key card.”

Your heart skips a beat, ready to correct her when Simon eagerly takes the thin piece of plastic.

“Appreciate it. Me and the missus have a long day ahead of us.”

Fear turns to surprise, which turns to glee all in the span of seconds. The elevator ride is filled with the sounds of each floor, as well as your racing heartbeat. Simon’s tight lipped as usual, but you notice he seems much more relaxed, compared to your frantic state.

He called you missus. You might have done it on accident but there was no excuse for your boyfriend, you know him well enough to say that with confidence. He’d never joke about something like marriage if he didn’t really mean it.

Simon’s the first one to speak when you enter your room.

“So, husband? That the alias we going for?”

You rack your nerves for anything to say, eyes darting from Simon’s eyes to the floor. He can tell it was an accident, but he can’t help tease you a bit, you’re adorable when you’re shy.

“Far from the worst thing I’ve been called—suppose we keep the nickname after the vacation, yeah?”

Gaz

He gets very proud, if he was a dog his tail would be wagging faster than the eye could see. He wouldn’t doubt his new nickname for a second, loving every minute.

“Husband, yeah?” He says, an infectious smile spreading across his face. “That’s it then?”

“Mm, yes it is,” you reply, barely able to hold back your own amusement.

“Where’s the ring then?”

“I’m sure I could buy you a ring pop—“

The noise of disappointment that leaves him is criminal. “A bloody ring pop? That’s what I’m worth now?”

“Yup,” you answer, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Because you’re as sweet as one.”

He huffs indignantly but doesn’t pull away from you, so you keep kissing him until he’s forced to return the favor, lips against yours.

Johnny

He’d be the first one in the relationship to call you his wife. He’d say it was an accident, but then he’d be a liar. The first time it happens is a month after you’ve been dating, he’s talking to a friend on the phone and casually says—

“Yeah, I’ve got the wife cooking me up something nice right now, can’t wait to eat it.”

—to which you turn around, stunned. For a moment you think you heard him wrong, until he turns back to you smiling like the cat who ate the cream.

You don’t question it, but you can’t deny how warm the title makes you feel. His little Freudian slips keep happening over the course of your relationship, and after a year he finally gets the courage to call you his wife—officially, this time.

Price

It comes naturally, John always calls you anything but your name and you having your own assortment of epithets for him. You two were often confused for a married couple with the way you hang off each other, so why not lean into the idea?

You’re greeted with the heavy sound of his footsteps, the jingle of keys outside and then the sight of him fills the doorway.

“Got you the mail darling—bloody junk mailers don’t know when to quit.” He says, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. His beard tickles your skin as he does—a welcome comfort you’ve become more than used to.

“Mm, thank you baby,” you whisper. “You’re the best husband a girl could ask for.”

“Husband?”

His lips are turned in amusement, while you’re becoming more nervous with each passing moment. You start doubting whether or not he’d be comfortable with the name, confidence waning with each second.

“Boyfriend, I mean,” attempting to backtrack but John doesn’t let you get away that easily.

“No no no, don’t start lying now,” he grins. “Go ahead, say it again for me.”

He thrives off your embarrassment, enjoying the way you hesitate to answer. “Don’t leave me waiting doll.”

“It was an accident,” you sigh in defeat. A lie, of course, one that John sees through immediately.

“Didnt sound like an accident to me,” he says, leaning down to kiss you again. “And suppose I wanted to call you my wife, what then?”

You stammer, unable to answer. He smiles at your dumbfounded expression before leaving you to your own thoughts.

#call of duty #call of duty fluff #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #price x reader #captain price x reader #john mactavish x reader #john price x reader

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inkyray · 2 days

Note

your sick matt fic was so good!! can u make a part 2 sorta (or not) where hes finally recovered but now his gf gets sick and he has to take care of her?

a/n: got to writing immediately i fear

content ahead/warnings: sick!reader x matt sturniolo, vomiting, fluff, not proof read lol, other shit idk

part 2 to this

TOLD U SO

A rush of utter heat wraps you whole, and you feel unconsciously frustrated as you twist and turn from out of Matt's grasp. Hoping for some sort of light and feathery breeze to hit your sleeping body.

You subconsciously begin whining in your sleep, the feeling of only hot and thick air doing nothing to cleanse your body, your nose stuffing itself from a simple sniff of air. You raise a few fingers to rub your still-closed eyes together, meeting directly with your burning sticky skin. Your unreasonably high body temperature sends a quick shock through your body, still rubbing your eyes.

"You all right, baby?" Matt shifted to his side, his voice low, gravelly, and husk. Without even considering your options, you immediately shake your head no. His large hands make their way to your forehead, and he feels himself getting upset. "You're burning hot, sweetheart."

If you were half asleep before, you were now just opening your eyes. An undeniable wave of physical exhaustion punching you in every bone of your body. "I told you, we shouldn't have kissed. You were too close to me the entire night, I knew you'd get sick too." He huffs, stressed out for you, his hands pressing the hair that stuck to your face due to accumulated sweat out of the way. You frown deep.

"You got me sick." You point out, your soft voice matching his with its roughness crackles, you feel your sore throat form almost immediately and you wince. "No, you're the one who kept wanting to kiss me and rub all up on me." He shrugged in defense and you can't argue with that.

"As long as I get to kiss you some more today."

He chuckles, able to get up from the spot on the bed and head for his bathroom. "You're unbelievable, kid."

Your eyes dart to the sound of the running bathroom sink and the gross sloth feeling of continuing to lay in this bed any longer. As soon as you were back to normal, you would be deep cleaning this room front to back. You stiffen, making up the mental courage to lift yourself out of the bed.

Lifting your head up first, a wave of utter wonkiness punches you in the face, your head feels like it is spinning in your mind. The migraine was forming now, but you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, making it to the bathroom.

You mentally feel the strength of your legs and thighs even when still laying on the bed, and then you look at the ground. You huff a whine, your body too hot for your skin. "Matt." You call for him, he answers immediately with a "You okay, sweetheart?", the sound of foam and a toothbrush in his mouth.

"Help me make it to the bathroom." You murmur, softly peeling the blankets from off of you. Matt walks back in, and in seconds he scoops you up. With a hand under both your knees for support and a large hand on your back, he takes you to the bathroom as you yelp at the sudden action. You figured the soup you made him last night definitely helped.

"Feeling better, hm?" You mutter, holding onto his neck for better support. He turns his head to look at you, kissing your lips with a long peck before kissing your neck, you get a mild taste of toothpaste in your mouth, scrunching up your nose. "Enough, Matt. Or you'll get sick again." You warn as he places you to sit on the bathroom counter.

"Then it'll be a cute never-ending cycle of us getting really sick and kissing each other." He said it like he was fond of the idea, looking at you then himself at the mirror, going back to brushing his teeth.

"Not a good thing." You point out, turning your back to stare at your reflection. You looked bedridden, your hair a messy bunch and your skin sickly flushed. "You look gorgeous though, so that's a plus." He rinses out his mouth, bending down to the height of the sink as you take the opportunity to run your hands through his knotted hair, fixing it for him.

He stands back up again, turning to look at the shower before back at you. You raise a tired eyebrow. "You think I should try for a shower? I feel disgusting and I think I've recovered enough to take one." He looks for your opinion on his question and you offer him a lazy shrug. "You're an able adult with a mind of your own."

"Yeah, but, I need to know what you think." He stands in between your legs, resting his hands on both your thighs. "Whenever I do something without your approval, I always regret it." You can't help it, you kiss him again. "Take a shower." You pull away and he grins. "But make sure you dry your hair really well."

"I know, I know." He winks, taking off his shirt as you drop to your feet. The sudden weight against the floor is a lot for your feeble sick body, you use the counter to lean on for help, before your knees buckle and have you fall. "Careful!" Matt urges, his eyes widening and a quick hand holding you still by the waist. You offer a smile. "I'm okay."

You turn the sink on, splattering your face with cold water. The temperature difference being so ultimate, it has you squeeze your eyes shut and take it all in for a moment. Washing your face, you hear the shower faucet turn on and Matt enters it from beside you.

"Make sure the water is hot on your skin!" You yell over the clattering water from the shower, making sure he heard you. You were always bossing Matt around like a mother, being an older sister definitely taking a load onto your personality. You dry your face, going in to brush your teeth now, hearing Matt turn the faucet as steam begins to form around him.

"Not too hot, Matt."

"I'm not into the whole idea of accidental suicide, so don't worry about that." He says over the water.

"You can't die from that." You correct, putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

"God, even when you're sick."

You chuckle, giving Matt an opportunity to close his eyes under that hot water and let your laugh melt through his ears.

"I'm gonna take a piss." You announce, rinsing your mouth out and peeling your pants down to your thighs as you sit on the toilet.

"You better not fucking flush." He ordered, making sure you heard the warning in his voice.

You wiped, getting back up and flushing, darting out of the bathroom. You laugh at the sound of Matt screaming your name due to the sudden temperature change of water until sudden dizziness takes over your sight and mind. For a full second, your vision blurry so bad you genuinely couldn't see anything as your head spins in circles like a basketball.

"Fuck." You gasp, dropping yourself onto the unmade bed you and Matt slept in, trying to get your mind back together.

Not even a whole 10 minutes pass and Matt was out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel as he searched for you, seeing you dead asleep on his bed. Just then realization dawns upon him that today he'll need to look after you, the same you had. Any feeling of playful irritation left him and he was now changing into his clothes, his blue eyes on you as he tried to figure out how you took care of him so he could repeat that action.

Medicine.. Soup. Soup. He wondered if there was any left. Finishing putting his clothes on, he shuts the door quietly behind him, not wanting to wake you up. The environment around him definitely made it obvious that Chris and Nick were awake, seeing them seated in the kitchen.

"Matt!" Chris happily calls, seeing him much better than yesterday. He smiles, taking a seat at the table as he watches Nick cook up breakfast. "Are you feeling any better?" Nick asks, putting sausage on a plate. "Yeah, all thanks to her," Matt points to the direction of his room where you're sleeping. "But at what cost." He sighed, feeling the guilt of getting you sick.

"What? She got sick too?" Chris wonders and Nick frowns. "Aw fuck."

"Yeah. She worked so hard yesterday, too. I feel so bad." Matt sighs, grabbing onto the fork Nick handed him and taking a quick bite from the breakfast. It wasn't your cooking, the flavor dull in his mouth as he chewed it down. The sound of murmured worries erupt from his brothers. "Whatever, is there any of the soup she made left?"

Chris almost jumps at the mention of the soup. "Dude, did you try it? It was so fucking good."

"Yeah. She made it for me. Is there any of it left?" Matt repeats himself, Nick shakes his head. "Nah, fucking Chris over here finished it all." Matt turns to glare at his brother.

"What?"

"You don't even like soup."

"Your girlfriend's soup doesn't count though, you've seen the way she cooks."

He was right, Matt couldn't argue with that.

Almost the entire day had passed and you had practically nothing in your stomach. Matt had tried anything, but your feverish appetite kept you from swallowing anything down. You claimed the food was either under seasoned, not cooked well enough, too cold, and more. Matt had gone out with Nick to the store to buy you pre-cooked meals, but the thing with you, you can smell if something isn't homemade from a mile away.

He holds the spoon of rice to your mouth, but you twist your head the other way, refusing to eat it. "Please, baby, come on." He begs, "You need to eat, you have to have food in your system so you could take the medicine."

You huff, shuffling under his blankets, looking for something. "I'll just take the medicine now."

He clicks his tongue, signifying no. "Nope, you will eat this whether you like it or not." He holds your hands down to shove the spoon in your mouth, but your head dodges it immediately, turning the other way. He groans your name, you stick your tongue out.

"I'm not eating that shit."

"Yes, you are." He grabs ahold of your jaw, locking it in place as his separate hand shoves the rice in your mouth. "Chew." He holds your jaw tight, closing it for you, knowing you were gonna spit it out. You furrow your eyebrows, glaring at him as you chew.

His grip on you loosens and drops his hand when he's certain you won't spit it out. Wrong move. You spit the rice out immediately onto the plate. He yells your name before accepting his defeat. "You have to eat, or else you'll throw up, stupid." He grumbled after a little while.

"Nah, I won't."

Was being completely and utterly stupid a part of sick symptoms?

You were snuggled up onto Matt's side, watching a movie on his laptop, sneezing and coughing in every direction but his, determined not to get him sick again. Even if that meant you're getting his entire room contaminated. His hand was met with your bare skin that your big shirt failed to cover, his palm sneaking into your shirt and rubbing our hot skin up and down for some sort of comfort.

Now, what made you stupid, was that you still took the medicine. And halfway through the movie, your stomach starts churning. Your eyes widen at the sudden clench of your stomach and you jump up, immediately heading for the bathroom as Matt's hand disappears from your side. Bending down to the toilet, Matt jumps to his feet and follows you inside and you immediately start gagging into the toilet.

You throw up an empty stomach, which hurts more. Matt worriedly holds your hair back as another hand rubs your back, understand ing quickly what was happening. You gag, everything you consumed the other day clears its way out of your body. Matt winces behind you, determined to keep your hair out of the way as he watches the pained look on your face.

The feeling chimes down, and you stand back up, dizzier than you were before, with Matt still using his hands for a make-shift ponytail before dropping it down. You feel yourself almost fall, grabbing onto his forearms for support, taking a few steps toward the sink.

Rinsing your mouth, Matt speaks, "Is it too soon to say I told you so?"

You decide to wash your face, too. "Shut up, bitch." He chuckled nervously from behind you. You felt disgusting and exhausted. "I need a shower." You mutter, rubbing your eyes as sick tiredness gets to you again.

"Not today!" He declares, motioning you back into the bedroom. "I feel so sweaty and gross." You mumbled, leaning on him, not really wanting to use any effort for yourself after that god awful vomit experience. He notices, preferring to pick you up than have you walk on your own.

"I could get you a new set of clothes?" He suggests instead, laying you back onto his bed. "Mmm." You hum in approval, laying fully on your back, too tired to even speak anymore. You felt worse than you did in the morning.

He grabs some folded clothes, all of which belonged to him as he looks back at you. Your eyes were closed, your breathing out of order as you tried to steady it again. You feel both of Matt's thumbs hook around each side of your waistband before slowly shoving them down, his cold fingertips brushing against your burning hot body. Taking the pants off you, he takes one of your legs and puts it in the leg hole of sweatpants that belonged to him, repeating the action on the other leg before pulling it past your thighs and to your hips. He ties the strings around your waist so it wouldn't fall off you.

"Thank you, Matt." You slur, barely able to open your eyes again as your mind begins going blank. "Anything for you, love." He softly takes your shirt off of your head as you lift your arms up lazily for some sort of help. Matt grins at your lazy action, putting a graphic t-shirt over your head. You seemed completely out of it, so he puts your arms through the holes for you, making sure your stomach is fully covered. "Sleepy, huh?" He says more to himself than you.

A small part of your mind hadn't completely fallen asleep, your ears picking up on it but not registering what he'd said, humming in response to make it seem like you were still awake. Matt fixes your position on the bed. It was only 8:00 PM at night, and he still needed to film a car video in a few hours. He knew exactly what he would bring up.

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yappersblog · 3 days

Text

stay ready — emily engstler [blurb]

synopsis. what’s better than napping with your favorite person in the whole world after a long and hard practice? absolutely nothing—or at least according to you and emily.

author’s note. this is my first time ever posting on tumblr so please be indulgent 🙏🏽 its quite short but i loved writing it!!!!!!!!! if any of you guys want to request; don’t be shy, my requests are wide open 😘

warnings. nothing except people in love.

help. liebe means love, tschüss means sweetheart & komm schon means come on in german.

more fics. my paige bueckers one. go take look 💋

“goodness…” you mumble to yourself while climbing up the three last stairs, your hands deep in your tracksuit’s pockets and your thighs screaming in pain.

today’s practice was extra hard for everyone—the coach deciding that this random wednesday was perfect for exhausting the whole team.

usually, you’re not the one who gets tired easily, but those cardio and reinforcement exercises had you dead on the floor; gasping for air and all.

you thought that it was just your body who decided to be lazy today, but when you saw your girl take a seat next to you on the floor, you quickly understood that training was hard—emily being one of the strongest people that you know.

luckily, the rest of the practice went pretty fast, leaving to you and the girls three more hours before team’s bonding—which is really just you and your teammates gossiping over chick-fil-a.

so this is why you’re actually standing in front of your girl’s dorm door, right after taking a very long and good shower and changing yourself into one of emily’s nike tracksuit that you stole from her dressing.

“who dissss?” you hear hailey’s voice, and then the door opening on the blonde’s face. she smiles when she realises it’s you, knowing perfectly that she isn’t the reason why you’re here—even if she’s your closest friend. “hi gorgeous” she invites you inside, closes the door and traps you in a hug. “em is in her room, don’t sleep too much—it’s your turn to bring food!” the blonde playfully says, while you’re making your way through the hallway—sending her thumbs up.

once you’re in front of her room, you knock quickly and don’t wait for her to allow you to enter, already knowing the answer, and come in emily’s tavern.

the german is laying down on her bed, airpods in her ears and phone in hand—the girl only wearing sweatpants and a shirt. her blonde hair are tied in a messy bun—showing off her neck tattoos—and her clear glasses are positioned on the bridge of her nose.

she looks delicious, and she definitely knows it.

hearing the door of her room opening, emily takes her eyes off her screen and lands them on your figure, trailing her pupils from your still-wet hair to your black tasman ugg’s. immediately, a smile takes place on her face and, without a single word, she opens wildly her arms—asking you to come to her.

“my baby” she mutters, when you don’t wait to get rid of your shoes and lay your whole body on hers.

before hiding your face in your favorite place (her neck) you can’t help but peck her lips a few times, humming softly against them. you feel her smile into one of your many kisses, and do the same—happy to be with your favorite person in the whole world.

“missed you…” you mumble again, leaving her soft lips to hide in her neck.

her body shakes under yours, and her little chuckles make their way to your ears—making you more at ease than you already were. “we just saw each other one hour ago liebe” she softly says, her left hand pushing your head more into her collarbone.

“don’t care… it’s too much” your girl laughs again, pressing a kiss against your freshly cleaned hair.

a few seconds pass, and silence takes place in the room—your head still mushed in your girlfriend’s warmth, her arms tightly wrapped around your waist; one hand under your vest and the other gently groping your lower back.

sleepy, you let her cologne, warmth and touch lull you to sleep.

you feel at home, surrounded by emily, and she might feel it because her embrace gets tighter around you—her lips being glued to your forehead and her mutters duplicating against your hair.

the two of you don’t need to speak, the silence is enough for you to understand each other’s needs.

and right now, what the two of you need is snuggles and a nap, which is why emily don’t wait more than a few seconds to put her phone down—not after taking a few pics of yourself being all up on her—and readjust your body on hers.

before joining you in your sleep, the blonde girl brings her blanket to your neck, tucking you and her own self in, and turns off the light from her bed—using her basketball skills to throw a random pen at the interrupter, not wanting to wake you up just to turn off the room’s light.

her eyes closed, cheek pressed up against your hair, arms embracing you and hands gripping everything she can—em feels like she’s in heaven.

she has everything she needs with her: you. and that’s enough for her to peacefully fall asleep, knowing that you’re safe in her arms.

but reality catches up with you two, manifesting itself in the form of a pretty blonde girl, who’s name’s hailey and who seems to be way too much excited when it’s only ten o’clock.

“lovebirds! the two of you need to get up!” she shouts while entering em’s bedroom, alexia trailing behind her with a little smile on her face. you groan loudly and emily shots her middle finger to her roommate. “yo, that’s mad disrespectful! anyway, get your asses up” hailey says, laughing when your girlfriend turns her back on her—bringing your body with hers. “come on girls!” she shakes em’s shoulders.

“hailey you’re getting on my nerves” you hear your girl mumbles, while tightening her hold on you.

“i don’t care, you bitches need to get up!” she chuckles while speaking, before calling out your name: “stop sleeping, i need my bestie back!” you groan again, too tired to move your lips.

“leave my girl alone” your girlfriend loudly says, taking a hold of your thighs and surrounding her waist by your legs. “go back to sleep tschüss” she whispers softly, her hand resting on your lower back.

so you do what you do the best (after being pretty): you listen to em’s words and try to go back to sleep—even if there’s a crazy blonde girl in your room who’s trying to get you up, and that your girlfriend is not sleeping anymore, too busy whisper-yelling to hailey.

“come ooooon! it’s been more than two hours!” she fusses again, her hands on her hips.

emily can’t help but roll her eyes, her head re-taking its place against yours. “bro, just give me ten minutes to wake her up” she gives in, tired of hearing her roommate’s whining about being hungry and bored.

“finally!” hailey smiles with all of her teeth. “i leave you two alone” and with that, she disappears and closes shut em’s bedroom door.

loudly sighing, the german takes a look at you—grinning at your sleeping figure.

gently slapping your ass, she scratches your back and presses a kiss on the skin of your neck. “come on baby, you have to wake up” you groan, again. it seems like nobody wants you to get your beauty sleep today. “come on” she says softly, trying to take you out of your haze.

“don’t want” you mumble, searching again for warmth and comfort in her neck.

“i know pretty girl, but you have to” she keeps on trying to wake you up, her tattooed hand grabbing your jaw and bringing your lips on hers—pecking them a few more times. “komm schon! we have to go get food for the girls” you shake your head once again.

“you liar, you told me to go back to sleep and now you wake me up. you don’t love me anymore?”

and this is maybe the worst thing you could have said, because the next second you feel your ass stings.

“ouch!” you scream, sitting up while bringing a hand to your stinging butt. “em!” she laughs, getting out of her bed to dress herself into one of her many sweater.

“that’s what you get when you talk shit” you roll your eyes.

emily hates when someone doubts of her love—and she hates it even more when that someone is you. she showers you with love everyday and is really serious about her feelings for you—the girl not standing when you or the girls refer her as cold lover or as a fuck-boy type of girl, even if it’s just all jokes.

she only has eyes for you. that’s all. and you must know it, or she’ll get mad—just like right now.

“you know i’m joking baby” you say, properly taking a seat on the bed and scratching your sleepy eyes. she doesn’t respond, only smirks and goes on with her preparation. “you’re driving?” you ask a few seconds later when you’re done with putting your shoes on, your eyes fully focused on the pretty girl in front of you.

“always” she affirms confidently and you smile. “let’s go?” your girlfriend asks, taking a look at you.

“yes” it’s your turn to get up, hands taking place in your pants’ pockets.

you’re making your way to the bedroom’s door, still sleepy but ready to go get food—your stomach already grumbling and waiting for the chicken to be delivered, but you’re stopped by em’s tattooed hands on your waist.

turning around, you’re met with her pretty face and sexy smile. she puckers her lips, then mumbles: “gimme a kiss” which you do, getting on your tippy toes to press your lips against hers.

she hums loudly into your kiss, her hands trailing down your back, before grabbing your ass and lifting you up—snatching a little scream out of your mouth and making your arms wrap around her neck; your fingers tracing the tattoos on it, that you know by heart now.

“em’!” she smiles, pulling out of your kiss.

“i love you” it’s your turn to grin.

“i love you too, babe”

written by © yappersblog, i do not accept plagiarism—this is my work and only mine.

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dollfacefantasy · 10 hours

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wearing leon's hoodie during sex… he’s fucking u from behind and pushes the hoodie up to reveal your back… he grabs the top of the hoodie for leverage, and to pull you closer…

uh huh uh huh. i see your vision so here's a little drabble <3

leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v

It starts when Leon comes home from running some errands. He's kind of riled up. There was traffic, it was too cold out, there was people everywhere, and it seemed like he was the only one who knew what he was doing. He slams the front door and tosses his keys on the counter, letting out an irritated sigh and stomping up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

But there you are. His baby. Tucked away safe from the rest of the world. His beam of sunshine among the gray clouds that pollute the sky today.

You're laying on the bed, curled up with a blanket and gazing at the tv with only half your attention. Long legs lie exposed, soft from the strawberry scented lotion you'd lathered them in. Best of all, you're wearing his hoodie. An article of his clothing.

He tries to be casual about getting what he wants. He attempts pleasantries, acts like the shedding of his clothes is innocent. He's only doing it to be comfy enough to join you in your lazy day.

Not even thirty minutes later though, you're face down, head pressed to the pillow, ass raised in the air. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he sheaths himself all the way inside you. You whine as your hole stretches around his length, accepting the intrusion. Your fingers claw at the fluffy blanket beneath you as he starts thrusting.

In and out, back and forth. It seems like each time he hits a new pleasure spot or coaxes another needy whine from your lips.

"That's right, baby. Feels so good, doesn't it?" he grunts as he pumps his cock as deep as it can go within you.

"Mhm," you whimper your voice shaky.

"Uh huh," he agrees. The sound of him panting combined with the slap of his skin on yours overwhelms your brain. "Who's fucking you this good, honey? Who's got you making all those cute little noises?"

The response is automatic. "You," you choke out as your body rocks with his momentum.

"Who?" he prompts you, wanting specificity.

Your words falter for a moment under the pressure of him rutting into your soaked cunt, but you regain the ability to speak before he could ask again.

"Leon," you whine, dragging out the ending sound.

He mumbles some words of praise, but they fly right over your head. His thoughts weren't on what he was saying either. He was much more focused on hearing you cry out his name while his eyes locked on the space between your shoulder blades.

On the fabric of the hoodie in that area, Kennedy was emblazoned in vinyl. It stood out in bright white on the soft black cloth. You were his. There was the physical and verbal proof. He pistons into you at a quicker speed as the primal part of his brain starts to take over. The part that just wanted to claim you and keep you as his own held the reins now.

Your eyes start to gloss up as thoughts melt away in your brain and drip from your mouth as drool. Your cheek squishes further into the mattress below. Everything is getting to that point where it feels fuzzy and far away. And you're content with that. You're content to just melt into a puddle of euphoria on the bed, but Leon had other ideas for you.

He bunches the hood of his hoodie together, handling it like he would a leash. Then with a firm tug, you're straight up on your knees. Your back is arched so your ass is flush against his pelvis while your head bobbles around near his.

"Oh fuck, baby..." you cry, "So fucking deep now."

He chuckles and yanks you even closer. The new angle did have him even further within you. If it wasn't for his hand supporting you, there was no doubt in your mind you'd flop forward and face plant into the memory foam.

His hips snap as though they're possessed, not stopping for the slightest break. Both of you are starting to work up a sweat, you a little more so from the thick fabric that covered your upper half.

"Mhm. All the way inside you. And I'm the only one who's ever gonna feel this," he mumbles.

"Only you," you agree without a second thought.

You can't speak anymore than that because your voice has devolved into pure moaning. Soft little cries of ecstasy leave you over and over as he fills you up just as many times.

"Want you to cum for me, baby. Milk me fucking dry so I can mark you on the inside too," he mutters.

And that's all it takes really. The thought of being claimed so thoroughly does it for you, and you seize up on command. Every part of you contracts and tightens up, including your pussy, locking him in.

That's what does it for him. The knowledge that you want to be claimed, that you love that you're all his. He shoots all his release inside you, not letting a drop go to waste.

Afterwards, he takes care to clean you up, actually ask about your day while he gets you comfy again. The sweat-soaked hoodie ends up in the laundry, and the two of you curl up in bed, together this time. If he didn't get off on the possessive part of this whole thing so much, he'd probably just buy you one of those hoodies for yourself. You were gonna be a Kennedy in no time anyways.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut

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asimpforyagami · 3 days

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Hey!! Could you do prompt 15 with Dazai and Nikolai? Seperate pls! Where reader has been having it rough lately and they want to be close to their safe person/bff as possible (aka Dazai and Nikolai). They also seem to have feelings for each other but haven't confessed yet 👀

↷ A/N ─ i love this omg you're the besttt :3

★ PROMPT ─ 15

!! FT. ─ dazai, nikolai

"is it okay if i sleep here tonight?"

─ DAZAI

"Of course, you can, bella," he replied immediately, waving a hand.

Of course, you could. He had dreamt of this for so long, to be with you in your darkest times. Your head would rest on his lap while he would play with your hair. So naturally, part of him was exhilarated at the thought of you staying there with him, lighting up his little house.

But part of him felt equally guilty. Who was he to be happy while you were suffering? Ever since he had seen you, he had made it upon himself to protect you from all the sadness and cruelty of humanity. Then, who was he to take joy in your pain?

With these thoughts in mind, Dazai repeated his sentence softly, "You can, bella. For as long as you want."

You nodded thankfully, and he took a pillow and a blanket out. You looked at him, puzzled, since there were already enough pillows for both of you on his bed.

"What's that for?"

"Oh, that," he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, before attempting to switch back to his cheerful personality. "I don't suppose you'd be able to bear the thought of a handsome detective asleep right next to you?"

"Maybe I could," you said quietly.

Dazai blinked.

Oh.

This was real.

"Heck, yeah, you could," he jumped onto the bed.

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

─ NIKOLAI

"Yes, little dove," he poked your nose. "Why, my house is absolutely charmed to be in the presence of a wonderful, wonderful lady such as yourself," he bowed down to you, and his hat toppled off.

Clearly, he was trying to make you laugh. You giggled slightly, and he looked up at you with the most awed look ever. That laugh. He loved it.

He straightened up after taking his hat back from the floor and putting it on.

"Would you like to remain in the vicinity of this poor jester, my little dove?"

"Yeah," you sniffed your tears away and let him lead you by the hand to his bed.

The two of you lay down after he changed his clothes. It wasn't awkward at all, surprisingly. You had thought sharing a bed with your crush would be embarrassing. But somehow, the way his eye, free from his usual eyepatch, looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world, made you realize that you would agree to have ten more mental breakdowns if it meant being with him.

Nikolai saw that you caught him staring, and winked at you before his eyes turned mischievous. Before you could ask what he had found, a portal opened near your stomach and he began tickling you, just to hear that heavenly sound of your laughter again

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

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moonstruckme · 2 days

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Hiiii!! I saw that you were asking for camp counselor! James and I got an idea, what if reader and him weren’t yet together but they were both pinning on one another and he was just telling the kids how adorable the reader is and the kids thought that they would be so good together and were so happy when they finally got together!!!

Thanks for requesting sweetheart!

camp counselor!James x fem!reader ♡ 751 words

You spot James before he does you, holding court among a circle of campers enjoying their free time after lunch. The sun beats down on the unshaded bit of grass in front of his cabin, but James doesn’t seem to mind. He’s all loose and smiley, skin glowing in the afternoon light and hair that hasn’t been cut since May curling just above the rims of his glasses, meanwhile you can already feel the tickle of sweat forming on your skin.

He looks up as you approach, grin widening the second before his face smooths into seriousness. “Careful, guys, we’ve got a wily one coming to join us,” he tells the kids. “Keep your cards close.”

You roll your eyes, sitting down with your legs crossed beneath you between a couple of girls from your cabin. “What are you playing?” You ask them, and yet James answers anyway.

“Blackjack.” You look up at him, and he smiles. Almost bashfully, like he’s unable to help himself. “Crazy eights,” he concedes, setting down his hand to deal you in. “Here, we’re just starting.”

“James,” one of his boys whines, “we’re halfway through.”

“What harm does it do you, Cal?” he asks. “You’re set to win anyway.”

“It’s okay,” you promise, “James is allowed to set me up for failure if he likes.”

James pretends to be appalled, making the kids laugh, but he can’t keep it up for long before he’s smiling back at you. You like doing this with him, allying together. It feels like you’re in on some sort of secret, though you’re not sure what that might be.

“It’s probably because he fancies her,” one of the other boys whispers to Cal in a not-so-low voice.

You do your best to keep your eyes on your cards and your feelings off your face, but you feel a heat that has nothing to do with the sun creeping up the back of your neck.

“Shush!” One of your campers, Mary, elbows the other boy sharply. “You’re so loud.”

You don’t dare sneak a glance up at James, but when one of the girls goes, “Wait, what?” and the circle erupts in giggles, you can’t help it. He’s grinning at you, that us-against-the-world look again, like kids, right? You hope your answering smile looks half as relaxed.

“You guys are worse gossips than my mum, you know that?” The kids’ laughter worsens as he feigns an exasperation that’s easy to see through, setting his hands on his hips. You pointedly do not notice how nicely the pose displays his biceps and forearms. “This is why I don’t tell you any real secrets.”

The boys from James’ cabin look genuinely upset. You feel a bit bad for them even as relief washes over you, tinged with a bit of disappointment.

“It wasn’t a secret?” the boy who’d spoken asks.

James gives him a sideways look. “Hate to break it to you, mate, but look at her.” Blood rushes to your face as the kids gasp and ooh conspiratorially at each other almost too loud for you to hear him saying, “I’m only human.”

You feel no better than the kids when the first response that rushes to your lips is shut up, but you choose to take your own advice, rolling your eyes like you think he’s joking despite the light and undeniable sincerity in James’ tone. Butterflies crowd your stomach.

“Y/n, are you gonna be his girlfriend?” one of the girls from your cabin asks, grinning ear to ear.

“Um, it’s not quite so simple—”

“Terrible!” James exclaims, looking around the circle with a scandalized expression. “You’re all terrible. I haven’t even asked her anything! You’re going to kill your counselor, and what then? You think the next one will let you play in her hammock?”

“We’re not allowed to do that anymore,” another of your girls says sulkily.

James looks to you, and you shrug, sheepish. “I got caught. They said it wasn’t safe.”

“Whatever,” James blazes onward, “the point is, who will I have to talk to if you kill her? Be considerate, guys. Plan ahead.”

“James,” you plead, very nearly on the brink of actual death, you’re sure.

“And that,” he says promptly, stacking three fives and holding up his hands empty, “is how you win at crazy eights.”

The kids erupt in shouts, pointing fingers and throwing down their cards, and James sends you a wink.

You think you need to take a dunk in the lake.

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