Tumgik
#only the front of my forehead got it and a little bit on the cheeks and on the nose
miguelhugger2099 · 8 hours
Note
HIII tehehe
so imagine this, miggy and wifey reader coming home from a date and reader is just giggling as she remembers him being kind to all the kids who came up to him wanting to play with him. and reader is just like 'what if i just gave him one instead'
miggy notices his wifey reader giggling to himself, mini fluff moment happens. then reader exposes herself and then
~smut~
Baby Maker
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long overdue and was very much in the accidentally deleted category like everything in this ask was written it just needed an ending before POOF gone. so, a thousand apologies i could not say sorry enough nonie. i tried to write down everything i remembered so i could get it out as soon as possible. as always, if you're not satisfied, this ask can be rewritten for a third time Art: feminine.999 on instagram
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After a long and tiring winter, Miguel was eager to take you out for a picnic date in the warm sun again. It was always a sweet reminder of your time as young lovers and just having the simplicity of being in each others presence along with some food. So whenever the time was right and the temperature was warm enough, Miguel would plan and whisk you away to the park at the same hill you two have decided would be your spot. "Miguel just hand me something." You smile at him and stick your hands out, the picnic blanket hanging lightly on your forearm. Miguel carries both the cooler and basket as well as your purse on his shoulder. He had only asked you to fold the blanket but you wanted to help so you held onto it instead while he insisted he had everything else. "Ah-ah." He says, shaking his head. "Tengo todo, mama. I'm okay." Obviously, he was. He could carry several more things if he wanted to but you felt really bad watching him. "Give me the keys then. I'll drive." You cross your arms. In truth, he didn't want you to drive- he's a little traditional when it comes to handling things on his own while you rested freely from responsibilities. But, he sighed and instead of protesting, he nodded. "Keys are in my back pocket." He pouts dejectedly. You found it cute and rolled your eyes. You reached around him to grab the keys from his pocket, giving a teasing squeeze to his ass which he jumped at. "Oye." He says with a playful warning tone, squinting his eyes down at you. There's a hint of a smile on his lips, as well as a spark in his eyes. "C'mon." You shrug and skip in front of him, pretending to be innocent. At the car, Miguel was finishing up putting everything in the trunk, massaging the palms of his hands to ease the strain of holding onto the handles of the cooler and basket. You place the blanket over everything, feeling Miguel kiss your temple and his hand sneaking around your waist. "Good?" You ask him, looking up and cupping his cheeks. Miguel leans into you, his hands on your hips to keep him steady. "Mhm." He hums as he looks back down at you. Miguel kisses your forehead then each of your cheeks before finishing it off with a long smooch to your lips. "Let's go home." He murmurs.
Before you could move, Miguel looks down after feeling something tap the side of his leg. A soccer ball rolled a bit before he skillfully rolled it under his foot and kicked it into the air so it landed in his hand. “Whoa!” A chorus of young high-pitched voices shouted in unison. A group of kids huddled by you two, marveling at Miguel. “How did you do that?” One boy gasps, his eyes lighting up in admiration. Miguel chuckles nervously, bashful of the attention of ten-year olds. “Ah–it’s a little tricky.” He hands the ball to a little girl and she waves it high above her head. “Can you show me?” She squeals and Miguel blinks, looking back at you. You covered your mouth to hide your giggles and smile. “Go.” You tilt your head at the group of kiddies and Miguel stumbles over his words but the kids already took your approval and began tugging on Miguel’s arm back to the grassy fields to play.
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As you got home, you couldn’t bring down the smile on your face, cheeks hurting with how long you’ve grinned to yourself. You let out a couple of giggles remembering how the children flocked to him and how Miguel looked carrying two grown kids in his arms when his little team scored a goal. Not only had you felt warmth in your cheeks but in other places as well. “Why do you look like that?” Miguel asks after placing the bags down near the door. He’d organize things later. “Like what?” Miguel brings his hand to the side of his face and bunches his shoulders up, looking up at the ceiling with a mockingly dreamy sigh. “Like this!” You punch his shoulder and Miguel laughs, bringing his arms around you from behind and leaves little apology kisses along your neck. “I did not look like that.” You defend yourself. “Mmm, you did. You always look like that anyway. At least when it comes to me.” He mumbles against your ear, his breath tickling your senses and you squeal to move away from him but he just holds you closer. “So what is it this time? Was I extra good-looking today? Did I sweep my favorite girl, my wife, off her feet?” Miguel presses his lips on your cheek with a loud smooch. He couldn’t help teasing you a bit. “No, it was different!”
“Hmm, different?” “The kids at the park.” You feel Miguel pause and he lifts his head up and tilts it to the side after turning you around. “What about the kids at the park?” He asks, confusion swirling in his eyes. “You looked…good with them.” He huffs a quick laugh. “Okay?” “And I was thinking, y’know,” You giggle at the thought of Miguel picking you up, filling you up, carrying a baby–making him a father. He wanted to pick your brain. “What?” He squints down at you. “What if we had a baby?” Miguel’s eyes widened, blinking in surprise. “H-huh?” His voice went up an octave as his cheeks had gotten a little redder. You felt his hands tense around your hips and you secure your arms around his neck. “What if..I just gave you a baby?” You repeat in a hushed whisper. “With your help, of course.” You giggled and your flirting sent shivers down his spine. Subconsciously, Miguel’s eyes turn downwards to your stomach–imagining it swollen and growing with each passing day with just a few pumps of his cum. His eyes dilate and he feels the blood in his body rush straight down to his groin. “O-oh, God…” He groans, his breathing already getting heavy. “Are you sure? You want a baby? You want my baby?” He whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. You could feel his hands gripping your sundress. It fell just above your knees so Miguel was already sliding his hand up under it to feel the skin of your thigh, skin still a little warm from being in the sun. “Mhm, yes, please.” You whine, feeling the rush of arousal drench into your panties from hearing Miguel hold onto his last remaining self-restraint before he fucks you silly. At your plea, Miguel wraps his arms around you and pulls you up towards him to kiss you deeply. His lips devour yours, tongue slipping past your defenses to tangle in a dance with your own tongue. One hand pushes your head closer while his other hand runs down to grip the plump fat of your ass through the fabric of your dress. Tapping it twice, he signals you to jump in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and he hurriedly enters the bedroom. Miguel falls on top of you, bodies bouncing on the mattress but it does nothing to stop Miguel’s desire for you.
Miguel separates from your lips, dragging his wet mouth down to your jawline and neck while his hands bunch up your dress at your waist. He brings a hand up to pull down the top half of your dress and begins to leave small love bites across your breasts before licking your nipple into his mouth. With your head rolled back, your fingers run through his hair, hips attempting to grind up for some friction but with his weight on top of you–you’re helpless. “Want me to make you a mama, huh?” He growls huskily, lifting his head up and using his fingers to flick and tweak your nipples so he could watch you screw your eyes shut and your mouth parted open as you moan his name into the air. “Want me to make you all pretty and swollen with my cum, hm? Fuck…” “Oh, God–Miggy..!” Your hands at his shoulders, arching your back off the bed and writhing underneath him in a desperate attempt to make him focus on your wet pussy. Miguel can’t help but play with your tits, groping them in his hands and squishing them. He pulls your dress further down, tracing your curves and worshiping them to engrave it in his memory. Your dress now on the floor, you lay bare with just your panties. Miguel presses down on the soaking patch between your legs and you shiver. “No me jodas, Miguel. Just fuck me.” You groan and buck your hips to grind on his fingers but he chuckles and pulls away. “Dale paciencia, mi amor.” He says even though he feels the same, his cock straining against his jeans and leaving a wet spot in his boxers from dripping precum. Miguel leans back down to kiss you, hands fumbling with the zipper and he hastily shoves his boxers and pants down his legs. Deciding he was also impatient, Miguel rips your underwear apart and he bites down hard on his lips to stop him from moaning loudly at the sight of your glistening folds. Mind cluttered with lust, you don’t even notice the tear but you do feel his hard cock rubbing between your puffy pussy lips. He sighs while he collects your slick onto his shaft, his leaking tip mixing with your juices. “Mmm, fuck yes…” He shudders, thighs flexing as his muscles tensed up. Goosebumps litter his skin and he looks down at your body. Sprawled nude on the mattress while you’re already looking fucked out of your mind when he’s barely put the tip in. His cockhead catches inside and he teasingly enters. His hand places itself on your stomach, pupils blown wide open.
“Qué pasa, mi amor? Te sientes bien? Ay, que linda eres...” He purrs as he pushes inside you. “Feel me, mama.” Each inch is slow and he makes you feel the growing stretch of his cock, veins pulsing against your throbbing walls–your cunt convulses around him to suck him deeper inside your warmth. “Mine, mine, mine. So pretty, you’ll look gorgeous when I fuck a baby into this tight pussy.” Miguel whispers against your neck. His cock twitches when you claw at his back, choking out your moans as your face flushes with a warm blush. He could feel his balls aching but he held back as best as he could. His palm feels his cock from inside you, poking through your stomach and his eyes roll back. Fuck, he’s deep. “Tell me you want it. Dímelo otra vez.” He moans, slowly rocking his hips in and out of you. Your mouth had been drooling since he teased your entrance with his cock, mind blank with nothing but the desire to be bred by your husband. With a weak and broken whimper, you begged. “Wan’ it,” You squirmed. “Breed me.” Miguel’s forehead landed on your shoulder, his body hunched over as his hand went to pull your thigh on his hip and slammed into you. You screamed and held onto him before he started pounding ruthlessly into you. You could’ve flown off the bed with just how fast and hard Miguel decided to pace at. He wraps his hands to your ass and pulls your bottom half up for easier access, dragging your wet folds up and down his cock. He pants, breathing shakily as his arms tense up–veins protruding and running down all the way to his hands. Miguel then lets go, grabbing both your legs and pushes them to your chest. He folds you in half, displaying your cunt to his eyes as his main priority. He bites his lip, grunting with every pounding he gives you. His knees dig into the mattress to anchor himself as he jackhammers his twitching cock into your warm wetness. The arousal gushing out of you and rolling down between your asscheeks and onto the bed. “You’ll be such a good mama.” He moans, curling his hips so his cock arches right into your sweet spot. Your cunt squeezes around him tightly, head thrown back while your nails rake his back in streaks of red, imprinting yourself on him. You’re a squealing mess, tears in your eyes and you could barely feel your legs anymore. Face morphed with pure ecstasy as you feel each drag of his cock empty and refill you over and over again. His bulbous tip nudges against your cervix and twitches against your velvety walls and your moans turn shamelessly pornographic-like. Meanwhile Miguel gets himself off to the thought of you creaming on his cock, his balls unleashing his cum straight into your womb and getting you pregnant. He huffs, ears ringing as his mind only focuses on breeding you. He thinks to himself that once isn’t enough. Just one measly pump of his seed won’t be enough to bear you with his child. He’d have to do it more than once. He had to see his thick load seeping out of your puffy pussy folds. He wanted to see you filled to the brim, pumped full to make sure you’ll carry. He wanted to see your belly grow, creating a being that was the perfect combination of you and him.
His mind spurs him on, mouth open as he spews his own moans and  praising your tight cunt at how well it takes him. He’s pussy drunk, hips smacking and his balls slapping against you, his body pressing your legs tighter against yourself and ravaging himself into you with heavy thrusts. He grits his teeth when you scream and clench around him, pussy fluttering as you feel the release of an orgasm shoot through your body. Your legs quiver as Miguel holds onto you, eyes rolling back and drool escaping off the side of your mouth. Your cum drips into a puddled mess below you and Miguel’s orgasm follows right after you, drilling his cock until he’s balls deep. His cock twitches with each spurt of warm cum shooting out his tip, plugging into your womb. You take deep breaths but it seems impossible when Miguel keeps your legs up. His head is hung while he waits until your cunt milks every last drop of his seed. You weakly reach up and cup his cheek to catch his attention. He meets your gaze and you give a tired smile and pull him down for a kiss. Miguel eases your legs down and kisses you back. His hands rubs comfortingly around the dip of your waist. For a moment you feel at peace, a bliss of entering a new era with him. The peace lasts for just a moment. Miguel leaves your lips and twirls your body on your stomach, lifting your bottom half up so your ass hangs in the air. In the process, his dick leaves your warmth and it leaves you feeling empty. You gasp and grip onto the sheets, head turning to try and see Miguel. “‘M not done.” He mumbles. “You wanted me to breed you so I’ll fuckin’ breed you.” His words are slurred but his mind is made up. He angles his cock to your wet cunt again, smearing the combined arousal around with his tip as if painting on a canvas. Instinctively, you moan and wiggle your hips back, pussy swelling up with desire again. Miguel smirks and pushes back inside and the stretch is familiar and comforting. Shuddering, your pussy welcomes him back by squeezing tightly, sucking him in, and he hisses. “Uyy, fuck…” He sighs. He starts off slow, bumping you forward with easy and short thrusts, feeling himself slowly grow hard again inside you. Your eyes flutter close, face smushed into the pillow and drooling on the case of it as your body lurches forward. Miguel increases his speed, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip to bring your ass back onto his cock. His balls smack your clit for added stimulation and it makes you jump from the electric pleasure zipping straight to your core. “Oh my God! Miguel!” You whine, heat flushing on your cheeks, Miguel’s dick reaching different places in a different position. The pain of sensitivity washes away, your pussy now craving the hot sticky liquid of your husband. Miguel looms over you, bending one leg to keep him steady as he keeps drilling deeper into you. His lips leave wet and sloppy kisses to your shoulder, panting and sharing warm breaths with you while your bodies buck up against one another.
“That feel good, mama? Hm?” He moans, burying himself in your neck while his hips snap up against yours, ass slapping and rippling with each thrust.
“Yes! Yes! Mhm!” Your voice turns high pitched, eyes glassy and unfocused while being bred like a bitch in heat. Still, you took pride in it to be the one to carry his child, to have him use your hole as his cumdump and take him however many times as long as you keep feeling like this. You’d gladly take him over and over again.
“You’ll give me another baby after this one, right mama?” He hums, tongue licking your neck and nipping at your skin. “Say you will, querida. Say you’ll let me put a baby in you again–we’ll have a big family.” He whines, humping your ass in quick strokes. “Say it, say it, say it, please, please.”
Miguel could feel himself getting closer. He could feel you getting close too with the familiar pulse and clench of your walls around his throbbing cock. His balls are wet with your slick, your wetness never ending.
“Yes! I will! Promise! Just–please!” Your words are barely audible with your face pushed into the pillow but Miguel is satisfied with your cockdrunk state. His cock engorges with the thought of a big family, you giving him as many kids as he wants and him watching it all happen once he spills as much as he wants in your willing cunt.
His hips go out of rhythm, he chases his high of impregnating you for a second time and his cock twitches violently before squirting ropes of cum to paint your walls white. He doesn’t stop pumping, wanting to feel you cream on his cock so badly even when the overstimulation makes him whimper.
With a cry of his name, your pussy pulses around him and you feel his previous load drip out of you to make space for his new one. The liquid trickles down your thighs and your shake as the orgasm is ripped out of you. When you stiffen, Miguel drags his cock out from you and flips you on your back again.
Barely giving you time to recover, Miguel lifts you up from the bed and your back makes contact with the cool wall. He holds you securely under your ass and you automatically wrap your legs around his waist once more. Your arms are around his neck, hands in his hair and Miguel captures your lips in a messy kiss. His hips rut into you to slide his dick back inside which resounds out in rapid smacks of skin on skin contact.
You’re bouncing on his dick, hair tangled and becoming staticy from your head rubbing on the wall. His thrusts slow to a stop as he focuses on making out with you, tongue dancing with yours and exploring your mouth with a low moan of pleasure.
Teeth clack against each other and you roll your pelvis to regain the friction. Pussy clenches around him desperately and Miguel lets out a guttural groan, separating from your lips to bite your chest. Your back lifts off the wall and you push your tits to his mouth, Miguel eagerly sucking your nipples and switching between left and right.
He angles up and up, feeling your walls slide on him like some silicon dildo. He gropes your ass in his palms, kneading and spreading them apart while your slick sounds out with a sloppy, dirty and wet mess. Miguel shoves you harder against the wall, pounding your body in rhythmic thrusts that bang loud enough for a passerby to hear. His back is covered with your nails marks.
You’re screaming, you’re so fucking sensitive but it’s just so hot how he just keeps going. There’s a fire that’s ignited in you–some sick form of pleasure that you get off on your husband pumping you full of semen. It gave you pleasure just how badly he wanted this–wanted you. You can’t help but squeeze around him, pussy unable to handle the bundle of overstimulated nerves so it spasms.
Jaw slacked and spit dribbling down your chin with your tongue lolled out your mouth–you can barely form a thought when Miguel’s fucking them out of you. You didn’t expect for Miguel to jump at the chance at having a baby but right now, it felt so worth it. His teeth bites at your nipple, tongue rolling around the bud and devouring it like you were the sweetest thing he’s tasted.
“Miguell…! I’m so–mmph!–fuck, I’m close!” You pull on his strands of hair and he lets go of your nipple. Miguel leaves his forehead on your chest, breath fanning your skin while he bucks into you. He cums first, his essence spilling out and dribbling back down on his cock and he grunts with annoyance. His annoyance doesn’t last long when you climax just a few seconds after with a squeal. You ankles lock tightly around his waist to push him to the hilt to keep the rest of his cum–old and new–plugged inside. Miguel shudders and moves you off the wall and back to the edge of the bed.
Miguel lays you down on the mattress with a huff of exhaustion, becoming sleepy after three orgasms. Still, he turns you on your side, lifting your leg up so he could slide in his cock between your twitching and sensitive folds.
You strangle out a whine, eyes blinking in a dazed haze. You reach around you to grip his hair and plead for mercy. You don’t know how you even lasted this long.
“Thought you wanted a baby. I’m making sure we’re having that baby.” He mumbles against your neck, humming when he sheathes inside you again. Your cunt spasms, fluttering and pulsating from overstimulation. However, Miguel is gentle this time.
He grinds behind you in easy thrusts. You feel your heart stutter in your chest, turning your head around with your mouth slightly parted, whining out your moans. Miguel kisses you, his hand gripping your thigh tightly to uphold it while his cock slips in and out of you. The evidence of his essence drips out of you and leaves a shiny coat and the milky white circle at the base of his shaft prominent from previous orgasms.
You weakly buck your ass back to go in time with his thrusting. You break from the kiss, string of spit connecting on your wet lips before you rest your head back on the pillow, heart thumping wildly. Miguel goes back to kissing your neck and shoulders.
“Asi es, mami,” He whispers huskily. “One more. Can you do that for me? Jus’ one more.” His hips roll in circles and his hand goes underneath you to reach around to your front, fingers finding your clit. He rolls it between his fingers and circles around it softly with just the right amount of pressure that he knows you like. Your hips stutter and feel another climax coming, but this time a little weaker than the rest.
“Mig…Miggy…” You whine and he shushes you gently. His fingers leave your clit and he rests his hand on your stomach, thumb rubbing up and down the small pudge of tummy where his baby will grow inside you.
“I know, mi reina, I know. I love you so much. I love you. I love you so damn much.” He whispers sweetly, Miguel kissing behind your ear. His words of affection make you whimper.
“I love you too.”
Miguel winds up cumming inside you for the final time, emptying out all of his energy and hugging you tight to his chest while you squeal and cum right after him. He keeps you close, putting your leg down and curling his arms around your waist to spoon you.
Your breathing slowly evens out, exhaustion catching up to you. Miguel pulls out, each drag shocking your nerves until he leaves with a wet plop, strings of cum connecting you both together until it breaks. He turns you around to face him and brings your head against his chest. You hear his heart hammering against his ribcage and you weakly hug him back. You feel full just like he told you he would do to you.
You can’t help but feel content, excitement blooming in your chest for the next chapter in your life with your husband. He's warm.
“We’re gonna be parents.” You whisper softly. Miguel’s lips kiss your hair and he lifts your face up to him. He continues to pepper your cheeks and forehead with kisses.
“We’re gonna be parents.” He echos. “Thank you.”
You couldn’t ask for a better man to start a family with.
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A/N: me when i enforce my breeding kink miguel agenda
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ezzydantes · 3 days
Text
Soldier
Author's Note: This is a request from @mehiwilldoitlater. I hope I did your boy proud! Smoker finds out that his lover, y/n, was kidnapped after being found out by enemy pirates. Warnings: Language, Violence, and fluff towards the end.
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Smoker's eyes widened in horror as Doflamingo landed in front of him holding you by your neck. The fear and panic in your eyes were enough to make the seasoned Vice Admiral's stomach turn as you fought uselessly against the one hand that continued to squeeze around your airway.
"You wouldn't happen to know who this little kitten belongs to, would you, Smoker?" the Heavenly Demon cackled as he brought you closer to his face and licked along your cheek, enjoying the fact that you were beginning to turn purple at this point, clawing at his hand and trying to kick out of his iron-tight grip. The warlord threw you to the ground with a sickening thud, that caused you to scream in pain as you landed on your side, most likely breaking some ribs. You immediately began trying to move as far away from your kidnapper as fast as you could only to be stopped by Doflamingo pinning you down on the ground with his foot while he stared at your lover.
"Y/N!!!" Smoker shouted as he began to rush towards you.
"Ah..ah...ah...", the blonde tsked as he applied a bit more pressure to his foot, causing you to scream again, "any further and I may accidentally squish your poor little lover."
"Ah... CHASE!" you shouted as you tried to push the giant's foot off of you, "Don't worry about me! Motherfucker, get off me!"
"The Hell I won't worry about you!", the Marine growled as he spit his cigars out and readied his weapon, "GET OFF MY WOMAN, YOU BASTARD!"
The Logia Devil User lunged for the Paramecia User, being caught off guard as the latter kicked you up into the air towards the him, causing the younger man to drop his weapon and catch you. This gave the Heavenly Demon a chance to charge the both of you, knocking you and your lover back a good ways into a solid stone rock. "Chase!" you called his nickname as you tried to remain conscious enough to shake him awake, knowing that the warlord was making his way towards you both.
The white-haired man immediately engulfed you in his arms and caged you against the rock, trying desperately to keep the blows from Doflamingo reaching you. You began crying as you saw the inexplicable pain that the Marine tried to hide from you as he squinted, continuously bracing himself after every hit to make sure that you didn't feel any of it. "Baby!?" you cried out again as he tried to muster a painful smile.
"I got you, Baby Girl", he grunted as he tried to convey through his eyes what he couldn't physically explain right now as he took blow after blow.
He would die for you if he had to... if it meant protecting you in this fight, he'd gladly lay down his life, but he wasn't going to give up that easily. He had to get you out of there and to Tashigi and the rest of G5. He knew they would keep you safe as they knew the nature of your relationship to their leader. You were his childhood sweetheart, the only person in this world who had stood beside him for all these years. He'd be damned if after everything he lost you now and especially not to a piece of shit like Donquixote Doflamingo.
In between the barrage of fists and kicks, Smoker managed to dodge long enough to pull you to him and shoot off into the air. "Hold on, Baby Girl... I'm going to keep you safe", he coughed as he tried to keep his wits about him flying through the air, avoiding Doflamingo's aerial attacks as well as make sure he didn't drop you.
"Vice Admiral! Smoker!" he heard the shouts of his crew and he gripped you closer to him, kissing your forehead as he lowered himself just enough that he knew they could catch you. "I'm going to draw him off...."
"Chase! That's suicide!" you gripped him tighter, trying to make sure he couldn't drop you. If he was going to die, you were going to die with him. "Not without you!"
"STUBBORN ASS WOMAN!" he shouted as he pulled you from him, "We will both die if I cannot get you somewhere safe so that I can fight him with no worries."
Tears began pouring down your face as you realized he was doing this to protect you, to give himself a fighting chance to get back to you. "You better come back to me, Soldier!"
He chuckled as he swooped down and around again to avoid another attack from the warlord. "Yes, Ma'am", he promised, "Even if its on a stretcher for the dead... I'm coming back to you."
You kissed him as hard as you could, letting him know that he meant everything to you, before you let go of him as he dropped you into G5's awaiting arms. "Mrs. Smoker!" they shouted as they scrambled to get you away from the fray. "Be careful, she's hurt pretty bad!" "Watch it! Smokey will kill us if anything happens to his girl!" It was then that all of your injuries began to take a toll and you passed out as soon as Tashigi reached you. "Y/n!" she shouted as her face turned to darkness.
There were so many memories that you seemed to be reliving over and over. The first time you and Smoker met. The first time you both admitted to having feelings for each other. When he left to join the Marines and you had to go months without a word before finally getting letters. The first time you saw each other after he graduated from being a cadet to each promotion after that. His promise to love and protect you forever. The ring you knew he kept in his quarters that he thought you didn't know about.
After what felt like an eternity your body slammed back into consciousness and you awoke with a gasp and a grunt as you couldn't necessarily sit up in your current state. "Baby Girl!" your lover whispered as he gently caressed your forehead while kissing your lips carefully before cupping your face, "You're still here.... here with me..."
The white-haired man eased his forehead against yours as his non-existent grip on your cheeks began to increase in the slightest bits of pressure, fearfully trying not to cause any pain in your condition, "You almost left me.... "
Your tears were enough to let him know that it was not your intention to ever leave him as it was never his as well. Your eyes began to focus a bit more and you noticed all of his injuries. You scowled at him as you began raking your eyes all over him, assessing the damage. "You fucking, Beast.... " your voice hoarse from all of the shouting and the pain that had finally caught up to you.
"Right back at you, Sweetheart..." your Marine chuckled painfully as he grunted while situating himself precariously against you and gingerly taking you into his arms. You melted into his embrace.
"How did he get to you?" Smoker quietly spoke as he nuzzled into your neck, content to hear you breathing.
"I'm not exactly sure... one minute I'm in the kitchen talking to my cousin on the transponder snail and the next I'm flying over the ocean in that bastard's grip", you whispered back as you caressed your fingers through his white hair, enjoying the slight growl you solicited from him.
"I want you to move in with me at my post", he adjusted his head so that he was staring into your (e/c) eyes, taking a second to appreciate the light and life behind them.
"Stop looking at me like I'm dead, Baby...", you wrapped your arms around his head gently pulling him closer to your face as you peppered sweet kisses all over his bruised and battered face. You pulled away just enough to trace the scar over his face. "Takes more than Doucheflamingo to get rid of me."
"I'm serious, y/n..." Smoker stops your fingers caressing his face and gently kisses the inside of your palm before placing it on his chest, just above his heart, "Marry me... come be with me, Baby Girl..."
Your smile makes his heart skip a beat as you lean in and kiss him on his lips, once, twice... and the third lingered for good measure. The way the two of you always kissed before being separated for long periods of time. "I'll marry you, Chase... just always come back to me Soldier... that's an order."
"Aye aye..." he chuckled once more before pulling you into another kiss as he settled against your chest and fell asleep to your heartbeat, enamored by your voice saying, "I love you, Chase..."
The pair of you falling into a blissful sleep that was ruined the next morning by the G5 crew and Tashigi panicking trying to find the Vice Admiral only to find him passed out in bed with his lover. "Get the Hell outta here!" Smoker growled as he winced sitting up and trying to cover you as well.
You couldn't help but painfully laugh at the antics and knew that there would never be a dull moment with your soldier and his crew.
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landosjpg · 5 days
Text
chicken shop date | ln
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the one where your boyfriend gets invited to the chicken shop date and you’re not really happy about it.
lando norris x gender-neutral!reader
word count: ~1.1k
warnings: just reader being a tiny bit jealous and insecure & fluff at the end
note: based on this request. took me a little longer than it should had but i wanted to watch the interview before to know how to approach it, but hope you enjoy it!
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"i'm just not really fond of the idea!" you huffed, sinking further into your boyfriend's couch, dramatically crossing your arms under your chest with pouty lips.
your reaction got a laugh out of lando and he let his body plop down next to you, looking over at your saddened expression with a soft smile on his lips.
"baby, come on. i'm gonna be late," he cooed, his fingers trying to reach for your chin to get you to look at him so he could give you a kiss goodbye, but you easily managed to turn your face in the opposite direction before his lips could touch yours.
this gesture got a sigh out of lando, making him drop his hand to your lap in defeat.
"it's gonna be alright," he said, his voice still sweet as he tried te reassure you, knowing that under your over dramatic reaction lied the anxiety of him getting even more popular.
just the previous evening, his team had informed him that he was scheduled for a new interview in the morning. when he finished telling you all about it after hanging up the phone, your eyebrows were furrowed and the pout you made hadn't left your face since that very moment.
the chicken shop date.
you usually watched the show, so you knew how big of an audience it had. it wasn't the fake dating part that worried you, but the huge amount of fans it would get him.
it was a little stupid, you knew, considering that he was one of the most popular faces of the sport. but you couldn't help the little insecurities that surfaced from time to time, thinking that he could find someone to replace you at any given minute.
lando's hand squeezed yours softly, making you get out of your mind and look back at him. he knew what you were thinking, so he gave you a reassuring smile before bringing your hand up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. so you gave in.
"just don't be funny. or nice," you said, trying your best to forget about your worries and trust that nothing would change. "don't be cute, either."
"i can do that," lando chuckled, and with your hand still in his, he leaned closer to you to finally peck your lips.
"good, cause i don't want to share my boyfriend with any more people," you added, making him smile as he pulled away and got up from his spot next to you.
he found your overprotectiveness rather cute sometimes, and every single time he tried to comfort you, reminding you that you were the only one he wanted.
with your little act over, you looked up at his figure in front of you as he gathered his things before leaving the house. he looked extra good; you had noticed how the color of his hoodie was bringing out the blue of his eyes a few minutes earlier and how his curls were still a little damp from his shower, one of them perfectly falling over his forehead.
he turned to look at you one last time, leaning to kiss your forehead and whisper an "i love you" before he left the apartment in a rush, your little tantrum surely making him arrive a good couple of minutes late.
୨୧
lando had asked you to join him in australia so you could spend a few days exploring the city before he had to go back to work. and naturally, you had accepted.
as any other day, you woke up in his arms, limbs tangled under the bedsheets and your cheek softly pressed against his bare chest.
you lazily turned around, trying not to wake him up, to reach for your phone to check the time. that was your intention, but as you saw your phone blowing up with notifications, you remembered.
the episode had come out only a few hours earlier.
not wanting to spoil yourself scrolling on social media, you quickly opened youtube and looked it up, feeling a little uneasy once again. you weren't sure what you could expect, lando hadn't said much about it when he returned home that day.
you couldn't help the smile that creeped up to your lips the second he appeared on your screen, his soft spoken voice warming your heart and making you snuggle closer to him, your back against his chest now.
you felt the grip around your waist getting a little tighter, his knees tucking behind yours.
"are you serious?" his voice was hoarse, his breath on your skin as he hid his face on your neck.
"you didn't think i wouldn't watch, did you?" you giggled when he pulled you closer to him, only getting a soft groan from his lips as an answer.
he didn't say anything else, just kept pressing soft kissis to your skin as you finished watching the interview, your smile growing wider at his shyness.
once you were done, you put your phone down and turned around to face him again. your eyes met his under the soft morning light, the corners of your lips moving upwards at the beautiful sight in front of you.
"it wasn't that bad now, was it?" he whispered, clearly referring to your tantrum the day of the filming.
"it was fun," you admitted, running your fingers through his curls slowly.
he hummed, letting his eyelids flutter close once again at your touch.
"i'm still not happy about sharing my boyfriend with new people," you playfully added after a few seconds, the little pout on your lips, but lando was quick to kiss it away. "and i could've asked you those questions myself," you sassed, making him roll his eyes with a chuckle at your words.
"maybe you should go on a date with me if you want to ask me those questions so bad," he said, trying to nuzzle his face on your neck again to hide his smirk.
"smooth," you giggled, wrapping one of your legs around his body and pulling him a little closer to yours. "i'd love to go on a date with you, baby."
he smiled at your murmured answer, kissing your jaw before mumbling himself, "tomorrow night then?"
with a slight nod of your head, you hummed and let your eyes shut close to enjoy a couple more minutes in bed with your boyfriend before the alarm went off.
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novelbear · 7 months
Text
words and actions that affectionately scream ”you’re mine”
prompt list by @novelbear
"you're my everything."
suddenly pulling them toward you to wrap them in a hug
^ or to plant a firm kiss on their forehead, lips, or cheek
"i love the idea of growing old with you."
defending them from getting teased because "you're the only one allowed to laugh at them"
"who needs friends? i have you."
making a little scrapbook of every treasured memory together and giving it to them
getting them cute matching jewelry, clothes, etc.
"i'll choose you always. no matter what."
putting the word "my" in front of their name when calling for them
"you're all i ever needed."
firmly holding their hand in public
bragging about them to others whenever they make an achievment
^ "that's my [name]! that's my partner! i'm dating them!"
(jokingly) sulking and moping when someone else gets the slightest bit of attention
holding them in your lap (even if there's plenty of space/seats)
"you know you're stuck with me, right?" "thank god i am..."
back and forth talking all night about the future
"you're all mine, you got that? i'm not sharing."
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lovebugism · 2 months
Note
how abt eddie x shy reader , she meet’s wayne accidentally & she brings like sm food for the week he LOVES HER but shes so shy
a request deep from the archives that i haven't stopped thinking about since i got it hahah please enjoy xoxo — you spend a fluffy morning in with the munsons (established relationship, fluff, 1.2k)
bug's one year celebration ♡
Eddie rouses from his sleep like a king on a sunken-in couch. 
Saturday morning cartoons play on the TV just ahead of him, mostly on mute ‘cause you’ve got the radio going in the kitchen. Something soft and soulful and too low for him to hear. The trailer swells with the scent of something sweet, of syrup and cooked sugar. 
Speaking of sweet…
His flushed cheek rubs against the arm of the couch when he looks up to find you. He can see you just over the top of the counter, like a scene from a movie. You’ve got a bowl of something wedged in your elbow, and you stir at it with your free hand — half-distracted because your nose is stuck in an open recipe book on the counter. Your glasses fall slowly down your nose. You try to push them up again with your shoulder, but they slip back down a second later.
Your gentle humming fills his ears, and Eddie figures this is what heaven must be like. There’s no greater nirvana than this.
He rises and stretches and walks the very short distance to the kitchen. Still warm with sleep, he wraps himself around you, chest flush to the expanse of your back. “Whatcha doin’?” he lilts, muffled into your sweater.
“Cookin’,” you answer in the same tone, only softer and a little more sheepish.
Eddie breathes hard once. You think you feel him smiling. “Dumb question, huh?”
“Did you sleep good?” 
“Too good to be passed out on the couch for an hour.” He lifts his head to prop his chin on your shoulder. It bobs against you with every word. “You were supposed to be sleeping with me, by the way.”
“I tried. But then I wanted to make you breakfast.”
“Correction. You wanted to make Wayne breakfast.”
Your giggling is as soft and sweet as the cinnamon concoction you’re stirring at. “Well, I don’t want either of you to starve, actually. So sorry for making sure the Munson’s are taken care of.”
Eddie’s chest swells. His heart starts to warm so much he’s scared it might burst. He tucks his face back into your neck and holds you tighter. “Don’t apologize, sweet thing. ‘M just being stupid.”
“That nickname’s not gonna stick, Eds,” you tease, tilting your head until your cheek meets his wild hair. “You can stop trying now.”
He scoffs and pulls back from you. His eyes, still softly swollen with sleep, are wide and glittering. “Why not?” he shouts, a bit too loudly to be so close to your ear. “You’re sweet and you’re my thing— it’s literally the perfect nickname.”
“You’re thing?” you echo with a distant laugh. “I’m not a toy, Eds.”
“Not all the time—” His boyish giggling is followed by a scoffed breath when you elbow him with your free arm. You shove him away halfheartedly, pushing him out of the tiny kitchen. “What?!” he exclaims, laughing loudly.
“Get out of the kitchen!”
“What’d I do?”
“My french toast tastes good ‘cause it’s made with love, and you’re tainting it.”
“How? I love you more than anything in the whole wide world.” He gravitates back to you despite your efforts to keep him away. He plants a smacking kiss to your lips and grins wide when he pulls away. “See? Now it’ll taste extra sweet.”
You’re glaring at him one moment, then happily accepting another one of his kisses the next.
The front door opens, squealing in protest and rushing in the cool morning air. It’s unsurprisingly Wayne. His work boots stomp heavy on the carpet. He holds a greased hand over his forehead. “My eyes are still closed,” he jokes, voice deep and gravelly. “You two have about three seconds to stop touchin’ each other.”
Eddie scoffs but steps back from you anyway. “That was one time!” he argues boyishly. “And we weren’t even doing anything!”
Wayne laughs a sharp breath, just like Eddie had, but a little bit gruffer. He forgoes the petty banter and shoots you a smile — tightlipped, barely-there, and weighed down by the exhaustion of the graveyard shift. “How ya doin’, sweetpea?”
“Good,” you answer, shrinking into your shyness. “I’m makin’ french toast.”
“That’s my favorite,” the older man grins. “How’d you know?”
“‘Cause it’s my favorite,” Eddie insists.
“It’ll be done soon,” you tell him, all quiet in your sheepishness. “If you wanna get changed or whatever.”
Wayne heads to the hallway, stopping short in the kitchen to muss at Eddie’s curls and pat you gently on the shoulder. “Thank ya, sweetpea,” he murmurs, voice dripping with fatigue. His accent always gets real heavy when he’s tired.
“You’re welcome…”
Eddie doesn’t say anything until he hears the bathroom door shut. “So Wayne can call you sweetpea, but I can call you sweet thing?” he asks, features swirled with offense.
“It’s different!”
The boy follows you to the cabinets like a lost puppy. Then, when you have trouble reaching the vanilla extract on the top shelf, he leans over you to grab it. “No, you just have favorites,” he argues, passing you the small container.
“That’s not true!”
“Whatever,” he grumbles, still pouting as he leans against the counter beside you. He mourns the lack of your attention when you give it all to the french toast mixture on the counter. You spoon in the vanilla with a practiced touch. “…Are you staying over again tonight?” he mutters, shier than you are now.
“I don’t know,” you shrug. “If it’s okay with Wayne, then—”
“Wayne! Sweet thing’s staying the night— is that okay?” Eddie shouts before you can blink. The trailer rings with the volume of his voice.
“Eddie,” you scold quietly.
The bathroom door squeaks open. A grunt sounds from the hallway, a nonverbal answer you’re not totally sure what to make of. The man returns in the pajamas he pulled from the hall closet — a thin t-shirt older than Eddie is and a pair of plaid pants.
“I’ll make dinner before your shift tonight,” you tell him with a soft grin that neither of the Munsons can say no to. “I promise.”
Wayne makes another scoffing sound. A laugh, maybe. A smile hints at the corner of his bearded mouth as he pours himself a coffee across the counter — in the painted mug Eddie made him for Father’s Day, several years ago now. 
“Well— In that case, I’m afraid I have to insist on you stayin’, sweet pea.”
“Thanks, Mr. Munson.”
“Call me Wayne,” he tells you, playfully chiding in a parental sort of way. He gives you a pointed look over the cup he sips from and heads back towards the living room. “You’re feedin’ us too good to be so polite all the time.”
You smile to yourself and laugh a quiet, slightly forced laugh.
The sofa squeaks when Wayne settles onto it, sprawling out the same way Eddie had before. Too tired to reach for the remote on the coffee table, he watches He-Man re-runs with heavy eyelids.
“Alright, sweet thing— what do you need me to do?” Eddie asks with a clap of his hands, making a very pointed effort not to drop the nickname. You get all flustered when he calls you that — smiling softly to yourself and then ducking your gaze to hide it from him. You’ll have to pry the name from his cold, dead hands.
You turn to peer at him from beneath your lashes. “You dip the bread, and I’ll fry ‘em?”
“Sounds like a plan, sweet thing.”
“Eddie.”
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crispbang · 9 months
Note
PLS MAKE A WHOLE SERIES ABOUT PAPA MIGUEL 😭😭😭😭😭 MY BABY. *plays mitski’s i bet on loosing dogs.*
*sighs* fine ig, HERE TAKE THIS 😡🫵💖
but only bc i have daddy issues and this is therapeutic
dad!miguel for my lovely anonnie~
hope you enjoy! <3
miguel on his daughter's bday
genre - fluffy fluff fluffy
You lift your head up at the sound of the front door clicking open. Slowly lifting yourself off the bed, you move carefully not to bother the small figure next to you. You tiptoe out of the faint purple room, barely shutting the door on your way out. Standing at the top of the stairs you hear metal keys hit the key stand near the door as your husband shuts it with his foot. He balances three giant boxes with fluffy pink bows and ribbons hanging onto the pretty glittering wrapping paper. Miguel sees you staring at him and smiles goofily.
"Little help, baby?" He breathes out, motioning towards the boxes in his tired yet muscular arms. You laugh, rushing down the stairs and grabbing the top box from him. The both of you walk to the living room, plopping the boxes in front of the fireplace. He lets out a deep sigh, putting his hands on his hips and eyeing the boxes.
"Hobie should be here in a bit with the others." He adds, breathing heavily.
"Oh, the others are coming?" You ask, excited to hear your friends would be here to celebrate with your small family.
“No…I meant the other boxes." Miguel furrow his eyebrows, briefly looking up at you from his phone.
“How many more gifts are you gonna buy her, Mig? You already got her $500 worth of toys last week!" You ask, crossing your arms, sitting on the arm of the sofa.
"Ah that doesn’t matter, she’s turning 3, esto es importante!" He defends, walking over to you, taking your hands in his. You look up at him, seeing his eyes light up at the thought of her waking up to even more toys than before. He lets go of your hands, using them to hold your face as he leans down, kissing your lips, soft and slow. Your hands automatically move to rest on his waist, feeling him relax as his lips repeatedly wrap around yours. He pulls away, locking eyes with you as he brushes his thumb over your cheekbone, admiring you, and the resemblance you shared with your daughter. Everyone claimed your daughter resembled Miguel more than you, but he knew better than anyone that she had your eyes. After all, he'd gotten lost in them years ago.
The floorboards of the house quietly creaked above you. Miguel gasped, quickly wriggling out of your grasp and jogging to the bottom of the stairs. He saw his favorite girl wrapped in a bright blue blanket standing at the top of the stairs. Her hair was a dark curly mess, just like her dad's when he'd forget to style it.
"My baby! Come here, birthday girl!" Miguel squealed, making grabby hands towards her as she slowly trudged down the stairs, one at time. Once she was in arm's reach, Miguel scooped her up, wrapping the soft blanket around her, walking towards you.
"Look who's awaaaake!" He said in a sing-song tone, swaying side to side as she rubbed her eyes with a lazy smile.
“Ahhh my girl is getting so big, how old are you today, baby?!" Miguel excitedly asked, bouncing her in his arms, before giving her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. She stopped rubbing her eyes to hold out 3 fingers towards you with a big smile, her eyes puffy from sleeping in. You walk over to them, holding her small hand in yours, kissing her other cheek. Miguel watched her giggle as you planted firm, squishy kisses across her cheek and forehead.
She looks past you and sees more boxes, her eyes lighting up as she beings begging to be let down. Miguel sets her down and she immediately runs towards the boxes, slapping the top loudly, asking him to open it. He laughs, walking towards the box, crouching down to open it.
"Baby, c'mere, let's get you freshened up while papi opens your boxes okay?" You hold your hand out for your daughter to grab, and she trots back to you. She stands on the stool in the bathroom as you brush her hair into two high ponytails.
"Mama?" She asks looking at you in the mirror, rubbing soap between her palms.
"Hmm?" You respond, reaching for another hair tie on the counter.
"Can we tell daddy our secret today?" She asks whispering, with a smile as she turns the sink on to rinse the soap off.
You smirk at her in the mirror, and she giggles loudly. You hold your finger to your lips, shushing her quietly. Reaching down, you open the drawer and hand her the secret.
You both return to Miguel sitting on the living room floor with pink paper all around him, reading instructions on the doll house set he bought.
Your daughter runs over to Miguel with a familiar stick in her hand. She hands it to Miguel, who takes it without looking at it and sets it aside, too busily reading the instructions.
"You know, this is harder than it looks, these building instructions make no sen-" His eyes dart to your daughter's hands holding the stick with a plus sign. Her goofy smile turns to you, and you place a hand on your belly softly at Miguel’s shocked expression. His mouth hangs open.
"Are you—“ Was all he got to say before you nodded. He jumped up, grabbing your daughter in one arm and running to you, engulfing the two girls that made up his entire world, in his arms.
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lovifie · 2 months
Text
Lift Me Off My Feet Pt.2
Masterlist
Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2
Warning/Notes: Captain Price x Reader (on this chapter only, the poly 141 is still building), Oral sex (F receiver), a bit nasty
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The rest of the drive goes by in a breath, suspiciously, Simon didn't step on any more bumps, and it felt like being rocking a baby. Kyle got his hand inside your shirt, but as nasty as your acts before, now his hand was just innocently caressing your back, keeping you calm and pliant against him.
At some point, the car stops and you hear Simon talk with someone outside of the car.
“Go ahead, Lieutenant.”
The car moves again but for short this time. And just after a minute or two, the car stops and Simon turns off the engine. Everyone begins to exit the car, Kyle included with you in his arms. You notice people walking around, not too close but enough to see you, and you start to feel self-aware of the fact that you are being carried like a baby by the Sergeant.
“Can you put me down? I want to walk.” You say squirming a bit in the Sergeant’s arms.
“It's faster this way actually, doll.” He responds giving you a quick smile.
“At least put me on your back, it feels weird not seeing where we going.” You say turning your head around as much as you can.
Kyle snickers, making you turn to him with your eyebrows furrowed. “Doll, I actually would be really glad if you let me carry you like this the rest of the way because like this I can hide the fact that I came on my pants like a teenager.”
“Oh.” That's all you managed to say as you feel your cheek blushing. You can definitely feel your panties sticking to your pussy, but he must definitely feel his underwear hardening.
“Soap, Ghost, we will tomorrow at 0700 for a debriefing of today's events. Go rest now. Kyle, come into my office so we can find the key and free our little birdie.” Price orders behind you, relief flowing through your veins at the thought of being free.
Kyle enters the room, Price’s office by logic, and sits you on a desk. And once you are seated, he raises his arm and crouches down getting out of the weird knot of limbs.
He stands before you, free, as you look at him dumbfounded, still cuffed.
“H-how… You could do that?!” You ask looking at him. “I thought you didn't fit, that's why you haven't got out! You could do that?!”
Kyle simply chuckles at you while he adjusts his pants quickly and drops a peck on your forehead whispering against your skin. “Sorry, luv. But it was just too comfortable.” He turns to Price, announcing he is going to take a shower and leaves the room sending you a wink right before closing the door.
You turn to Price, looking a bit shocked still and he picks the key from the drawer at his desk. “Sorry about him, he is a good lad. Hope you were not uncomfortable, right?” He asks as he walks up to you, you put your hands together expecting him to unlock the cuffs, but instead, his hands travel to the back of your tights and he picks you up forcing you to put your hands around his shoulder (almost strangling him for a second before you remember to move your hands above his head)
You let him be, too tired already to fight anymore, and he sits you on the other side of the desk. In front of his chair, once you are seated, he sits on his chair and gets between your legs.
The sight in front of you shouldn't be allowed, broad shoulders making you physically spread your legs to accommodate him, blue eyes looking up at you and warm hands picking yours. “Let's take these off, yeah?”
“Yes, please.” You whisper back, not even sure what you are begging for.
Price takes the cuffs back, furrowing when he sees the red mark where the metal dented into your soft skin. He caresses both wrists drawing circles and then one of them goes higher on your arm up to the bandages. “How's the pain?” He asks looking at your arm.
“Hm? Oh, that… honestly, I always thought bullet wounds would hurt a lot more. It's not too bad, I almost had forgotten about it.” You say smiling back at him.
He chuckles back shaking his head. “I'm definitely having you give a pep talk to the rookies. Sorry about your blouse, as well. I'll pay for a new one.” He says caressing your arm.
“Oh, there is no need, really. This is an old one, I should have thrown it out a bit ago anyway.” You admit shaking your hands to let him know there is no need.
“I insist. And if you get any medical bills, or need any physiotherapy sessions or anything. We will pay for them, we'll take care of you, doll.” He says standing up to his full height still between your legs.
“You keep saying that…”
“What do you mean?”
“That you will take care of me.”
“Yes. We will if you allow us.”
You look at his face, trying to decipher what he means. But the intensity of his gaze pulls the air out of your lungs leaving you breathless, the heat from his body is scorching against you and the ground seems so far away you feel like you falling off a cliff.
“Are you okay, doll?” He asks softly looking to meet your gaze again cupping your face.
“Yeah.” You say softly pulling his hand away and you put a hand on his chest pushing him back. “I-I should get going, I have work in the morning it's better if I get back home.”
“You can stay the night if you want, I'll drive you to work tomorrow.” He quickly responds like he doesn't want you to go.
“Capt- John.” You correct yourself earning a smile from him. “John, I need to shower, and I don't have any clean clothes, really you have done more than enough for me, I will just go home.”
You stay looking at him, waiting for him to move back so you can hop off the desk and get out. But he doesn't, instead, he gets closer and moves both hands to cup your face making you look at him. “You are thinking too hard, doll.”
And then, as natural as it is to blink, he kisses you.
A soft peck right on the corner of your mouth to test the waters, a soft peck on the other side, and then, softly, almost like melting at the touch, a kiss right to the centre of your lips.
He moves slightly back, enough to be able to speak and ask. “You solid?”
And you nod.
You are not even a hundred per cent sure you know what he means, but you know that whatever the man in front of you would ask, you would say yes.
You shouldn't, you don't know him. You only know his name and his position as Captain. You know your mind is not clear, right now he is your saviour, he is been taking care of you since you met, and he is so strong, so gentle with you, so handsome.
You shouldn't be leaning in for another kiss, but you are.
There is always tomorrow for regrets.
But tonight, all your senses scream John Price.
Never did you though a kiss could get you so hot and bothered, he only has his hands on your face and his lips on yours and you are already panting.
He moves forward, hips crashing onto yours making you gasp and he uses the opportunity to get his tongue on your mouth.
You can taste the tobacco on his tongue, swimming down your body. His hands move, taking your hair back into a ponytail and he pulls back. It stings and you groan softly, shifting to a moan when you feel his lips down your throat.
His moustache tickles the soft skin of your neck in contrast with the scorching feeling of his breath. “Who beat me to it?” He asks, chuckling drily looking at something on your neck.
Fucking Kyle.
“Better to erase it, doll.” He says, possessiveness taking over him. And there are no more soft kisses, now he makes out, no, he devours your neck like a madman. Sucking and biting, feeling the mark erupt and your panties to grow wetter.
You bite your lip to try and not make an embarrassment of yourself from how badly you want to moan, and you take his shirt out of his pants. Running your hands under the shirt, needing to feel him.
“I hope you don't mind, sweetheart. Since it is already ruined…” He trails off as he grabs your shirt over your chest and pulls, hard, pulling the buttons of the fabric and ripping it where it didn't give in.
He almost growls when he sees the skin giggle and he dives right into your chest. His hands rest on your waist pulling you forward him, pulling your shirt out of your pants.
You try to take off your jacket, but the sudden movement causes a sharp pain in your arm making you groan in pain. Price quickly detaches himself from your skin to look at your face, alarmed he hurted you. “Sorry, you alright love?” He asks feeling guilty. You shake your head, only worrying him more and then you add. “It's not you, the jacket. Got stuck on the bandages or something; can you help me, please?” He smirks mischievously at you. “Help you to undress? Oh, darling, that's my pleasure.”
He kisses you on your lips again, taking off your jacket carefully and then your shirt. He pulls your bra strap down your shoulder, leaving your bra downside, your boobs out and pushes up. He cups one of your boobs groaning on your mouth when you moan softly and then bends down to get the other one inside his mouth.
He twirls his tongue around your nipple, savouring the taste of your skin. You move your hand to the back of his head, and when he gets lower, right under your boob over your ribs, and he bites you as you pull his hair moaning his name. “John…”
“Yeah, darling, moan my name like that.” He mumbles against your skin before he goes back to your mouth. “You taste like fucking candy, sweetheart. Can't fucking wait to taste all of your.”
“Do it. Do it, please.” You say against his mouth, looking up at him with pleading eyes.
“Aw, darling, what a fucking sight. Asking so nicely, how can I say no?” He says between kisses as he undoes your pants.
He lifts your ass from the desk with an arm as he pulls down your pants and your underwear all together. He leaves you again on the desk and undoes the clasp of your bra taking it off. Leaving you completely bare on his desk, while he remains completely dressed. The vest is even still on.
“Fuck… I must have been a fucking saint on my last life to be worth it of this sight, angel.” He says looking up and down your body as he moves his hands from your waist up to your face to give you a kiss. “I'm gonna make you feel good, love. So, so good…” he trails off as he begins to give kisses down your jaw, neck, collarbones, sternum, tummy, and just when he is about to reach your mount. He pulls back making you whine. “Shh, pretty, just getting comfy.”
He grabs the chair from before sitting down, gets closer between your legs and pulls them over his shoulder forcing you to lean on your back using the elbow that is not hurt to prop yourself up enough to see him.
He kisses the inside of your tights, from your knee and higher, higher, higher… you can feel his beard on that soaking part of you where you need him the most. But he doesn't indulge you, instead, he goes back to your knee and high again. Teasing you, leaving you panting, aching, clenching around anything, needy, desperate.
“John… please… no more teasing…” you beg, feeling desperate for him.
“Poor baby, already soaking.” He says looking directly at your cunt, and you feel as he presses a thumb on your clit making you shudder at the feeling and he slowly moves it down your slit, reaching your dripping hole and pressing it, but without getting it inside. Just collecting your juices and driving you mad.
He takes the thumb up to his lips licking it while he looks at your eyes. “Just as I thought, fucking candy, love.” You want to complain, to grab his hair and shove his face against your cunt but the only thing that leaves your lips is a bratty whine, too horny to think straight.
You feel Price chuckle against your skin, and when you finally feel ready to tell him off, he presses his tongue flat against your clit turning your brain to absolute mush as you let go of a moan worth of a porn video as you let your head fall back.
He moves his head up and down, letting his tongue move between your folds; collecting your arousal mixing it with his spit making a mess on his beard.
His index finger moves to your entrance, slowly getting it inside stretching you slightly because of the size of his hands. He sucks at your clit, almost making out with it. And once he feels satisfied with it, he gets a second finger inside.
You keep moaning his name, like a mantra almost, not being able to remain quiet when he begins to thrust his finger in and out of your wet cunt. The sounds, the squelch, the sight, delightful.
You have been given head before, but never like this. It never had you begin for them to keep going, to not let you hanging, never this desperate. But John Price, it has you wishing you could kiss the terrorist of your neighbour just for putting you in his line of vision.
He curls his fingers inside of you pressing a point that has you falling on your back hitting your head load enough for him to chuckle against your cunt, but before he can lift his head to check on you, you just get your hand on his head keeping him in place.
Caressing his hair, spreading your legs even wider, he eats you out like a man starved. Like he hasn't eaten in days like he just found a water fountain in the middle of the desert.
You realise then, that the reason why you have never felt like this before with any ex-lover, is because you have never felt this desired. You can feel Price moaning against your cunt, and it makes you wonder who is enjoying it more.
Not for long though, because you begin to feel the knot on your stomach get tighter. More and more tight, you feel your toes curl and you close your eyes letting your mouth open as you feel the knot coming undone like an elevator free-falling. A high-pitched moan leaves your lips that in any other situation would make you feel embarrassed and your tights clasp around Price’s head when he doesn't relent on his attack.
He helps you ride out your orgasm as you cover your face with your hands, the light in the room is suddenly too bright, and after a couple of seconds, you look up at him.
And the sight…
He is sitting, leaning back against the chair, manspreading wide, an elbow resting on the armrest as he lazily licks clean the fingers that were just inside of you. Absolutely content with himself and his accomplishments, a sight absolutely devilishly delicious.
You notice the tent on his pants, and you try to touch him with your feet. But he grabs your ankle, and you don't have enough energy on you to push it.
“As much as I would like to keep going, doll.” He says letting your leg down and coming up closer to your face. “You can barely keep your eyes open, so I think it's time to rest.”
He stands up, goes somewhere behind you that you guess is the bathroom because of the sound of water and a bit later, he is back. He picks you up, and lays down on a sofa, with you on top.
A bathroom and a sofa inside of his personal office, he really is a military captain. He covers the both of you with a blanket, he gives you a kiss to the forehead and before you know it, you are out.
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Post-nut clarity doesn't hit until a couple of hours later.
You are naked, in an unknown man's office, far away from home, with no phone, no keys, no money, no clothes, ashamed.
So you do the only thing you can do, you slip away from the sleeping handsome man, get dressed as fast as you can without making any noise and leave the room. You don't even bother to put on your blouse, choosing to just close your jacket.
Once outside, you let a sigh escape your lips. You know the military base, it is actually not that far away from your home, less than an hour walking back.
Are you excited about walking back home at the break of dawn alone? No. Do you have another choice? Not really, not any that would help reduce the walk of shame you found yourself doing.
So you get your hands on your pockets and start doing your half a marathon back home.
And just as the sun is beginning to pick over the horizon, you reach your home.
Just last night there were dozens of police cars, military workers, everything, the whole paraphernalia. But now? It is just dead silence, no a soul in sight, as if nothing has ever happened.
The janitor calls your name when he sees you, he gives you your keys and tells you that the police dropped them by when they cleaned everything.
You wait for the elevator and make your way up to your floor. On apartment 608, there is a police notice, banning everyone from getting close to the crime scene. There are bullet holes and some bloody handprints on the walls, a blood splutters a bit too close to the height your arm is.
You shake your head trying to forget about it, and open your door. Once inside, you lock the door and look for your phone. Only to remember that it must be in your bag, in your car, where you dropped it when you tried to run.
You look at the clock on the wall that you always forget about, and realise you have 20 minutes to get ready if you want to make it time to work. So get at it.
Most of those 20 minutes, go into taking a shower. You feel dirty, mainly because you are, but also because you feel used. You think about Price and Kyle, handsome military men, they have probably visited countries you don't even know exist and they probably have a lover in each of them.
You are probably just another one, and you let them in so easily. They must have barely felt any satisfaction from such an easy catch.
You feel like crying for being so silly, but a voice in your head stops you. The voice in your head that picks you up whenever you fuck something up. Don't cry! Why would you cry?! They used you just as much as you used them! And they are not crying! So neither are you! You made a grown man cum on his pants by rubbing yourself a bit and an even grown-er man basically get on his knees to eat you out! So don't cry!
So you get out of the shower with another attitude, you are going to get a hold of the situation, you are going to get space between these men and yourself, and you are going to be just fine!
“Son of a bitch!” You exclaim when you see yourself in the mirror, if you had thrown yourself down the stairs there would be fewer bruises on your body. Well, not bruises, hickeys.
You huff getting out of the bathroom to get dressed, and then back to the bathroom to cover all the hickeys.
By divine grace, you make on time for work. You are exhausted, starving and if any of your coworkers spoke to you today just a bit out of tone, you would chew their arms off. But luckily, everything goes right.
At least, until you get back home, and the first thing you see when you get off the elevator, is a masked man standing in front of your door.
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I guess it is a series now, I don't know where I'm going with it but there is still a couple of things I have thoughts about.
If you guys have any ideas or scenarios please, tell me hehe
And if you want me to tag you on the next part drop a coment 💗
1K notes · View notes
tteokdoroki · 3 months
Text
VOICEMAILS AND DIAL TONES - yuuta okkotsu.
✩ — about. “back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand.” there are rules to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s has. the first being that you tell each other everything. the second, try not to fall in love. all you know, is that you’ve failed at both, and now your best friend is half way across the world without any idea as to how much you truly love him. is that something you can say over text or voicemail? ( 8.7K )
✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, with a happy ending - video banner! characters are in their 20s. coffee-shop!au, childhood friends to lovers, forbidden romance, long-distance, misunderstandings, miscommunication, situationships, arguments, hospitalisation mentions, death mentions (non-major characters), cucking, somnophilia, praise, fingering (f!receiving), oral sex (f!receiving), phone sex-ish, clothed sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampies, fem!reader.
✩ — things to note. hi everyone!! jumping on the yuuta hype and dropping this fic i wrote as a commission last year!! it's so interesting to see how much my writing has changed, but i remember having fun when writng this. either who!! i hope you all enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹
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absence makes the heart grow fonder — at least that’s what they tell you so that the feeling of missing someone hurts a tiny little bit less. 
you’ve always wondered if that were true. if willingly putting space between yourself and the person you loved truly helped soothe the soreness as if it were medication for the body’s aches and pains. perhaps the theory could best be applied to your friendship with yuuta okkotsu. 
he’s been your best friend for as long as you can remember — from the moment he moved in next door, his bambi eyes were big and brown, safe and inviting…who were you to keep hiding behind your mothers leg and deny him an invitation to play on the swing set his parents had put up for him in the garden just over the fence? yuuta was the sweetest boy to date, he was always polite with your parents and asked their permission before taking you into the depths of his cardboard fort in the front yard. 
he would walk home with you from pre-k, your chubby little fingers tightly intertwined and the matching charms on your backpacks swinging about the place jingling with every step you took towards home. when you got to middle school and kids were meaner, yuuta stood by your side while you were teased for being quieter than most. he defended you, his shy, patient best friend. 
okkotsu still walked you home, his pinky finger hooked over yours — greeted your mother with that same shy, yet charming tight lipped smile and offered to help her with cooking dinner with that same airy voice of his. your mother would reward you both with a kiss to the forehead and a plate of warm walnut and chocolate chip cookies and your pinkies — still linked underneath the table.
you were always linked. it’s always been yuuta and you. back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand the butterflies in your tummy and the blistering temperature to the back of your neck and your ears — maybe too naive to understand a metaphorical doctor’s diagnosis of a case of early on-set puppy-love. knowing back then would’ve explained why you wrote yuuta’s name on a heart alongside your own or why you squirmed every time you touched.
there was only one explanation. you liked yuuta, loved him. 
you wished that you’d known what that feeling was…because it's soon ripped from your grip and your whole world changes when rika orimoto enters your lives. she was pretty, had a beauty mark smeared daintily across her cheek and gentle eyes that made you feel safe. she was pretty and yuuta thought that too — inside and out. that’s why they became fast highschool sweethearts and why you were left in the dust. 
rika easily made a mess of him, tearing yuuta into a million tiny pieces that only she could put back together. she asks him out on white-day, okkotsu a bumbling mess by the lockers in between gym class and economics as he clutches her neatly written love letter — hearts over the I’s and T’s crossed ever so cutely. she had done to yuuta what he’d been doing to you all of your lives and you’d hardly seen her talk to him around school until that day. 
much to your dismay, they date throughout the rest of highschool and it nearly kills you, having someone that you were once so close to fade-away into near nothingness with growing distance. life where yuuta has a girlfriend ( that isn’t you ) drains the happiness that you got from being around your childhood best friend. it’s selfish, you know, to have wanted to keep him all to yourself. to have him want you instead of her. 
they make plans for after school, babies with names that start with the same letters as theirs and a wedding that’ll be small and flowery and whatever rika wants because yuuta okkotsu would give the girl he loves the entire world. you so badly want to be her. that person who is the centre of his universe. it should be you, it should have always been you — making plans with yuuta and imagining the perfect ring, the one that he would give you in the front yard of his childhood home. it should be your life with him, one that you’d dreamt up with him…and the sick thing is, you can’t have him — because you’re best friends and you’d be risking it all in the name of childish love.
rika, dies just days shy of your highschool graduation and it changes your best friend. a tragic car accident violently takes her life and okkotsu along with it. he’s a shell of the person he used to be, void of his dazzling smile and the comforting warmth that was unavoidable if you spent even just a minute with him. yuuta used to be like sun rays on a sunday morning but after the incident, he felt like blizzards on a dark november's eve. he lost his love, and you were starting to lose him even more than before.
his first love is memorialised at the graduation ceremony and while everyone sends her their thoughts and prayers — you feel sick to your stomach, knowing that for a brief second you’d felt relieved that your competition was gone. loving him was forbidden, he’d just lost his person and so despite your guilt you had to stick it out. be there for him. be there for your friend above all else and hold him up so that he didn’t sink in the deep water of his own grief. you’d save him, at all costs, you’d stop him before he drowned. 
things start to look up when the pair of you head to college — you both get into the same school and find the cutest little off-campus apartment to share. it feels like a home away from home to you both, since your nights before semester begins are spent attempting to master your mother’s famous cookies while practising how to introduce yourselves since you’re both nervous as hell for this new beginning. everything feels like it was when you were both children and didn’t have a single thing to worry about — except now there’s crippling student debt and a four year workload ahead of you…but you’re both excited, together again and it seems like the distance between you has shrunk just a little.
then your love life takes a turn for the worst ( yet again ) and yuuta finds himself running around town with a new crew of friends that he met in a club run by one of your elective professors, satoru gojo. they stay out later than you’re used to and your best friend comes home smelling different too, of strong perfumes and cigarette butts even though you know he doesn’t smoke. as it turns out, there’s another girl. 
maki zenin.
you don’t like her, and to be fair, she doesn’t like you either. so you keep your distance once more, keep your head down when maki does her faux walk of shame out of your best friend’s room — her thighs and her neck covered in bite marks and scratches, his shirt slipped over her body to cover the rest of her decency. he made her breakfast with your food and tea in your designated mug. it hurts to hear her mewl the sweet syllables of his name late at night while you’re stuck with the soundtrack to your own sobs.
it should be like this, distant — far apart because you care about okkotsu and you love him, so it’d be better to avoid it all rather than get him hurt.
your phone ringing in the distance gently lulls you from your reminiscent thoughts and you scramble to pick it up before you end up with a missed call. 
yuuta’s contact flashes across your screen, framed by light and making him look like an angel. it rings and rings, and you know that you should let it go to voicemail. let the space between you grow so you can protect what’s left of his soul. 
but you were never strong when it came to him. 
and you pick up before he can listen to another second of dial tones.
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voicemail #1  - “hey yuuta, i hope you’re good, you’ll never guess who stopped by the cafe today— professor satoru! i haven’t seen him since your graduation! anyways, are you still coming over for dinner tonight? i miss you!”
this isn’t like him. 
even after all these years, from pre-k to college — yuuta okkotsu has never missed one of your calls. after graduating you'd made a promise to one another, to keep contact no matter where life took you, a promise of his own volition. you’d have dinner with each other at least once a week just like when you were kids and catch up on your not-so crazy adventures into adulthood. 
you kept up your end of the bargain as your way of keeping okkotsu afloat — to ground him. he’d seen and been through enough hurt to last him a lifetime and if he had to use you as a crutch for comfort, despite your raging feelings for him, then so be it. so you never missed a call, always checked in and made him something nostalgic and tied to the memories of afternoons where your mother would fill you up with her wondrous baked goods or heartwarming soups.
but still, this isn’t like yuuta to not pick up when you call. 
to feel…more distant than usual and of his own accord. 
panic sets in while you listen to the third dial tone, trying to contact him again. taking a deep breath, you pace around the fridge-freezer in the back of your bakery — one that you’d set up shortly after graduating from your business degree. there had to be some explanation for your best friend’s absence. perhaps traffic? maybe he was on the subway catching a ride over? or maybe he just needed space. he’d been going through a lot recently. yuuta didn’t get a job straight out of college and he broke things off with maki shortly after — they wanted different things and had different aspirations.
even still, with the free time left on his hands, there was too much room for him to think about his losses and his loves…it made you worry for him, it made you panic and chew on your nails just like this. “c’mon yu,” you whisper to yourself, the shaky syllables of your words bouncing off the metal house for your ingredients, muffled by paper bags of powdered sugar and organic flours. “where are you?” 
you can barely hear the automated message telling you to leave a voicemail for your friend over the bustling of your afternoon service. if yuuta hadn’t been off the grid, he’d be here helping you with the customers that know him all too well, the old ladies that pinch his cheeks and the younger ones that twirl their hair in an attempt to flirt over miniature cherry bakewell tarts. except he’s nowhere to be found, and you’re nauseous, worried sick about where he could be and what he could be up to. 
you try his cell one more time in an attempt to grab at his attention. there's something weird about today...as if he’s avoiding you, hiding. yuuta always picks up and you always pick up for him, it’s an unspoken rule.
when you’re met with the dial tones again, you hang up — slumped and distraught. there’s hungry customers to feed and you’re overly friendly college professor waiting on a fresh box of sweets you’d used as an excuse to escape to the back of your shop. yuuta can wait for another call from you. 
but you’re not sure if your heart can wait for one back from him. 
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voicemail #2  - “it’s yuuta, we need to talk.” 
oddly enough, silence is comforting to you. it reminds you of your best friend, the nights you’d spend coupled up in your dorm with your fingers running through his silken midnight hair, his head in your lap and the both of you shrouded in darkness. more often than not, you could tell how one another’s days went just by body language and when shoulders were slumped and eyes were droopy — yourself and yuuta would curl up together  and just…take in the quiet. 
be close to one another.
so, you bask in the tranquillity of your quaint little cafe as you clear up after a day's work. you sweep floors, wipe tables clean and arrange the tables and chairs with perfect precision. the only sound that accompanies you is the clink of silverware and porcelain plates as you wash the dishes. it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop and the slightest noise is enough to make you jump — just like your phone that vibrates deep within your back pocket, startling you as you scramble to dry your hands so you can see if it’s him who’s been trying to get in touch with you.
it’s embarrassing how quick you are to smile when you see a few missed calls and a voice message from yuuta. though you’ve never quite heard the tune of seriousness that plays in his voice before, your heart won’t stop racing at the mere sound of him speaking. your mind wonders…what could be so urgent that he’d need a ‘talk’?’ 
maybe it was a thank you…for always being beside him or maybe he even liked you. perhaps okkotsu had finally come to his senses and realised how much he’d always needed you…how much he loved you.. the racing thoughts in your brain hopefully jump towards a confession from your best friend and you find yourself getting giddy at its prospect. you practically skip, hop and jump to the back of your cafe, switching out your flour stained clothes for one of the spare and cleaner shirts you keep in the back — you touch up your makeup too, brighten the dark circles under your eyes and blot your worry lines with care. 
you even manage to heat up a few of yuuta’s favourite pastries to serve up by candlelight — rehearsing your own words of confession as if they haven’t been looming around in your head for years. 
the bell to your quaint little cafe chimes with his arrival, a rush of cool, late night air tangling with the temperate atmosphere as you lay your finishing touches on the meal you’d prepared for you both. when you look up, yuuta’s eyes have settled on you — warm and inviting as usual, but bright with a light that had been missing from them since you were young. you’ve missed it, the subtle spark that brings life to the coffee brown oasis in his eyes.
he remains as handsome as ever, taller than you by however many heads — limbs long, arms slightly muscular and waist slender, though his build is more like a dancer’s. yuuta okkotsu grew up to be a fine man and you’d be a fool to have not noticed. he crosses the room in short strides, rushing to take you into his arms and hold you close and squeeze you to his chest. yuuta smells like cookies, you note, hardly paying attention while his lips softly brush over your hairline in a sweet kiss.
“hi,” he whispers, voice smooth like melted chocolate dripping through your ears. “i’ve missed you.”
you only hope that he can’t hear your racing heartbeat, it’s speed picking up as you decide that this is your moment. the moment. “i’ve missed you too,” you mumble back, toying with a loose string on the cream cashmere the dark brunette is wearing. “yuuta…i have to tell you something—“
“i-i have something important to tell you,” he breathes out at the same time as you do, almost shy as you both sway in the centre of the room and enjoy one another’s embrace. 
the both of you share a laugh that’s light and airy before you drag him over to a table and set of chairs, forcing him to sit and to eat the baked goods you’d set out for him. “you first, yuu,” it makes you happy to see him tuck in, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “you owe me a story after disappearing on me today.” 
okkotsu nods in agreement, his cheeks adorably full of food and pastry flaked across his milky skin. “‘m sorry, i was sortin’ something out la’sht minute.” 
“yeah?” 
“y-yeah! i’m moving,” yuuta drops the bomb like it’s nothing. “abroad. for a job! professor gojo set me up and it’s s-supposed to help build my confidence and stuff—“ 
your world falls apart in an instant, sucking away the oxygen in your lungs until you feel like your lungs are failing. yuuta is leaving you and this time it’s for real. 
confessing to him now wouldn't mean shit, you’d only be holding him back. your face crumples faster than you can control at the thought and after years of knowing you— okkotsu instantly picks up your change in mood. 
“what’s wrong?” he says your name and even that hurts to hear.
“n-nothin’ yuu, i’m happy for you, really.” comes your broken voice over the quiet, you fake it until you make it.
“really? you don’t look like it.” 
running a hand over your tired face, you force a smile. “really. especially if you think this is what’s best for you.” 
“it is!” yuuta nearly snaps, controlling himself— stopping himself from yelling at you and tearing your friendship apart before he’s gone. “i need this, need’a be my own person. after college, after highschool i didn’t have time for any of that! i need this.” 
needs it more than he needs you.
“okay.” you say simply, blankly.
“okay.” he says back. 
the debate doesn’t last that much longer after that — the room fills with silence as you grieve your faltering friendship. whatever confession you had planned, now forgotten. 
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voicemail #3 -  “yuuta! i wasn’t sure how long your flight was but please call me when you land! you’re gonna do great at your new job.”
yuuta doesn’t call after he lands, in fact two entire days pass before you actually hear from him. after the argument, you’d try to stay on good terms as though not to lose him for good — helping him pack and sort out his currencies, buying him language books since you knew he would struggle with the new dialect. 
you figure it’s because he’s unpacking and not because he doesn’t want anything to do with you — and while you make some late night tea, you find that it’s better to imagine him alone in a new foreign country, picture his pretty pink lips struggling to form the vowels of the new language too, envision how he’ll tan under the blistering hot heat and how excited he’ll be to try new things.
its humiliating how easily he can preoccupy your thoughts from thousands of miles away and makes your heart race so fast that it might burst through the bones and flesh of your chest. he occupies your every thought like a fungus crawling across your brain that’s only disrupted by the sound of your phone ringing loudly — making you drop your tea and jump up to answer.
“hey,” the way yuuta says your name sends tingles down your spine — filtering out any pain you feel from burning your hand. he looks good too, dark hair flopping over his eyes, voice gravelly with sleep as if he’s just woken up and you’re the first thing on his mind. “i got your message, s-sorry for not calling i’ve been—“ 
you cut him off, eager to speak and draw the call out for as long as possible because you missed him. “busy? a guy like you must be extremely popular on the other side of the world.” you’re chipper in an attempt to cover how flustered you are and to cheer your best friend up when you notice how nervous he looks.
“not exactly… i’m nervous. e-everything seems so big ‘nd scary without you here…”
without you.
you shake your head over the grainy FaceTime call. “you’ve always done fine without me, you’ll do even better without having to cover for my shyness!” he laughs at that, the sound like a sweet song to soothe your aching heart. “you got this yuuta.” 
your best friend gives you a sleepy smile, one that melts you like a knob of butter on a hot stove and has your knees knocking. “you’re the best, you know that? you always know what to say.”
the static crackles between you and your heart leaps into your throat. 
“i’m always here for you, yuuta.” 
“and i’m glad for that,” he yawns. “i love you.” 
you have to remind yourself that what your best friend says is strictly platonic but you almost selfishly repeat the words back to yuuta until you notice he’s fallen back asleep. 
ending the call, you clutch your phone and burned hand to your chest. 
“i love you too.”
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voicemail #4 - “hey sorry i missed your call, time zones can be crazy! work has been catching up with me and, well, i made a new friend!”
for the first week, you and yuuta text everyday while he’s away. you do your duty and act as his crutch like you always have— keeping him company while he works, eats and commutes all on his own. you feel bad that you lap up the attention he gives you over the phone through his loneliness. you could be compared to a desperately hungry stray animal at the way you drink up every little interaction you have. giving pieces of yourself away to keep your best friend happy. 
but as time goes on, okkotsu seems less and less worried about his job — easily slipping into the language here and there, no longer relying on you to stand on his own two feet. the frequency of your communication dwindles to the point where you really feel like you’re oceans apart. 
even yuuta notices the change within himself — the confidence that filters through him when he says yes to the pretty girl who works in the cubicle next to him when she asks him to tag along for drinks with the rest of the office one night which soon becomes a regular thing. he knows that he speaks less with you and that your texts are barely there but he’s sure you won’t mind the distance. you’re a busy girl, you run a cafe, a few days of not talking wouldn’t do any harm.
“oooh, she’s pretty. who is that?”
kasumi miwa is the one to pull yuuta out from the fog of his thoughts. the brunette looks up from his phone, your face flashing across it’s lock screen as the background. a photo where you have your arms wrapped around him from behind and your smile is as bright as the sunshine. miwa is a pretty girl, different from you. her voice is smoother and eloquent where yours is charming and sweet — she doesn’t remind him of home, or smell like the warmth of a chocolate chip cookie…but she is pretty. her presence is enough to make him shy.
he’s caught her looking a few times, her touch lingering whenever miwa passed him paperwork and right now; her cheeks are tinged pink probably from the alcohol the office is drinking inside where yuuta had come out for some fresh air.
okkotsu clicks his phone shut and stands up at full height to face his blue-haired coworker. “i… i haven’t spoken to her in a while. i miss her.” he says wistfully as he gives your name
“well, if i were dating a girl that pretty, i would miss them too.”
“o-oh! we’re not together! she’s my best friend!”
the woman beside yuuta cocks her head, a satisfied grin spreading across the slope of her lips. “you should call her — i’ll be waiting inside.” 
he follows her eyes as she walks off, along with the whiff of her chanel perfume, before his gaze lands on his phone — he calls your phone. 
you answer after the second ring, though don’t speak straight away, letting the silence wear the both of you thin. “how’ve you been?” you say quietly, lacking the chipperness to your tone that you usually have whenever the two of you ring each other up. there’s no hello, no warmth, you’re cold. 
but yuuta doesn’t ask — he’d like to think he knows you well enough not to. he thinks that you’re fine, probably tired from work and it’s late over there too. if he cared to catch up with you, he’d have been more considerate of that.
“good!” the brunette chirps in order to keep the mood light, leaning over a nearby railing. i miss you. yuuta wants to add, but the words feel like cotton in his mouth, sticking unpleasantly to every surface and for some reason they don’t feel right to say— feel foreign. “work’s been good. i think i’m getting the hang of things around here. my co-workers are great, i get this amazing view every morning a-and—“
“and?” 
“i met someone! i think! i wanna get to know her more but she’s been great to me so far…you’d like her!”
hearts don’t make a sound when they break, but if they did— you’re sure that yuuta would have been able to hear yours even from halfway across the globe. over his own ramblings he can hardly make out the shatter of your vital organ as it falls to pieces, cracks into tiny shards with jagged edges that could make you bleed if you tried to put it back together…because your best friend having met someone means he’s moving on. leaving you behind. and he’s too tone deaf to notice. 
through the static of a phone call, okkotsu misses the crumple of your face and the way your throat bobs as you swallow back salty tears and two decades worth of unrequited love. you’re devastated and he can’t even tell, barely noticing the way you rush off the phone while he’s halfway through a sentence.
his brows furrow when he realises you’ve hung up. 
“i take it that didn’t go well?” kasumi questions when yuuta re-renters the bar, her face sympathetic but voice elevated with smugness. 
he shakes his head once. “no, but it’s okay. she’s been busy.” 
he excuses you but kasumi doesn’t let up, pushing for more of yuuta — breaking him out from his shell, stealing and keeping the pearl of his heart for her taking. “don’t be too sad yuuta, you have me and your new friends, we’ll keep you company instead.”
there’s a hidden meaning behind her cherry picked words. she’ll keep him company — and for once, yuuta doesn’t feel guilty for trying to break away from you.
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voicemail #5 - “what happened between us yuuta? you used to tell me everything and now you’ve got a girlfriend? i didn’t even find out through you!”
there’s an unspoken rule to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s – you’re supposed to tell each other everything. there’s not been a secret between you in all the years you’ve known each other except for minor white lies that couldn’t amount to major forms of harm. he might have told you that your hair looked fine on days where you’d barely any time to tend to it and you might have told him that he hadn’t been awkward presenting in front of your entire college class… but those were worthless lies. strings of words tied together that didn’t mean anything, that didn’t have any intent to harm.
there were no secrets, no major ones.
until now.
“he’s got a girlfriend, yanno…”
the news is shared with you casually from over the counter one day by your irritating white-haired ex-professor who makes a habit of annoying his old students. he comes in for sweets often and the daifuku you make is his favourite – you offer him extra in exchange for updates on the classmates you used to share since he’s nosey like that.
with every visit to your little cafe, gojo filled you in on everything yuuta had been up to in the blurred weeks and months since you’d last spoken – including his relationship status. “she’s pretty too, long hair. s’blue which is an odd colour, but she’s been good to him, ‘pparently. boosted his confidence.”’ the man cocks his head, watching in real-time as your movements in packing up his order slow down.
your throat bobs whilst you swallow your fading pride in front of your teacher, forcing down a wave of tears. it doesn’t matter how many times yuuta gets over you, moves on from you, finds someone to love other than you… it still hurts. it’ll always hurt knowing that he can fill the other half of his heart with someone that isn't you, while your own stays void and empty.
as always, satoru gojo sees right through your resolve as you total up his order – again forgoing charging him extra for the little tid bit of gossip he’d given you. there’s a shell of someone he doesn’t recognise in place of the girl he used to teach – the one who was once full of life and eager to learn, get out into the world and achieve your dreams. yuuta okkotsu had chipped away at you, the years you’d spent protecting his feelings had caused you to drown in your own.
and gojo could see that, he knew that. he’d been through it before.
he only wishes he had better words of comfort for you.
“you love him, don’t you?” he asks you quietly as you ring him up but you answer with his total in yen instead – sniffling as you do. professor gojo takes his brown paper bag, full of enough sugar to make the heart stop – to kill a person, but even that’s a better death than the heartache you’re going through now. you sniff and he offers you a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach the sapphire eyes behind his shades. “better yet, don’t answer that. i don’t need anymore tears in my daifuku.”
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voicemail #6 - “oh fuck yuuji, right there…” “here baby? oh you’re so cute, fuck ‘m gonna—!” “oh… yuuji!” 
( incoming voicemail from - yuuta: “hey, call me back? who’s yuuji? are you okay?” )
yuuta knows that he shouldn’t have kept listening – he should have deleted the voicemail as soon as he caught onto what was happening. it didn’t take a genius to know what was going on, the sounds of skin slapping on skin, your voice wavering with the tune of lust even over the static crackle of the voicemail you’d left. 
he wishes that he’d never heard you moan out like that for someone else, that he wasn’t picturing the faces you’d make underneath the body of another man…but he couldn’t help it. the more he listened, the angrier he felt, the more betrayal flooded his veins and clouded his usually clear judgement. the brunette had no right to be this mad at you, he was supposed to be happy with miwa, supposed to be letting you move on just like he had done from you.
and yet, like a necrotizing parasite – jealousy feasts at the back of okkotsu’s mind. it disrupts his work, distracts him from his girlfriend and fills his mind with flashing images of you being fucked five ways by another man. one that isn’t him. yuuji. who even is yuuji? how did you meet him? were you dating him? you hadn’t talked in so long so the guy had barely come up in conversation. you were best friends that used to tell each other everything and now he felt like you were fucking someone new behind his back. yuuta knew nothing of what that stranger meant to you, he had no idea that yuuji itadori was just some college boy you’d brought home one drunken night – to act as a salve for the burns your childhood best friend had left on you.
it's a temporary fix, yuuji’s tongue laps at your wounds – pleasures you with teeth and tongue until your head is light and you’re almost too dizzy to think properly. in the moment, he felt good, he took care of you…but he wasn’t who you wanted. he wasn’t yuuta.
was it bad that you basked in the jealous rage and attention the brunette had bathed you in? drowning you in a barrage of text messages  the morning after you’d slept with itadori, when yuuta finally had the chance to listen to the voicemail you’d left by accident. it was the most you’d gotten out of him in the months you’d been separated.
yuuta - 7:16AM: hey…did you mean to send that? call me when you’re up.
yuuta - 7:45AM: i don’t think i was supposed to hear that…
yuuta - 8:34AM: who’s yuuji?
yuuta - 8:36AM: are you seeing someone? call me please.
yuuta - 8:57AM: pick up the phone.
yuuta - 9:21AM: it’s not funny anymore. i’m worried. pick up.
you answer your phone around noon, having given yourself the space to think over cooking a hang-over breakfast for yuuji. the sounds of spitting oil underneath frying eggs had provided the soundtrack to your thoughts – helped you pick and choose the words you would say to yuuta before your companion slips out of your apartment and you tell him to grab a pastry from your cafe downstairs on his way out. a little thank you for the night you’d shared.
“what the hell was that?” is the first thing yuuta snarls down the line once your call connects.
you shift your phone in your grasp, as if his seething tone has scorched the palm of your hand. “are we past greetings or somethin’, yuu?” you fail to admit that it hurts you, starting the call without his tender and caring ‘hello’, you feel like an enemy on the battlefield to okkotsu, rather than his friend.
“i think we are well past that, especially with the kind of voice messages you’ve been leaving me.” he says it like he’s disgusted with you, when he really just misses you. craves you. he’s angry at himself and for letting you slip between his fingers into the grasp of another man. not at you. never at you. but even cell phone lines connecting calls from across the globe can’t properly convey the way yuuta feels. “what’s going on with you? why are you acting like this? we haven’t spoken in weeks and you–?”
“why is what i do any of your business anymore, yuuta?” you snap through his flurry of questions, growing heated yourself. “i accidentally left you a voicemail of me fucking someone, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me.”
“you’re just… not like this. we don’t speak and all of a sudden…y-you’re different!”
you clutch the phone tighter, swallowing thickly. “and who’s fault is that? let me answer that for you. it’s yours. you’re the one who got a girlfriend and left me in the dust. not the other way around!” you argue, trying to sound stern and steady though yuuta can hear the wobble to your words loud and clear. “you shouldn’t have listened, you should have called. you let the distance become a problem between us.”
he scoffs, an action so unlike your best friend. “we’re not children anymore! you should have talked to me about the distance!” 
“i couldn't!” you defend yourself, desperate for the pain in your heart to be heard for once. “you were finally happy again yuuta! that mattered to me—“ 
“you think i'm happy about hearing my best friend get…defiled over the phone?” 
“well you should be! it means I’m not hung up on you anymore, that i’m moving on from being in love with you! leaving you so that you can be happy in your new life!” 
the silence from yuuta’s end of the phone is both too loud and too deafening. 
“you…loved me?” he whispers, switching back to that same sweet tone he always used when it came to you. “why didn’t you say?”
your stupid little confession, the one you’d been holding back for more than half your life, sips out before you can catch it with the tip of your tongue and you instantly feel terrible for weaponizing your crush on okkotsu against him. at least that’s what it feels like you’ve done. “i never told you…because i’m not selfish, yuuta,” you stutter out, your face hot with oncoming and flustered tears. “i-i'm not a selfish person. i wouldn’t sacrifice our friendship or your happiness, not just because i loved you.”
yuuta says your name, but blood rushes through your ears in embarrassment – way too fast for you to catch it, and you hang up before you can humiliate yourself any further.
before you can hear him say that he loves you too.
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voicemail #7 - “open up, i'm coming home. please be here when I’m home.” 
the number you have dialled is unavailable, please try again later.
after the slip of your tongue and confession to yuuta— he was met with radio silence. you’d blocked him on every form of social media possible and he couldn’t even blame you. you wanted to be free from him, from that silly and imaginary red string that had kept you tied to his soul for all of these years. it hurt to think when everything reminded you of him, so you buried yourself in your cafe and worked yourself to death because even the sweet relief from life would be better than living without your best friend. 
gojo had stopped by and taken you to the hospital twice since you’d worked yourself into exhaustion — tonight was no different, sentenced to bed rest by your ex-professor and the best doctor he could find. he always did look out for his students.
sleeping your sadness away had caused you to miss a barrage of yuuta’s calls — if you’d picked up you’d have known that he was coming home. coming home for you. in the wake of your love confession, okkotsu had realised how much he needed you and how much he loved you. you had never left his side, no matter what yuuta had been through, and now, nothing feels right without you. 
so he broke up with his girlfriend, took leave from his job and flew halfway across the world for you — to give his message in person. 
it’s near midnight by the time yuuta gets back to japan, the warm yellow of the streetlights illuminating the path right up to your apartment after getting out of the uber. there’s a spare house key, glinting gold, hidden under your cupcake shaped doormat just as yuuta remembers and he uses it to slip inside — dumping his bag and kicking his shoes off at the entryway. his socked feet locate the bedroom with ease, perhaps drawn by your aura and the anticipation of seeing you again.
and there you are, so close yet so far away — your face peaceful and painted with an adorable expression of slumber. okkotsu notes the way your chest slowly rises and falls, the crease between your brow as if you’re having a bad dream. he could fix it… whatever’s plaguing your sleeping mind, he knows that he can, because whenever you touch each other, it’s like your bodies know to relax and that they’re safe.
tiptoeing deeper into the room, the brunette slinks up to the side of your bed and the mattress dips underneath the weight of his knee as he seats himself beside you. you’re so beautiful, so calm. he doesn’t know how he went his whole life without choosing you, choosing other people over you time and time again. “i love you,” yuuta whispers into the dead of the night, brushing a thumb and forefinger over the apple of your cheek — hesitating when you roll into his body heat. “i love you. i’m so sorry.” he says again, while pressing a feather light kiss to that same spot. 
his breath hitches when you reach for him this time, grabbing at the man in your sleep.
yuuta kisses you again, but on your forehead. then your other cheek, your chin, your inner wrists and finally — your lips. each brush of his own against you is increasingly feverish, pouring unspoken emotions into them as he quietly utters the words ‘i love you.’ over and over again. he feels like he has something to prove, as if the brunette has to show you how much he cares for you — leaving a trail of sweet smooches between the valley of your breasts from over your night-shirt to between your thighs that spill out of the loose material.
he only hopes that this is enough for you to forgive him, for you to love him back like he does you.
your best friend… or ex best friend really should feel bad about this, teething on the swell of your thighs— his fingertips sinking into their apex to pry you apart for him. you could end up hating him more for this, yuuta’s slick and drool stained tongue rolling over the seam at the crotch of your panties hungrily, softly as if to test the waters. he takes it as a good sign when your face contorts with pleasure even in your sleep and slots his entire mouth against the sweet treasure between your legs— sucking the juices from the fabric of your underwear.
you taste so good and he’s not even got you properly wet yet. yuuta’s next move is to hook two fingers over the garment to pull it aside — revealing your twitching hot cunt to the cool night air in your bedroom. even your scent is divine, enticing just as you’ve always been and the brunette can’t believe he was too blind to see it before. he presses a chase kiss to your clit, feeling it pulse to life against his lips before said kisses become open mouthed and sloppy— tongue diving into the tightness of your little hole, circling it to flick your flavour back into his mouth. 
his movements start slow, tenderly testing which spots inside your pretty little cunt make you sigh out contently while you slumber but the wetter you get, the sloppier yuuta becomes — lapping at your sex and your clit in eager movements like a kitten at a bowl of milk. you only stir awake when his fingers travel up to grip onto your ass and tug your pussy onto his face, guiding you up and down on his writhing tongue like he’s fucking you for real.
“y-yuu?” you grumble, still finding your footing in the reality of consciousness. “whas’ h-happenin’… oh my god—!”  the questions you have for the mop of hair between your legs, groaning like a starved man into there too, taper into an angelic moan. pretty and airy, like music to yuuta’s ears. once you come to and fully realise what’s going on, your fingers slip into the roots of his hair and your hips buck into his mouth instinctively — even though you should be pissed. even though you should be screaming at him and kicking him off. you can’t help it that this is what you’ve always wanted. that you’ve always wanted him.
“w-what are you doing here?” you manage to ask through a whine, brain fogging up at the way yuuta’s tongue runs laps over your swelling clit. 
he pulls off of you with a lewd pop that makes both of you shudder, two of his slender digits easily sliding into you where his tongue once was — guided by spit and slick. “i came home for you. i love you,” your best friend doesn’t have time to formulate proper reasoning, drunk on your saccharine flavour  like you’re the finest wine he’s ever had the honour of tasting. “f-fuck, i-i missed you.”
yuuta gives you those big puppy dog eyes as he curls his digits inside of you and hits spots you can't quite reach on your own. you should be talking about your feelings not fucking through them but you’ve missed him so much and need him so bad. both of you groan in unison when he brushes over your g-spot, your hips jumping up and his grinding down into your silky sheets. 
“missed you too,” you breathe and yank him up by the hair to meet your lips — making out with him feverishly, swapping the words your mind can’t seem to force you to say, pouring the mixed emotions into him as he finger fucks your tight little hole like his life depends on it.
every movement you make with one another is sloppy and uncoordinated, tongues doused in one another’s saliva— saliva that tastes like you. your moans mingle in the hot and heavy air and you clench down on yuuta’s fingers as they pump in and out of you, his palm slapping against your folds while you leak into the seat of his palm. 
“are you close?” yuuta slurs into your mouth so quietly you almost miss it underneath the lewd sound of your pussy. “i want to make you cum, show you how much i love you.”
blood rushes through your ears, heat pin pricking like needles under your skin. “y-yes. p-please yuu…” 
his thumb dragging smooth circles over the pulsating bud between your blooming pussy lips is all you need to trip over the edge into your high— the knots in your lower tummy unwinding faster than you can register, waves of your nectar flowing from your cunt onto the sheets below and soiling yuuta’s hand right up to his wrist. 
your head tips back into a high pitched squeal, eyes locked away and rolling back while you damn near black out from your orgasm. but your best friend is right there like he should be, sucking love-bites into your neck to ground you. dark tresses of yuuta’s chocolate-like hair tickle at your tingling flesh while he manoeuvres himself between your legs and shifts his pants down enough to let his rock hard cock spring free. 
“c-can you take me now?” he pleads more than he asks, brown and warm eyes trembling with need, anticipation. “i don’t think i’ll last long and i need you.” 
you feel him press at your entrance, his angry red tip glistening with opaque beads of precum— yuuta softly ruts his hips against you, smearing…claiming you with his own essence while he waits for your consent. “i’ve always needed you, yuuta.” you say breathlessly, giving him a small grin and nod when he looks up from drooling against your neck. 
that’s all the go ahead he needs before his thick girth pushes all the way into you at once — weighty and temperate against your ribbed and creamy walls. “‘ohmyfuckinggod,” he whimpers wetly against you. “y-you’re so tight wrapped around me. so perfect i—“ 
“move, yuuta. fuck me, please,” you remind him, tugging on his air and crossing your ankles at the base of his spine. 
“y-yeah okay…g-god you’re so good. so sweet ‘n tight.” with that, he draws his hips back — hesitant at first. brown eyes watch your face for any signs of discomfort and yuuta’s lust driven instincts take the lead when he only notices how blissed out you look. your pretty lips are agasp, forming a pleasure-filled ‘o’ as you mewl and claw at his half-clothed shoulders. “i love you, o-oh god!”
all you can do is whimper in response, fingers drifting up to the nape of yuuta’s neck to tangle in his dark locks— tugging him into you as if it’ll make him hit deeper, churn up your guts and make you see stars. “y-you’re stupid…” you manage to get out, the warmth of your breath glossing his lips as if to taunt your best friend with a kiss. 
“i know…” calloused fingers grab at the backs of your thighs with a bruising grip before yuuta pushes your legs towards your shoulders, both of you grunting and whining in unison when you tighten around him at the new angle. gushing sweet juices that paint his stomach and pelvis.
“y-you shouldn’t have left me,” tears start to brim, collecting in your lash line like diamonds before they hit your cheeks.
you’re so beautiful like this, even when you’re crying— when you’re crying because you’re fucked up on his cock, claiming it with your cream as ur clings to his balls and the veins that spital down his length. 
yuuta’s red hot tip nudges against the soft and squishy spots along your sensitive walls, keeping his thrusts at a rhythmic and passionate pace to make sure the only thing you feel is heaven on earth. your pussy is hot and warm and heaven-like around him, sucking him in so selfishly and tightening every time yuuta’s strong abs grind against your puffy clit. 
“i know,” he sighs dreamily and with an airy voice, licking a stripe from your chin to your cheek as a tear streaks it’s way down it. “won't ever leave you again,” his fingers touch at your face, sinking into the softness of your cheeks as he drags you up to face him. “i’ll never leave you again.” 
“never?” you ask, hiccuping.
“never.” he moans.
you see it there, the love glittering amongst the almond flecks in your childhood best friend’s eyes — he means it, he promises it and you can feel it with every roll of yuuta’s hips into you while he pins you to the bed. he makes love to you and says what he needs to through his actions this time. through your tangled mess of sweaty limbs and fluttering lashes you find okkotsu’s hand, linking them together. 
the sight of your hands meeting one another brings emotions bubbling to the surface of your skin, hot to yuuta’s touch — it's a symbol that you’ve finally come together after being worlds apart for so long. “you’re finally mine, ‘m never letting you go,” his warm breath coasts across the seam of your lips before he dips into kiss you— tongue gliding over yours as it pushes into the depths of your mouth just as his cock does, brushing up against your g-spot and just  kissing your cervix. “you’re always going to be mine.” 
“i-i’m yours,” your eyes roll back and yuuta loses his pace, his entire body twitching the closer you both get. sex taints the air, both in sound and scent, your cunt squelching around him with how wet you are and how much he leaks into you. “g-gonna cum, yuu! make me cum, make me fucking cum.”  you slur out, anchoring the man down to you with your arms around his neck until yuuta’s forehead is pressed against yours. sweaty locks of his hair and all.
yuuta’s body collapses against you and his thrusts switch to sensual grinds that never let up on your spongey g-spot. “f-fuck me, b-baby. ‘m cummin’,” he croons, panting against your lips and with one, two, three more pumps you’re squirting all over him— the pressure unwinds in your lower belly and you’re hit with blinding white lights and your nails dig into yuuta’s shoulder to the point where you leave bright red crescent moons. “that’s it baby, cum for me, make a mess for me. show me you love me— fuck!” 
you’re still trembling with the aftershocks with your orgasm when the brunette follows suit — the warmth of his seed floods your quivering cunt, painting your folds an opaque white before yuuta pulls out. the last droplets of his cum hit your soft tummy accompanied by his high pitched whine  and then he crumples against you, exhausted from the height of it all. 
“i love you so much,” yuuta hums against your skin, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “it’s always been you.” 
“i love you,” you affirm, knowing that no matter what distance is put between you and your best friend (now lover) — you’ll always find your way back to each other. 
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꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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atskiruma · 1 year
Text
he makes you cry
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expl: he doesn't usually care about others' feelings, so how was he supposed to know what he did to you was mean?
a/n: appalled that this is my first time doing my favorite geo boy, appalled and ashamed; also exhausted this might not be my best work, requests sent will be fulfilled soon, i just need some rest! just got hired at a job that i went for an interview with today, so work will slowly be coming out later and later, sorry!
ask me anything
masterlist
second-person writing no pronouns used, 2,818 words
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Xiao was not fond of caring about others' emotions, nor did it ever occur to him that he should care. He tried to keep his life as simple and as peaceful as possible because he deserved it after everything he went through before. Which was why he was so confused when someone would cry in front of him. Xiao never cried when times were hard, what made those salty tears escape human eyes so easily?
Most of the time, he never saw people cry, and if he did, he ignored it. That's how he was taught to deal with emotion, he'd ignore it.
It began when you were up in your room at the Inn, minding your business and trying to figure out how to make the woven bracelet that the Traveler had taught you. Frankly, it was pretty difficult, and when the Traveler was teaching you, you were so busy watching them that you never actually learned.
The hours were beginning to fly by and you could hardly make out the original pattern you were trying to replicate. Repeated failures over and over and piling yarn began to stack up on the bed next to you. It was when you had finally gotten it down to only mess up again because something distracted you was when you finally snapped.
Throwing the bracelet across the room where it rested under the table, streams of hot tears began to roll down your cheeks in frustration. You were doing everything right, why wasn't it working!
It happened to be the same time you were leaving your room when Xiao was strolling down the hallway. The two of you made eye contact and his eyes flew to where the tears were running toward the bottom of your neck. His eyes widened only a little bit and his mouth opened and closed like a fish only to not know what to say.
You also stood still and stared at him. Why? Maybe you were just waiting for him to comfort you or you were curious about what he had to say. But when it was clear that he'd keep gapping like a fish, you started to walk off again. Only for him to grab your wrist before you made it too far and pull you a bit toward him.
"Are you okay?" He asked in a soft voice, hardly making eye contact with you and finding his shoes on the floor more entertaining. It was shocking to see him show such concern in general, but you remembered why you were upset and started to ball again. Pushing yourself into his chest and crying warm tears into his shirt.
His hands fumbled on the sides of you for a while until he rested them softly on your hips. Awkwardly patting you in a form of reassurance he'd never shown anyone before.
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His face was pretty flat when you began to show signs of distress and sadness. Albedo was too focused on his experiment to even realize that something went wrong on your end. The sound of a beaker crashing to the floor sounded across the room, but he still kept looking forward, hardly hearing anything at all.
That sound kept up for a while, you were pretty sure you broke at least 5 beakers in the time it took for you to get them from the spare cabinet. It wasn't until the 6th beaker that you managed to catch did Albedo actually turn around to see what had happened.
His experiment seemed to be going fine, the color of the liquid sitting at the bottom of the beaker matching the picture right next to it perfectly. You sighed when you saw he had already beaten you to make the antidote.
"I don't know how you do it 'bedo. This one is probably the most difficult I've done." You said before wiping your forehead which was littered with sweat from how hard you'd been concentrating.
"Just try again, I'm sure you'll be able to complete it." He said, his encouraging words going little to no length and falling straight to the floor. It didn't help that the trashcan full of your previous broken beakers was so close. It was extremely discouraging to see how much damage you've caused just trying to learn how to brew the antidote.
Then Albedo took his leave, putting his things down when he realized the clock read 9 PM. Bidding you goodbye, he looked back one last time with his handle on the doorknob and spoke. "Humans sometimes do not carry the skill to complete such a difficult task, do not push yourself to do something you simply can't achieve."
And then the door shut. All you did was stare at where he previously had been, his words repeating in an endless loop shrinking infinitely into your mind.
"Huh?" Was all you said before a warm feeling rushed down your cheeks and landed on the toe of your shoes. Did he just call me stupid? You thought to yourself. The frustration you felt along with the fact that he just said that, caused a rush of salty tears to leave your eyes. Your eyelashes stuck together as tears mended them together.
You continued to stand there and cry, until the door opened again and the alchemist stuck his head back in the door, announcing he forgot something towards the floor. That was until he lifted his head up to see you standing there, crying. For once, he stood still and just stared at you unable to conjure any words for the scene he was witnessing.
The sniffles and the silent sounds of tears padding the floor were all that was making sound in the room. As Albedo continued to stare at you like the two of you were playing a game of freeze tag.
"I'm stupid aren't I 'bedo?" You said, which made him flinch when the sound of the nickname you gave him came out in a harsh and rude manner. "Too stupid to figure out the dumb potion because I'm just a mere human in your eyes."
"What're you talking about?" He said, with the quietest and most emotion-full voice you've ever heard him use. Albedo continued to step closer to you, almost as if he was never moving at all. When he finally did reach you, his hand brushed against your cheek and his eyes held so much concern it could fill up the sea.
"I don't think you're lesser than me, is this about what I said? I didn't mean it like that..."
You kept sniffling while looking at him, still stubborn for more than what he was giving you. His arms reached around you and held you close, something he often did when Klee would sob, which he learned from Jean.
The two of you stood like that for a while, until the blazing sun rested its eyes in the distance, and the sorrowful moon began to creep up the valley.
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"What is wrong with you??" Tighnari's harsh voice came out in a way you only heard once in a while. His irritated look glared at you from where you stood, all you had done was knock down a few books, but it looked like other things were really beginning to upset him.
You expected to greet the forest ranger and spend some time together, seeing as the both of you made those plans a while ago, but it seems that he was really busy with something that he was supposed to finish a while ago.
He whipped his head back to look at the beakers on the table, making a very loud and audible sigh at your appearance here. "I'm busy, so make another time for..." He waved his hands around dramatically and quick, "Whatever it was you were planning and leave me be."
You stood silent for a while, shocked that he was giving you such an attitude, but at the same time, you had no idea how to respond to what he said. So, you did just that and didn't respond, turning on your heels and leaving. Unfortunately, Tighnari didn't hear you leave and assumed you were still sitting there waiting for him like usual. So when he turned around and opened his mouth to address you and apologize, he stopped in his tracks to see you weren't there.
When you saw Tighnari again, it was actually just his voice you had heard and your eyes didn't flicker to see if it was actually him. Collei was holding some sort of dinner for the forest rangers in the area, to both thank them and congratulate her for beating Eleazar. But you finally did see him when it was too late, and you were bumping into the forest ranger with food in your hands.
A shocked gasp came out of your mouth till the echoed noise of a bowl rumbled onto the ground and crashed down, the food flying along with it. Your distressed state increased, and you immediately flew down to try and clean it up.
In fact, you were so busy trying to clean the bowl of food that had spilled over that you didn't even realize the forest ranger was standing behind you with his hands behind his back. Until the call of your name was repeated for the 3rd time, did you turn around to look at him, tears in your eyes from how frustrated you were?
Tighnari's eyes widened before he immediately dropped to his knees and put his hand on your shoulder for comfort. It shocked him to see you in such a vulnerable state, especially with how cheery you always seemed around him.
"What happened? Are you alright?" Tighnari said, before moving his eyes down to the food splattered all over the dirt. You didn't even realize how much helping out at the party would stress you out. As soon as Tighnari muttered the words are you alright, tears flooded out more and more as you tried to hide your face in your hands. Your shoulders and body shook with how much you were crying. Tighnari moved closer to you and shielded you with his body.
Not only did he treat you terribly before, but the first time he sees you in days, you were crying? His heart felt like it could break then and there. His hand came around your back to soothingly rub circles on it while you continued to sob. His ears even flattened a bit on his head in guilt.
When Collei had come around the corner to see the pasta salad splattered on the ground, and Tighnari hugging you with his tail between his legs. She smiled and sighed a bit, before walking away to leave you two be.
It felt like a long time while the two of you sat like that, his hand never stopping to rub your back. You finally pulled away to look at him and Tighnari rested his hand on your cheek in a comforting manner.
"I'm sorry I treated you like that, I was irritated and you came in at a bad time. I never want to hurt you." His guilt-written face and ears practically flattened to his head making your heart beat in a painful rhythm.
"You can make it up to me by helping me clean this up?" You said as a sly grin grew a little bit on your face. He smiled back and rolled up his sleeves to begin cleaning.
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Scaramouche was a mean boy, everyone knew that he had no filter and he acted as if he didn't care about anyone when in reality it was the exact opposite.
"You're pathetic!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, looking at your shocked expression and stance from across the room. You had just failed to do the task that Nahida assigned you again, and it seemed like the newly-found anemo holder was growing more and more impatient watching you fail over and over.
"Excuse me?" You spat back, clearly irritated with his outburst and pushiness. Scaramouche scoffed again before trailing over to where you were, Nahida watching the interaction from her desk.
"You've been doing it all wrong, and that pathetic idiot brain can't seem to comprehend that." His fingers flew a swift flick to your head, pushing you back a centimeter. "If you keep failing, shouldn't you be trying something else instead of pushing the same solution over and over? Moron."
His insults over and over were hurting, sure, but you were used to it. When you felt good. Right now, this was the last thing you needed after failing again and again. At one point you even glanced over at Nahida after failing and saw her face look a bit reluctant about your skills. Which increased your anxiety tenfold.
"I never knew someone could be so stupid. I even worked with morons every day in the Fatui, but none match up to how idiotic you are." Scaramouche just kept blasting insult after insult at you. What was with him today? Was he really that peeved you didn't wait for him in the morning to walk over here?
Moving aside and putting your hands up defensively, you made way for the prince and his smart brain. He moved in front of you and began looking down at what you were doing. It looked like Nahida was still working with you on Fermat's Last Theorem, which was an extremely difficult math equation, back in the 17th century. Scaramouche made a noticeable eye roll before sitting down to begin writing out how to solve it.
What he didn't see was your reaction to the last flinching insult he threw your way. He didn't witness the tears swell up in your eyes and he also didn't see you walk away and leave the sanctuary. Only witnessing your presence gone when he looked up to turn another sarcastic comment towards you. Scaramouche's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before looking around him to see where you went. He turned towards Nahida when he couldn't find you and she looked up at him before looking back down at her papers.
"Tsk, whatever." He pushed his seat back and sat up to leave, wondering what he should have for dinner instead of concerning himself with where you went. It wasn't until later in the evening when he saw you again, sitting back at the desk, not uttering an obnoxious sigh or an irritating "What does this mean??"
He eased himself over to you with his hands in his pockets before leaning behind your shoulder to see what you were doing. You were working on the problem again, but his copy of it was nowhere to be seen, that is until he looked towards the trash and saw his handwriting on the paper barely crumpled and resting near the top of the bin.
"You threw away my paper?" He said with irritation lining every letter. You kept writing though and paid him no mind. The silent treatment seemed to be really riling him up because he continued to berate you over and over as you sat there taking it and continuing to work.
It was only an hour later that it really started to bother him with you being quiet. Maybe what he said earlier was too harsh, he didn't really feel that bad, but if it meant you weren't going to speak to him then he had to do something.
Leaning over you again, he placed his hand on your upper arm, grabbing your attention from the unusual act. His eyes met yours and held the stare for a couple seconds before he spoke,
"I'm sorry." That was all he said.
You raised an eyebrow at him, before squinting your eyes in confusion and responding.
"Sorry for what..?" The sarcasm dripped from every syllable and landed on his fragile ego.
His eyes widened and he took his hand from your arm, frowning and shouting back,
"I don't repeat myself! Accept the apology I gave you."
"You're such a child, does saying sorry really hurt that bad?"
"You heard me!"
Your eyes rolled and you turned back to your paper as if you were going back to ignoring him, his eyes softened again and he grabbed your arm once more.
"I'm sorry I said those mean words to you. I didn't mean it, I don't like it when you leave without me and I don't like it when you're upset."
When he grabbed your arm, you didn't turn to face him again, but after hearing the words he spoke, you turned again with a smile on your face and leaned closer to his.
The blush was evidently growing the more you leaned in, and you could see his adam's apple bob with nervousness.
"I accept your apology Kunikuzushi."
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moon7jay · 4 months
Text
WANT (l.hs)
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Warnings : angst, cum eating, smut, basically filth.
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"I think he doesn't find me sexually attractive"
There.
U said it.
Your worst fear. Out loud.
your best friend looked at u like u had grown two heads
"Tf does that even mean? Isn't he dating u? "
She said it like even the thought of what u said was incredulous, but how would she know the things you were seeing and observing with your very own eyes.
Your lower lip trembled just thinking about all the times he had pushed u away. As if u were a turn off. Maybe u were.
"I mean yeah, but it's been 6 months and he hasn't.. " your voice trailed off as u felt the onslaught of tears approaching. Damn it. Damn that man for making u feel like this about yourself.
"Y/n no. He hasn't touched u?? like at all?? "
He did touch u, he held your hand when u were outside, intertwined your fingers when at home, kissed your forehead, pecked your cheek and lips. And he would pull away just as fast whenever u tried to kiss him deeper, or press urself closer. It was like u made him uncomfortable. Maybe u did.
You shook your head and broke down in tears, it was too much for ur fragile heart.
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You looked at yourself in the mirror, your body clad tightly in a wine red mini dress, the chest cut lower to display your ample cleavage. You looked sexy. Or so u thought.
The entire night went just like it always did. heeseung called u beautiful, he kissed u and held u close, told u everything about his day and asked u about yours. You were laughing with him but u weren't quiet there. Cuz u would catch several men ogling at u throughout the night but never heeseung . It was like. U weren't visible to him.
By the time he dropped u off at your apartment, ur mood was all the way down. Getting inside and taking ur dress off haphazardly, maybe u heard some fabric ripping but who cared. Silent tears falling down ur face as u sat in front of your vanity and looked at yourself blankly. Were u that unattractive? Did u lack sex appeal? Is that it? Because u couldn't turn ur boyfriend on no matter how hard u tried.
He barely ever seemed affected by u or ur display of your body. Ur insecurities ate away at u the entire night and u cried ur way to sleep.
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"U haven't been answering my calls"
His voice echoed in the kitchen, u tried ur best to not turn around and run into his arms. After all he was still your heeseung , u loved him. And now more than ever u needed him. But he just seemed so far away.
The stirring of spoon in the coffee u were making got faster, ur anxiety getting the best of u. U hadn't been purposefully avoiding him. It's just that u didn't trust yourself to not break down like a loser in front of him anymore.
"I'm talking to u y/n"
"I'm sorry" u whispered, ur voice barely audible, the stirring of coffee got even faster, warm droplets spilling out of the cup now.
"Baby what r u sorry for? " His voice was still far away so u assumed he was still standing at the entrance of the kitchen. This gave u a little bit of strength as u cleared ur throat and dumped ur mess of a coffee into the sink
"For forcing u to be in this relationship" U replied, opening the upper cabinet to take out the coffee beans with ur shaking hands.
Pulling out another cup to start stirring again. It was the only thing keeping u calm right now.
"Y/n look at me" His voice was commanding and ur stirring stopped.
"Please"
U took a deep breath and turned around. It was about time u faced ur demons, how long were u going to run away from ur self anyway?
He was a few feet away from u, probably hesitating to come closer because of your behavior. But he never came closer anyway.
His face looked helpless and worried, like he couldn't quite understand what was going on
"What are u even talking about? " He asked carefully
U shrugged
"U started dating me out of pity hee, u did not like me from the get go and u still don't, I get that, and I'm ready to let u go"
His mouth gaped open, floundering for words
"What the fuck y/n?? Where the fuck is all this coming from? Yes I didn't like u from the get go, but that's because I didn't fucking know u! U confessed to me and I AGREED to go out with u. That's all there is to it." He sounded angry, mad even. But u couldn't bring ur self to believe his words.
"U didn't have the heart to reject me"
"I didn't WANT to reject u"
U sniffled. No this wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to tell u that yes u were right and he didn't want to be with u. So why was he being like this.
U bit ur lower lip to stop it from trembling, looking down at ur feet, unable to look at his love filled eyes anymore
"Y/n please talk to me baby"
His pleading voice made ur heart squeeze, u were hurting him.
"So why don't u want me? " U whispered quietly, too scared of his answer
"What? " His eyes met yours in confusion and worry. He seemed distressed, not knowing what changed so much in a week's span.
"Am I not sexually appealing? like, do u not find me attractive that way?... or any way.. "
tears started to fall once u said it out loud. Oh god u wanted to disappear, away from the way his eyes searched ur face.
He was going to be disgusted with u and then leave. Oh u were a fool, u hated ur self.
What u weren't expecting was for him to walk towards u, u watched him walk closer and closer until u could feel his breath on ur face.
Your watering eyes met his
"Is that what all this is about?" he asked, his voice an octave lower, dark eyes gazing at u in a way u had never seen before.
U looked down embarrassed, more tears falling freely now
"of course it is, it's been 6 months, u don't touch me, u don't kiss me, u don't even seem to care all that much when - u were cut off with a bruising kiss, his large hands cupping your face as his lips moved furiously against yours. Your eyes widened and u unknowingly moved ur hands on his chest, fisting his shirt. The way he was kissing u could only be described one way.
Hungry.
He was hungry.
He bit your lower lip and u screamed into his mouth, eyes closing in pain, focusing on the way he slithered his tongue into your mouth taking advantage of your scream, the feel of his tongue on yours made ur knees weak.
as if sensing ur light headedness he moved one hand to grab onto your waist. U gasped, the bare skin of your waist burning from his touch. U couldn't comprehend what was happening and if the person kissing u was your heeseung .
The kiss was messy, your lips connected with a string of saliva when he pulled away
U were panting, his hot and heavy breaths fell on your face. His eyes stared down at u with desire, the intensity so strong ur fists on his chest tightened.
You watched in awe as he loosened your hold on his shirt's fabric and took ur hand in his own, moving it downwards. Ur breath left ur lungs when u felt his hardness, he squeezed his length with your palm, a groan escaping his parted lips. U watched him frozen with wide eyes.
"This is u, all u" he panted on your face as he continued to rub himself over his pants using your soft hand. Your pussy tingled in arousal at seeing your boyfriend like this for the first time. Even from feeling him above his pants u could tell he was big.
"And everytime u kiss me, everytime u touch me, this is exactly how I go back home. Hard and throbbing, do u feel me baby? "
U nodded dumbly, not quiet deciphering his words. U turned him on?
"Yeah. Feel me more, press harder, I'm tired of jerking off with my own hand imagining it is yours"
His words make u gasp, your hold instinctively tightening on his dick. He curses kissing u on ur bleeding lip again, suckling the plump flesh into his mouth.
"U.. U j-jerked off to me? " U asked in a whisper, not wanting to jinx it. So in disbelief u didn't notice how fast u were rubbing his boner now. He moaned into ur mouth, taking ur hand and pulling it away from his dick only to unzip himself and slip it inside of his jeans.
You moaned when ur hand met his hard and throbbing cock, holding it and running your fingers on it softly. So big and thick. How was he gonna fit in u.
"Every night, jerked off to u so so hard. Came for u so much baby" He groaned into ur mouth at your soft hand finally holding him.
His words had u pressing ur thighs together and squirming against his body where he had u trapped against the kitchen counter. You started jerking him off in the earnest
"Yeah just like that, where'd u learn how to do it so good baby" He asked, his head thrown back, your hand gathering the precum at his cockhead and spreading it all over his cock, watching how ur hand looked working him inside his jeans. His hold on your waist tightened, moving up to grope ur chest making a pornographic moan rip through ur chest
"Practiced with my dildo"
u barely heard him curse before hot white liquid was flowing over your hand, a dark spot forming on his jeans. He groaned and captured ur lips in his own again. U couldn't believe u had made him cum. U had just made ur boyfriend cum by barely doing anything.
You pulled out ur hand from his jeans and watched in awe how his white seed looked on your hand. As if in trance u found ur self tasting it, your tongue licking your fingers and slurping all of his thick cum from ur hand.
When u met his eyes he was looking at u like a hungry animal, his jaw ticking as he traced ur movements with his eyes.
He pressed u closer to the kitchen counter so that there was no space left in between your bodies. His hands groping your ass harshly making u whine, ur hands coming up to wrap around his neck.
"U fuck urself? Ride ur dildo? " He asked, his voice dark and heavy with lust.
U nodded, squirming against him from his perverted touch, he was squeezing ur body like those men did on buses. Like it was an object of pleasure.
"Yeah? What do u think of? "
"You" u moaned as he twisted ur nipple painfully through ur crop top.
He groaned, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against u.
"Tried so hard to hold myself back, I knew u were a virgin so wanted to take it slow with u, wanted to show u i want u for more than just ur body. But all this time- he squeezed the flesh at your waist making u moan his name-all this time u have been dreaming of getting used"
He picked up your leg, wrapping it around his waist, his dick settling between ur legs, grinding against ur pussy through ur soft cotten shorts.
"Oh I'm gonna use u alright, gonna use ur fucking pussy to get myself off, that'll make u happy won't it? " He asked rutting against ur cunt, rubbing your genitals against each other,both of you panting together.
U nodded. This was all u ever dreamed of.
He moaned and kept rutting against u, u rutted back, pushing ur hips against his, gasps and pants filling the kitchen space. He dug his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck
"Can't believe I could have been beating this fucking pussy red all this time"
His words made u drip. U had never been so fucking turned on.
"heeseung put it in please, please I'm ready, please please" Tears sprang to ur eyes as his grinding motion gave u ecstasy, u were so close to cumming just like this. "Waited so long please" U begged, his furrowed brows and sharp eyes watched ur face, still grinding against u, but u both wanted more friction. He started pulling away and hurriedly pulled his pants down,starting to unbutton his shirt. U didn't waste more time and took off ur shorts and panties along with ur top, throwing them across the kitchen. You were feeling too impatient, rubbing your naked body against his, the fire burning inside u at its peak.
He pressed u against the counter again. Pressing his body to yours, but not penetrating u, just rubbing his hard dick against ur naked wet snatch, watching how they created a mess together. Your movements matched his, grinding back, rubbing and rubbing, the wet and messy sight between your rubbing genitals was so lewd u could feel ur self getting close.
"wanna make ur first time special, won't impale u on my dick right now, but let's fuck like this yeah? Wanna have sex just like this right now" He panted and groaned. U nodded, digging your nails into his back, rubbing ur pebbled nips against his bare chest.
The pleasure was too good, u had never felt something like this before.
His cockhead was hitting ur clit just right, the squelching sounds increasing as u both moaned and groaned in pleasure. He loved it. Loved how u both were rubbing ur sweaty bodies against each other like animals in heat.
His tongue entangled again with yours, fingers digging in your hips as he picked u up and made u sit on the counter, positioning u in a way that had u leaning back on your elbows, his desperate hands pulling ur hips off the counter and holding them like a sex toy. Grinding and rubbing his cock against ur velvet folds.
"Fuck yeah, baby we gotta fuck like this again"
He groaned and his thrusts started becoming rough. U chanted his name like a mantra. He was basically fucking u without actually being inside but u couldn't fathom anything feeling more good than this. Your elbows got tired and u let yourself lie back and just get used
"Gonna fuck ur pussy whenever I want"
"Bet it's tight as fuck baby, gonna have so much fun tearing u up"
"Oh yeah fuck back on me"
"Grind baby come on, what a whore"
His filthy words pushed u over the edge, coming over his cock.
He kept rubbing his cock into your cumming pussy, cursing and gritting his teeth as the heat in his loin became unbearable. Cumming all over your stomach and pussy, grunting in pleasure "fuck fuck fuck"
He rubbed his fingers on your folds, watching how raw and abused your cunt looked.
U didn't know what u had opened the door to. heeseung wanted to keep u away from his sexual urges as long as he could. He was rough, he was demanding. But most of all he was sex crazed. He didn't want u to see that side of him so soon into the relationship. And it was hard for him, feeling ur soft body pressing against his arm everyday but he always clenched his jaw and pushed u away. Rubbing his dick raw again and again just remembering how heavenly u felt.
But now that u had summoned his demons out, he was gonna play. He was gonna fuck u again and again until u r trying to run away from him. Until the pleasure turns into pain. He was going to show u exactly why he kept u away from him for so long.
His want was not casual, it was obsessive, it was destructive. And u were going to find out the hard way (No pun intended)
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2K notes · View notes
coqvttes · 6 months
Text
୨୧― leon k. can’t keep my hands to myself
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୨୧˚ synopsis: even if it means he turns up to the station late, rookie leon just can’t leave for work without satisfying his needy girl can he..?
୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw 16+ only, p in v, finger-sucking, petnames, some aftercare, nipple-play, fem!reader, sub!reader, dom!leon, marking, creampie, softie leon, lmk if i forgot anything!
୨୧˚ wc: 1.8k
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leon had only just started his job, and yet almost every day, he is late to work. always turning up at the station in a rush, hair in an absolute state, uniform messy. and who’s to blame? you. his needy girlfriend, who just can’t get enough of him.
and today he was definitely going to be late. as the sun, shining through the curtains, illuminating leon as he got ready to go to the station, he woke up late this morning. he really tried to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake you from you sleep, wanting you to get some rest. but his shuffling stirred you awake either way, and you didn’t really mind, you enjoyed watching him get ready. but you were enjoying yourself a bit too much. seeing him walk around the apartment shirtless was entertaining, but it also got you wet. he hadn’t noticed you were awake and he was just about to grab his keys but there you were, yawning as you sat up on the bed, pouting at him. 
“leonn, don’t go just yet,” you plead. upon hearing your voice calling out to him, he turns around, lets out a low chuckle at your cute face, and walks over to where you sit on the edge of the bed before he cups your cheek, thumb caressing you tenderly. you nuzzle into his hand, and he smiles at your antics.
“baby, you know i don’t want to, but i’ll be late for work again. i got in trouble last time, you know?” he reasons as he raises a brow. but you know he’s not actually mad, and he shows you by leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead as if to make up for having to go to work.
“pleeease, don’t wan’ you to go yet,” you whine as he stands back up. you grab his hand and tug him towards you.
“i’ll be-” you interrupt him as you bring his hand to your mouth and kiss his palm. you start peppering kisses over his fingers before taking one in your mouth, sucking it gently as you gaze up at him. leon’s breath hitches as he takes in the sight, his pants straining while he tries to maintain his composure. he feels really bad. the last thing he wants to do is leave you on your own and go to work; he'd rather stay in with you. you let go of his finger with a pop, shuffling further into the bed as you lean back against the soft pillows. giving him that look that he just can’t deny.
“the bed is colder without you to keep me warm, leon..” he stood still, unsure of what to do, but felt himself harden slightly at your words. surely he could spare a few minutes to satisfy his girl, because he can’t turn up to work with a hard on, could he?
he climbs onto the bed in front of you. he slides his right hand slowly up your thigh to the waistband of your sleep shorts. he smirks as he dips his fingers into your shorts when he feels the wetness over your clothed cunt.
“so wet for me, aren’t ya?” he groans, and you buck up into his hand when he rubs your clit over the cotton of your panties. he smiles at your reaction.
“you’re so beautiful, you know,” he whispers.
“take it off, leon,” you beg, your eyes gazing into his ocean blue ones. your lips parted slightly because of how much you wanted to kiss him right now.
“say please, baby,” he teases when he notices your impatience. he pulls on your panties slightly before letting it snap back gently against your cunt and you whine.
“please leon. wan’ you to stop teasing me,” you cry. he smiles before slipping off your shorts and panties. he pushes himself up a bit to kiss you passionately, and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him in a little closer. you kiss him back fervently while his rough hands sneak up under your cute top, and he groans softly into your mouth when he feels your nipples harden under his gentle touch. he teases your sensitive nipples, pinching, twisting, and toying with them until you can’t help but mewl into his mouth.
“p-please,” you beg pathetically, arching your back and pushing your chest up into his hands. you wriggle your lower body closer to him, pressing against his clothed dick.
“you’re such a good girl, aren’t ya, always asking so nicely,” he coos before he pushes your top over your tits and leans down to kiss the valley between your breasts. he envelopes your nipple in his hot mouth and coats it in his saliva, kissing it tenderly. he smiles when you let out a soft moan. he sits back up on his knees and pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it to the floor before unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. he pulls them down along with his briefs, just under his cock.
you can't help but let out a moan when he finally pulls his dick out, oozing out pre-cum. gosh he wants you just as much as you want him so badly. you reach out your small hand to pump him a few times. he groans softly before replacing your hand with his, sliding it up and down, then guiding himself towards your leaking entrance. he grabs both of your legs and wraps them around his waist. you lock them tightly around him, keeping him as close to you as possible.
“my good girl,” he whispers when his tip presses against your wet slit before sliding in slowly. you moan out and reach for him desperately. he leans down closer and kisses you lovingly. you're moaning as he pushes his length in deeper until he finally bottoms out. the stretch always hurts a bit. you hold your breath unknowingly as you try to relax around him. he notices you tense up and comforts you.
“just breathe, baby,” he whispers comfortingly as his thumb rests on your bottom lip, parting it slightly. he stays like that for a few seconds, kissing and sucking your neck to let you adjust to his size, before you manage to ask him to move. he smiles before he pulls out and pushes in slowly. you gasp at the sudden pleasure, and your hands fly up to grasp onto his broad shoulders tightly as he continues to fuck you in a perfect rhythm. he holds eye contact with you for a few moments before you dip your head into his neck, kissing and marking him up, causing him to moan loudly. you smile at his reaction. you always adore how you can make a strong man like leon crumble for you. you look at the dark mark appearing on his neck, satisfied. but you're snapped out of your trance when a particular thrust hits your sweet spot and you whimper. your warm cunt squeezes around him so perfectly, and he lets a moan slip out, his pace speeding up slightly.
the pleasure continues to build up, and the pain begins to fade away completely. your eyes are shut as you get lost in the ecstasy, giving leon full control to make you feel good. “f-faster!” you whine, and he obliges as always, quickening his pace, thrusting in and out of you, grunting in pleasure. he loves it when you get needy for him like this. knowing that only he can get you all worked up and desperate. he pushes in and out of you, and it just feels so good that he simply can’t hold back his low whimpers and moans. but you love it so much. love the sounds you can pull from him in these intimate moments, and it’s just the same for him too. he loves the little noises you make. those whimpers and little gasps. he could get off on them alone. (oh he has before...)
leon pounds into your cunt, whispering dirty words in your ear that he knows you love, and you look him right in the eyes. your fingers tug and tangle in his blonde hair. he can tell you’re close by how high-pitched your moans are, and his fingers move down to your sensitive clit, rubbing it gently in circular motions. you mewl softly as the pleasure begins to get overwhelming and your fingers slide up to your chest toy with your nipples, adding more stimulation, and you begin to feel your orgasm approaching. he nearly cums at the sight of you making yourself feel good like that, but he does his best to hold back, wanting you to finish first as always.
you feel the pleasure taking over you, and with a moan of his name, your climax washes over you, your legs closing around him tight, pulling him flush against your chest, and he leans down to kiss you hard. your arms drape over his neck. his orgasm approaches, and he lets out a loud, broken moan. his thrusts are losing rhythm as you feel his warm cum fill you up. he smiles down at you and presses his lips against yours softly.
you’re practically panting as he sits back up, kissing your knees before he’s pulling out of you slowly, and you whine at the loss of his warmth. he smiles at that before he gets up to retrieve a cloth from the bathroom before coming back to wipe you down. he always takes such good care of you; even when he's late for work, he never fails to make sure you're okay. sliding your panties back on and patting your cunt gently, he notices your pout.
“come on, princess, let me see that smile,” he says. you don't give in and continue to pout at him. in an attempt to make you smile, he starts to tickle your side, and you squirm in the bed, giggling wildly and smacking his hands away. he grins triumphantly. he chuckles, “i gotta get to work now." he gets off the bed and grabs his shirt that he tossed to the floor earlier and slips it back on over his head, pulling it down and covering up his toned abs that you desperately yearn to get a glimpse of again. he picks up his car keys from the bedside table that's beside you and leans down to press a quick kiss on your forehead.
"i promise i will take care of you tonight, angel," he says as he turns to face you from the door. you smile as you take in his messy yet handsome appearance just as he was leaving, his hair disheveled, his flyer unzipped, and a dark hickey blooming on his neck that he had yet to notice. oh dear, he was definitely getting into trouble at the station today...
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‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ all works belong to © coqvettes 2023. i do not give permission to claim, translate or copy any of my works. reblogs are appreciated !
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atticrissfinch · 7 days
Text
Pigtails (18+)
oneshot | (joel miller x reader)
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[moodboard for aesthetic purposes only] thank you @saradika-graphics for the perfect dividers <3
pairing: daddydom!joel miller x fem!reader summary: A snapshot of your life with your daddy dom, Joel Miller ❤️ warnings/tags:  [18+ MINORS DNI] established relationship, ddlg dynamic, consensual and explicit ageplay between adults (including childish activities, language, and behaviors), daddy!kink, praise!kink, light degradation!kink, size!kink, brief tummy bulge kink, oral (m & f receiving), deepthroating, body-marking, cockwarming, unprotected piv, referring to reader’s pussy as her “kitten/kitty”, reader has hair that is long enough to braid word count: ~7.5K | ao3 a/n: the girls who get it, get it. if you know you’re gonna be pissed off by or given the ick from this, then don’t read it. or do, and you can waste time jorkin ur peanits to your righteous rage. either one. but if I have to read one more puritanical text post blatantly kinkshaming taboo subjects in fiction, [frankie voice] i’m fucking killing people. that being said, if this is for you, then I hope you enjoy and/or I hope you feel seen 🥰
Masterlist | Kofi
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My old man is a tough man, but He got a soul as sweet as blood-red jam And he shows me, he knows me lana del rey // off to the races
--
You’re cuddled up on the floor in the space between the coffee table and the couch, cloaked in a blanket with your dinosaur stuffie snug in your arms. The television is alight and dancing with color when the front door unlocks to reveal Joel.
You squeak in excitement, choking your dinosaur a little harder than is probably comfortable for him when you see Joel step through the doorway and kick off his boots.
“Daddy!” you shout, bouncing on the carpet as he makes his way over to you with the broadest grin on his face.
“Hey, babygirl,” he greets you with his arms open wide for you, and you fling the fleece throw behind you, hopping up off the floor and into his chest, his embrace worlds better than any blanket wrapped around your shoulders. He lets out a small oof at the impact in jest, winding his arms as tight around you as he dares without squeezing the life out of your sparkling eyes.
“Missed you,” you mumble into his t-shirt, your hands barely clasping together at his back with the thickness of his waist.
“Missed you too, little bug,” he assures, planting a sturdy kiss to your forehead. “But it was only eight hours.”
“Too long,” you argue, nuzzling into his shirt to capture the heady scent of him, fresh from his worksite.
“I know, little bug. You don’t like when daddy’s gone. But he’s gotta make money so he can keep you flush in Crayola, baby,” he says, bending his knees the slightest bit to swipe a Magenta crayon off the coffee table. He taps the tip of it on your nose in a staccato rhythm as he smiles down at you, and your eyes cross to follow it. “These don’t grow on trees, you know.”
You roll your eyes and pinch his side. “I know that, daddy. They come from the store.”
Joel chuckles and boops your nose once more with the crayon before dropping it amongst its siblings on the table. His focus shifts to your hair and his mouth parts in a gasp as he tugs lightly at one of your pigtails. “Look at these. Did you do these all by yourself, baby?”
You preen, a smile bursting across your cheeks as you nod vigorously.
“They’re so precious, little bug. You did such a good job! Look at these little bows!”
“You like them?”
“I love them, baby. Givin’ daddy all sorts of ideas.”
You scrunch your eyebrows together. “Ideas?”
“Mmhm,” Joel hums, jerking your ponytail again. “Playtime ideas.”
You look up at him in excitement, wonder. “I like your playtime ideas.”
“I know you do, babygirl,” Joel coos, cupping your chin and smoothing down the center of it with his thumb. “And daddy loves having playtime with you.”
“Can we play now?” you ask, pleading with your eyes.
Joel gives you a soft smile and strokes your chin again. “Maybe in a little bit. Daddy needs a little respite. He had an exhausting day.”
“Respite?”
“Means ‘break’. Gotta build up your vocabulary a bit more, little bug,” he teases, planting a kiss on your meticulously parted hair.
“Respite,” you repeat measuredly, prolonging the first letter and feeling it vibrate in your mouth, and landing hard on the t sound to finish.
“That’s right, baby.”
“Can we respite together, daddy?”
Joel grins at you with affection and squishes your cheek. “How about you hunker back down, finish that pretty little picture, and daddy will have a quick rest.”
“Okay, daddy,” you concede after another kiss to your head, sliding to your knees and sitting on your heels, utilizing Joel’s long leg as a downward guide. You coil an arm around his calf a bit stubbornly as you pick up a crayon and start back in on your abandoned art piece, leaning your forehead against the denim.
“Alright, tiny trouble,” he laughs, jiggling his leg in your would-be iron clasp. “I’ll be right on the couch. Have you between my legs. C’mon.”
You whine, but loosen your grip, and Joel drops onto the center of the couch, bending forward. “Scooch, little bug,” he directs, pulling backward on your pigtails, telling you where to go. You giggle and scoot back against the front of the couch, settling between the spread of his legs as he hauls the table closer to follow you. With the table as close to Joel’s knees as it can get, he winds his socked feet around your waist, locking his ankles at your stomach.
“Daddy!” you scold playfully, bucking forward to try and break free, but to no avail. “I can’t move!”
“Don’t need to be wigglin’ like a little worm to get some drawin’ done, baby,” he chuckles, but with one more sharp look back from you he yanks your pigtail again and releases you.
“Thank you,” you reply in acknowledgment of your freedom, attempting to sound as refined as possible, before you tuck your arm around his calf once more, plop your stuffie into your lap, and take up your doodling again.
You hear the pop of Joel’s joints, the crack of his neck,
the groans signaling his routine post-work stretches. He punctuates the chorus of sound with a drawn-out sigh as he settles and sinks into the cushions.
“Can I change the channel, baby?”
You glance up to the television, back down to your drawing, then back up. “I suppose.”
“You’re so kind, babydoll,” he jokes, snatching up the remote from the table and tapping through until he settles on a more warm-toned, leisurely-paced show.
You immerse yourself in colors, fleshing out bare bones with indigo and cerulean and carnation pink, integrating splashes of goldenrod and cornflower blue.
Joel grunts as he sits up on the couch and taps your arm. “Gotta detach for a sec, baby barnacle. I’ll be right back.”
You hum and obey, gifting him his leg back and hearing him pad off toward the kitchen for a moment before returning with clinking noises in tow. A clear glass full of pale pink is set next to your paper with a straw jutting from it as Joel resituates himself on the couch with his own tinkling glass. You don’t even need to look to know it’s whiskey with two ice cubes. Always pink lemonade for you, whiskey for him. The predictability is a comfort. One of many you’ve established thus far in your relationship.
You sip through your straw with a sing-songy hum, bopping your head a little with unrestrained contentment, and Joel breathes a laugh through his nose before you hear him sip his own beverage.
Your interest in your drawing wanes once more as you find yourself entranced by the screen. You don’t really know what’s happening, but you rest your head on your arm atop the coffee table and watch lazily, the scent of crayon wax drifting up your nose.
“Can we play yet?” you pout, your cheek pressed against your forearm.
“Barely been ten minutes, baby.”
“But I’ve waited, like, ten hours.”
“Eight hours, and daddy played with your kitten this morning before he left for work. Didn’t he?”
You huff out a stubborn, noncommittal groan.
“Didn’t he, babygirl?” Joel urges more assertively, prodding your side with his big toe.
He’s not lying. He had played with you this morning. You’ve gotten so used to Joel’s alarm that his sunrise ritual fails to even impact you. You sleep through the nauseating jingle from his phone every morning, and Joel gives no fuss over it. He’s always insisted that your beauty sleep is the most important thing to him. Although, you’re fairly positive that by “beauty sleep” he just means “enough sleep to ward off your notorious crankiness”.
But this morning was one of his special mornings, for no other reason than he woke up insatiably horny and he wanted you and you’ve both agreed he has permission. So you were startled from your slumber by the wet, impatient drag of Joel’s tongue through your folds, getting you off in mere minutes. Being the shamelessly smitten daddy that he is, it took significantly less time before he was jerking off to completion all over the silky fabric of your pink, lace-trimmed nightgown. Your favorite one — the one with the little white bow between your breasts. But, already privy to the fact that it’s your favorite, he tossed it in the washer for a delicate cycle before he left, promising it would emerge unscathed. And if it didn’t, he’d buy you three more just like it.
Knowing him, he’ll end up buying you three more regardless.
But you were tired this morning when you came on his mouth, so you hardly remember it. It certainly feels like it’s been at least a day since Joel got you off. And whether it actually has been or not, you see it as Joel’s problem to fix.
“Yes, you did play with my kitten this morning,” you admit grumpily, picking up a crayon and doodling a lazy flower in the corner of your page.
Joel gives a disapproving tut. “Check the attitude, little bug. Pouty girls don’t get their way, do they?”
“Only because you don’t let me…” you argue back, accenting your flower with little hearts.
His ice rattles behind you as he says, “Sure as hell don’t. Daddy has rules for a reason. You don’t get rewards for bein’ pouty.”
“Wouldn’t be pouty if you let me play with you.”
You can practically hear his eyes rolling as he says, “Alright, sassypants. If I wanted to run around in circles with you, I’d be singin’ Ring Around the Rosie. And daddy ain’t singin’, is he?”
You lift your head to hazard a glance back at Joel, and his face is stern, brows shot up in expectation of an answer. You wriggle slightly under the concentrated heat of his stare and you feel your obstinance wilting. With his eyes burrowing into you with insistence, you finally mutter, “No, sir.”
“No, sir,” he repeats in emphasis with a nod. But then his face begins to soften. He leans forward, shifting the table back again to its rightful spot, aligning the feet with the matching compressed indents in the carpet. He tosses back the remains of his drink and sets it on the side table as he stands up, looking down on you at his feet as you gaze admirably, anticipatingly up at him.
As he reaches a hand down to stroke down your hair and run his fingers through your gathered strands, he sighs. “You’re so goddamn lucky you make daddy weak at the knees. Ain’t nobody else gets away with as much shit with me as you do.”
You bask in his touch, cocking your head to the side as you look up at him with a subtle smug smile.
Joel shakes his head good-naturedly and jostles your chin quickly, gently in his grip as you giggle. He feigns austerity with furrowed brows as he says, “Don’t you talk to any of my men. By the end of the day I wouldn’t be able to manage so much as a get back to work without cavin’ in like a house o’cards.”
“Don’t wanna talk to anyone but you, daddy,” you assure him, sliding a hand around his ankle and giving it a squeeze.
“That’s my girl,” he smiles, fixing a firmer grip onto one of your pigtails and doing one sharp, deliberate yank — hard enough to feel your scalp prickle and have your neck jerk back. A breathy, throaty moan floats from your mouth at the strength of him, and also from knowing that this little show of aggressive dominance is an indicator that he’s transitioning from nice daddy to…well, really nice daddy. Your favorite kind of daddy.
Joel twirls your hair around one of his fingers. “Daddy really likes these, baby.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmhm,” Joel hums, marveling at the way your hair wraps around him. “A naughtier daddy might call them…handlebars.”
Confusion crosses your face as you look up at him. “Handlebars? Like on my bike?”
Joel nods, taking a pigtail in each hand and sliding them through his palms until he’s gripping their ends. “Like on your bike. You want daddy to take you for a little ride? Direct you where to go?”
“Yes, please, daddy.”
Joel smiles down at you fondly, holding your pigtails out to the sides of your head. You giggle and beam at him, but you can see the strain of his cock through his jeans in your periphery.
“Where should I go first?” you ask innocently as he lets your hair drop.
“How about right here,” he says, cupping a hand over his crotch and squeezing.
Your fingers dance in your lap excitedly. “Playtime?”
“Playtime,” he affirms as his fingers work at his jeans.
You pop up fully onto your knees in preparation, your hands gliding over the denim concealing his legs — but no longer his dick, much to your fortune. He’s finally revealed to your greedy eyes, and you feel yourself responding to the new development. Your mouth begins to moisten, your pussy giving a resounding pulse along with a flood of warmth.
With no preamble at the sight of him, you say, “Put it inside, daddy.”
Joel gives you a playful smirk, letting his cock rise and fall heavily in his grip. “Inside where? Hmm? Should I put it…” he takes a firmer hold of himself and taps it on your upper lip, “Should I put it in your nose?”
He bounces the head of his cock once on the tip of your nose with a chuckle and you giggle back, shaking your head. “No, daddy! It wouldn’t fit up there!”
“Hmm,” Joel ponders, pulling at himself gratuitously. He cradles your chin in his hand as he strokes. “I can think of somewhere else you didn’t think it would fit, babygirl. Do you remember that?”
You bite your lip and smile. “Yes, daddy, I remember.”
“And you were very, very wrong, weren’t you?”
“Yes, I was, daddy.”
“And daddy’s proved you were wrong about that a bunch of times since, hasn’t he?”
“Yes, you have, daddy.”
Joel crouches down to your level and pinches your nose playfully in his fingers with a grin. “Don’t worry. Daddy doesn’t really think it’ll fit up your nose. He’s just bein’ silly.”
You stick your tongue out at him and giggle. “I like you silly, daddy.”
“And daddy likes bein’ silly with you, little bug,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He pushes himself off his thighs back to his full height and takes his cock in hand again, thumbing the slickness at his tip around the head and down the delicate skin to facilitate the slide.
“You’re so pretty, daddy,” you marvel at him as his hand strokes the hard length of him, already glistening at the tip.
“You think daddy’s pretty, baby?”
“I do.”
Joel’s eyelids drift with arousal as he pulls at his cock under your watchful stare. “Well, daddy thinks his little girl is very pretty. Pretty hair, pretty dress, pretty bows, pretty smile. You wanna show me what that pretty smile can do for daddy?”
“Can I?”
A smile teases at Joel’s mouth. “Can you?”
You sigh with an edge of frustration. “May I?”
“Yes, you may, baby.”
The first taste is always your favorite. The hit of his musk, the tang of his precome, the rasp of the moan Joel grinds out like clockwork when your mouth closes around his head, his eyelids falling closed heavily in tandem.
One of your hands raises to tangle in the hair at his base, damp with the sweat of his workday — a tangible reminder of all he does for you and all he allows you to be. He works so hard, all so he can come home and play just as hard with you. You love hearing the appreciation, the pride in his voice and in his sounds when you do exactly as he’s taught you. The first circling of your lips around him that has his stress and troubles melting at the slide of your mouth.
“Perfect, babygirl,” he sighs, smoothing over the hair on your head as you suck at his tip, lapping at the droplets from his slit. Your free hand comes up to hold the base of him as he slips from your mouth.
“Popsicle?” you inquire with glistening lips.
Joel inhales through his nose, his eyes closed in bliss, and nods at the ceiling. “Yeah, baby. You can do the popsicle.”
Your grin glows as you stick your tongue out as far as you can get it and free the underside from the coverage of your fingers before licking him with the flat of your tongue from root to tip. Joel sighs in contentment as you lick up the length of him over and over, alternating between finishing off with a suck to his head and just letting him leak and twitch with the lack of attention.
“Torturin’ daddy here, baby,” he groans, taking up a solid grip on one of your pigtails and tugging. “Daddy needs a little more.”
You laugh quietly, encasing his tip in your mouth and sliding down further, up and down to silently beg his forgiveness.
“Just like that, little bug, you got it,” he encourages, taking a loose hold on each of your pigtails, just a soft reminder of his guiding presence as you devour him.
Saliva pools at the corners of your mouth as you stroke him with your lips, your tongue, the insides of your cheeks. He moans in approval as he tickles at the back of your throat.
“Take it deep, babygirl. Take it how daddy likes it.”
He still burns. Even after the countless times you’ve pushed past your body’s warning barrier and allowed him to rob you of your breath. It’s much milder than it used to be, but the stretch of him tingles as you constrict around him. The thick head massages the walls of your throat as Joel shallowly thrusts inside of it. He’s so good, has so much control, knows exactly how much you can take. He’s so in tune with both your voluntary and involuntary reactions, able to identify the precise moment in which your body really starts to reject him. He knows how long he can push it, stretch it, stretch you until you can’t any longer.
And when he releases you, when the air rushes into your lungs and you cough with the rawness and accumulated spit, he looks down at you like you’ve just offered your life to him. And in a way, you are. You sacrifice your ease of breathing for him, your tether to this world with him. He tugs on it, strains it, frays it, because he knows what you’re willing to give him. And he gives you so much, indulges this fantasy with you, works his fingers to bone for you. And you adore how he lets you repay him.
He pulls at your hair, coaxes your watery eyes to his, and says, “One more, babygirl.”
You nod and open for him.
He lands warm and heavy on your tongue, pressing deep, past your natural barrier, welcoming him into the place only he can reach. Your nose runs, your lips stretch, and your tongue wriggles at the underside of him as he grunts his measured thrusts with his hands twirling your pigtails between his fingers.
“Good girl, so tight. Chokin’ daddy’s cock while he chokes you right back, huh?” He says, voice strained with exertion and restraint.
You vibrate around him with a moan, and he groans in response, pulling you off his cock before he prematurely cuts your playtime short. You gasp for air against his thigh as he strokes at your head, his own chest heaving as his cock jerks with longing.
“Such a good fuckin’ girl. You a good girl for daddy?”
You nod into his leg with reedy breaths, pressing your fingers into his jeans to feel him flex under you — a comforting reassurance that he’s solid and present.
A hand slips from your head down your arm as he slowly crouches to your level and captures a kiss from your lips. He rests his forehead against yours and whispers, “Head into the bedroom, okay? I’ll be right there.”
He eases you to your feet, retrieves your stuffie to rehome it into your arms, and gives a light spank to your ass to kickstart you in his desired direction. You trip over your feet clumsily, but make it to the bed, climbing on top to wait for him.
Joel reappears in the doorway with his cock bobbing out of his pants and a glass of water in his hand.
“Drink,” he instructs, passing it off to you.
“I had lemonade.”
“Before daddy got rough during playtime. Drink,” he insists again, pulling his shirt off his shoulders and tossing it into the hamper. He’s always careful to set a good example for you, show you where things go. And as eager as you are for him to show you where he can go, you cave and sip at the cold water. You know how he gets when you misbehave or become obstinate.
And you want to be a good girl.
By the time you’ve sucked down the full glass, Joel is naked and crawling up the bed. He sets the empty glass on the side table for you and grabs at your waist from behind, inhaling deeply in the crook of your neck.
“How’s your throat feel?”
“Little scratchy,” you rasp quietly. “But good. Like feeling you there.”
“Daddy likes bein’ there,” he says, pulling your skin into his mouth and sucking, sucking, sucking until he’s pleased and you’re blooming with color on your neck. He loves leaving marks on you, pressing his fingertips into the bruises he paints on your body, matching his palms to the imprints he spanks into you. You love feeling like a work of art at his rough-hewn, yet deft hands.
The suction on your skin has a chill running through your bones, but heat through your blood. Wetness gathers in your panties at his prolonged attention, your pussy throbbing in time with your heart, desperate for him to notice her. Joel’s fingers push at the hem of your dress, rucking it up your hips to rid you of your daisy-patterned underwear. You’re quick to assist, lifting your legs as needed with no prompting from him. The scrap of soiled fabric sails through the air in a makeshift ball, landing perfectly atop Joel’s discarded clothes in the basket.
You’d usually compliment his well-placed shot, but he’s jerking you back by your hips before you can utter anything more than a yelp. Your ass slides up the slope of his thighs as he sits on his heels at your back, his hard cock sandwiched between your bodies.
“Mmm,” Joel hums, taking your hair into each hand and smoothing down the length of them. “Daddy wants to do something for you. Will you let me?”
“Anything you want daddy,” you breath out in anticipation, head tilting back as he strokes the strands.
His lips kiss the middle part at the back of your head and he says, “Hurry and grab daddy a couple of those tiny rubber bands for your hair.”
“Elastics, daddy,” you correct him.
“Elastics, that’s right, baby. Will you do that for daddy?”
“Why?” you pout with impatience, grinding back onto his cock.
He barely contains the grunt you pull from him as he says, “Don’t ask questions, baby. Now scuttle off, little bug.”
You groan, but waddle on your knees off the bed, and scurry to the bathroom to retrieve what he requested. You hold them up triumphantly, and he smiles proudly at you as he holds his hand out.
“Thank you, baby.”
You take hold of his wrist and roll the two small, clear elastics down his pinky finger.
“Back up here,” he pats his lap again, and you scoot up his thighs again, but this time his cock is poised downward by his own hand. “That’s a good girl. Hold still.”
Confused and curious, you allow him to angle your hips up slightly until you feel the head of his cock prodding at your entrance.
“Now sit down on daddy.”
You always gasp when he fills you for the first time. It’s always a good kind of pressure, a satisfactory kind of stretch. And he fits better inside you than anything else ever has. You sink down onto his cock with purposeful patience, feeling every inch until he bottoms out and your ass hits the top of his thighs.
“Good girl, little bug,” he groans as you clench your walls around the entirety of him. You go to raise your hips, but he stops you with a hand on your waist, pinning you in place. “Stay still for me.”
“Daddy…” you whine, wiggling your hips as much as he’ll allow before the short curve of his nails dig into your waist, that indicates a hard stop from him. You give a small huff, but you go still in his lap.
“No whining, baby. Just sit on daddy’s cock for a second,” he says firmly. His hands come together at the crown of one of your pigtails, and you feel some light pulling.
“Daddy?”
“Shhh, baby,” he orders, his hands working swiftly through your hair. It doesn’t take much longer for you to deduce what he’s doing.
He’s braiding.
And once you identify the motions, you can visualize them perfectly. He winds the three sections over one another in a practiced weaving that begins to soothe you with their rhythmic pull.
He shifts his body and his cock bumps up against the deepest part of you. All at once you’re reminded of how much of him is crammed inside you, just lying in wait. You whimper as you fight to keep your hips in line, battling between the therapeutic movement of his hands in your hair and the heft of his cock holding you open.
Harsher tugs prick at your scalp as Joel’s thick fingers work to tie off the braid with the finicky elastic, but when he finishes the first one, he brushes a kiss onto the end of it before starting in on the next one.
A pulse and twitch runs through Joel’s cock within your body’s grip, and you whine again. “Daddy, please!”
“Patience, little bug,” he orders again, but the barely concealed laughter in his voice tells you that he definitely did that on purpose. Reminding you who is in charge again.
“You’re torturing me now,” you complain as Joel separates your hair for the second braid.
“Tit for tat, babygirl.”
“Huh?”
Joel exhales a laugh and gives your strands a light yank. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Just sit tight for daddy. Sit real tight for daddy.”
“I am,” you say stubbornly, deliberately tensing around his cock.
Joel grunts, pausing his movements until you settle down again. “Daddy’s almost done, baby. I said be patient please.”
But your patience is wearing thin. He’s been toying with you since he got home and it is wildly unfair.
Your dinosaur lies bored next to you on the bed, so you scoop him up. You situate him right between your thighs, the fuzzy material soft against your clit. You sigh at the barest amount of pressure where you’re so needy, and your hips grind forward toward the gentle pleasure. A tiny whimper bubbles in your throat and Joel’s fingers stop again.
“Baby, what are you doin’?” He asks, peering around your shoulder. “Oh, baby, that’s…you’re gonna get him all messy like that. Pussy’s droolin’ all over me, you’re gonna get him dirty.”
“Then touch me,” you whine, rolling your clit against your stuffie again.
“Alright,” Joel says, his voice shifting to a more disciplinary tone as his hand reaches between your legs and grabs hold of the plushie. “We’re not doin’ this.”
Joel plucks your dinosaur from between your legs, and you feebly reach after it as he tosses him up the bed as you let out a pathetic little “No!”
“Nuh-uh. Daddy said stay still and be patient. Did daddy say that?”
You pout as Joel’s hands grip your thighs and spread you open wider on his lap, nudging his cock deeper inside you.
“Answer me, little girl,” he orders, his voice dangerously low and his fingers flexing into the flesh of your thighs.
“Yes,” you mutter.
“Yes, what, little girl?”
You sigh stubbornly. “Yes, daddy. You said that.”
Joel tuts at your response and scolds, “What did I tell you about that attitude earlier? ‘Cus you’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’ right now, baby.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’ll sit still.”
“Good. Daddy’s almost done,” he says, releasing your legs and returning to your hair. You do your best to relax into it, appreciate the tease of his cock and the fuss of his fingers for a dreadfully tedious few minutes.
The second elastic snaps into place, and Joel makes a noise of satisfaction in his work. “There we go. Much easier for daddy to hold, huh?”
“Yeah,” you agree, falling back into his chest and burying your face into his neck.
“Aww, baby,” he croons, holding the back of your head. “Daddy’s so mean, isn’t he?”
“Very mean.”
“So mean that he lets your kitten play with daddy’s cock while he braids your hair for you?”
“More like holds my kitten hostage,” you reply grumpily.
“So what would you have daddy do, hmm?” Joel baits, prying your face from his neck to compel you to look at him. You blink at him expectantly, knowing he’s going to continue. “You want daddy to hold you down? Fuck your cute little kitten till she purrs?”
“Yes,” you say quietly, opting for a more humble tone as your pussy screams for attention from him.
“Yeah?” he repeats in gentle acknowledgment, stroking his thumb over your cheek. “You want daddy to make your kitty sore? That what you’ve been fiendin’ for all day?”
You just let you a tiny, dry sob and nod.
“Okay,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your forehead. “All fours, little bug. You know,” he says matter-of-factly, relinquishing his hold on you.
You sigh as he slips out of you and you get in position, swaying your ass tantalizingly for him where it peeks out under your dress.
“You’re so good at that, baby. All ready for daddy, huh?” he says, coming up behind you and shoving your dress halfway up your back to reveal you to him. His thumbs play at your core, parting your wet, puffy lips. “God, look at you, baby. You get all stretched out from sittin’ on daddy’s big cock?”
You whimper, dropping down to your elbows to serve yourself to him a little more shamelessly. His fingers fiddle with your lips, more maddeningly as the seconds tick by. You can feel how slick you are by the glide of his fingers, dipping into your opening and collecting what he’s made of you.
“Daddy, please,” you whine as calmly as you possibly can, your pussy feeling like it’s going to explode if he doesn’t fuck it in the next thirty seconds.
“Sorry baby,” Joel says, as though you’d just broken out of a trance. “Just so goddamn pretty. Spread your cheeks for daddy. Let me see your soaked little kitten.”
You shift yourself obediently, your face cradled by the bed as you gather the flesh of your ass in your hands and spread yourself open. A lustful groan leaves Joel at the sight, and that’s all it takes for him to line his cock up to your hole.
He sinks back in like a dream, but he feels so different from this angle. Less sharp, more full. You can tell he allows himself to feel it more this time, his deep, rumbling noises of pleasure much more expressive as he buries himself all the way inside you.
“Take my cock so well, baby. Look so goddamn good bent over for daddy like this. All drippy and spread open.”
Your whine hitches when the head of his cock breaches the end of you, and he chuckles at the tiny hiccup you make.
“Never get used to it, do you, baby? Daddy feeds you this cock over and over and it still surprises you how big he is?”
“Yes, daddy,” you moan, voice already wrecked with desperation as Joel pulls out and fucks back in, setting a hard and heavy pace.
“How about daddy tries out your little handlebars, huh?” Joel says, taking one of your braids in each hand. He gives a light pull and your head raises up until you’re faced with the rattling headboard. “That’s good. Just like that, baby.”
The roots of your hair tingle as he intermittently hauls your head back to reinforce his grip, and noises keep slipping from your lips as he does.
“Oh, you like that, don’t you, little bug?” Joel taunts with a smile in his voice. He grunts notably louder as he thrusts into you with renewed vigor, the draw of your wet heat luring him in as your cunt slickens in response to his grasp on your braids.
“Yeah,” is what you manage to squeak out as he pounds into you with enough ferocity that your hands drop from your cheeks just to stabilize yourself from face-planting into the sheets and ripping the hair from your head with the momentum. The move has his hips slapping against the plush of your ass lewdly as he pushes through you.
“Oh, fuck, baby. How are you so fuckin’ sexy? All for your daddy, huh? You a little slut for daddy? You knew these little pigtails would drive daddy fuckin’ wild, didn’t you? Naughty fuckin’ thing,” he babbles, drawing your braids tighter and tighter as his words push through the grit of his teeth.
Small, pained whines sneak out of your throat the harder he pulls until he gives one final, feral grunt and drops your braids to grip your hips and bury himself balls deep inside you. And if you didn’t know exactly how he feels when he spills inside you, you would think he was already coming.
Joel’s forehead drops to your spine, and you feel the hot cloy of his breath spread over your back as he attempts to catch it. He maintains the deep claim he has on your clenching pussy as he regulates his air intake.
“Fuck me,” he pants. “Jesus. Don’t want this over that quick. Daddy wants to stay warm in your little kitten a bit longer. Been waitin’ so long for it, haven’t you? Daddy’s gonna give you what you deserve, baby.”
He makes a grunt as he pulls out of you entirely and slaps the side of your thigh.
“Roll over for daddy.”
You flip onto your back and nestle among the pillows as Joel wipes at the sweat on his forehead. Joel cups the backs of your knees and forces them up and out until your pussy is completely unobstructed to Joel’s eyes.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he expresses in wonder as he drops to his stomach. “Hold your legs, baby.”
He doesn’t even wait for you to obey before his thumbs are pulling your lips wider and his mouth is descending on the wetness glistening from your opening. His tongue pierces through you and your moan is breathy and filled with gratitude.
“Fuck, daddy, that’s—”
Joel slips free of your warmth and peers up at you from between your legs with a stern look and a shining chin. “Language, little girl,” he scolds, following it up with a delicate, torturous jet of air aimed at your swollen cunt that makes your hips jump.
“‘M sorry, daddy,” you whimper, your nails biting into the backs of your knees in some subconscious form of self-punishment for causing him to stop eating you like a decadent dessert in the middle of dinner. “It’s just so—”
“I know, baby,” he breathes over your pussy, your hole fluttering with the cruel, feather-like attention, “I know. But be a good girl for me.”
You nod eagerly, spreading yourself wider in hopes of enticing him right back to where you’re desperate for him to return.
“Promise?” he lilts with a sincere gravity.
You wriggle one of your hands out until your wrist replaces it at the hinge of your knee instead. With equal sincerity, you extend your pinky out to him.
A smile teases at the corner of his mouth as he unburdens his own hand to hook a large pinky around yours, jostling them jauntily for a moment.
“Good girl,” he praises, bringing your attached hands toward him just until he can kiss the side of his fist, then granting you similar slack to repeat the action on your own hand to seal the deal.
With that, he slinks back down to your waiting pussy and dives back in. His mouth works sloppily, but so thoroughly as he sucks at the folds of your cunt. He makes his way up to your clit at a pace that feels positively glacial, and the little nub feels like it has its own heartbeat when his lips finally close around it.
The wet slick of his tongue, just from its first pass over your overactive clit, has it pulsing intensely with need inside his mouth.
“Daddy,” you moan, your voice cracking halfway through the word as he sucks on it with focused care. Two fingers penetrate your stretched hole with an ease that would be mortifying if it hadn’t been the result of Joel’s cock making room for itself inside you.
The effortless glide of his thick fingers has Joel moaning against you in turn, the vibration reverberating through your sensitive clit in such an unexpected shock that you’re crying out your release with startling quickness. Your hips jolt into his mouth as one of your hands slips from your leg to the sweat-dampened hair adorning his head, forcing him to stay where you need him until you’ve reached your limit.
Your hand goes slack as your overstimulated clit pulses weakly, and Joel floats his lips from your core to the soft skin where the curve of your ass meets your thigh. He nips there with his teeth and you keen, your hips twitching up again. He chuckles at you, soothing the mark with a kiss before sliding his hands over the backs of your thighs and maneuvering himself back up to his knees.
You can sense his eyes on you, even with your orgasm-induced fatigue drawing your eyelids over your vision. Indents form on the pillow either side of your head, and you feel the tap of his nose on your cheek before the fullness of his lips on yours. You tumble into it thoughtlessly, licking the taste of yourself from his mouth.
“So beautiful when you come for me, little one,” he whispers, stroking a hand over your head. With perfunctory movements Joel unveils one of your braids from where it was hidden behind you, smashed between your skull and the pillow. He restores the other to his sight as well, the plaited pigtails splayed out against the pillowcase at the sides of your head. “Look how perfect my pretty baby is,” he adds with tenderness caressing the words.
The sentiment has your cheeks growing hot under his patient, benevolent scrutiny. “You’re perfect too, daddy.”
He looks down at you with warmth and a gentle smile, grazing your cheek with his thumb. “Thank you, little bug.”
Joel sighs as he wraps a hand around his cock for a moment, stroking himself as he prepares to finish what he started. He places his hands back onto the backs of your thighs and presses until the tops of them are flush with your abdomen, exposing yourself to him again.
“Open up for daddy just one more time, okay?” he instructs, lining his head up with the opaque, white wetness pooling at your entrance. With one hand pressing down on the underside of your thigh and the other gripping his base, he feeds you his cock in one continuous stroke until his hips are flush with yours.
You whine at the sensation created at this angle. The tip of his cock grazes over every ridge at the front of your pussy until you swear you feel him in your tummy. He feels so big, so overwhelming, that you think he might pierce your stomach if he goes too hard. And you know he’s going to go hard. He always does. Always reduced to rutting into you like a feral dog, overcome with that drive to breed. Just the thought of it makes you dizzy.
“Fuckin’ shit,” he groans when he’s fully seated inside you, his knees solidly framing your waist and his hands situated on top of your braids on the pillow to lock them in place.
In a position like this, with him buried so deep inside you, invading your space and stealing your breath, you couldn’t possibly be any closer. You wish you had him like this all the time. He’s always close, but you want him as close as you can get him. Protecting you, loving you, claiming you as his own. That’s why you do this in the first place.
“How’s daddy feel?” He checks in, lingering in your perfect heat for as long as he can before he loses himself as he fucks you full.
“Perfect,” you sigh, tightening your grip around him as best you can, urging him to take what he needs from you.
“Good,” he exhales. And then he starts to move.
You think your favorite part of being fucked this deep is how dazzling it is. When he pulls out and thrusts back in, hitting you where you’re deepest, the insides of your eyelids start to sparkle. Little bursts of light that ignite when he collides with you, right on the edge of painful pleasure. When he gets relentless with it, a sort of static buzzes in your ears. You can still hear his compliments and praise, his insistence on what a good, tight little girl you are for him. You can still hear the slapping of your skin, the rumble of the headboard, the slight squeak of the bed frame. You hear all of it, but it’s layered with white noise. The kind of muddled clarity that you’ve come to associate with Joel in these moments. An all-encompassing passion that seems to transcend roles and current locations and whatever moods the two of you have brought to the bedroom.
The swirl in your brain of him, me, him and me, us. My daddy. His little bug. Pull him in so deep that I can’t breathe and he can’t leave. Fill me like this forever.
When Joel begins to unravel, he fucks you to a degree that is painful and powerful. He knows you can take it. He trained you to take it like this. In the same way he trained you to accept his compliments with polite thank yous and make requests of him with respectful pleases. Crafted you into his perfect little girl when you had begged him to do so at the start of your relationship. He had stepped into it so gracefully, embodied it so thoroughly, you knew the pair of you were born to enshroud yourselves in these roles. Nothing has ever made you happier, feel more complete.
Joel’s telltale growls and grunts are all you need to hear to know that he’s coming, fucking his spend into you as deep as he can manage as his vocalizations pierce through the buzz in your brain. He fucks you and fucks you until you’re both messy with the evidence of his orgasm, until the mix of his come and your pearlescent wetness pushes its way into the thick, dark hair at the base of his cock. It smears down your core, it leaks down to your asshole, it further soils the bedding beneath you. But he loves this part. Loves fucking you until your insides and outsides are coated in him, in the both of you. And, god, you fucking love it too.
Your sore legs relax around him, wrapping around his waist as Joel comes back to himself, breathing in the sweat and sex as he nuzzles your jaw.
“I love you so goddamn much, little bug,” he rasps against your skin, peppering kisses over wherever he has the energy to reach.
“I love you too, daddy,” you reply, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer as his cock softens inside you. “But I wanna go again.”
Joel groans into your neck and you giggle, having predicted exactly what his reaction would be.
“You make me go again right now, little girl…” he starts to threaten, unearthing from the warmth of your neck. His eyes flicker over your face with a tired smirk, taking in the spark of playfulness that’s ever-present in your own gaze whenever he’s around. He reaches up and pinches your nose between his knuckles again, finishing his thought with a broad grin, “And it’s goin’ right up here.”
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daisynik7 · 6 months
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Remember when I said Nanami is super against PDA? 
He gets so angry at you for teasing him during dinner with friends. The way you glide your palm along his inner thigh, flirting dangerously close to the bulge in his slacks. How you spread your legs beneath the table in that slutty dress he likes so much, brushing your knee with his, letting the hem ride up. He knows you’re not wearing any panties tonight because you fucking told him on the way to the restaurant, as casual as if you were talking about the weather. You knew it would rile him up as soon as he heard it, knew how it would be the only thing on his mind the rest of the night. At the table, he’s quieter than usual, jaw clenched, fists tight by his sides, doing everything he can not to rip that dress off and fuck you right there in front of everyone. 
So, when they suggest karaoke afterwards, he’s inclined to reject the invitation, hoping to bring you home as soon as possible to fuck you senseless. But no; you just have to torment him a little bit longer. You agree to meet them there, and on the way to the car, as if you haven’t teased him enough, you flaunt your ass at him, completely aware of the erection strained in his pants, begging for release. 
He's had enough of your antics. He hauls you into the backseat, sitting you right on his lap, you facing forward. He unzips his pants, pulling his hard cock out, hoisting the hem of your dress past your waist, erection pressed between your ass cheeks. “You think it’s funny, teasing me like this?” he huffs in your ear. He spits loudly on his hand, reaching between your legs, wet fingers flicking your clit rapidly. “My naughty little slut, seducing me in front of all our friends. You’re going to pay for this. Going to fucking regret it.” His voice is low, sinister, and so fucking sexy. 
His fingers work overtime on your bud, squelching lewdly with arousal as his other hand grips your knee, keeping you spread open for him. He kisses the nape of your neck, sucking hard on your skin to mark you. The tinted windows begin to fog up from the heat emitting from your bodies, and soon, your skin is dewy from sweat. A few more strokes and you’re coming for him, pussy fluttering around nothing, begging to be filled. 
He chuckles, unrelenting as his fingers continue to rub circles on your swollen clit. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it sweetheart? To be punished.”
You nod, tongue lolling out of your mouth, still electrified from your orgasm. 
“You’re going to take this cock like the greedy slut you are, got it?” 
You nod more erratically, whining, “Yes, fuck me Kento, fuck me!”
So he does, guiding his cock inside you slowly, stretching out your tight pussy until he bottoms out. His hands are firm on your hips, rocking you back and forth on his lap as he thrusts up into you, growling, “Touch yourself while I fuck you. Make a fucking mess on my cock.”
You lean back against him, eyes closed, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth as your fingers caress your clit while he pounds you from behind. He kisses you sloppily, swirling his tongue around yours, lapping at your saliva. You orgasm for him once more before he pumps his cum deep inside you, moaning your name, replacing your hand with his to massage your puffy clit between his fingers. “You’re going to keep my load inside you the rest of the night. Got it?” he whispers, kissing you passionately, catching his breath. “This is your punishment for being a bad girl.”
~~~
“What took you two so long?” Gojo asks with a brow raised, eyeing you and Nanami suspiciously when you enter the private room at the karaoke bar. “You’re thirty minutes late.”
Nanami’s hair is matted to his forehead, sticky from perspiration. His pants are wrinkled after riding him, tie crooked from when he loosened it during your fuck fest, trying to find relief in the sweltering heat in the backseat. You’re no better, makeup smudged on your face, legs squeezed tightly together, clenching your pussy to prevent his cream pie from leaking down your legs. 
Nanami fixes his collar, blushing from the neck up, muttering, “Sorry, got a little lost along the way.”
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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 9 months
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༉‧₊˚. 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫
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― pairing: sam winchester x plus size!reader
― summary: sam winchester was never comfortable with pda, but while on a hunt, sam is shaken with the harsh reality that he's needy, and the only person that can fix it was you.
― warnings: kissing, making out, dry humping, marking, teasing, needy sam winchester.
― wc: 1288
⋆ a/n: more old writing sigh, but i guess i can say i kind of like this one but i kinda didn't know a lot about sam's character when i wrote this because i was only in the earlier seasons then, but now since i've watched the show three times, i feel like i can say that i know his character like the back of my hand!
masterlist | AO3
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You had no idea what was up with Sam that day, but he couldn't seem to keep his hands to himself. He wasn't usually a PDA type of person, opting to keep the kisses pg, meaning only cheek, temple, or forehead kisses. You had no problem with it, because if he wasn't comfortable with doing it out in the open or if he was afraid it would make him look unprofessional, you had no reason to try and push him to do anything he didn't want to.
When the affection happened in private, it just made it all the more special, both of your senses heightened and a lot more pleasurable when you two made love.
You never usually joined the brothers on hunts per Sam's request, only staying behind in the hotel room to offer some emotional support afterwards; but this time, you felt like going on an adventure. Dean was more than happy to humor you, but Sam was a bit more skeptical. He knew that you were your own person, that he truly had no say over what you did, so all the hunter asked was for you to stay close to him; easy enough, right?
At first it was a little difficult seeing how there were many places you three had to go, and it was giving Sam some anxiety, not only that, but he was feeling a type of way that he couldn't put his finger on. He thought it may have been is psychic abilities, but one touch from you and his skin lit on fire, he instantly knew that he was horny. When he got into your shared hotel bed together, his crotch pressed into you full rump, it took every bone in his body to not jump you right then and there, to keep his wondering hands placed tightly in yours.
You could sense something was off with your lovely boyfriend when you had gotten into the Impala, and instead of Sam sitting up front with his brother, he chose to sit in the back with you, one hand on your thigh. You found it a bit strange, but nonetheless welcomed the out of the blue affection. But you didn't welcome it when all of you split to go investigate different parts of an abandoned house, Sam hot on your heels.
As you were turned around, you felt Sam wrap his arms around your waist, his head buried in between your shoulder and your neck.
"Sam?" You questioned, the energy detecting device in your hand slowly lowering. He dragged his large hand down your fluffy stomach, resting it over the zipper of your pants. "Sammy?" You asked again, but this time your voice was higher pitched. He always acted this way when he was needy, but it was never out in the open like this, not when somebody could easily walk in and see your compromising decision.
"I just— I just want you so bad. . . I don't—" Sam rambled, pulling down the zipper of your fly. "You couldn't wait to do this?" You breathed, your head slightly tipping back. "Why did you think I picked the farthest room in the house?" Of course he lead you hear with an ulterior motive, why wouldn't he? He was smart, strategical, and you'd be lying if you said that you were tempted to give in.
"Sam, we can't, I'm sorry." Your hands fell over his sneaky one's, pulling your zipper back up and placing his hands back on your waist. He audibly groaned when you turned around threw your arms around his neck. His pupils were blown out, his expression was that of a kicked puppy. "Baby, you know that I want this as much as you do, I always will, but not in public." You sighed, pushing some of his hair out of his face. "I know. . . Can I— can I just kiss you?" He asked, his hands sliding lower before resting on the swell of your ass.
"Dean's gonna be real mad that we haven't got anything," You teased running your fingers through his hair, but you showed no hostility as his lips ghosted over yours. "It'll only be for a couple of minutes. . ." He mumbled, pressing his lips onto yours. It felt so great to kiss you, like your touch was slowly extinguishing the fire that had been burning in his stomach for the past two days. He couldn't help that his palms gripped your ass aggressively, rubbing you crotches together. You moaned quietly into his mouth, Sam hiking up your thigh so that he could get a better angle. His growing erection was pressed against your heated cunt, the friction driving both of you nuts.
"You said only kissing. . ." You breathed against his lips, arousal becoming more prominent in your panties. He only groaned in reply, his head tipping back so that his neck was exposed to you. You attached your lips onto is most sensitive spot located just under his ear, Sam bucking his hips against you. You were muting yourself by making marks that wouldn't easily be seen, but Sam was forced to bite his lower lip to silence himself. The worst part about doing this in not only a potentially haunted house, was that it was extremely empty, sound basically bouncing off the walls. You knew Dean would never allow Sam to live this down if he were to catch the two of you.
The tingling sensation of an orgasm was barely in your grasp, but it was enough to detach yourself from his neck and collarbones, only placing a kiss there which your lipstick left a mark.
"Sam, ____?" Dean called out. "You guys got anything?" Your eyes widened as you pushed Sam off of you, giving him a look of apology. "Uhh— no, there's nothing here!" You shouted back, licking your sleeve and wiping the makeup off his lips. "Alright well I explored all of downstairs and most of the upstairs and I got nothin', so I think we're done here." His voice was a bit closer, but now by a lot. "Okay! So are we gonna go?" You asked, straightening up Sam as he stood there with a stupid smile on his face. "Yeah! I'm goin' to be in the Impala, so you guys better hurry up!" He concluded, his voice growing fainter as he walked back down the stairs."Sam," You growled, "I'm going to kill you." You glared, now wiping off your lips for any smeared product.
"I'm sorry honey, I got a bit carried away." He apologized, but he didn't even sound remotely sorry. You just scoffed, grabbing your things with the intention of leaving. "Sure." He only laughed, following close next to you. "Don't act like you didn't like it," He teased. You only rolled your eyes, but it provoked a small grin on your lips. "Well I hope this'll sedate you until we get back home." You poked, both of you now walking down the old stairs. "Maybe, but seeing how your butt is looking in those jeans, I may be tempted to do it again." You groaned, "I'm going with Dean next time."
As you guys were about to get into the car, your eyes landed on your lipstick mark that you had placed on the side of Sam's neck. You felt your stomach fall into your ass but it was already too late, Sam had gotten into the front seat of the car while you got into the back anxiously. You watched Dean look at Sam's neck before smirking wolfishly, making eye contact with you in the rearview window.
"Looks like you guys got a lot of things done." He said, his voice full of amusement.
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ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy
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tayyytayyy12 · 5 months
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Reader is Max’s secret girlfriend and she drives for McLaren Along sides Lando and she has a pretty serious crash and max somehow exposes their relationship
Also can I claim this emoji pls 🍋
I added the emoji 🙃
My masterlist
Eyes open
Being in a secret relationship wasn’t as hard as it was annoying. It was annoying in the sense that you and your boyfriend, Max, couldn’t bee seen being affectionate with each other in public.
Surprisingly, the two of you had done a pretty good job of keeping it a secret. The only person that had found out was Lando, but that’s just because the two of you can’t keep anything from each other. Sure, once or twice you nearly got caught getting touchy when you was on a podium together, or a little bit flirty during interviews, but as a whole, everyone was clueless.
That’s what flashed through you mind when it happened, how much you regretted hiding your relationship with Max, how you regretted hiding.
It wasn’t your fault, it was a wet race, the rain was terrible. You lost control and spun straight into the wall, hitting it, hard, very hard.
You thought about, Max, how much you loved him, about your best friend Lando, about your family, before your vision went black and the world faded away from around you.
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“Red flag, Max, box.”
Max groaned internally when he head theses words spoken through his radio, “For fucks sake, I said it was to bad to race in these conditions! Who was it, do you know?”
“A McLaren, not sure which one yet.”
Max’s world crumbled completely around him as he silently begged and prayed for you to be okay, to pray it wasn’t you in that car.
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Max was subconsciously holding his breath as he watched the screen in front of him, as they dragged your limp body form the car and try to help you, in anyway they can before they rushed her to the hospital.
He doesn’t know it, but tears are rolling down his face rapidly when the camera panned away from you and to your crying teammate, his face also glued to the screen to see if his best friend was okay.
Max was wracked with nerves as they took you to the hospital, wanting nothing more than to leave and be with you, so that’s what he did.
He told Christian that he had to go, and left before even giving the older man a chance to speak, just marching straight out and running to his car.
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The nurses said it was a waiting game. That you had hit your head hard and there was nothing they could do. They had to wait and see if you would wake up.
Max hadn’t left your side since he arrive sat the hospital, Lando arriving as soon as he could, bringing Max clothes to change into.
“Max, mate,” Lando began, voice scratchy from tears, “You’ve been here for nearly a full day, you’ve not drunk, eaten, showered or slept.”
“What’s your point?” Max began, eyes glued to your unconscious body as he held your hand in his, praying that you’d pull through.
“Why don’t you go home for a few hours, sleep, refresh yourself, I’ll look after her.”
Max turned towards him this time, “Are you stupid? You really think that I’m going to leave for even a second when theirs a chance that she won’t wake up? A chance that she’ll never fucking wake up Lando!”
Lando didn’t respond, just pointed behind max and muttered the words, “I’ll get a nurse.” Before leaving the room, Max turned back towards the bed to see you slowly opening your eyes before they eventually landed in your boyfriend.
“Hey.” You said, your voice dry.
“Oh my god.” He whispered tears filling his eyes and he kissed your forehead, “My god you scared me so much. So fucking much.”
“Why? Was the crash a but dramatic?”
“No, Y/n it was fucking terrifying. My god, I thought I was gonna loose you.”meh said, his voice thick with emotion as he kissed the back if your hand multiple times.
You smiled and rubbed your hand over his cheek, “Oh c’mon Verstappen. We both know you couldn’t get rid of me that easily.”
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allywthsr · 3 months
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MAKING ORNAMENTS | (l.norris)
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summary: you and your kids make ornaments, lando is a supportive dad
wordcount: 1.2k words
pairing: dad!landonorris x fem!reader
warnings: kids
notes: I want Lando to take care of my kids 🥺
advent calendar
You sat with Lando and your two kids, Louis and Sofia around the table, craft items in front of you. Louis was three years and little Sofia was just half a year old, she currently lay in Lando’s arms, while he was feeding her. She latched just fine at the beginning, but two weeks ago she started to refuse your breasts and only wanted to be fed by the bottle, it wasn’t your ideal breastfeeding ending, but if she felt more comfortable with the bottle, you weren’t one to deny her that.
Lando stared down at her with a big smile, still in a dream that she was here and he was able to protect her, his little princess. Not that he wasn’t protective over Louis, but he was a little boy, he was headstrong and already stood up for himself. Sofias' hand was wrapped around Lando’s thumb and he left kisses every now and then on her forehead, smelling that baby smell each time, she smiled up at him, clearly happy that he was feeding her.
But back why you were sitting around the table with the family, you wanted to make Christmas ornaments and presents. You found some cute stuff online and wanted to try it out with your kids.
The one you liked the most was an ornament diy, you needed to take a bit of clay and form it into a flat round shape and press the kids‘ hand in the clay, afterwards, you needed to make a little hole at the top, where you could later put a thread through and hang it on the Christmas tree. So you got to work, rolling around the clay with your hand to warm it up a little. You pressed it on the table, that you covered with cling film, so it wouldn’t get dirty, and tried to flatten it, while keeping the round shape.
Louis wasn’t as happy with the idea of having to do crafts, he liked to play with his toy cars or stack his Lego Duplo on top of each other, the only crafty thing he liked was Play-Doh, it was rare that he wanted to draw.
When the clay was flattened enough and you made two of them, you ushered Louis to come to you, he climbed down his kiddy chair and you lifted him on your lap, ”Louis, do you want to press your hand in the clay? We then have your handprint on it.“
He looked at you with big eyes, ”Mama, why?“
Lando chuckled while Sofia was almost finished with her bottle.
”We then can hang it on our tree, as an ornament.“
”Why?“
By now Lando was laughing, Louis had his questioning phase at the moment, everything was questioned and he had to know the answer.
”Because it’s pretty and a good memory.“
He nodded and held out his hand to you, you gently grabbed his arm and pressed his hand into the clay, with your other hand you pressed his fingers more into the clay, making sure his handprint was fully on there.
Lifting his hand, you gasped at the handprint, it was perfect, ”Look, Louis! Your handprint, what do you think?“
”It’s pretty mummy, daddy, look!“
Lando got up with the empty bottle and Sofia and came around, so he was able to look at the handprint.
”Louis, you did so good! It’s beautiful.“
He brought the bottle to the kitchen and turned Sofia around so he could burp her, he came back and caressed Louis‘ head.
”Louis, do we want to do that again? It’s for Nana and Papa, so they have one as well for their tree.“
He nodded and held his already dirty hand to you again. You repeated the step you did a few seconds ago, and when he lifted his hand, the three of you gasped.
”Mummy! My hand.“
”Pretty, isn’t it? Should we go and wash your hands?“
Louis nodded and you lifted him off your lap and sat him on the floor where he started to run to the bathroom. Quickly you left a kiss on your daughter's cheek and went after your son, to help him wash his hands. Once his hands were clean and you returned to the table with Louis, Lando, and Sofia waiting for you two, Sofia was burped and ready for her turn, not that she knew what was happening soon.
”Look, Louis, I will make a hole in the clay and once it’s dry, we can hang it on our Christmas tree. Do you want to watch your sister do the same?“
He excitedly nodded and sat on his kiddy chair again, playing with a few cars while you made the holes in the clay. Sofia was getting fuzzy, Lando tried to calm her by bouncing her up and down, but she was not having it.
”Daddy, do you want me to talk to Sof?“
He was so mature for his age and already the best big brother ever, he knew when Sofia was fuzzy, not a lot helped, she mostly wanted to be held and played with. Lando nodded and lowered Sofia, so Louis was able to look at her while standing up.
”Sof, you can stop crying, it’s not scary, and when it’s finished we have a pretty-looking ornament, you don’t need to cry.“
You teared up at what Louis was saying, he was truly the best big brother ever, protecting his sister at all costs and trying to cheer her up. He kissed her cheek and Lando gave Sofia to you, so you could get over with the clay part pretty quickly. While Louis was calming her down, you already made two round shapes, the only thing that was missing was her handprint.
You positioned her so that you could press her hand in the clay, Lando helped you with gently adding pressure on her hand to get her handprint on there. When you lifted her hand, and the print was beautiful, you immediately pressed her hand against the other clay, Lando repeating the same as he did with the other one.
Louis squealed when he saw her handprints and Lando took her to the bathroom, where he cleaned Sofia's hands.
You moved the clays to a safe spot where they could dry, and Louis couldn’t reach them.
”Mummy, when’s daddy coming back? I want to play with him.“
”Soon baby, he’s putting Sof down for a nap, did you like crafting? We can do it every year and see your hands grow!“
”Yes, mummy, but I can go play now?“
You chuckled and nodded, when Lando came back and kissed your cheek, you told him that Louis was waiting for him in the living room.
”I love you, and our kids so much.“
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