#x reader smut

[ange1archive]

getting fucked by frank castle while peter is in the other room

warnings 18+, smut, piv, exhibitionism, risk of getting caught | wc. 580

frank’s rough and and calloused hands grip your hips so tight he’s probably leaving little red marks, pulling you flush against him. "missed this," he growls, his voice a low rumble against your throat. he hasn’t shaved in two days so his stubble scrape your skin as he mouths a trail up to your ear. "missed you."

oh you know peter's in the next room, probably hunched over his laptop, but frank doesn't seem to give a fuck or maybe he does. his fingers work their way under your shirt, tracing the waistband of your jeans before popping the button open.

"frank," you breathe out, a half-hearted protest. "peter's..."

"then you better be quiet, baby," he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe. "you don't want him to hear you, do you?"

he doesn't wait for an answer, just walks you backward into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. his shirt is off in one fluid motion, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the scattered scars you've traced with your tongue a hundred times. he strips you until you’re fully naked, his hands knowing every curve of your body.

he pushes you onto the bed, following you down. his mouth is on yours, hungry and so demanding, one hand pinning your wrists above your head while the other traces the line of your thigh, higher and higher until his fingers find your pussy, wet and ready.

"soaked already," he grunts against your lips. "all this for me?" his thumb circles your clit, a deliberate torture that has your hips bucking up to meet his hand. "or you thinking about our guest in the other room?"

you shake your head, but a whimper escapes your lips as he slides two fingers inside you, curling them just right. he works you open, scissoring his fingers, stretching you, preparing you for what's to come. his mouth finds your nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive peak before soothing it with his tongue.

"frank, please," you gasp, arching into his touch.

"please what, baby? use your words."

you can't form a coherent response as he withdraws his fingers, positioning himself between your legs. he runs the head of his cock through your folds, teasing, coating himself in your arousal before pressing against your entrance.

he pushes in slowly, letting you feel every thick inch as he stretches you open. the burn is a mix of pleasure and pain as he fills you completely. when he's fully seated, he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust before pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in. you can't help the loud moan that escapes your lips. frank immediately covers your mouth with his hand, his eyes dark with warning.

"shhh," he commands, his hips beginning to move in a steady rhythm. "what did i tell you about being quiet?"

but you really can't help it—every thrust draws another sound from your throat, muffled by his palm. when a particularly loud whimper escapes, frank's eyes narrow. "dirty girl," he grunts, pushing your head into the pillow with his other hand. "getting off on the thought of peter hearing us, aren't you? you want him to know what we're doing in here?"

you shake your head, but your body betrays you, clenching around him at his words. frank chuckles darkly. "liar. should we invite him next time? let him watch how you fall apart when i'm inside you? maybe that's what you really want."

his words send a fresh wave of arousal through you, and despite yourself, you moan louder against his hand. he adjusts his angle, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, and you see stars behind your closed eyes. the sounds of skin against skin fill the room, mixed with your muffled cries and frank's grunts. just as you're reaching your peak, a knock sounds at the bedroom door.

"hey—everything okay in there?" peter's voice calls through the wood. "i heard... noises."

frank doesn't stop, if anything, his hips snap harder. he’s smirking down at you as he whispers, "answer him. be a good girl and tell your friend you're fine."

you try, you really do. you attempt to form the words but all that comes out is a muffled, high-pitched keen as he grinds his hips, the coarse hair at his base rubbing against your sensitive clit. the sound is pathetic and utterly betraying.

frank's smile is sharp against your skin. he chuckles, a sound that vibrates through his chest and into yours. "yeah, he's not buying that.” he shifts his weight, grabbing your thigh and hitching it higher on his hip, changing the angle. the new position has him impossibly deeper, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust.

"one more chance," frank says, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. he leans down, his lips brushing your ear. "or i'll open the door myself and show him exactly why you can't speak right now."

"we're fine!" you manage to call out.

frank stills for a fraction of a second, a mocking chuckle rumbling in his chest as he feels your walls pulse around him. he pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, his gaze amused. "oh, you liked that, didn't you?" he murmurs, his voice low. "almost got caught. got your little pussy all tight around me."

there's a beat of silence from the other side of the door.

"oh. okay," peter says, his voice suddenly little awkward. "sorry to bother you."

you hear his footsteps retreat, the floorboards creaking as he walks away down the hall. the moment he's gone, frank's smirk widens. "so responsive," he growls, his hips starting to move again, slower this time, more deliberate. "getting off on almost getting caught. what a dirty girl you are."

he picks up the pace again, his thrusts becoming harder. frank's hand moves from your hip to your clit, his fingers rubbing tight circles, pushing you closer to the edge.

"that's it, baby," he growls, his voice strained with effort. "let go."

your body arches, a silent scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you. your walls clamp down around him, a rhythmic pulsing that you can't control. your body shakes, waves of pleasure so intense they border on pain.

"fuck," frank groans, feeling you spasm around him. he buries his face in your neck, his own rhythm becoming erratic, his thrusts shallow and fast. with a guttural groan, he follows you over the edge, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you. he collapses on top of you, his heavy weight pinning you to the mattress, both of you panting and slick with sweat.

"next time," frank murmurs against your skin after a moment. "we invite him to watch or to join us."

[madamechrissy]

Arranged Marriage with Levi - series preview / taglist <3

You are set to marry Levi Ackerman, an arrangement since before you were even born - yet you've never even met him. With all your fortunes riding on this marriage, you must please your future husband, but how can you even get to know him when he's ever so aloof and distant?

lord! levi ackerman x f! reader

this will be an angsty slow burn, title incoming - set in the 1800's, you fall first but he falls harder, eventual smut. I'm so excited to write Levi! Comment below to get tagged <3

The carriage wheels crunched loudly along the gravel drive of Ackerman Manor, each roll of those wheels hitting rocks jostling you just a bit, as you get ever closer to the place that would now be your home.

Your home.

Your hands are trembling as you smooth down the silky blue fabric of your gown – it was the finest you owned, but you fear it would seem quite simple to the man you were to be married to soon.

You didn’t exactly come from money, in fact your family name and an old agreement between Levi’s parents and yours before you were born was the only reason you were here like this. That and pretty looks were what your entire family’s fortune banked on, truly, so much pressure at times it made you sick.

You’d never even met him – Levi Ackerman, you’ve only heard stories of \your soon to be betrothed by tales of friends and members of your family.

By all accounts, he was apparently short tempered, angry and aloof – though no one said he was ‘unkind’ at all. Rather a bit cold, and arguably treated everyone with respect, which was more than most women could hope for these days.

Yet you don’t know how to feel.

A business transaction, this was, not a fairy tale wedding, your parents so eagerly shipped you off it was laughable, in all other aspects a girl had a dowry, where you had almost a non- existent one. This was truly only Levi respecting his father’s late wishes and being ever the gentleman.

Ladies everywhere were ever furious that there was no chance with him, with the richest man in the very city, the one they all seemed to love to go after, but no.

It was you to be his bride.

The carriage door opens now after you’ve come to a halt, and a well groomed servant helps you out and down the steps, guiding you as you take in the sight before you – the pretty manor that’s utterly pristine. You lift your skirts and step up the glimmering stone steps, as the butlers stand aside and open the doors for you.

The very entrance hall was immaculate, sparkling clean unlike anything you’ve ever seen, there was not a speck of dust anywhere,and the faint hint of some sort of lemon polish hits your nose as you take it all in. Even the chandelier overhead was fucking gorgeous and sparkling, you almost feel terrible stepping foot in such a pretty place with your shoe that had fallen into mud earlier.

"Mr. Ackerman will see you in the drawing room," the butler says now, eyeing you carefully.

Usually, people waited to move in until marriage, but your parents had sent you off early, about a week early – with the idea of meeting him and staying in one of the guest rooms, but now it all hits.

You’re getting married to a stranger.

The door opens once you sit down in the pretty chair, and you immediately stand right back up – seeing him standing there.

 Shorter than you'd expected, surely, but the man commands a fucking room, truly – this presence that almost intimidates you, his dark hair shining just a bit under the chandeliers as if he’d freshly washed it. His eyes were taking you in, assessing you so intensely all you can do is stand there, dressed in a perfectly pressed dark suit that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe.

"You're late," were his first words to you – his bride-to-be. His voice is so fucking bored, too, like he’s annoyed as shit at you. You clear your throat now, curtseying just a bit.

"The roads were muddy from the rains," you manage to excuse. “I’m sorry that I am a bit late.”

“Yes, well,” he passes by the small inn table as he walks toward you, pausing now, running a finger along the surface, sighing as he holds it up to the light.

"There's dust," he shouts it, and two servants immediately run into the room. "Did I not explicitly state this room was to be cleaned twice daily?"

"Sir, it was-"

"Then this is unacceptable,” he kneels then, tugging out a handkerchief from his coat pocket. “I'll just do it myself."

Your fiancé – the Lord Levi Ackerman, starts fucking frantically wiping down every surface in the room as you watch, just blinking, the servants are scrambling to help polish silver that does not need it, while the tea sits on the table, cooling. He faintly looks at you as you stare at him, his dark gray eyes taking you in.

“Sit and have tea,” he manages, realizing you’re staring, all pretty in a simple gown that at least is decently clean, if not crumpled by your hands. “I’ll be done momentarily.”

“Oh! Yes…”

You sit there, crossing your legs at the ankles, watching the man you were to spend your life with finding a spot on the floor to clean now.

Just who was Levi?

the first chap will be out this wknd!

[indiewritesxoxo]

...starring mr. not-so-right

synopsis: so you tried to baby trap your situationship. but when he's too busy being a celebrity to even consider being your boyfriend, you decide to give the single mother thing a chance - only to end up right back where it all started in your small town. this time though, a certain mechanic seems like he won't let his chance to reclaim his childhood crush slip by! there's just one thing...your former flame doesn't want to let you slip away so easily.

pairing: actor!situationship x loser!reader x yandere!mechanic

wc: 5.2k (part two to mr. incorrect!)

content: angst, fluff, smut, mentions of car sex, baby trapping, reader is a loser and a little delusional, yearning, heavy pining, but she is learning to respect herself!, ghosting, skipping town to avoid confronting feelings lmfao, running away, pregnancy, flirting, teasing, kissing, confessions, a man regretting his decisions and realizing he fucked up, oral sex, slight exhibitionism, obsession, YANDERE BEHAVIOR

PATREON PREVIEW BELOW

In his fantasies, he always sort of pictured himself as the father of your children. 

But he guessed the stepdad to your first one wasn’t too far. 

Especially when the kid wouldn’t know the difference. 

“You want me to come with you?” He mumbled, leaning against the doorframe with his toothbrush still half-dangling from his lips as he watched you struggle to tug your top down over the swell of your baby bump. 

It looked good on you. 

Perfect, actually. 

You padding barefoot across your bedroom, hair mused from his hands when he fucked you after your shower together this morning, your skin flushed and practically glowing as you mumbled curse words under your breath about running late. The taste of your lip gloss lingering on his mouth while he stared as you frantically tried to find the keys your eyes had somehow skimmed over five times in the past three minutes you’d been searching for them. 

“Baby,” he hummed, amusement flickering in his eyes before he sighed and repeated his question while he tugged the toothbrush back out of his mouth, “Do you want me to come with you to your appointment?” 

You paused, swallowing before speaking as you resisted the small smile curling up on your lips, “No, no, it’s fine. You have work.”

“The other guys can take care of stuff for a few hours,” he shrugged. “I can drive you and we can get lunch afterwards.” 

A date with his dream girl.

The one he’d spent the past ten years wishing would come back home. 

And okay, yeah, he had contemplated coming to you and convincing you himself that you deserved better than what you were tolerating. But you’d come to the correct conclusion on your own. 

Maybe some part of him was okay with waiting because he knew deep down his smart girl would figure it out – or that idiot would screw it all up so badly he’d seem like your hero once he showed up to sweep you off your feet. 

His wish had been granted at last – and he wasn’t going to just let the opportunity to spend every spare second he had with you. He wanted to ask you to move in with him. To marry him and make sure that it would be his name on the father’s side of the birth certificate rather than left blank. 

But you were still…skittish. 

And he couldn’t risk scaring you away just yet. Not when he hadn’t quite sank his claws deep enough in your heart to hold onto it. 

He had never been one to put much stock in fate or faith. But it had been him you called when your car broke down your very first night back in town. 

Couldn’t that mean it was meant to be? 

“If it’s not going to be a burden,” you hesitantly began, biting your bottom lip as you looked up at him with that cute little helpless stare he had never been able to stop himself from falling for. Not all that much different from the cute girl he’d noticed in hallways, the one whose eyes glittered and lips jutted out as you braced yourself for disappointment after disappointment. 

He liked broken things. 

Like fixing them and putting them back together until they were practically new. It was all he did at work. Even in his hobbies, he enjoyed seeing what he could salvage and fix up. 

Was he supposed to not want to save you too? 

To swoop in and stop you from getting tangled up with stupid assholes like the idiot who knocked you up? 

You had told him who it was after your fourth date. After he fucked you for the first time. Your body curled against his side as you picked at your cuticles, refusing to meet his eyes as you awkwardly admitted that you had let yourself exist for your ex, let him do what he wanted to you and where, all because you thought that he would suddenly get a few brain cells and figure out you were worth more than a bedwarmer. You thought a baby would change things.  

It had.

Just not in the way you wanted it too. 

All it had done was make you figure out he wasn’t going to change. 

So you skipped town. Moved back here and changed your contact information and deleted his number so you could leave your past behind to start a new future. 

A new family. 

“You’re never a burden,” he reassured, even though his ego was bristling a bit at the reminder of the man your baby actually belonged to. Who was surely back in his big city nursing a hangover next to a woman who couldn’t hold a candle to you, maybe wondering where you went or what you were doing without him. 

The one he was never going to let step so much as a single fucking toe back into your life. 

Your shoulders sagged with relief, eyes lighting up again as you nodded. 

“Okay, I mean, that does sound nice,” you relented. 

You didn’t know how to accept the bare minimum. 

But soon you’d see just how special you were. How special he could treat you.

“Good.” 

Shouldn’t he be there anyway? 

You were getting your twenty-week ultrasound, the one where they’d check to see if you were having a boy or a girl and make sure everything was alright. He tried to ask to come a couple nights ago, broaching the idea after spending yet another evening on your couch, rubbing your shoulders and massaging your sore muscles as he murmured that he wouldn’t mind being there. 

For support, of course. 

You didn’t need to do anything alone. 

You had him. 

And he wasn’t going anywhere. 

You bent over to grab your shoes, but he stopped you, fingers slowly encircling your wrist and guiding you back to the edge of your bed. “Let me.” 

“I’m not that pregnant,” you protested, but he just clicked his tongue and did it anyway. 

“Come on,” he muttered. “Let’s go see if we’re having a son or a daughter.” 

He selfishly hoped it was a girl. 

One with your eyes and smile – and not a single trace of the father etched into her features. 

FULL FIC ON PATREON HERE (also features a wide assortment of other oneshots/series!)

div by @/tsumiinum

[durandiaries]

Watch & Learn

pairing: jarren duran x fem!reader

Chapter Nine: The Realization

summary: she thought she had everything figured out. senior year, a leadership position in her sorority, a bright future, and a perfect boyfriend. just a perfect little life. until her perfect boyfriend decided to dump her out of the blue. her perfect little life now had a crack, and her entire winter break was spent heartbroken. by spring semester, she’s determined to move on. then, she unexpectedly runs into her ex one night. he swore she was still hung up on him. panicked, embarrassed, and desperate to save her ass, she blurts out that she has a boyfriend. the problem? she doesn’t. the bigger problem? the arm she grabs belongs to one of the most recognizable athletes in Boston…and her ex’s favorite baseball player.

warnings: idiots in love, no use of y/n

a/n: this series is almost over wtf 🥲 i’m actually not okay. i’ve grown attached to these two.

MAKE SURE TO CHECK THE PLAYLIST FOR UPDATES!

Perfection could really go suck a dick.

It had been a couple days since she ended things with Jarren. To say she was a wreck would be an understatement. She had officially become robotic. She would just go through the motions of the days without so much as a crack in her face. The last time she even showed an ounce of emotion was on her way back to the car that night. She briefly told her mom what happened, but she didn’t say much.

There was really no one to blame but herself for this. She was the one who messed it all up. But what was she supposed to do? As much as it hurts to say, he wasn’t part of the plan. Jarren had never been part of her perfection. Maybe that’s why she felt so much for him. 

It didn’t dawn on her how much she actually felt for him. She knew that she liked him, but she didn’t realize how much. She shut down so she didn’t have to feel it. Her mom noticed. Her sisters definitely noticed. She wasn’t even like this after her break up with Brady. 

Her mom, Anna, and Kayla were currently out shopping with her for her graduation dress. They noticed how emotionless her face was as she tried on different white options. She stood in front of the shop's mirror, looking at her figure in the dress she was currently trying on. 

“That one’s beautiful, honey.” Her mom tells her. Her lips didn’t even curve a little at the compliment. Her mom was officially worried. 

“I don’t like the skirt.” Is all she says before turning back to the other options that were sitting on the couch. She starts picking through the pile of dresses. Anna and Kayla share a look of worry as their friend continues her robotic movements. 

“Whats wrong with the skirt?” Kayla asks. She just shrugs. 

“It’s too tight.” Her mom was officially fed up. She looks at Anna and Kayla with a polite smile. 

“Why don’t you two go find some more options.” They immediately understand why she asked them to do that. They nod and walk towards the racks to start searching for more dresses. She turned back to her daughter, her look of worry reappearing on her face. “You gonna tell me why you’re acting like that?” 

“Acting like what?” She asks nonchalantly. 

“Acting like you don’t have feelings.” Her mom grabs her hand to get her attention. “Talk to me, sweetie. What's wrong?” She gently pulls her hand away. 

“Nothing. I’m fine. I just want to find a dress and go home.” She walks back to the mirror to try and see if it would help her get the zipper down. 

“You’re not fine. You’ve been acting off since the game. What happened with him, honey?” The mention of Jarren had her freezing up. She shakes it off and goes back to trying to pull the zipper down. 

“We broke up.” Is all she says. Her mom rolls her eyes and stands up. 

“I know that. Why did you break up though?” She continues tugging at the zipper, her restraint cracking as she gets more frustrated at the questions along with the clothes. 

“It doesn’t matter. Stop asking. I just want to get this off.” She starts breathing a little heavy as she tugs at the zipper. “Fuck, why won’t this come off?” Her mom finally sees the crack in emotions as she tugs at the zipper. Tears well in her eyes and her tugging starts to get weaker. Her mom is immediately by her side as she starts crying right there. 

“Shh, hey, it’s okay. I’m here, baby.” She melts into her Mom’s touch as she finally gives up on the zipper. Her Mom wraps her arms around her and pulls her back to sit on the couch with her. She cried into her Mom’s shoulder for a minute before pulling back. 

“I’m a horrible fucking person.” She cries. Her mom cups her face and uses her thumbs to wipe her tears away. 

“What are you talking about, honey? You’re not horrible.” Her mom reassures her. She shakes her head. 

“I am. I’m horrible.” She cries more. “I ruined everything. I hurt him. The one person who ever truly saw me is gone now, because of me.” Her mom’s eyes soften at her confession. 

“Babygirl, what happened?” She asked her daughter softly. She sniffled as she finally calmed down enough to explain. 

“It started off as a deal. We were fake dating for his image and to get Brady off my back. Then, it got real. And then I went and fucked it up.” Her mom was a bit taken back at that, but she still listened intently. 

“How did you mess it up?” Her mom asked her. 

“The job messed it up. Then I told him the whole thing was fake.” Her mom looked as if she was thinking. She dropped her hands from her daughter's face as she thought. 

“That’s all?” Her mom asked. She nodded slowly. 

“Yes.” Her mom lets out a small laugh. 

“Honey, that seems like two very minor problems. You seriously broke up over that?” She huffs at her mom’s words. 

“They aren’t minor, Mom. One literally places me in another country.” She turns and stares at the wall. “It wouldn’t work out, he said it himself.” 

“He’s full of shit.” Her mom laughs. She looks at her mom with knitted eyebrows. Her mom smiles at her. “Honey, he seems like the type to act on emotion. I can tell you right now that he probably didn’t mean anything he said to you.” 

“You didn’t see the look on his face, Mama.” She sighs. “He looked so hurt.” Her mom grabbed her hand. 

“Sweetheart, you can’t be that hurt by someone you don’t love.” Her eyes widened slightly at her Mom’s words. She laughs awkwardly. 

“He-...He doesn’t love me…” She tries to say. Her mom gives her a knowing look. 

“I saw the way he looked at you. There was nothing but love in that man’s eyes.” She shakes her head. 

“No…No, there’s no way. We haven’t known each other for that long.” She says. There was no way he could actually love her. They barely knew each other. He only knew her class schedule, and her coffee order, and her reason for choosing Alpha Phi, and the reason why she hated bees. 

“Well sweetie…when you know, you know.” Her mom’s words echo in her head as she replays the last few months with Jarren. Sure, the circumstances they met under were crazy. However, they learned more about each other in a few months than her and Brady did in years. Did he actually love her? It was hard to believe. Then, she remembers the honeybee. 

Jarren literally went out of his way to change his pre-game routine for her. Sure, it was a stupid little drawing on his wrist tape. But, it meant something to her. It was his way of helping her get over her bee problem. The honeybee was the moment that she fell head over heels for him. She sighed. 

“Well, it doesn’t matter now…cause I’m going to London. I’m going to stick to my plan.” She says, wiping the remaining tears from her face. Her mom gave her a look of sympathy. 

“Is that really what you want?” She thinks about her mom’s words. 

“It’s what was a part of my plan.” She says softly. Her mom huffs. 

“Sweetie, please. Drop the perfect act for one second and just be real with yourself.” She turned to her mom. She lets out a huff now. 

“I don’t know what I want, Mom. I just know that I refuse to be Dad. I want to have a good job. I want to have a good life. I don’t want to be angry at the world because my life is shit.” Her mom gives her hand a squeeze. 

“Putting yourself in a box is what’s going to make you miserable. Honey, look at you. You’re already the complete opposite of your father.” Tears well up in her mom’s eyes now. “You have compassion. You have the drive. And you love so deeply. Babygirl, I couldn’t be prouder of you.” She lets out a tear filled laugh with her daughter. 

“Well what do I do? Jarren probably doesn’t want me anymore. I can’t throw my future away for a maybe.” Her mom pulls her closer to wrap her arms around her again. 

“You also shouldn’t throw something as good as Jarren away for a job you don’t even know if you want.” She sighs and melts into her mother’s touch. “You have to be honest with yourself, honey. Do you love him enough to take that risk?” Her mom’s question sinks in and she thinks. She knew that she had never felt this way about anyone before. She knew that the thought of never seeing Jarren again pained her. She knew that she would rather see a million more poorly drawn honeybees than get on a plane. 

Everything clicked and she finally realized something…

She did love him enough to take the risk.

The crack of the bat was extra loud today. 

Jarren had officially turned BP into his rage-zone. The other guys on the team could see the shift immediately. It was almost like he was back to his old self…just ten times worse. They realized soon enough that something had to happen with his relationship. No one was going to say anything though. They knew that would end badly. 

The past couple days felt like a hangover for Jarren. He had lost sleep from overthinking and he was extra moody. He kept thinking back to the nights they spent together. Wondering if any of it ever meant anything to her. He wanted to be mad at her. He wanted to blame her for all of it. 

He knew he couldn’t though. At the end of the day, it was always supposed to end. He knew he was never supposed to be a part of her perfect life. That was the part that was hurting him the most. He saw this coming from a mile away. Yet, he still let himself fall for her. He kicked himself for it. 

“Are you done being an asshole?” Tolle asks Jarren. He had walked up while Jarren was wiping the sweat from his forehead. He rolled his eyes at Tolle’s comment. 

“Are you done sticking your nose in my business?” Jarren fires back. 

“Nope, never. And stop trying to offend me. That doesn’t work on me.” Tolle gives him a smile. Jarren rolled his eyes again. “Trouble in paradise I assume?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Tolle hums, not walking away. 

“Yeah, well, I do. So, start talking.” Jarren huffs. 

“We broke up.” Is all he says. Tolle gasps, feigning shock. 

“No way! I would’ve never guessed!” Jarren gave him an annoyed glare. “Come on, man. What happened?” Jarren let out a sigh before finally explaining. 

“It was all fake. We just pretended to make me look good.” Tolle was everything but convinced that that was it. He crosses his arms as he analyzes Jarren. 

“Mkay…so skip to the part where you actually fell in love with her.” Jarren lets out a dry laugh. 

“Okay, love is wild. We’ve only known each other for a few months.” 

“When has it ever taken a guy longer than three months to fall in love with a girl? Be serious man.” Jarren glared for a second. He knew that Tolle was right. Jarren had tried to convince himself it was anything but that. However, with the way he was feeling about the break up, he knew it wasn’t just from liking her. 

“Fine…I think…it just happened, man. One day it was fake, then the next I was ready to do anything she wanted me to. It’s like she put me under some spell. I don’t know, it sounds stupid.” Tolle finally offered an approving smile. 

“So, you did find the one?” Tolle had a little smirk. Jarren rolled his eyes again. 

“We broke up. It’s not like she felt the same anyway.” Tolle gives him an unconvinced look. 

“Really? Cause Dev was talking to me about how in love she looked with you.” Jarren’s eyes snapped back up to him. 

“Don’t bullshit me right now, man...” Tolle shook his head. 

“I’m not. Dev said that when she watched you play, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from you. Not only that, she would talk so highly of you to her.” The words hit Jarren like a train. Did she actually love him? He thought back to every interaction he had with her. The way she would look at him when he talked about his games, how she knew just the right words to calm him down, how she would kiss him. He knew that she didn’t do physical things with just anyone. So he had to mean something to her. 

“Well, it’s too late now.” Jarren sighed. “I basically told her to fuck off.” 

“Well, that’s not shocking.” Tolle snickers. Jarren swats at his arms. 

“Fuck you.” Tolle holds his hands up in defense. 

“Don’t get mad at me. I’m just saying, you have a knack for lashing out at people. Hence why, you needed her in the first place.” Jarren knew he couldn’t argue with him. He knew that the way he acted was the whole reason he made the deal in the first place. He felt like such a dick. 

“She’s going to London. She doesn’t need me.” The more excuses he made, the more Tolle pushed. 

“And you’re just going to let her?” Tolle laughed. “Dude, if you love her, then you need to suck it up and find a way to make it work.” 

“Yeah? It’s not that simple man. I already have a busy ass life. Her living on the other side of the globe isn’t going to make my life easier.” 

“Obviously not, but giving up is a real wuss move.” Tolle gave him one more pat on the shoulder before walking away. Jarren stood and thought about what Tolle said. It was going to be difficult, that was a fact. However, he loved her. So damn much. More than he thought he could. 

It was crazy to him, honestly. One second he was living his normal life, then, all of the sudden, the girl of his dreams was just dropped into his life. And boy, did he fall for her, hard and fast. It didn’t take much for him to become obsessed with her. Hell, the girl had him re-debating his whole "marriage is a scam” thought process. He never expected that to happen. 

Maybe she was moving to another country. Maybe this did start as a deal. However, things changed. And his need for her in his life was way bigger than the distance that was going to be between them. He felt so stupid. He shouldn’t have let her walk away. The realization dawned on him…

He needed to go get his girl before she got on that plane.

🏷️ @whiskey-princ3ss @ilovebigswole-blog @duranhq @jarrensweb @wildecat1996 @duranjarren @iheartbigmuscles @quinninthedepthsofhell @goalperfetti @jarrensgirl @xoxo-aubs @alisonsinclair @tominesdiary

[nvhdesire]

The Opening Act

Michael jackson x black!fem!reader

Contains: p*rn no plot, oral m! receiving & f!receiving, facefucking, riding, missionary, unprotected, p in v, creampie

Wc: 2.2k

This content does NOT contain AI and may not be used to train AI.

The lights were low backstage at the L.A. Forum, the air thick with the scent of sweat and cologne. Michael stood in front of his full-length mirror, adjusting his jacket, glancing over his shoulder to find you leaning against the doorframe watching him.

He didn't say a word, just crooked a finger, beckoning you into the dimly lit dressing room. You locked the door behind you, the bolt clicking shut to separate the two of you from the chaos of the concert crew outside. The moment you turned around, Michael was on you, crowding you against the vanity table until your back hit the cool wood.

His mouth was hungry on yours, tongue forcing past your lips as his hands slid down your sides, squeezing your hips hard enough to bruise. The sequined jacket slipped off his shoulders and fell forgotten to the floor, revealing a smooth chest that glistened with stage sweat. Your fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt, and his breath hitched in your ear - sharp, needy.

You freed him from the confines of his tight pants, and his erection sprang free, heavy and leaking against your stomach. Before you could wrap a hand around him, Michael’s fingers tangled in your hair, guiding you downward until your knees hit the carpeted floor. You didn't hesitate; you parted your lips and took him deep, the salty taste of his precum coating your tongue immediately.

Michael groaned loudly, a hand covering his mouth to muffle the sound. His hips began to move, fucking into your throat with slow, deliberate thrusts. You could hear the wet gagging sounds echoing in the room as you struggled to take him all, your eyes watering from the effort.

His fingers tightened in your hair, rhythm increasing. The sound of his cock sliding in and out of your mouth grew louder - slick, sloppy, wet. A guttural moan escaped when you took him particularly deep, his abs flexing beneath your fingertips as you gripped his thighs for leverage. His hips twitched erratically, cock twitching inside your throat. "F-fuck... right there..."

You swallowed around him, hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard while your nose pressed against his lower belly. Michael's thighs tensed, trembling violently as his head fell back against the vanity mirror.

"Gonna—" He whimpered pathetically, the word high and desperate. "Can't hold it, baby—"

His cock pulsed against your tongue, and suddenly hot spurts of cum flooded your mouth, coating your throat in thick ribbons.

You gulped greedily, swallowing every drop he offered, your eyes streaming tears of triumph and submission. Michael panted heavily, his body jerking and twitching as he continued to pump his release into your waiting mouth. Some of it leaked out around your lips, coating your chin and dripping down your neck.

His cock throbbed against your tongue long after he came, whimpering softly like a wounded animal. The cum continued to leak out in slow spurts, mixing with your spit and dripping down your chin onto your chest. Michael's hand stayed tangled in your hair, trembling as he tried to catch his breath, chest heaving. "Oh god... oh fuck..." Your face was absolutely messy, painted white with his thick release—strings of cum dripping from your nose, lips, and chin, sliding down your neck to soak your chest. Michael looked down at you with ruined, hooded eyes, utterly wrecked. He brushed his thumb over your sticky bottom lip, absolutely mesmerized by how messy you looked. "Holy fart..." he whispered breathlessly.

Before you could even wipe your face, Michael was pulling you up, crashing his mouth against yours in a filthy, sticky kiss, indifferent to the mess coating your skin. He spun you around and lifted you effortlessly onto the vanity, knocking over hairspray bottles in the process. Without a word, he hooked your legs over his arms, yanking your skirt down and discarding it onto the floor.

Your panties were dragged down your legs and tossed aside immediately. Michael hooked your knees over his shoulders, burying his face between your thighs. His tongue dove straight into your soaking pussy, licking a flat, messy stripe from your hole up to your clit. You cried out, head falling back against the mirror as he began eating you out aggressively. No teasing, just sloppy, desperate oral.

The sound was absolutely obscene—wet, squelching noises filling the dressing room as he devoured you. His tongue swirled rapidly around your clit before sucking it hard between his lips, sending electric shocks up your spine. You gripped his hair, rolling your hips against his face, thighs trembling around his head. He groaned into your pussy, the vibration making your toes curl.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as you pulled him closer, grinding your pussy against his mouth shamelessly. You could feel his Afro brushing against your inner thighs with every thrust of his tongue, the texture driving you absolutely wild. You moaned loudly, pulling his hair harder, your thighs spreading wider around his ears. Your juice was all over his face - his forehead, nose, lips, and chin. He was practically inhaling your scent, his tongue working relentlessly inside your hole before sliding up to punish your clit again.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate. You were tugging on his Afro like it was the only thing keeping you grounded as he ate you out with reckless abandon. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he held you open for his hungry mouth.

A high-pitched moan escaped you, your back arching off the vanity as he sucked your clit into his mouth like he was trying to devour it. Your fingers tangled deeper in his Afro, pulling his head down harder against your dripping folds. "Michael— Michael fuck—" you whimpered, juice running down his chin and onto his throat.

Your entire body seized up, thighs snapping shut around Michael’s head as the orgasm ripped through you violently. You cried out his name, pulling ruthlessly on his Afro while your pussy convulsed against his mouth. He moaned into your pulsating clit, helping you ride out the waves as you squirted into his waiting mouth, coating his chin and lips in your release.

Your legs turned to jelly, shaking uncontrollably as he licked you through the aftershocks, savoring every drop. When he finally pulled back, his dark skin was glistening with your cum, his afro slightly rumpled from your desperate grip. He looked absolutely filthy and completely satisfied with himself.

He smirked up at you, his chest heaving with exertion, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to your still-spasming pussy. "You... fuck, you taste good," he panted, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, only serving to smear your juices even more.

Before you could even catch your breath, He stepped between your spread thighs, rubbing the head against your dripping entrance without actually pushing in.

"I need you," he growled, his voice low and desperate. "Right here, right now." He pressed the head of his cock against your sensitive clit, sliding it up and down your folds to coat himself in your juices.

He pushed inside slowly, inch by inch, filling you up completely. You both groaned at the feeling—him from the tight warmth, you from being stretched so perfectly. His hips stopped when he was balls deep, his breath hot against your neck. "Yeah, just like that," he murmured, already pulling out to thrust back in with a wet slap.

The dressing room filled with the sounds of your bodies meeting - wet, sloppy noises as he fucked into your dripping pussy. Your juices were coating his cock and balls, making everything slide easily.

Michael set a brutal pace from the start, pistoning into you like he couldn't get enough. Your tits bounced with each thrust, your moans turning into desperate whimpers as he pounded your sensitive, freshly-orgasmed pussy. He leaned down to kiss you messily, his tongue invading your mouth as his cock invaded your needy hole. "You feel so fucking good,"

he gasped against your lips, his hips slapping against yours loudly. One hand gripped your ass, lifting you slightly to change the angle and let him drill into your g-spot. The other tangled in your hair, pulling your head back to deepen the kiss.

The new angle had you seeing stars. He was hitting that perfect spot inside you with every brutal thrust, his cockhead rubbing against your g-spot relentlessly. You could feel another orgasm building already, your inner walls fluttering around him. "Michael— Michael, I'm gonna—"

"Do it," he growled against your mouth, refusing to slow down or let you escape. "Cum all over this dick, baby." He slammed into your g-spot with ruthless precision, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing in the room. The coil in your belly snapped violently, your walls clamping down on him as your second orgasm ripped through you, soaking his cock even more.

You wailed through your teeth, gripping his shoulders so hard your nails left marks. Your pussy was clenching like a vice around his shaft, and you could feel yourself leaking. His hands tightened on your ass, lifting you even more to meet each brutal thrust. "Oh god— God damn it," he muttered, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as his rhythm faltered.

Your overstimulated body twitched uncontrollably, your pussy squirting hard around his cock, soaking his length and dripping onto the vanity. Michael let out a broken, choked sound, overwhelmed by the way your walls were practically milking him. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." he groaned, slamming into you one last, deep time before burying himself balls-deep.

His cum exploded inside you, thick and hot, flooding your already overflowing pussy. You could feel each pulse as he emptied himself completely, his hips twitching erratically against yours while he stayed buried deep. Your combined juices—your two orgasms and his release—gushed out around his cock, running down his shaft, over his balls, and dripping onto the vanity below.

The room filled with the heavy scent of sex - sweat, cum, and your arousal. Michael's cock remained hard inside you, twitching occasionally as aftershocks rippled through both of you. He kissed your neck lazily, his hands still gripping your ass possessively.

After a moment, Michael slowly pulled out, his cock sliding free with a wet plop. You could see his release leaking out of you, running down your thighs. He looked down at the mess you'd made together, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

Michael stood between your legs, staring down at the cum still dripping from your pussy and running down his cock. He looked at your flushed face and messy hair, the marks from your nails on his shoulders. He took a slow breath, trying to recover, but there's no mistaking the raw lust in his eyes. He didn't even bother to look away.

He stepped closer, his semi-hard cock brushing against your sensitive inner thighs. His hands slid up your body, leaving trails of stickiness from your combined fluids. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, dirty kiss, sharing the taste of you both on his tongue. "Turn around,"

You turned slowly, your legs trembling so hard you had to grip the edge of the vanity to stay upright. Facing the mirror, you saw your wrecked reflection—flushed skin, swollen lips, and cum dripping down your thighs. Michael stepped up behind you, his chest pressing against your back, hands gripping your waist. He kissed your shoulder softly, looking at your reflection in the mirror.

His hands slid down to rest on your hips, his thumbs stroking the skin just above your skirt. The mirror showed everything—the way your breasts heaved, the glistening cum coating your thighs, his dark hands stark against your skin. He bent down, lips brushing your ear as he watched your reflection. "Beautiful," he murmured, pressing his softening cock against your ass.

His cock was softer now but still thick, sliding between your ass cheeks, coating himself in the mess that had accumulated there. Your skirt was hitched up around your waist, panties somewhere on the floor. In the mirror, you watched him deliberately rub his length between your cheeks, not pushing in, just... teasing. His reflection showed his jaw clenched, his dark eyes fixed on yours through the glass.

"Absolutely gorgeous," he murmured against your ear, kissing your neck slowly while rubbing his messy cock between your cheeks. It was lazy, intimate worship rather than fucking now. You watched the two of you in the mirror—your swollen pussy, dripping with cum, and his gorgeous body pressed against yours.

A knock at the door made you both freeze. "Yo, Mike, you good in there? We gotta go." It was most likely one of his brothers. Michael cursed under his breath, still not pulling out. Your juices were still leaking between you. He glanced at the mirror, then at you, then at the door. He leaned in, mouth hovering near your ear.

Michael sighed against your neck, pressing one final lazy kiss there. "Coming," he called out, his voice steady despite what they were doing. He slowly pulled away, tucking himself back into his pants. You stayed leaning on the vanity, watching his reflection—the way he straightened his clothes like nothing happened.

He turned toward the door, then stopped.

Quickly, quietly, he stepped back to you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before you could react. It was gentle and deep and completely opposite of the rough fucking from minutes before.

[violetvelafiles]

Sorry, We’re Closed — Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Sorry, We’re Closed is complete and live on AO3.

You run a Gotham dive bar. Jason Todd is your favorite customer - he gets the good ice, and a standing after-hours deal.

One stormy night, his tab finally comes due - except you refuse to let him pay for being cared for.

5,020 words • Complete • Mature • Jason Todd/Fem!Reader • hurt/comfort with tasteful smut

All art is mine.

Read it now on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89785106

[sw33tcaroline]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ₊˚⊹ ꨄ︎

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: tord is a pervert who just really loves your tits

Tord loves you with all of his heart. You’re his partner, his kjære, the light of his life.

But he also loves your tits with all of his heart.

He tries to behave, tries to not stare at your chest when he’s around you, but sometimes he just can’t help it. Every time you lean down, he gets an eye full. His mind gets away from him, imagining his face between your tits, sucking them and licking them. He knows their exact weight in his palms, and all he wants to do is lay on top of you and fondle them.

You can see his eyes on his chest when you talk to him, and you can tell he’s not paying attention.

“Tord—” you start to complain but the poor man can’t take it anymore, and he grabs your hand to drag you to his bedroom.

He urges you in and locks the door behind himself. His fingers go under your shirt, his breathing rapid.

“Tord—” you try again, but he cuts you off.

“Please. Please, I just need this. Please, let me have it.”

The desperation in his voice is enough to make you cave, and you nod, letting him push your shirt up and off of you. He reaches behind your back and unclasps your bra before tugging it away from your body. Now that your tits are finally bare in front of him, he feels like his memory can’t possibly do them justice.

He cups them in his hands, squeezing and kneading at the flesh, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. He murmurs, mostly to himself, praises about them. “They’re so fucking pretty. Look at how they fit in my hands. They feel so good, so soft. You’re so perfect.”

He leans down, taking a nipple into his mouth, his thumb and forefinger giving the other one attention before he moves his mouth over. He looks up at you, eyes desperate with lust, as he kisses and licks and sucks all over your tits, leaving hickeys and marks on them.

He pulls away after a while, just watching as they rise and fall with your breathing.

“I wanna put my cock between them,” he says, reaching down to undo his pants. “Please, can I fuck your tits?”

You can never say no to those desperate puppy dog eyes, so you lower yourself to your knees, watching as he hastily pushes his pants down enough to free his cock. When it springs free, there’s already pre dripping over the angry red tip.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Tord, relax,” you say gently, laughing softly. “You know I like doing these things for you.”

He shudders, watching you. Spit on his cock, making his hips jerk, and then smear your saliva over his heated skin. “Faen,” he hisses as he watches you push your tits up, squeezing his cock between them.

He gasps, legs almost failing him at the sight of you down there for him. He rolls his lips slowly, whining as he watches his cock slide between your tits, his pre smearing on your chest. It’s such a beautifully filthy sight, the way the mushroom head is all that remains when he pulls back, and then how you lick over his slit when he pushes forward again.

You look up at him, meeting his eyes. His pupils are blown wide, and he’s watching like he doesn’t want to blink so he won’t miss a single second. He’s panting, shoulders heaving with each breath, occasionally biting down on his lower lip to keep himself from whimpering too loud.

“So good,” he gasps. “Oh, fuck, so good.”

You smile at him, enjoying how much he’s enjoying himself. It’s wonderful, seeing this man who’s usually so quiet and stoic, being reduced to a whimpering mess because of you.

“Oh, elskling, I-I’m gonna cum,” he warns, bracing a hand on the wall behind you, hips stuttering. “I can’t — oh, fuck.”

He starts delivering quick, shallow thrusts between your tits, legs shaking. He’s moaning thickly, murmuring your name, feeling the heat spread through his lower abdomen.

“Jeg kommer, det føles så godt, puppene dine er så perfekte—”

He whimpers, throwing his head back as his orgasm finds him. Thick ropes of cum spurt onto you, some of it landing on your mouth, dribbling down your chin. The rest of it spews onto your tits, sticky and warm as it decorates the swell of your breasts.

“Faen. Ah, faen,” he gasps, legs shaking.

He glances down just in time to see you cleaning his cum with your fingers and licking it off. His cheeks turn pink, all the way to the tips of his ears. “Wow,” he murmurs, reaching down and helping you stand, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You smile softly, brushing your nose against his. “Is it okay if we go back out now and you keep your eyes above my neck?”

He turns pinker at that. “Uh, y-yeah, I can try,” he says, even though he knows he’s going to be thinking about your tits for the rest of the day.