Holy fuck I’m busting😇
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occasionally subtle
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Cosimo Galluzzi
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@vanillasmoochs
Holy fuck I’m busting😇
bro had to reaffirm the facecard 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
LMFAO
HEART TO HEART
hollis X reader smutshot
you have loving, passionate sex with your bf hollis :3
tags: p in v, slow sensual sex, creampie, loving dirty talk
💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋
The bedroom was wrapped in a soft, intimate hush, the only light coming from a single bedside lamp casting warm golden hues across the rumpled sheets and the faint city glow seeping through the sheer curtains. The air was thick with the mingled scents of your shared arousal… musky, sweet, and heady, like warm skin, faint traces of Hollis’s signature cologne, and the unmistakable aroma of sex. Hollis laid relaxed beneath you on his back, his lean, toned body glistening with a fine sheen of sweat that caught the light with every subtle shift. His long hair was tousled wildly against the pillow, cheeks flushed a deep rose, and those intense hazel eyes were locked onto yours with pure, devastating adoration, pupils blown wide with love and lust.
You straddled his hips, thighs trembling slightly as you slowly sank down onto his thick, throbbing cock. Inch by inch, he stretched you open, filling you so completely that the breath caught in your throat. A low, guttural groan escaped his lips as your walls enveloped him, warm and silky and pulsing. Once fully seated, you leaned forward deliberately, pressing your bare breasts flush against the firm muscles of his chest. Your nipples, already pebbled and sensitive, dragged deliciously against his smooth skin, sending sparks straight to your core. Your hearts hammered against each other through the thin barrier of skin, as if they were trying to reach each other through flesh and bone.
Hollis’s hands immediately found your hips, large palms splaying wide, fingers digging in with just enough pressure to ground you… possessive yet infinitely tender. His thumbs traced slow, worshipful circles over the soft curves of your waist, feeling the way your muscles flexed with every tiny movement.
“Baby… oh my god,” he breathed out, voice hoarse and velvet-rough, warm breath ghosting over your parted lips. “You’re so fucking tight and warm around me. I can feel every little flutter… like your body was made for mine. I love you so much it’s insane.”
You began to move… not frantic thrusts, but slow, passionate rolls of your hips. A deep, grinding rhythm where you rocked forward and back, circling just enough to drag his cock along every sensitive ridge inside you while your swollen clit rubbed rhythmically against his pelvis. The wet, obscene sounds of your joined bodies… slick folds gliding over his shaft, the quiet squelch of arousal, filled the room alongside your ragged breathing. Heavy, open-mouthed pants mingled together, turning into breathy, needy moans that vibrated through your pressed-together chests.
You dipped your head, capturing his mouth in a searing, filthy-romantic kiss. Lips crashed together, soft and swollen, parting instantly so your tongues could slide deep and slow, tasting each other thoroughly. It was messy and loving… spit-slick, tongues tangling and stroking, sucking on each other’s lips with gentle bites that pulled needy whimpers from both of you. Hollis moaned into your mouth, the sound low and broken, his tongue fucking yours in perfect time with the grind of your hips.
“Fuck, yes… kiss me just like that,” he panted against your lips when you briefly parted for air, strings of saliva connecting you. His hands squeezed your hips tighter, guiding your slow, sensual rocking. “You’re so beautiful riding me like this, baby. Look at us… chests pressed together, hearts beating as one. You make me feel like the luckiest man alive.”
Every grind sent waves of molten pleasure radiating through your veins. The friction was exquisite… his cock dragging thick and heavy inside you, stretching you deliciously on every downstroke, the head nudging that sweet spot over and over. Sweat slicked your joined skin, making your breasts slide erotically against his chest with each roll. The heat between you built like a slow-burning fire… muscles tensing, breaths growing hotter and more desperate. You could smell the salty sweat on his neck as you buried your face there for a moment, licking a stripe up his pulse point and tasting the tang of his exertion.
Hollis’s breath hitched, turning into a series of breathy, worshipful moans. “That’s it, baby… grind on me just like that. Slow and deep. God, you’re squeezing me so perfectly. I love how wet you are… drippin’ all over me, soaking us both. You’re my everything… my beautiful, beautiful girl.” One hand slid up your back, fingers threading gently into your hair, cradling your head as he pulled you back into another devouring kiss. Tongues plunged deep, lips sucking and biting with raw hunger wrapped in tenderness. He nipped your bottom lip, then soothed it with a slow lick, groaning filthily. “I could do this for hours… just feeling you move on me, tasting your mouth while I’m buried inside you. I love you. I love you so fucking much.”
Your moans mixed with his… high, breathy whines from you and deep, rumbling groans from him. The sensory overload was overwhelming… the slide of sweat-damp skin, the musky-sweet scent of sex thickening the air, the wet rhythmic sounds of your grinding, the taste of his kisses, the sight of his flushed, love-drunk face inches from yours. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly, a slow-building pressure that made your thighs shake around his hips.
Hollis’s praises poured out between kisses and moans, never stopping. “You feel like heaven… so warm and tight. Every roll of your hips is driving me crazy. You’re so good for me, baby. My perfect girl. You gonna cum? I wanna feel you cum while I’m deep inside you like this.” His hips rolled up gently to meet yours, matching your rhythm, pushing his cock impossibly deeper.
The climax hit you like a slow, crashing wave… intense and prolonged. Your walls clenched rhythmically around his cock, fluttering and milking him as ecstasy flooded your body in powerful, shuddering pulses. You cried out into his mouth, trembling against his chest. Hollis followed moments later with a deep, guttural moan that vibrated through both of you, his arms reaching around and wrapping around your back as he spilled hot and thick inside you, hips stuttering in tiny, loving thrusts to ride it out together.
You stayed collapsed on top of him for a good bit afterward… chests still pressed together, his softening cock nestled warmly inside you, bodies trembling with aftershocks. Heavy breathing gradually slowed, turning into soft, satisfied sighs. Hollis’s hands roamed tenderly over your back and sides, stroking soothing patterns into your overheated skin.
He pressed gentle kisses to your temple, your damp forehead, the corner of your eye, and finally your lips… soft, lingering ones now. “Hey, my love… look at me,” he whispered, voice husky and full of emotion. You lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes were glassy, overflowing with love. “I love you. More than anything in this world. That was… god, you’re incredible. So fucking beautiful.”
“I love you too, Hollis,” you murmured, voice raw and full of emotion.
With infinite care, he rolled you both onto your sides, still holding you close, slipping out of you with a shared, contented sigh. He went and grabbed a warm washcloth, gently cleaning the mess between your thighs with feather-light, reverent touches. “So perfect for me,” he murmured, kissing your inner thigh softly. “My sweet girl… let me take care of you.”
He pulled the soft blankets over your entangled bodies, tucking you securely against his chest. His fingers sifted slowly through your hair, massaging your scalp, while his other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you like you were the most precious thing in existence. Soft “I love you”s were whispered into your hair, against your shoulder, and pressed into your lips between tender kisses. He fetched water for you both, feeding you sips before pulling you right back into his embrace.
“You okay? Anything you need?” he asked softly, nuzzling your neck, his breath warm and comforting.
“Just you,” you whispered, melting into him.
Hollis smiled against your skin, the sound of his quiet, happy chuckle rumbling through his chest. “Good. Because I’m never letting you go. I love you endlessly, baby. Sleep now… I’ve got you.”
Wrapped in his arms, surrounded by his warmth, scent, and endless affection, you drifted off feeling utterly cherished, loved, and safe.
—————————————————————————
ive had this sitting in my drafts for a few days and im not sure if i even like it but ive been getting more and more requests for soft, sensual hollis so i figured why not :P
taglist: @2bun22 @sweet2sin @2lilaclace @222foryou222 @2bluntss @2autumndrunk @obscureleoasian @kingoveverything @luvvconceal @romansbbg @swaggotsnoticeswaggots @7thstrunner @mazzydabazzy @stellalaylas @hollisedd @adorehollis @lalalalei1 @vlnt2kiss @glitterandviolence13 @perfgirlnextdoor @girl2bad @missmodelsexx @zorixchi @punkarchangel @ibelieveinfairyz @keeperofcrush @sophi-ii
exactly what the fans wanna see
𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘
rommulas x fem reader
contains: honey packet, slow burn, teasing, smut,dry humping, unprotected sex, (p in v)
a/n: heh one of my favs seen the pic of yera n thought of this 😸 (when OF model series comes out we’re acting like we never seen the pic ok)
“you’ve never tried one?”
“i’ve never even heard of them,” you say.
your friend, Sirena, picks up a golden box labeled Royal Honey and reads the ingredients. “it’s totally natural. it worked like a charm for me and Hollis.”
“really?” heat creeps up your body at the thought of giving one to Roman. the things it could make him want to do, and he’s already down for anything.
Sirena moves along. “mm-hm. you should try it with Roman.”
you snatch two packets on your way to the cash register. Sirena winks at you.
“Roman!” you run into his place, shouting for him. he’s the only one home, thank God.
“Roman!”
he makes his way to the living room doorway. “what’s up, baby?” he reaches out to pull you in, but he looks so good, it makes you nervous. when you don’t move, a corner of his lips curls upwards. “what’s wrong?”
“nothing,” you say, with a shake of your head. “hi.” you peck him on the lips.
he laughs when you quickly pull away— he can tell you’re nervous and he pulls you back in by the neck and kisses you, slowly.
“hi.”
“i have,uh, these packets. you know what honey packets are?”
he grins from ear to ear. “i do. you bought some?”
“one for each of us.” you smile at him. “i wanna try.”
“oh, yeah?”
“but… i wanna make it interesting.”
Roman pulls you in by your hips and starts kissing your neck.
“we both take one, and whoever lasts longer wins.”
“lasts longer?” he steps back. “oh, come on mami. that’s gonna be me.” he takes a pack from you and rips it open.
“are you fucking kidding me? you barley last as is. you’re lucky i’m taking this.”
he pours the syrupy liquid into his mouth.
then you do the same and chase it with a gulp of water. it’s natural stuff, supposedly so it probably won’t do anything. you tell Roman this, and he agrees.
“let’s go to your room,” you say.
he’s smirks. “already?”
you want to go there to make things just a little bit more challenging for Roman. you take him by the hand, and his skin is warm and rough. and big, the way it wraps around yours.
at the top of the stairs, he moves his hand to your lower back, and it’s like he’s touching you everywhere. you almost run into his room ahead of him and slam the door in his face. something is stirring inside of you, and you’re afraid it’s going to be big.
Roman shuts his door. his blinds are still down, but some sunlight breaks through, giving little light. his bed is messy, his blanket balled up. your heart races, you feel in your ears, your fingertips, your core.
you’re arching between the legs. you pull your shirt off while Roman watches. he stares, surprised, like it’s the first time he’s seen you in a bra. then he takes his shirt off. his body is perfect.
“do you feel anything?” he asks.
for some reason, you lie. “no. do you?”
“you don’t wanna have sex?”
“not yet,” you say, and your voice wavers.
without looking away from you, Roman undoes the buttons on his jeans then slowly pulls the zipper down. his jeans fall open just enough to expose his boxer briefs. he watches for your reaction, any indication that you may want to give in. but now you’re wet. you feel a ball of it slip out of you. you grab a fistful of his bed sheet, and your fingers shake.
“how long has it been?” he asks.
“ten minutes?”
it feels like so much longer, the way you're keeping across the room from one another, as though one of you is sick. it’s getting harder to be in here. it’s dark, and the blinds being closed makes it feel smaller.
and Roman’s body heat you can feel it from the bed. and his bed smells just like him; his hair, his cologne, his sweat. sweat from humid summer nights. sweat from sex with you. sweat from touching himself when you're not there. it all swirls up your nose, into your head.
it’s obvious when Roman feels it because it shows beneath his underwear. a full tent.
when he sees you staring with your bottom lip drawn into your mouth, he sticks his hands in his pants and fixes himself. a breath pools out of you from deep within your lungs. your hips pull forward in a riding motion, ever-so-subtly, and you feel him beneath you.
“are you wet?”
“i am.” you feel the coolness in your underwear as you shift.
Roman drops his head and sighs. he’s clung backwards to the wall, as though that’s going to stop him from coming at you.
you lean towards him. “should i take my bra off?”
Roman makes a face like he’s in pain.
you take off your bra, and Roman watches. he flinches in pain because he’s throbbing so hard.
just watching you remove your bra makes him wet.
he thinks about putting his dick between your breasts, and he lets out a shaky breath to try and remain calm.
then you giggle and lie back with your knees up, to make it harder for him but also so he’s out of your line of view. Roman stares directly at your pussy.
you’re in some tiny little thong he could get rid of in a second.
he thinks about dry humping you and throbs again. he thinks about how wet you are, and he lets his hips lean out a little from where he’s standing, thinking about you against him.
“fuck. is this getting hard for you?” he asks.
“no, but i know you are.”
you open your legs to look at him. the tip of his dick is sticking out of the top of his underwear. Roman looks up at you, noticing your position, and quickly looks away.
“why? do you wanna touch me?” you slide your hand down between your legs and massage your clit over your underwear it drives Roman crazy when you play with yourself. the touch is so magnificent, you gasp. your hips buck upwards.
“fuckkkk,” Roman whines.
you didn’t mean to feel that good just yet, but now that you have, your nerves snap and tingle all over like a car engine tinkling.
you’re awake and alert and ready to melt into the bed with his dick deep inside of you.
Roman goes to touch himself but quickly thinks better of it. it wouldn’t take much for him to lose it.
“are you having trouble?” you ask him.
you roll onto your stomach. Roman loooves sticking his dick between your legs when you lie like that. he once came up behind you while you were reading, and he came just by doing that. you didn’t even have to take off any of your clothes.
across the room, Roman throbs harder than he has ever had before. he whines and says, “mami, i don’t know if i can do this.”
“you wanna stop so soon?”
soon? this has been going on forever. Roman can't take it anymore. "let me touch you."
if he touches you, it will only make things harder for you. "that’s basically caving."
"no, it's not. It's teasing, but it's not caving."
you smile.
"please. i just wanna feel you."
"okay."
he rushes over to you and falls to his knees on the floor. his body heat makes you tingly and on edge. and then he puts his hands on your thighs, and the sensation is so much to bare, you suck in a deep breath.
Roman slides his hands up and draws his fingertips down, then he does the same thing on your inner thighs. you’re wet and warm again between your legs but don't dare tell Roman.
he cups the back of your calves and opens your legs. "we’re not having sex," he points out. "this isn't caving."
but then his hard dick presses against your inner thigh, and both of you moan. Roman holds his dick like he's trying not to let out the cum. "fuck."
"did you cum already?"
"no." he wraps his hand around your throat. "i’m not that fucking easy."
but he's close.
"you aren't that easy?" you grab his dick over his underwear and feel how bad he's throbbing. "oh my God."
"fuck, that's gonna make me cum." he shoves your hand away and lets out a shuddered breath. so close. if he's going to cum, he wants to at least be inside you.
you giggle.
Roman shoots a death glare at you. "you want me to touch you? see how it feels?"
Those simple words, a simple question. a simple answer. but you can't tell him what you really want; yes---yes, you want him to touch you. you’ve never wanted his fingers in your mouth, his hands pressing open your legs, his breath in your ear, so badly before. Roman is so sexy during sex, sometimes when you have a flashback of him, it makes you instantly wet.
if he touches between your legs, you'll cave.
you shy away from him, and he notices.
"ah-ha." he grabs your ankles and keeps you there so he's between your legs. "you do feel it. do you feel it like i do?"
"it hurts."
Roman leans into you and groans. "i’m so fucking hard for you." he grazes his fingertips along your jawline. "i want you so badly."
"touch me."
Roman grabs your breast, sinks his fingertips into your flesh until it hurts. his other hand roams the side of your body, sinks down to your ass, and he squeezes. your whole body lights on fire. then he presses his hips against yours, and you feel him there hard and throbbing for you.
"let me have you," he whispers, his breath hot in your ear.
you melt into him and smile against his lips. "is this you caving?"
you kiss a few times. Roman holds you still by your hips and moves himself against you.
slowly, subtly, because he's so sensitive.
"hm? is this you giving up?"
he drags his mouth across your torso.
"we're still not having sex."
touching each other the way you are is a dangerous game, but it's as far as either of you can go without losing the bet.
"but you want to."
he nods.
you reach down between your legs and touch yourself. Roman smacks your hand away.
"you have no idea how badly i wanna throw you on the bed right now and fuck the shit out of you," he says, through gritted teeth.
you giggle. your muscles clench for him in anticipation. you slide your hands up and down his biceps. if he really wanted to, he could pin you down and fuck you all he wants. if you gave him the go-ahead, that's exactly what he would do. the thought makes your knees weaken.
"i can feel you filling me up," you say, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Roman pulls you in, and there's his erection again. "you've got the best pussy." he lifts you, so you wrap your legs around his waist.
when you shift against him, you feel warmth in your underwear again.
"i'm really wet."
he sucks in a sharp, shuddered breath.
"can i feel?"
you nod. you brace yourself for his touch.
it's gentle at first, hesitant. he slides his middle finger from your clit to your entrance then presses with the pads of his three fingers. they come away with a swipe covered in slickness.
Roman throbs. "i can't fucking take this anymore." he drops you on the bed, holds your hips, and dry humps you.
"Roman. Roman."
but he's not listening. for you, his jeans and your underwear together are causing friction in all the right places. your voice gets caught as your hips rise up to meet his.
"Roman, this counts."
"i don't fucking care." he undoes his jeans, pulls your underwear aside, and pushes into you. "holy fucking shit. you've never felt so good."
"you’re getting so deep, oh my God."
Roman lifts one of your legs and pins your knee up beside your head. he’s like an animal, like nothing you've seen before, the way he pushes his whole body into you and grunts in your ear. he needs you.
you whine underneath him, and Roman pulls you farther up on the bed.
"Rooooman."
"that’s my girl."
faster. his breath ragged and hot in your ear. he tells you to put your legs on his shoulders, and the new angle makes you cry, it feels so good.
his grunts get louder. the bed shakes against the wall behind you. he plays with your nipple and kisses you with tongue.
"you’re my baby girl, yeah?" he whispers.
"yes. Roman, please."
he lets out a loud growl then turns you so you're both on your sides.
you force yourself on top of him and rock your hips back and forth. Roman groans loud enough for the house to hear while he holds your hips down. "fuck, you look so good mami," he says, panting.
he fills you up. you clench around him, needing him while he's inside of you. that knot begins to tighten. the more Roman struggles, the stronger it gets. and Roman can barely take it. every time you lift up from him, he fights the urge to come.
"stop," he says. "stop fucking doing that."
but it feels too good to mean it. he begs you to keep going while he tries not to cum hard inside of you.
your breasts bounce right in front of his face. he reaches up and grabs them, and you feel it everywhere all at once. you clutch onto his wrists as you ride him.
"oh my God, oh my God."
Roman struggles. "watch it, baby, i'm gonna cum soon."
you bounce on him faster and massage your clit.
Roman curses over and over, squeezes your breasts tighter until it hurts.
"oh my God." you leak all around him, riding out your high. your thighs clench on either side of his body.
Roman lifts his hips up into you, lets out a long, loud, guttural groan as he pours out inside of you. you link your fingers through his, and both of you catch your breath. you ride him, slowly, until you can't anymore, and then you unstick yourself from him and sit on the bed.
you feel like liquid after it's been sloshed around. "oh my God."
Roman traces circles on his stomach. his dick is now limp. "that was fucking incredible."
"i've never been so horny in my life."
he slides his hand up your inner thigh. "i'll get us some more."
"you caved first."
Roman leans in and kisses you. "i don't fucking care."
"you don't care because you lost."
"whatever." He smiles.
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why they on twt talking about how they hate hollis’s horny lyrics again…. BABY I NEED HIM EVEN HORNIER!!! I NEED HIM NASTY! I NEED HIM FREAKY AND DISGUSTING!!!
Damn im horny uh wait hungry 😅
۶ৎ nsfw | your man loves when you fuck him back
You're on all fours, back arched deep as he fucked you from behind in a steady, punishing rhythm. The grip of his hands on your hips was tight, fingers digging into your skin while he drove into you over and over, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. You’d been taking it beautifully, moaning into the sheets, letting him control the pace. But tonight you wanted more.
Bracing your arms, you started pushing back against him, meeting every thrust with a roll of your hips. The second you started fucking him back, slamming your ass against his pelvis, taking him deeper, matching his rhythm, he let out a raw, broken groan. “Shit… baby,” he growled, voice thick with surprise and lust.
You didn’t stop. Every time he drove forward, you pushed back just as hard, fucking yourself on him like you couldn’t get enough. The wet slap of skin on skin grew louder, filthier. He stilled for a moment, letting you work yourself on him, savoring the way you were eagerly bouncing back. He loved it.
You could feel it in how much harder he got inside you, in the way his fingers flexed on your hips like he was barely holding himself together. “Fuck yes,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “That’s it… fuck me back. Just like that.”
Encouraged, you kept pushing, grinding, and slamming back onto him, giving as good as you got. He quickly matched your energy, thrusting harder, pushing into you deeper, one hand sliding up your back to grip your shoulder for leverage as the two of you moved together in a messy, desperate rhythm.
“God, I love when you fuck me back,” he groaned, leaning over you so his chest pressed against your back, breath hot on your neck. “You feel so fucking good like this.”
The two of you kept moving like that — frantic, sweaty, and perfectly in sync, until your legs started shaking and his thrusts turned erratic. With a deep groan, he buried himself to the hilt one last time, holding you tight against him as he came hard, your own orgasm crashing over you while you kept pushing back, milking every last drop from him.
me holding my boob for emotional support
˖ ݁♬⋆˚𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲˖ ݁♬⋆˚ PT.1
| 𝐞𝐱!𝐱𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐱 𝐞𝐱!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
| 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : when it became obvious xavier was putting his music before you, you two got into a heated argument and spent some time apart. but he comes crawling back to your doorstep when he realizes it's impossible for him to live without his girl.
| 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : i still haven't finished the whole story so for now i'm gonna post what i have and if u guys enjoy this ill finish it, Imk in the comments!! 🥹
It’s been around a month since you and Xavier’s argument. You didn’t necessarily break it off, but you two haven’t spoken to each other since then.
It all started because you were upset with the lack of attention he was giving you. The late responses when you texted his phone, him leaving you all alone at night as he attends house parties—claiming it’s just promotion for his music, and the endless nights he spends at the studio.
It was all getting exhausting, making you feel unwanted. When you finally brought it up to him one night at his apartment that you’ve been feeling this way, it didn’t work out as you planned.
“Y/n….” He started with a sigh, as if this was hurting him more than you. “I’m tryin’ my best here baby.”
“No, you're not Xav, you don’t spend time with me anymore, you leave me by myself all fucking night!”
He brought his hands up, dragging his fingers along his face dramatically. “I can’t help it if I’m busy… I told you I’m tryna to focus on my music.”
His expression showed that he couldn’t be bothered, not even making an effort to understand where you were coming from. If anything, he sounded more and more irritated, so you gave up.
You threw your hands up and let them fall to your side in defeat, letting out a scoff.
“Okay… to me it just sounds like I’m holding you back, so maybe we both need a break — alright?”
That was the last thing you said before grabbing your purse and leaving.
“Mami…” He called out desperately as he watched you walk out.
Fast forward to now, soft knocks on your front door filled the silence in your apartment. You walked through the hallway in confusion, not expecting any guests.
When you opened the door, you were greeted with a familiar face, it was Xavier.
He stood there with an awkward smile on his lips, carrying beautiful flowers in one hand, ones he knew were your favorite—and a stupidly cute teddy bear in the other.
You rolled your eyes, and before he could utter a word, you attempted to slam the door in his face, clear that you weren’t in the mood for this today.
However, your attempt quickly backfired when his hand slammed roughly against the door before you could even react, stopping any movement it had once had.
“I know what you're gonna say… and m’sorry ma, I miss u so fuckin’ much.”
He says with pleading eyes, willing to do anything you asked in this moment just for you to accept his apology, prepared to drop to his knees if you said the words.
You stared into his eyes, contemplating, even though there was nothing to think about—because you knew deep down you missed him too… badly.
“You hurt me… y’know that?” You started, “Just pushing me to the side like that—it didn’t feel good.”
A soft frown grew on his face, his eyebrows curving upside down, as if it pained his heart to hear you say that, which it did—he felt stupid. “I know princess…” He said before walking closer, giving you no space as he towers over you.
“I fucked up… and I wanna make it right between us. I need you by my side.” His head leaned against the doorframe, like a lost puppy begging to come back home.
As much as you didn't want to, you couldn't help but smile at the sight. “I hate you.” which was all he needed to hear before he stepped inside, closing the door behind him as he smiled ear to ear like a toddler.
He didn’t waste a moment to pull you into a kiss, missing the sensation of your soft lips against his and the adorable shape of them he loved dearly.
One thing led to another, and you found yourself straddling Xavier on your bed, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss that felt like a reunion after years apart.
𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 : @sweet2sin
his hair 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤
hi write about hollis getting turned on from scaring u and he also uses guns and knives to scare u and creeps up on u and says weird freaky shit all the time (during sex too omg who said that) and lowkey mocks u when u get scared for real
thats all thank u
Bitch we were talking about this togetherr… HELL YES
Tags: Fear kink, Hollis is 18, Threatening, CNC, threats of baby trapping, mock sympathy, manipulative and demeaning, knife play, eroticized rage, dacryphilia, gun play
DON’T LIKE DO NOT READ.
im sat asffff
#BRINGBACKFINGERSINMOUTH
tags. pwp, hand & finger kink, finger sucking, fingering, overstimulation, use of the term ‘good girl’
wc. 1.1k
technically a filler post but don’t expect anything soon LMAO
Thinking ‘bout Hollis’ hands…
They’re so big. His fingers are long and lithe, his knuckles dusted pink. He loves how much you love them. He especially loves how easily you fall apart when he gets his hands on you.
His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, silently asking you to part them. You obey, of course, you do. Your mouth ajar as you peer up at him with doe eyes. His ring and middle finger press onto your tongue, and immediately, you wrap your lips around his digits. Hollis groans when your tongue slides along the pads of his fingers.
I'M NOT WELL
IM SOAKEDUHUAHHSHDYS
Back Home
Summary : You and Nett were friends long before the fame. While his life explodes into tours and chaos, you stay grounded and private. When he comes back home, old feelings resurface, but you refuse to be a side story in his world. After distance and heartbreak, he realizes success means nothing without you.
A/N: I felt really inspired after reading texts w cheater!nettspend by @romansbbg. Trying to get back to writing is so difficult. Also kinda want some mutuals !
Word count: 5630
TW: MDNI, dry humping, p in v (tell me if i forgot some)
═══════ ═══════
You and Nett have been friends since he was still in school. You were one of the few people he stayed close to back home in Virginia. When his career blew up almost overnight and he became one of the main figures in the underground scene, everything around him changed fast.
But you didn’t.
You were never part of that world. You’re quiet, reserved, the type to keep everything private. No social media presence. No interest in clout. No desire to be seen.
When the fame really started to take off, he left home. He began doing shows all across America, even in Europe.
You didn’t really follow his life that closely. You don’t have social media, and you’ve never cared much about that kind of thing. Most of what you knew came from your mom mentioning something she saw online, from friends sending screenshots, or from coworkers talking about him while you were folding clothes at the thrift store you and Nett used to go to after school.
It always felt strange hearing his name like that. To everyone else, he was Nettspend. To you, he was still Gunner.
You and him didn’t talk much after he left, but you understood. He was finally living his dream. He was becoming everything people back then said he never could.
Now you’re eighteen when you receive a message from a number you don’t recognize.
Unknown Number: Hey y/n, it’s Gunner. How are you? It’s been a long time since we last saw each other. I’m at my mom’s for the weekend. I was wondering if you’d like to hang out?
Your heart stops. The message was sor formal. You stare at the screen for a full minute before typing anything back.
For a second, you think about all the reasons you shouldn’t go. He’s different now. His life is different. You’re different.
But your thumbs move before your doubts can catch up.
Yeah. I’d like that.
He replies almost instantly.
Bet. I can pick u up. I really wanna get those milkshakes like we used to.
You can’t help the small smile that pulls at your lips. The milkshakes at the cheap diner off Route 5 with the red booths and sticky menus. The place you used to sit for hours after school, splitting fries because neither of you ever had enough money for two full meals.
You text back your address before you can overthink it.
You don’t really think about it again until Saturday, when he texts you that he’s on his way to pick you up at 6 p.m.
When he arrives, you’re surprised to see a brand-new car. All black. Blacked-out windows. The engine low and expensive-sounding as it idles in front of your house.
You walk up to the passenger side and slide in. The interior smells like leather and something faintly sweet, probably his cologne.
At first, it’s quiet.
He pulls away from the curb, one hand on the wheel, chains glinting when streetlights pass over him.
Finally, he clears his throat.
“So… what you been up to?”
The question feels simple, but it hits harder than it should.
What have you been up to?
Working at the thrift store. Helping your mom with bills.
“Nothing crazy,” you say softly. “Still working at the thrift store.”
“That’s cool,” he says. “You always liked that place.”
You glance at him.
He’s changed. You see it by the way he carries himself. His confidence. His calmness.
“You?” you ask quietly, even though you already know.
He lets out a short laugh. “You know. Just… working. I wanted to see my mom this weekend. I’m trying to come visit more often.”
You nod, looking out the window so he doesn’t see the way that softens you.
He’s still someone’s son.
Still the boy who used to complain about curfew and ask you to lie for him when he stayed out too late.
“That’s good,” you say quietly. “She must miss you.”
He shrugs, but it’s not careless. “Yeah. She does.”
There’s something unspoken there. Guilt maybe, or distance. The kind of space that grows when your life starts moving faster than everyone else’s.
He taps his fingers against the steering wheel, then glances at you again.
“You still don’t got social media?”
You shake your head. “No.”
He smiles a little. “That’s kinda fire, actually.”
You frown slightly. “Why?”
“’Cause you don’t see none of it,” he says. “The comments. The weird stuff. The fake love.”
The car slows at a red light. The glow from outside cuts across his face.
He looks tired.
“I miss when it was simple,” he admits quietly.
“You could’ve texted,” you say softly. “Before now.”
He exhales through his nose. “I know.I didn’t know if you’d still pick up.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” you tell him quietly.
You arrive at the diner a few minutes later. The neon sign is still flickering like it always did. Some things really don’t change.
He insists on going in to order, even though you both know he could’ve just sent someone.
You wait by the counter while a couple of teenagers whisper and stare, clearly recognizing him. He keeps his hood up, but it doesn’t matter. He’s not invisible anymore.
You take the milkshakes to go.
Instead of driving back toward your house, he turns into an empty parking lot nearby.
He parks and cuts the engine.
The sudden quiet feels heavier than before.
The city glow reflects off the windshield. You sit there with the cold cup in your hands, condensation dripping onto your fingers.
He leans back in his seat, staring straight ahead for a second.
“Lowkey missed this,” he says.
“Drinking milkshakes in a random parking lot?” you tease softly.
He glances at you, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah. With you.”
“Life just did its thing,” you say softly. “We grew up. Everyone has their own path.”
You both fall into an easier rhythm after that.
Talking about old teachers. Old classmates. People who swore they’d leave town and never did. He tells you small stories from tour. Airports at 3 a.m. Studio sessions that lasted until sunrise.
At some point, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a joint, and lights it.
He hesitates for half a second before passing it to you.
“You still smoke?” he asks.
“Sometimes,” you shrug.
He lights it, takes a slow drag, then passes it to you.The air inside the car fills with a familiar haze.
He leans his head back against the seat.
“I got this girl back in Cali,” he says casually. “Her name’s Mazzy.”
You nod like he just told you the weather.
“That’s cool,” you reply, passing the joint back to him.
“She’s chill,” he continues. “Been around for a minute.”
“Good for you,” you say simply.
“And you?” he asks after a moment. “You talking to anybody?”
You shake your head. “Not really.”
“Why not?”
You shrug again. “Just haven’t felt like it.”
He studies you for a second, like he’s trying to figure that out.
The joint burns lower between his fingers.
“You’re still the same,” he says.
You glance at him. “That a bad thing?”
He shakes his head slowly.
“Nah,” he says. “It’s just… rare.”
The blunt burns down slowly. More are smoked. Random things get said. Some serious, some stupid. The kind of conversations that only happen when it’s late and neither of you is trying too hard.
By the time he drops you off, it’s almost 11 p.m. He doesn’t make it weird. No long stare. No dramatic goodbye.
He leaves the next night. You don’t see him again before he goes back to California.
You expect things to go back to normal after that.
And they do.
You go back to work. Back to your routine. Back to folding clothes and organizing racks.
But your phone starts lighting up more often.
Gunner:You alive? This town still boring? Shooting a vid today, lowkey tired.
You don’t always reply right away. Sometimes hours later. Sometimes the next morning. He doesn’t complain.
The conversations aren’t deep. Mostly random memes or updates.
You’ll be folding clothes at the thrift store and your phone will buzz.
You would hate this beat.
Followed by a laughing emoji.
You roll your eyes but smile anyway.
It becomes normal.
He’s in Cali. Or New York. Or somewhere in Europe. You’re still in Virginia. Two completely different lives moving at different speeds. But somehow, there’s still a thin thread between you.
One night, around 2 a.m., your phone lights up again.
You’re half asleep when you reach for it, the screen too bright in the dark.
Gunner: You up?
You stare at it for a second before replying.
Yeah. What’s up?
Gunner: Lowkey just got into it with Mazzy.
You shift onto your back.
About?
Gunner: Nothing crazy. Just dumb stuff. She think I don’t be present. I do be busy though.
You can almost hear his tone through the screen.
You are busy, you type back. You’re always somewhere.
He replies quickly.
Gunner: That’s what I said. But she don’t get it.
You don’t pick sides. You don’t ask invasive questions. You don’t soften your tone either.
Long distance and fame probably don’t mix well, you answer simply.
Gunner: You always neutral as hell.
You smile faintly.
I’m not in it.
A few seconds pass before another message comes in.
Gunner: I just needed to vent. Everyone else gon turn it into something.
You know what he means. His circle, the people around him now, managers, friends who benefit from proximity. People who would twist it into drama or content.
It’s fine, you reply. You can vent.
The typing bubble comes back.
Gunner: Miss when it was simple. Miss smoking in my old car.
You sit up slightly, resting your back against the wall.
You can smoke anywhere, you text.
Gunner: Not like that. I wanna smoke with you again.
Your thumb hovers over the screen.
You were just here, you type.
Gunner: Yeah. And I’m already back in chaos.
Then come back when you’re free, you reply.
Three dots.
Gunner: Maybe next month. You better not disappear on me.
You almost smile at that.
I told you, you reply. I’m not going anywhere.
A month later, he’s standing at your front door.
When you open the door, he’s there in a hoodie and sweats, duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
He’s been to your house before, so it doesn’t feel unfamiliar. Your mom even says a quick hello like it’s normal.
You both head upstairs to your room.
You sit on the floor like you used to.
He rolls up while you scroll through your phone, then passes it to you. You both laugh about something stupid he saw online. The smoke fills the room slowly.
“I made a lot of money this month,” he says casually, leaning back against your bed.
You glance at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Like… a lot.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Define a lot.”
He smirks. “More than this whole house probably cost.”
You let out a small laugh. “Okay.”
“I’m serious.”
“Gunner,” you say, amused, “you don’t have to impress me.”
That makes him sit up a little.
“I’m not trying to impress you.”
“You kinda are.”
He stares at you for a second, then shakes his head and reaches for his duffel bag.
“Watch.”
Before you can even process it, he unzips it and pulls out thick stacks of cash rubber-banded.
Your smile fades slightly.
“Why do you just have that on you?”
He shrugs like it’s nothing.
“’Cause I can. And I was gonna give some away after we hang out. Help some people out.”
He starts stacking the money on your floor like it’s a joke.
“You’re ridiculous,” you say, but you’re smiling.
He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, grin lazy from the weed.
“You still don’t look impressed.”
“I’m not.”
He scoots a little closer.
“Lemme see something,” he says.
Before you can ask what he means, he grabs a stack and flicks a few bills over your shoulder.
They land in your hair, on your lap, sliding down your hoodie.
You blink at him. “Gunner.”
“Don’t move,” he says, already pulling his phone out.
He lightly fans more bills over you, laughing under his breath.
You roll your eyes but stay there.
He snaps a picture.
“Delete that,” you say automatically.
“It’s not for the gram,” he replies. “Relax.”
He takes another one, closer this time. You push his shoulder lightly.
“You’re so corny.”
He grins. “You look good.”
You brush the money off your sleeve. “It’s literally paper.”
“I’m not talking about the money.”
The words hang there. He lowers his phone, studying you in that slow, thoughtful way he does when he’s high.
“You always look the same at me,” he says quietly. “Like I’m still just… me.”
“You are just you.”
He shakes his head slightly. “Not to everybody.”
You shrug. “That’s their problem.”
He smirks at that, then picks up a stack and lightly taps it against your knee.
“You really don’t care about any of this?” he asks.
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
You meet his eyes. “Should I?”
He holds your gaze for a second longer than before.
“No,” he says quietly. “I just… ain’t used to that.”
The room feels smaller now.
He’s still close. Close enough that if you lean forward even a little, your knees would touch.
“You don’t act different,” he adds. “Even after everything.”
“You wanted me to?” you ask.
He shakes his head slowly.
“Nah.”
His eyes drop to your mouth for a second. Then back to your eyes.
He studies your face like he’s trying to decide something. Then, without saying anything else, he leans in. His hand comes up slowly, fingers brushing your jaw like he’s making sure you’re real.
When his lips touch yours, it’s soft at first, like he’s testing the space between friendship and something that could ruin it.
The kiss lingers.
His thumb presses slightly against your cheek, grounding you, and you can feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of smoke clinging to his hoodie, the slow exhale through his nose as he settles into it.
You kiss him back, and the moment stretches. He shifts closer without thinking, knee brushing yours, and the contact sends a small jolt through you that feels far more intense than the kiss itself.
When he deepens it, his hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck,
When you finally pull back, it isn’t abrupt. Your lips barely separating, your breath still tangled with his. Your chest rises slowly as you pull in a breath, and that’s when it hits you.
For a second, neither of you speaks. The room feels thick, smoke lingering in the air, cash scattered across your carpet, the faint sound of a car passing outside your house like the world is still moving even though yours just paused.
Then it hits you.
“Mazzy.”
The word comes out sharper than you expect.
He blinks. “What about her?”
You lean back now, creating space between you.
“You have a girlfriend,” you say, and there’s irritation in your voice now.
“It’s not like that,” he replies quickly.
You let out a dry laugh. “It’s exactly like that.”
He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.
“We’ve been arguing. It’s complicated.”
“It’s not complicated,” you cut in. “You’re with her.”
Your chest feels tight because you refuse to be that girl. The side moment. The hometown option when things get messy somewhere else.
“I’m not some in-between,” you say firmly. “I’m not the person you come to when Cali gets to much.”
He looks at you like that stung.
“I didn’t plan that,” he says. “It just…happened.”
You gesture vaguely between you. “Exactly.”
Silence falls again, but this time it's tense.
“You’re acting like I used you,” he mutters.
“I’m acting like I respect myself,” you reply.
That lands heavier than anything else. He exhales slowly, leaning back against your bed, jaw tight.
“It was just a kiss.”
You shake your head.
“It wasn’t just a kiss,” you say quietly.“You should leave.”
He stares at you like he’s waiting for you to take it back.
“You’re serious?” he asks quietly.
“Yes.”
“You’re really gonna kick me out over this?” he says, a hint of disbelief creeping in.
“I’m not kicking you out,” you reply evenly. “I’m choosing not to be part of whatever this is.”
He scoffs softly, running a hand over his jaw. “You’re making it bigger than it is.”
The cash is still scattered across your carpet. It suddenly feels ugly. Performative. Like proof of how far apart your lives really are.
“I came here to see you,” he says, softer now.
“And you did,” you answer. “And we were fine. Until you forgot you have a girlfriend.”
He clenches his jaw. “It wasn’t about that.”
“Then what was it about?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
Instead, he stands up slowly, grabbing his duffel bag off the floor. He doesn’t look at you while he shoves the stacks of money back inside. He moves quicker now, his jaw tight and shoulders stiff.
A few bills stay on your carpet. He doesn’t bother picking them up.
He zips the bag hard. The sound is sharp in the small room.
“So that’s it?” he asks without looking at you.
“That’s it.”
He shakes his head once, mutters something under his breath, then walks toward your door.
“You know I’d never disrespect you like that,” he says quietly.
He opens the door.
You both walk down the hallway.
Your mom glances up from the couch when you reach the bottom.
“Leaving already?” she asks lightly.
“Yeah, ma’am,” he says, polite as ever. “Got an early thing tomorrow.”
She nods, smiling. “Drive safe.”
You walk him to the front door.
The porch light casts a soft glow over him. For a second, neither of you moves.
“Goodnight, y/n.” he said before leaving.
That was the last thing he said to you.
A month passed before you heard from him again. You were out with your friends when your phone buzzed.
Gunner: I miss you.
You didn’t respond. You were still mad at him. But you couldn’t deny that he was constantly on your mind. You even considered creating an Instagram account just to see if he had finally broken up with his girlfriend, who you’d learned thanks to your friend was a model.
Two weeks later, another message came in.
Gunner: I wish you were here.
Your heart sank, because you wished you were with him too. But you couldn’t be some rapper’s side girl. Your life already felt complicated enough, you weren’t about to make it messier.
After that, you didn’t hear from him for almost two months.
Two months of nothing.
You told yourself it was better that way.
You focused on work. On saving money.
You stopped checking your phone as much. Stopped wondering where he was. Stopped asking your friend if she’d seen anything about him and that model girl.
Then one night, close to midnight, your phone lights up again.
Gunner: You still mad at me?
You stare at it.
You don’t answer.
Gunner: Aight. I deserve that. But don’t act like you don’t think about me.
Your jaw tightens.
You type back before you can stop yourself.
You’re bold.
He responds almost instantly.
Gunner: I’m honest. Difference.
You roll your eyes, but your heart betrays you, beating a little faster.
What do you want, Gunner?
The dots appear then disappear.
Gunner: You.
Your stomach flips, and you hate that it does.
Gunner: I’m down bad, actually. Like embarrassing. My friends be talking and I’m zoning out thinking about you in that hoodie. That’s sick.
You stare at the screen.
He keeps going.
Gunner: You know how crazy it is? I got girls throwing themselves at me every show. And I’m ignoring all of it. Because I want you
You read that line three times.
Your heart is pounding in a way you don’t like.
You don’t get to say that, you type.
Gunner: Why not? It’s the truth. You think I’d embarrass myself like this for no reason?
You swallow.
You have a whole girlfriend.
Gunner: You think I don’t know that? You think I ain’t been thinking about that every night? You really gon act like this don’t mean nothing?
It means something, you type slowly. That’s why I’m not playing with it.
He doesn’t respond right away.
When he does, it’s shorter.
Gunner: You really different.
You don’t answer.
Another message comes through.
Gunner: I’d leave everything for you.
You close your eyes, already exhausted by all of it. Instead of replying, you put your phone on Do Not Disturb and go to sleep.
You never open his message again.
But a few weeks later, you start to wonder if you should have.
You’re at work, folding a stack of sweaters behind the counter, when one of your coworkers walks up to you.
“Hey,” she says quietly, “there was this guy earlier asking for you.”
Your stomach tightens.
“What guy?”
“He had blond and black hair”
Your hands freeze mid-fold.
“You told him I wasn’t here, right?” you ask quickly.
“Yeah, of course,” she says. “He looked mad weird. I wasn’t about to let some random stalker get to you.”
Your heart starts pounding. You step into the back room, hands slightly shaking as you pull your phone out of your pocket. The screen lights up. His last message still sits there unopened.
Gunner: I want you.
Your chest tightens.
You type before you can overthink it.
Why are you here?
The typing bubble appears almost immediately.
Gunner: So you ARE there.
Your jaw tightens.
Why are you here? you repeat.
A few seconds pass.
Gunner: You stopped answering. You think I’m just gonna sit in L.A. and pretend that’s cool?
You press your back against the wall of the storage room.
You can’t just show up at my job.
His reply comes fast.
Gunner: Why not? You told me to figure my life out. I’m trying.
Your pulse won’t slow down.
By ambushing me at work?
Gunner: I been outside for ten minutes. I ain’t even go in like that. I just wanted to see you.
You swallow.
That’s not how this works.
Gunner: Then tell me how it works. ’Cause ignoring me wasn’t working.
Your phone buzzes again before you can answer.
Gunner: I’m not leaving without talking to you. I’ll catch you at your house.
Your shift doesn’t end for another two hours. They feel longer than usual.
When you finally get home, your mom is in the kitchen cooking, like it’s any normal evening.
She glances at you casually. “Gunner’s upstairs. I think he was crying.”
Your heart drops. You don’t even take your shoes off properly. You head upstairs quickly, pushing your bedroom door open.
He’s sitting on your bed. Head in his hands.
You’ve never seen him like that before.
You step inside and close the door behind you.
He doesn’t look up at first.
You move toward him instinctively, kneeling in front of him. You hate seeing him like this. You hate how it makes your chest ache.
Even though you tried not to care. Even though you told yourself to stay out of it. Your hands move before your mind does. You gently touch his cheek, trying to make him look at you.
“Look at me,” you say softly.
Slowly, he lifts his head. His eyes are red and puffy.
“Everything is going wrong,” he says hoarsely. “I just… I just want to come home.”
“What happened?” you ask quietly.
He exhales shakily and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.
“I broke up with Mazzy,” he says.
Your stomach drops slightly, but you don’t react the way he might expect.
“Okay,” you say carefully.
He looks up at you quickly. “It’s not why I’m here.”
You search his face. “Then why are you here?”
He runs both hands through his hair, frustrated, vulnerable in a way you have never seen before.
“Because I woke up one day and realized I don’t even like that life if you’re not in it,” he admits. “All of it. I thought that’s what I wanted. I thought once I had it, I’d feel solid.”
His voice cracks slightly.
“I don’t.”
You swallow.
He looks at you like he is scared you are about to disappear again.
“I’m not here because I don’t have her anymore,” he continues. “I’m here because I figured out that even when I had everything, I still felt like something was missing. And it was you.”
The room feels small again.
“You told me to figure my life out,” he says. “So I did. I ended what didn’t feel real.”
You let him continue.
“I don’t want to live that life if I don’t get to share it with you. What’s the point of all of it if I can’t come back here and feel like myself?”
“You can’t just show up and expect me to fix that,” you whisper.
“I’m not asking you to fix it,” he says quickly. “I’m asking you to choose me.”
The honesty in that makes your breath hitch.
“I need you to need me back. Just tell me I’m not the only one feeling this,” he whispers.
For months, you told yourself you were protecting your peace. Protecting your pride. Protecting yourself from becoming a side story in someone else’s life.
But this does not feel like that anymore.
Your hand is still resting against his cheek. You can feel the warmth of his skin under your palm, the faint tremble in his jaw as he waits for you to say something.
You do not speak. Instead, you move. You lean forward and press your lips to his.
His breath hitches when you finally lean in, pressing your lips against his with a quiet urgency neither of you bothers to hide. It's not soft this time. It's messy and familiar, like muscle memory taking over. His hands slide up your arms, fingers tightening around your shoulders as he pulls you closer, his knee bumping against yours, the bed creaking under his weight. His fingers tangle in your hair, tugging lightly, and you gasp against his mouth, your hands fisting in his hoodie like you’re afraid he’ll vanish if you let go.
The kiss deepens with a hunger that feels like catching fire after years of smoldering.
Somehow, you’re straddling his lap now, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. His mouth leaves yours to trail down your throat, nipping at the sensitive spot behind your ear, and you gasp, fingers twisting in the chain around his neck. "Fuck," he murmurs against your skin, his voice wrecked. "Missed you like this."
His hips roll up against yours instinctively, the friction drawing a ragged groan from his throat. You can feel him hardening beneath his jeans, pressing insistently against your thigh. One of his hands slides from your hip to the waistband of your pants, fingers hooking under the fabric like a question.
"Off," he growls against your collarbone, and you don't hesitate, your hands tug at his hoodie, yanking it over his head. His bare chest presses against yours, skin damp with the heat between you.
His belt buckle clatters to the floor before he kicks his jeans off, the mattress dipping under his shifting weight. You follow suit, peeling your clothes away until there's nothing left but skin and the heavy press of his body against yours. He's everywhere, his mouth on your neck, his hands sliding up your thighs, the hot length of him pressing against your stomach.
"Fuck, look at you," he mutters, dragging his teeth over your shoulder as his hips jerk forward again. The friction is maddening, his cock grinding against you.
You bite back a whimper, arching into him, but he pulls back just enough to watch your face twist in frustration. "Say it," he taunts, fingers tracing your ribs, skimming just below where you need them most. "Tell me you wanted this."
You groan, bucking against him, but he holds you down with ease, his grip bruising. "Gunner-"
"Nah, nah." He tsks, lips brushing your ear. "You ghosted me for months, acted like you didn’t miss me." His fingers skim lower, just shy of where you’re throbbing, his voice a rough whisper. "But look at you now shaking."
You whimper, hips jerking uselessly against his restraining grip. "Bet you thought about it," he murmurs, dragging his thumb in slow circles on your clit. "Late nights, fingers buried in your sheets was it me you pictured?"
"Shut up," you gasp, but your body betrays you, arching toward his teasing touch. He laughs , breath hot against your neck as his fingers finally dip lower, sliding through your slick.
His breath catches when you shove him backward onto the mattress, palms flat against his chest. The surprise flashes across his face for half a second before dissolving into something darker, hotter.
Leaning forward, you drag your nails lightly down his torso, relishing the way his muscles jump under your touch. His cock twitches against your stomach, already slick with precome, and you smirk. "You talk too much," you murmur, shifting back just enough to line him up. His hips jerk instinctively, but you hold him down with a hand flat on his abdomen. "Uh-uh. My turn."
The first slow slide of him inside you wrings a ragged moan from his throat. "Jesus fuck, look at you," he grits out, gaze locked on where your bodies join.
"Shh shut up," you hiss, slapping a hand over his mouth as his hips stutter upward, his groan vibrating against your palm. Your mom is just down the hall, the thin walls doing you zero favors. Gunner's eyes widen, pupils blown black with want, but he doesn't stop moving, his cock dragging deeper inside you with a filthy, wet sound. "You moan like a goddamn virgin," you whisper, but your voice cracks when he bites down on your fingers, his tongue swiping over your skin.
He bucks up again, harder this time, and you nearly choke on your own breath, your free hand flying to grip the headboard for balance. The wood creaks ominously, but you couldn’t care less about anything but the way his cock drags against your walls with every ragged thrust, the way his teeth dig into the meat of your palm as he stifles another groan. His hips snap upward again, and suddenly the coil in your stomach pulls taut, your thighs trembling around him.
And now it’s too much. His thumb finds your clit again, rough and impatient, and you bite down on your own knucles to keep from screaming as you come, your vision whiting out for a dizzy second.
It’s not just the orgasm that wrecks you, it’s the realization that this is real, that after months of lying awake imagining Gunner’s hands on you, his mouth, his hips grinding into yours, you finally have him. The weight of that want crashes over you like a wave, leaving you gasping against his shoulder as your body clenches around him. He curses, fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you through it.
Gunner’s fingers clamp around your wrist, prying your hand from his mouth with a ragged exhale. "Off," he grits out again, voice shredded. "Gotta-fuck,gotta get off you."
You barely have time to blink before his hands are on your hips, lifting you bodily off him with a groan. The sudden loss of contact draws a whimper from your throat, but he’s already shoving you onto your back.His hand wraps around himself, strokes once-twice, then he’s cursing, hips jerking as hot stripes paint your abdomen. His breath comes in punched-out gasps, forehead dropping to your shoulder as his body shudders through the aftershocks.
His breath is still ragged against your collarbone when the reality of what just happened crashes over you both. Gunner’s weight presses you into the mattress, his heartbeat thundering against your ribs. Then he exhales, slow and shaky, and rolls onto his back beside you.
Gunner’s chest rises and falls unevenly beside you, one arm flung over his eyes. You swallow and turn your head to study the sharp line of his jaw, the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he clears his throat.
His breath is still uneven beside you, the room quiet except for the sound of both of you trying to come back down to earth.
You turn slightly onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. He moves his arm from over his eyes and looks at you, vulnerable in a way he never is anywhere else.
Neither of you speaks. He looks almost scared to break the silence.
You trace your fingers lightly over his chest, feeling his heartbeat finally slowing under your palm. You let your hand rest there, steady over his heart.
You lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips.
“Don’t make me regret choosing you,” you whisper.
And in the quiet that follows, with his fingers tightening around yours, it feels like the beginning of something neither of you is ready to lose.
{Masterlist}
how roman be moving in them baby daddy fics
im in fucking love with nettspend
i wanna lick his whole entire body
𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 - 𝟤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘴 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
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