Is it weird i think Bakugo licks you a lot…hear me out:
I don’t mean just randomly walks up to you and lick your face, but on occasion when you’re drinking and some liquids fall down your chin, he notices; almost like he second guessing himself but he’s not he’s actually waiting until your guard is down and take his oddly long pierced tongue and wipes you clean.
He takes such a long time moving his mouth up your cleavage where the liquid stopped to then your neck and the corner of your lips, once he plants a kiss there be then have the nerve to look back at you with a smirk and sit back down.
“Why….—”
“Not my fault you’re a sloppy drinker.”
“Yeah and you love that don’t you pervert.”
Bakugo sucks his teeth with no counter. He’d be lying if he denied the allegations.
Did I also mention he loves licking your back and tummy?
Specifically during sex, it basically became a warning signal he’s completely pussy drunk off you. Which never lasts long even when he tries to pull out and eat you out instead so you can cum first.
Looking down between your thighs to see his fluffy blonde hair swivel and circle his head in between your lower lips, he pops off your clit to lick up your slit to your belly after finally helping your ride out your orgasm. Bakugo’s tongue slips and slides all around your belly while he rubs your clit to over stimulation. Big belly or small it’s not an issue for him to slobber over.
“Taste S’good…”
Bakugo—-as sweaty and flustered as he is right now has no shame when he licks your back as you are said tummy, your ass bouncing against him drives this man INSANE, sometimes he takes hold and slows your down to watch your grip and cream around his shaft, “Fuck it—“
That’s the last thing you hear before he groans and presses you back against him. Seeing your upper body give out he uses the opportunity to bend down and lick your spine up to your neck, the taste of your sweat and his made his dick twitch inside you. A new level of adrenaline pulsed through his body leaving a choked moaned out of him. You hear it, and clench harder from how turned on you got from it.
Breathing out a choked chuckle he continues licking your shoulder to your neck and kissing your gapped open mouth. His hand around your throat very firmly, with his middle finger right at the center just gently rubbing as if it was a threat he could press harder….but he wants to be gentle today.
He knows leaving half your body in his saliva was gross. He knows, but once you’ve already came 3 times you don’t think about it. Don’t worry he’ll give you a bath though I promise….
you’re an og girl. the men in the villa just don’t pique your interest and are frankly just boring. what happens when bombshell with the cute english accent takes a liking to you?
previous, next
the next few days in the villa felt like a romance book written by kennedy ryan herself. you’d grown to like djed so much it was almost sickening and completely overwhelming.
everyone in the villa noticed. the way your eyes followed him while he worked out, the way his voice seemed to soften every time he said your name. it was bliss all the way until you realized what show you were on.
whenever the other girls pulled him for chats, you tried your absolute best to pretend like you were cool, calm, and collected. but you were jealous. definitely.
even though he clearly didn't give anyone the same energy he gave you, you still felt some type of way seeing them in his space. there was just something so good between the two of you that you didn't even want to share a second of his attention.
on the flip side, alex had started exploring options with some of the other women in the villa, which honestly made you feel relieved. he was a genuinely sweet guy, and he deserved to find someone who could reciprocate his feelings especially with the way you were feeling djed.
he still made you breakfast in the morning, bringing over a plate of fruit and your coffee with that gentle smile. and you still slept in the same bed every night. sharing latenight chats, checking in on each other. but the romantic pressure was completely gone. you were friends more than anything.
and every morning when you woke up, your eyes didn't stay on the boy sleeping next to you. they immediately drifted across the room, looking for djed.
you needed to dial it back. and quickly.
as much as you liked djed—and god knew you were falling fast—you couldn’t go closing yourself off to him this early in the game. this was love island and even though y'all had spent the last couple of days practically glued at the hip, talking for hours, and sneaking stolen naps together on the daybeds in the shade (only to be quickly woken up by production lol), you had to keep your head on straight.
you weren't about to limit yourself, and as fine as he was, you couldn't expect him to just lock in on you completely without testing the waters either. you were gonna keep your options wide open. or at least fake it till you made it.
you and mari were sitting on the sunbeds near the ping pong table while djed and dave played a match. your head was resting comfortably in her lap, sunglasses shielding both your faces from the sun while her fingers massaged your scalp.
two feet from you, djed slammed the paddle down, his laughter booming as he took another point off dave. his shirt was off, skin glowing in the light, and even with your sunglasses on, you could feel yourself getting distracted.
“what do you miss most about home?” mari asked softly, leaning back against the cushions. “for me, it’s the music. oh my god, i miss the music so much. i just wanna hear a full song.”
“i miss my books,” you pouted, looking up at the clear sky and sighing. “oh, and cheeseburgers.”
mari burst out laughing, nudging your head. “girl, you are so real for that. a fat, juicy burger with fries sounds heavenly right now.”
“deadass,” you laughed, shifting a little. “just a big greasy burger, a thick romance novel, and zero cameras in my face. i’d sell my soul for that right about now.”
as you were laughing, talking about your routines back home, the men finally abandoned their ping pong game and came over to join the two of you.
you sat up, swinging your legs off the couch, and djed took the spot right beside you. he immediately wrapped his heavy, warm arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side. you felt the heat radiating off him as he leaned down, his lips practically brushing your ear.
“you always smell so good,” he whispered into your neck sending shivers straight down your spine.
before you could even open your mouth to give him a flirty comeback, mari rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses and groaned loudly.
“oh, get a room,” mari snickered, right as dave sat down on her other side and casually wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest.
“look at you talking,” you laughed, pointing at her and dave while you relaxed back against djed’s chest, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your side.
she shoots her middle finger your way, making you and djed burst into laughter. he pulls you just a little bit tighter against his chest, his laugh deep and vibrating right against your shoulder.
for a second, everything felt so normal, so sweet—just the four of you joking around in the sun.
“i got a text!”
a voice shouted from across the villa, everyone froze. mari immediately dropped her hand from dave's, and djed’s grip on your waist tightened, his eyes darting toward the pool where the phone was ringing out.
you sigh, letting your head drop back onto his shoulder for a quick second. “ugh, we were doing so good. it’s been so peaceful in here.”
“c’mon baby,” djed said, his deep voice smooth as he pulled you up from your seat by both hands, effortlessly tugging you onto your feet.
y'all walked over to the fire pit where everyone was crowding around sam, who was holding the phone up with a huge grin on his face. he cleared his throat and loudly read the screen:
“islanders! pucker up. tonight you will take part in a kissing game presented by maybelline. #kissandmakeup #hotandbothered”
the whole courtyard erupted into loud cheers, shouting, and nervous laughter. before you could even react, djed leaned down, his long fingers reaching out to playfully tickle your side, sending a shiver straight up your spine.
“oh, i like the sound of that,” he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.
you bit your bottom lip, trying—and completely failing—to hide the grin spreading across your face. the truth was, you and djed hadn’t even kissed yet. the tension between you had been building up like crazy for days, but you’d been holding back out of respect for alex while things were still fresh. but with this challenge? all bets were off. you wanted to show out.
the camera cut to your confessional. you leaned back on the bright cushions, crossing your legs with a knowing look. the producer’s voice came from behind the camera asking if you considered yourself a good kisser.
“am i a good kisser?” you repeated, a slow, confident smirk spreading across your face. “well... i’ve never gotten any complaints.”
the producer chuckled before asking what, in your opinion, makes a bad kisser.
“for me?” you sat up, throwing your hands in the air. “it’s too much tongue. oh trying to swallow my entire lips, i had a boyfriend who did that once, i was irritated every single time. and bad breath. oh god, please let nobody have bad breath today, i am begging you!”
you covered your face with both hands, shaking your head, leaving the whole production team behind the camera laughing.
you and the girls headed up to the makeup room to get dressed while the boys got ready downstairs in the bedroom. the energy in the room was crazy. everyone buzzing excitedly at the thought of kissing the boys and finally having some actual fun after a week of pure dryness.
for the challenge, you pulled out a black lacy top and a pair of micro leather shorts that hugged every single curve and made your ass look amazinggg. your skin was glowing, from the oil you’d put on. and you made sure to spray extra of that vanilla perfume you knew djed liked.
you and andreina were right in front of the wall mirror strutting and posing while mari pulled out the villa phone to record it all for the unseen bits.
“yes, body! look at them!” mari yelled behind the camera, zooming in on you.
you caught your own reflection, threw your head back laughing, and bent all the way over to do a little shake for the camera, making the whole room erupt into screams.
“djed is about to lose his mind tonight,” andreina wheezed, holding her stomach.
you laughed, pulling your shorts down just a millimeter before checking yourself out one last time.
the boys went up first.
they stood lined up on heart-shaped platforms, completely blind to what was coming, wearing eye masks and noise-canceling headphones. they couldn’t see a thing, couldn’t hear a thing, and the kisses were 100% anonymous. at the end of every round, each guy had to try to guess which girl had just laid her lips on him and give a score out of ten.
dave was up first, then sam, then jayden, trey, alex, and finally djed at the very end of the line.
standing there blindfolded, the men were looking anxious as hell. arms swinging, hands rubbing together, nervous laughs escaping every few seconds. the girls were sitting on the bench, absolutely losing it, laughing behind their hands.
selah was the first girl up.
the camera cut to her confessional, her sitting up tall with a wicked grin. “i really didn’t come to play. i’m here to leave with a man!”
and she wasn't playing. selah stepped up to the platforms and went down the line, kissing each boy like her life depended on it. deep, lingering, heavy kisses that had the boys completely melting on the spot. arms were wrapping around her waist, heads were tilting—the boys were into it lips chasing hers the second they broke apart.
she’d skipped jayden, wanting to save him for last and when she finally got to him, she didn't rush it. she took her sweet time, sliding her hands up his neck and leaving a little something extra. a soft bite to his lower lip that had his knees looking slightly weak right then and there.
the girls applauded and cheered for selah while the guys shouted out their ratings. three eights, a nine, a six from someone who was just being a fuckin hater, and lastly, a ten from jayden.
mari was next. she held her own, getting an eight from sam, two sixes from jayden and trey, a ten from alex, a seven from djed, and a nine from dave, who was grinning ear to ear.
then came nikki. she was by far the worst kisser of the night.
the boys didn't hold back at all. comments like “too much tongue!” and “who the fuck was that?” you could clearly see on nikki’s face that she felt some type of way about the feedback. her jaw was tight as she walked back over, completely salty.
andreina went after her, followed by imani. and finally... it was your turn. the girls screamed, hyping you up as you adjusted your top, stepped onto the wooden deck, and took a deep breath.
dave was up first. you stepped up and kissed him sweetly, not wanting to do anything crazy—y'all were friends, and you definitely didn't see him romantically, but it was smooth.
then came sam. as soon as you stepped into his space, he opened his mouth way too wide, and you immediately got the absolute worst ick. you drew back quickly, your face wrung with pure disgust, barely letting his lips touch yours before moving right along.
jayden was next. the kiss was nice, comfortable, but nothing life-changing.
then you reached trey. you had to stand up on your tiptoes to bring his face down to yours. you kissed him slow and deep—it was actually a really good kiss. you would’ve rated it an eight yourself, which was hella high for you considering how dry his chat usually was.
next was alex. he didn't hesitate—his hands planted firmly on your waist the second you got close. as you kissed, your hands naturally slid up into his hair, and he kept pulling you closer and closer into his chest, until you finally broke away, catching your breath.
“oh damn,” you whispered to yourself, stepping back.
and finally... djed at the very end of the line.
you took your absolute sweet time with him. you stepped into his space, feeling the pure heat off his chest, and leaned in—kissing his neck first, slowly sliding up to his open chest, then trailing light kisses along his sharp jawline before finally capturing his lips.
the second your mouth met his, you could’ve sworn you heard him let out a low, heavy moan. all control went out the window. the two of you just stood there, hands wandering all over each other's bodies, pulling each other tighter until mari aggressively cleared her throat from the sidelines.
“ahem!”
you snapped back to reality and broke the kiss, stepping away while fanning your face with your hand.
“that was hot. as. fuck.” selah gasped, her eyes wide.
you bit your bottom lip, in full agreement, your whole body still vibrating from the touch.
the camera cut straight to your confessional. you were sitting there with your hair a little messy, clutching a pillow to your chest.
“i literally have no words. i’m speechless,” you admitted, shaking your head with a huge, breathless grin. “look... if this wasn’t love island? i probably would’ve fucked him right then and there. no shade.” you threw your head back and laughed, not even trying to hide it.
the boys went down the line giving their final scores. when it came to djed’s turn to rate your kiss, he didn't even hesitate, shouting out a loud, proud ten.
“that had to be my girl for sure,” he stated, a massive smirk on his face under the blindfold.
you gushed, hiding your blushing face in mari’s shoulder as the rest of the girls snickered. the connection was loud and clear.
now it was the girls' turn.
production handed out the eye masks and noise-canceling headphones, and you all lined up on the heart-shaped platforms. you couldn’t see a thing, couldn’t hear a single sound except the hum of your own breathing, and you had no idea what order you were standing in. you just knew you were the very last girl on the end of the line.
you shifted on your feet, smoothing down your leather shorts and trying to calm the wild flutter in your chest. taking off your sight made every other sense go into overdrive. the warm night air hit your bare skin.
you knew the boys were taking their turns coming down the line, blind to who was who. you could hear faint, muffled laughter from time to time, but for the most part, you were completely locked in your own head, wondering how each of them would handle you.
dave probably kept it respectful. sam was probably still out here opening his mouth like a mouth-breather. alex... you knew alex would be gentle and sweet, trying to prove his point.
but djed?
just thinking about those big, warm hands on your hips had your pulse racing under your skin. you stood there in the dark, biting your lip, waiting for the moment a pair of hands would finally find your waist and pull you in.
the first kiss was sloppy as hell. the second he made contact, you already knew that was sam. the second one was gentle. sweet, respectful. maybe dave. the third one was okay, but you definitely weren’t a fan of getting your tongue aggressively sucked on. if that was his thing, fine... but it wasn't yours.
the fourth kiss was alex. you instantly knew it was him by the soft, familiar way he caressed your back, and by the clean scent of his cologne. it was a damn good kiss, real tender and genuine. almost as good as djed.
he was next.
djed breezed right through the other girls down the line, completely unbothered, just trying to make his way straight to the end. you felt the radiating warmth of his body before he even laid a single finger on you. your breath picked up, the blind anticipation literally killing you in the dark.
without warning, djed took both of his large, warm hands and smacked them firmly on your ass, gripping you tight and pulling your hips directly flush against his.
you swear to god you could’ve moaned out loud right then and there. before you could even catch your breath or say a single thing, his mouth was came down on yours. rough, possessive, and so deep it made your head spin.
he trailed the kiss down to your neck, his lips warm and heavy, sucking softly on the skin right at your sweet spot. your hands immediately flew to the back of his head, your fingers tangling tight in his hair and pulling him closer, encouraging him to keep going.
behind you, the boys were completely taken aback by what was going on, shouting and wildly reacting to the sheer heat radiating off the two of you. djed finally moved back up to your lips, pressing a few soft, lingering pecks against your mouth before he slowly let go of your hips and walked away.
“oh my- fuck,” you blurted out, still completely blindfolded, your voice raspy and breathless. “game over, nobody else kiss me!”
djed’s deep, chesty laugh echoed as he walked away.
the last boy came up and kissed you, but you just lazily kissed him back. you had completely meant what you said. your head was spinning from djed’s kiss and nobody else was about to compete with that.
the second production called a wrap on the game and everyone was allowed to pull off their masks and headphones, djed didn't even waste a single second looking at anyone else. he walked straight through the crowd, his eyes locked onto you, and reached out to take your hand.
“let’s go for a chat,” he said, his voice low and steady despite the grin tugging at his lips.
“yeah,” you breathed out, nodding immediately.
he wrapped his long fingers tightly around yours, guiding you away from everyone else, up the stairs, and right into the speakeasy. the second the doors clicked shut, djed turned around to look at you, his eyes dark, heavy. the tension between the two of you unbearable.
you began talking, but it didn't take long before you shifted the conversation right back to the challenge.
“did you really have to smack my ass like that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
he threw his head back and laughed, that deep south london chuckle filling the small room. “oh please, you liked it.”
“you’re freaked out,” you laughed, shaking your head.
“only for you, baby,” he said smoothly, leaning in just a fraction closer. “did you like my kiss?”
“i don’t think i remember, exactly,” you lied, putting on a sweet, innocent face and acting completely confused.
“is that right?” djed smirked.
“yeah, i don’t know... i think i need a reminder,” you smiled, looking up at him through your lashes.
djed laughed as he hooked his long finger under your chin, tilting your head up toward his.
“did i tell you how good you looked today, baby?” he whispered against your lips.
“only fifty times,” you smiled against him.
he chuckled low in his chest before kissing you again—slow, deep, and completely taking his time. his hands moved smoothly to your waist, effortlessly lifting you up and shifting you right into his lap.
wrapped up in his arms, feeling the heat off his skin and his chest rising against yours, every single thought you had about "dialing it back" went completely out the window.
ᥫ᭡ fai speaks: i had to end it here omg, it was getting way too long! i’m just ready for them to couple up already
synopsis : wilo missed his girlfriend after a long trip
wc : 492
équipe de france masterlist
Wilo shifted beside her, close enough to sense his warmth without touching her. “I missed you,” he whispered in her ear. “I hope you had a great time.” He continued while looking at their reflection in the mirror. Inna nodded, mostly because she didn’t trust the words that might come out of her mouth if she spoke up.
“Cat got your tongue? You weren’t that shy when you were sending me all these pictures a couple of days ago,” Wilo chuckled, amused by her reaction, and tilted her face up with his thumb. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he felt her shaky breaths against his skin and her lustful eyes staring at him. Inna sighed. She hated how quickly she melted in his presence, but couldn’t help herself. She needed to feel him now.
“I missed you too,” she replied, breathless, and wrapped her arms around his neck to reduce the gap between them. His thumb caressed her cheek as he leaned in and kissed her. Inna closed her eyes, relieved to finally have him this close after so long. Wilo’s lips rested softly on hers, moving slowly while exploring her mouth. He had longed for this day ever since he dropped his girlfriend at the airport, and wanted to enjoy this moment until the next time she would leave for another trip.
“Look in the mirror,” he ordered as he started kissing her neck. Ever since she installed her mirror right by her bed, Wilo had only one fantasy in mind. He couldn’t count the number of times he had lost his cool while thinking about sex in front of it. Seeing their bodies connecting and forming one excited him to no end, almost as if a third person was in the room with them. Inna mustered all her energy to open her eyes and look at their reflection. The scene unfolding in front of her was obscene, something almost forbidden, but so exciting and exhilarating. She couldn’t look anywhere else, but at their naked bodies, at Wilo’s fingers exploring her body, teasing her.
His fingertips put pressure on her clit and rubbed in gentle circles. A faint groan escaped Inna’s lips. She had missed this so much. She could almost cry. Her frustration had built up considerably over the past few weeks. Her own fingers couldn’t satisfy her properly. “Wilo, please…” she begged, needing more. Wilo applied a little bit of pressure against her clit, soaking her panties, and stopped his actions just before she reached orgasm. Inna looked up at him, her face flushed. Wilo kissed her forehead, smirking. He removed her underwear, slowly, and held eye contact with her in the mirror. Inna spread her legs wider as Wilo lowered himself between them. He couldn’t hold back a moan when his tongue felt hot and wet against her folds. He dipped it into her entrance, moaning against her while Inna’s hands tugged at his hair.
ᥫ᭡ — philosophy!major!eren eats baddie!reader out for her birthday | black!reader, fluff + smut. 1k words. a/n : soft launching my philosophy major eren multi chap fic... let me cook...
When JT said every time she enters a room, self-esteem drops, she wasn't joking. That's the effect you have on people too.
In your vintage Buffalo London platform boots, you walked confidently to the table where your friends were seated in the club. Your floral, vanilla scent followed you like a cloud, turning heads as you passed by. It was your birthday, so you'd dressed up. Your mini skirt, your beret, and your skunk stripe wig—everything was in keeping with the 2000s Bratz theme you wanted to embody.
"Hey, birthday girl," Connie smiled at you as he slipped a "birthday princess" sash onto you.
"Oh my god, you did 3D flowers on your nails again, it's so pretty," Sasha exclaimed, taking your hands to examine your freshly manicured XL nails more closely.
“You can put all the artificial things you want on your body, it won’t change your impending death. Technically, we’re not living beings, we’re dying beings.”
Your eyes, which had been lowered to observe Sasha’s enthusiasm, lifted to meet the emerald gaze of the most annoying and sexy man on the planet.
“Hey, Eren,” you greeted him, sitting down next to him.
“That’s what Cioran said in On The Heights of Despair. It was his first book, in 1934. You should read it.”
“I’m not reading your negative bullshit, Eren.”
“He suffered from severe insomnia that made him walk the streets all night,” Eren ignored you, crossed his arms over his chest, and sank back into his seat. His eyes shone, as they always did when he talked about philosophy. “He realized, deeply and not superficially like you and we do, that we were truly going to die at any moment, and that our whole life was a way to distract ourselves from our doomed end. To be born into a meaningless world, to die meaninglessly, to be forgotten meaninglessly.”
“What a ray of sunshine,” you rolled your eyes, casually looking at your nails. You hoped he wouldn't notice how your thighs tightened when he heard his deep voice up close. “I hope you didn't get me this for my birthday.”
“Hell nah,” he let out a low chuckle, “you're too pretty to be depressed. I bought this. You reposted something like this on TikTok many times.”
All the joy in the world could be found in your eyes when Eren gave you a Blythe doll that looked exactly like you in your natural state. Same brown skin, same eyes, same hair, same usual sexy style of dress. A Blythe doll cost over $200 to be customized to someone's wishes. It was so thoughtful, and exactly what you wanted as someone who collected dolls.
You pulled Eren close despite his grumbling and covered his cheeks with lip gloss-covered kisses.
“Now, you need to eat me out. I don’t give a fuck about dolls anymore.”
His lips curved into a teasing smile. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah, it’s my birthday,” you insisted, kissing his cheek again.
You and Eren had been flirting for months but had never taken things further. This was it.
───────
“When you really think about it…” Eren said gruffly, “What differentiates us from humans isn’t language, as Socrates would say, but our consciousness. Not consciousness in the metaphorical or biological sense, but in the existential sense. It’s our doomed capacity to question the meaning of our existence that differentiates us from animals. Albert Camus said that it’s in front of the world’s silence, when we question ourselves, that the absurd is born, which he theorized in his three major works. And…”
“E-Eren!” you whined. “Focus on this damn pussy:”
A mocking sneer escaped his lips. “My fingers are deep in it, baby.”
Sitting in the back seat of his car, your legs were spread wide, supported by your hands under the inside of your knees. You had kept your crop top on, which accentuated your chest; he had removed your skirt and thong. Soft moans slipped from you every time Eren’s fingers touched that spongy spot inside you.
“What do you plan to do about the weight of the meaninglessness of our existence?” He plunged them in and out, his lips parted, looking at you with dilated pupils.
“I think you should eat this and you’ll find meaning in your life,” you mumbled and grabbed his hair to push his head into your tight heat.
His mouth watered, ready to get messy.
“Hell yeah,” he groaned, his breath hot and warm over your center. He dragged a languid swipe of his tongue over you, collecting your arousal. Your legs trembled, you closed your arms around his cheeks. He raised his feverish green eyes to you, a loving glint in them, as if silently saying, “that’s all I want.” When his tongue lapped through your folds, his hands gripped your hips to grind your cunt into his mouth.
You tugged on his brown hair, running your fingers through his soft locks.
As he watched you intently as he ate you out, you wanted to put on a show for him.
You pulled off your crop top, your breasts bouncing with the movement. Eren moaned against you, gripping your hips tighter. He drove his tongue deeper, exploring every inch of you, eager to please you, eager to hear your moans louder. You kneaded your breasts and pinched your pierced nipples in front of him, the fire between your legs growing, your breath quickening.
He swiped his tongue up and up your slick folds until he reached your clit, brushed it before wrapping his lips around it, sucking greedily, causing you to gasp.
“Stop, Eren, I’m so sensitive from your fingers…”
“I almost forgot I could do this. Camus is messing with my skills, damn it.” He released your hips and shoved two fingers up your cunt while caressing your throbbing bud in circles. They didn’t have time to make a few back-and-forth movements before your whole body was wracked with spasms and shivers, his name the only sound in the car.
“Nihilists who think nothing has value have never tasted this, I swear.” Eren stood up to kiss you, then pushed his fingers into your mouth. His eyes softened at the sight of your cute expression as you sucked on them. His birthday princess.
──────── ✃- - - - - - - - - - - you liked it ? please support fics you liked with a reblog or a comment ! writers never know how we impact you if you don't say anything <3 ── .✦
pairing{s} ➳ william saliba x black female reader | black female reader x malo gusto {family}
almost a month late but yk what they say better late than never 🙈
hoping for a speedy recovery for our wilo 🥺😭 my heart dropped when he stopped {alsoooo to all the arsenal fans screaming at the french team pls hush, he was already injured before winning the premier league}
i have an idea for a part 2 & potentially 3 for this so keep an eye out {hopefully life doesn’t get too crazy again 😅}
translations found at the bottom!!
word count ➳ 2,048
tw ➳ mentions of alcohol & being tipsy {please drink responsibly!!}
please enjoy, like, comment, repost etc!!!!🫶🏽
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
you had a weird gut feeling that you should have said no to malo’s request.
when your younger cousin had called you a few days ago, asking if you were free to meet up for dinner and to catch up, you’d said yes within thinking twice. even though malo had been living in london for a few years since joining chelsea, the two of you were so busy adulting that you didn't get the chance to spend as much time together as you’d want to. so whenever your schedules aligned, you’d make plans.
the first sign that something didn’t add up was when malo texted you the day after to let you know that he’d reserved a table at a fancy restaurant for to go to.
the second was when he told you to make sure to dress up.
the third was that you’d now been sat at the restaurant for 30 minutes, and malo was nowhere to be seen.
the fourth was that ever since the maître d’ had brought you over to your table, you had been calling and texting him to no avail.
malo was occasionally late, but when it came to you he was always reachable. the rare times in the past where he hadn't picked up your call, he’d called you back in a heartbeat. so far nothing.
you sighed when you ended up on his voice mail for the fifth time. “mais malo ou est tu? t'es chiant tu sais ca? rappelle-moi avant que je pense que tu te fait kidnapper imbécile.”
a hand unexpectedly tapped your shoulder lightly. “excuse me mademoiselle?”
“yes?”, you turned in your chair, expecting the maître d’ or a waiter before feeling your heart thump in your chest when you realised who it was.
“i’m sorry, i didn't mean to listen to your conversation but the maître d'hotel sent me here for my table and i heard you talking to…malo? sorry again for interrupting, i'm a friend of his.”
“I-“, your voice wavered and you quickly cleared your throat. “yes i was just leaving him a message. malo is my cousin and we were meant to be meeting for dinner but,” you waved your hand towards his seat for emphasis, “as you can see, he has decided not to show up and he’s not picking his phone either.”
“you were meeting him for dinner?”
“well that was the plan, but clearly he seems to have forgotten.” you responded, kissing your teeth at the thought of your cousin’s actions.
a little chuckle escaped the man as he rubbed the back of his neck seemingly nervous. “i think that your cousin may be playing a game with us.”
you raised a brow at him inquisitively. “and what game is this?”
“first of all, let me introduce myself.” he held out his hand to you. “my name is william, but you can call me wilo.”
you felt your cheeks heat up as you placed your hand into his. “my name is y/n, i kinda already know who you are…” you trailed off as the thumping beat of your heart spread everywhere due to him lifting your hand to his lips.
“enchanté, y/n. is it okay if i sit down?”
“oh!” you snapped out of your reverie. “yes, please sit. sorry, i was slightly away with the fairies.”
“no need to apologise.” he laughed softly, the warm timbers of his deep voice making shivers run down your spine. “would you like to order something? have you looked at the menu?”
“i am hungry but what about malo?”
“so that is part of the game i think your cousin has played - he had no intention of coming along this evening.”
“wait what - that doesn't make sense though?”
a flicker of something you couldn't identify crossed william’s face before his confident persona came back. “i think i can explain it to you, but I’ve had a long day at practice, so please let me buy you dinner at the same time?”
you felt the heat come rushing back to your cheeks. “are you sure?”
“of course i am. my mother raised me to always pay for a lady, en plus pour une qui est aussi belle que toi.”
your cheeks heated even more at the unexpected compliment. “d’accord, merci beaucoup william.” you replied, grabbing the menu you had already studied in order to hide your face.
unbeknownst to you, his grin was even wider at seeing your reaction. “de rien, yn. let me know what you want.”
you both settled on pasta dishes with a bottle of wine to share. you quickly fell into comfortable small talk while waiting on your food. not too long after, your dishes came out and a comfortable silence fell as you started to eat.
“sooo,” you broke the silence before taking a sip of your wine. “wanna tell me about that game you think malo is playing?”
“d’accord…um, it is a bit of a long story. it is also a little bit embarrassing for me.”
you motioned to your pasta. “nothing i love more than an entertaining story while eating good food. i'm a slow eater, you can take your time.”
“okay d’onc…a few months ago we had to go to clairefontaine for team meetings. at one point malo needed something from his cassier and since i was already going to get something from mine, i said that i would get his as well. inside his cassier, it’s like those american films, he has pictures of many people, but there was one that caught my eye. a picture of a girl on a beach with a flower in her hair wearing a massive hoodie.”
“a girl?” you interrupted the story. “but malo doesn't have a girl. i would know if he did.”
“wait - i haven’t finished the story yet. like i was saying, i saw this picture and this girl just looked so beautiful and happy. all i could think is that malo was one lucky man to have a girl like that.”
“did you figure out who this girl is? because i'm getting ready to go and shout at him for not telling me about her.”
“i’m getting there. so the next few days, i keep trying to get him to talk about relationships, girls mais rien. he is not taking the bait. then one night a group of us go out, and a girl at the restaurant starts flirting with him, and he flirts back. when I saw that i was not very happy and decided i was going to talk to him, man to man.” william trailed off.
“and what did he say?”
“well he laughed in my face.”
“attends- quoi?”
“he laughed in my face. he couldn't stop laughing at me, actually. it was very insulting.”
“i’m sure it was but now i'm even more confused.”
william took a deep breath and continued. “when he stopped making fun of me, malo told me that the girl in the picture was someone that he loved, but not romantically. he also said that he was impressed at the fact that i was going to reproach him for a girl i didn't even know."
“so who was the girl?”
"well-" a red tinge coloured his cheeks. "the girl was you."
"it-" your voice caught in your throat. "it was a picture of me?"
"malo said it was from the family holiday you'd been on last year with your other cousins. he said he never sees you happier than when you're by the ocean and that he's pretty sure you have sirene blood in you. he even joked that your picture probably had a siren pull on me. je pense qu'il n'a pas tort."
you sat there, unsure of what to say, not used to hearing comments like this about yourself.
“after that malo ended up teasing me about it while we were there, no big deal. He even ended up telling a few of the others in the team about it and by the end of the week everyone was calling you ma meuf. after that nothing happened, but two weeks ago he brought it up again. said he had something that would make me very happy to hear.”
the penny dropped in your head. “what did malo tell you?”
“he called me - very late as well, it was already midnight at that point and i was surprised because we'd been hanging out that day with others. he told me that he’d been with you afterwards, and he must have shown you a picture of me from earlier or something but you told him you thought i was good looking. you also told him that you’d seen me play on tv and thought i was a good player. then he asked if i wanted him to set us up so that we can meet. i initially thought that he was pulling my leg but he promised me he was serious. et maintenant nous voici."
“so i have a bit of a confession to make.” you blurted.
“the floor is yours. my turn to enjoy a nice story while eating.”
“about two weeks ago, one of my girls got a promotion so a few of us went out to celebrate. i had a few glasses of wine, which was a bit silly because it makes me tipsy quite quickly. malo has my location and offered to pick me up since he'd just been out with friends. i was on his phone on the drive home looking for a childhood picture and saw the group ones you had taken earlier...," your voice trailed off as you mentally kicked yourself for your actions that night.
william cocked his eyebrow. "continue?"
your words rushed out in an attempt to finish the story as quickly as possible. "i ended up zooming in on your face all giggly and malo saw, he asked me what i was doing, i ended up on a rant about how handsome i think you are et que tu est le pain and how powerful and sure of yourself you come across on the field and how i find that really attractive, and that he was a terrible cousin because he had never even thought to introduce me to you. i didn't think much of it afterwards apart from making him swear he wouldn't tell anyone else about it. and well...nous voici."
"nous voici." william responding affirmatively before a charming smirk spread on his face. "j'ai l'impression que malo a eu le nez fin dans cette situation."
"really?" you turned your attention back to your almost finished pasta. "how is that?"
"because now i'm feeling the sirene's pull even more and want to take you on a date without malo's meddling. that is, if you would like to, of course."
"you don't find the story i just told you embarrassing?"
"all that story did was make me even more intrigued in getting to know you."
"oh." you found yourself lost for words for the upteenth time that evening.
william put his hands in the air. "i'm sorry if i'm coming on too strong, and of course you can say no if you don't want to-"
"give me your phone." you cut him off, hand extended towards him. unlocking it and handing it to you, he watched as you put in your phone number, saving your contact as 'yn 🧜🏾♀️'. "there you go. now you can text me for our next date."
william's smirk reemerged. "bien sur, ma sirene. en fait, who says that tonight's date has to end soon? i know an amazing dessert place a few minutes walk from here if you're interested?"
you smiled back at him wholeheartedly, dimples on full display. "dessert sounds amazing, thank you."
"okay. let me go take care of the bill and i'll be right back."
as he walked away, your phone flashed with a new notification.
maloooo 🩶⚡️: j'assume que tout s'est bien passé puisque tu m'a pas rappelle pour me crier dessus 🤣 wilo est un bon gars, je lui fais confiance pour bien te traiter. quand tu tombe amoureuse n'oublie pas que c'est parce que je me suis mêle dans la situation et que je m'attend a un enfant nommé après moi. bisouuuus 🫶🏽
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
translations:
❀ mais malo ou est tu? t'es chiant tu sais ca? rappelle-moi avant que je pense que tu te fait kidnapper imbécile ➳ malo where are you? you know you’re annoying right? call me back before i think that you’ve gotten kidnapped you idiot
❀ mademoiselle ➳ miss
❀ enchanté ➳ delighted {basically ‘nice to meet you}
❀ en plus pour une qui est aussi belle que toi ➳ especially for one as beautiful as you
❀ d’accord, merci beaucoup ➳ okay, thank you very much
❀ de rien ➳ you’re welcome
❀ d’onc ➳ so
❀ cassier ➳ locker
❀ mais rien ➳ but nothing
❀ attend quoi ➳ wait what
❀ sirène ➳ mermaid
❀ je pense qu'il n'a pas tort ➳ I think he's not wrong
❀ ma meuf ➳ my woman/girlfriend
❀ et maintenant nous voici ➳ and now here we are
❀ et que tu est le pain ➳ and that you are the bread {slang for a good looking guy}
❀ j'ai l'impression que malo a eu le nez fin dans cette situation ➳ I have the impression that malo had a good nose for this situation {had a good instinct}
❀ ma sirène ➳ my mermaid
❀ j'assume que tout s'est bien passé puisque tu m'a pas rappelle pour me crier dessus. wilo est un bon gars, je lui fais confiance pour bien te traiter. quand tu tombe amoureuse n'oublie pas que c'est parce que je me suis mêle dans la situation et que je m'attend a un enfant nommé après moi. bisouuuus ➳ i’m assuming that everything went well because you haven’t called me to scream at me. wilo is a good guy, i trust him to treat you well. when you fall in love don’t forget that it’s because i meddled in the situation and that i expect a child named after me. kisses
༯ pairings: tyriq withers x black oc (rylie withers)
༯ tags: mature (smut) | marriage | urban love | possessive behavior | making out | alcohol | teasing | mild praise kink
༯ a/n: hey guysh! I’m lowkey writing these as a way to procrastinate writing the ending of this Tyriq book I’m almost done with LOL, so enjoy!
summary: Tyriq and Rylie are celebrating their one-year marriage anniversary. They start the night off by having dinner at Nobu, but Tyriq lets it be known that their intimate night is nowhere near over afterward.
Around Tyriq and Rylie, the low murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses fill the upscale atmosphere of Nobu, but neither of them pays much attention to the crowd. Their focus stays locked on each other.
One year.
It still sounds unreal.
Tyriq leans back slightly in his chair, rolling the stem of his wine glass between his fingers before taking another sip of Cab. His white button-up rolled just enough to expose his toned forearms. Across from him sits Rylie, glowing beneath the dim lighting in a fitted white dress that hugs every curve of her figure perfectly. Her skin looks rich and radiant, like the candlelight is made specifically for her.
She watches him carefully while picking at the salmon on her plate.
“Did they cook your wagyu right this time?” she asks with a teasing smile tugging at her lips.
Tyriq hums around a bite of food before nodding. “Mhm.”
“Good,” she replies. “Because last time you acted like Nobu personally offended your bloodline.”
Tyriq laughs softly, shaking his head. “It was overcooked, Ry. You saw it.”
“You almost asked to speak to the chef.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
“I was considering it,” he corrects with a grin.
Rylie rolls her eyes playfully before lifting her wine glass to her lips. Tyriq watches her over the rim of his own glass, the sight of her enough to quiet him for a moment. Even after a year of marriage—and several years together before that—he still finds himself staring at her like he’s just met her for the first time.
Rylie notices, of course.
“What?” she asks, smiling shyly.
“Nothing,” Tyriq says. “Just thinking.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“See? That right there is exactly why I married you. You stay talking shit.”
Rylie laughs, the sound warm enough to loosen something in his chest.
For a brief moment, both of them sit there smiling at each other like the rest of the restaurant disappears.
“I can’t believe it’s already been a year,” Rylie admits quietly. “Feels longer than that… but in a good way.”
Tyriq nods slowly. “I think it’s because we’ve been through so much together already.”
“Especially our first apartment,” she says immediately.
He groans dramatically. “Don’t remind me.”
“The roaches?” she laughs.
“The plumbing.”
“The neighbors that used to argue at three in the morning?”
Tyriq points at her. “Exactly. Trauma.”
Rylie nearly chokes laughing. “We were broke.”
“We were humble,” he corrects.
“No, we were broke,” she repeats through laughter.
Tyriq can’t help laughing with her. Back then, they survive off cheap takeout, share one tiny bathroom, and spend nights sitting on the kitchen counter talking about dreams that feel too big for the lives they have at the time. Somehow, those still become some of his favorite memories.
“You remember when the power went out?” Tyriq asks.
Rylie immediately smiles. “And you tried to pretend you knew how to fix the fuse box?”
“I did know.”
“You electrocuted yourself.”
“It was a small shock.”
“You screamed.”
“I did not scream.”
Rylie leans forward across the table, grinning wickedly. “Tyriq, you yelled ‘CALL THE AMBULANCE’ and scared the hell out of me.”
He shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “You swore you wouldn’t bring that up again.”
“I lied.”
Tyriq stares at her for another second before smiling to himself. There’s something about seeing her happy that makes everything else in the world feel quieter.
“You know what my favorite memory is?” he asks.
Rylie tilts her head. “What?”
“The wedding.”
Her expression softens instantly.
“Not even the ceremony,” he continues. “It was after everything ended. Everybody left, and it was just us standing there.”
Rylie smiles faintly, remembering it.
“You looked at me like you couldn’t believe it was real,” she says softly.
“I couldn’t.”
Tyriq reaches across the table then, taking her hand into his. His thumb brushes gently against her knuckles.
“I still can’t sometimes.”
Rylie’s eyes drop to their intertwined hands before she looks back up at him.
“Well,” she murmurs, “you’re stuck with me now.”
Tyriq smirks. “That’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Tyriq leans forward, his dark eyes locked on Rylie with that hungry, teasing glint she knows all too well.
“You keep looking at me like that, Ry, and we’re not making it back to the car before I bend you over something,” he murmurs, voice low and rough.
Rylie’s eyes widen as her cheeks flush, but she holds his gaze. “You’re so nasty.”
“Only for my wife,” he replies, his thumb stroking slow circles over the back of her hand. “My beautiful, perfect wife. You know what that dress has been doing to me all night? Every time you move, all I can think about is how fast I can get it off you.”
She bites her lip, thighs pressing together beneath the table. “We’re in public, Ty.”
“Exactly. Makes it harder for me to behave.” His gaze drops shamelessly to her cleavage before rising again with a wicked smirk. “You wore this on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Maybe,” she whispers, smiling shyly.
Tyriq’s eyes darken. “Just wait until we get home.”
He pays the check without glancing at the total, his focus never leaving her. As they stand, he slides his hand to the small of her back, fingers possessive against the curve of her waist, pulling her close so her hip brushes his thigh.
In the car, the tension crackles between them. Tyriq’s hand rests high on her thigh the entire drive, his thumb stroking dangerously close to where she aches for him. At every red light, Rylie gently rubs her fingers against the bulge growing beneath his pants.
“Can’t wait to get you home and remind you who that body belongs to,” he says, voice thick with want. “That’s all mine. Every soft, pretty inch.”
Rylie shivers as Tyriq presses his hand harder against her thigh.
The moment they step inside their home, the door barely clicks shut before Tyriq pushes her against it. His mouth claims hers in a deep, hungry kiss, one hand cupping her face while the other grips her ass, squeezing possessively.
“Fuck,” he groans against her lips. “You taste so good.”
He lifts her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carries her toward the bedroom. The white dress rides up her thighs, and Tyriq’s fingers dig into her soft flesh with open appreciation.
“Look at you,” he praises, voice low and reverent as he sets her on the edge of the bed. He steps back just enough to drink her in, eyes roaming hungrily over her body. “My perfect woman. You have no idea what you do to me.”
Rylie reaches for him, but he catches her wrists gently, pinning them above her head with one hand while the other slowly unzips her dress.
“Patience, baby. Let me worship you first.”
He peels the dress down her body, kissing every inch of skin he reveals—her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, the soft curve of her belly. When the fabric pools at her waist, he groans at the sight of her in just her lace panties.
“Goddamn, Ry...” He grips her thighs, spreading them wider as he drops to his knees between them. “I couldn’t imagine not having you to myself.”
He presses open-mouthed kisses along her inner thigh, teasingly close but never quite where she needs him. Rylie whimpers, hips shifting restlessly.
“Tyriq…”
“So impatient,” he teases, nipping lightly at her skin. “But you’ve been so perfect tonight—as always. So pretty for me. I think you deserve a reward.”
He finally pulls her panties aside and drags his tongue through her folds in one slow, firm stroke. Rylie moans, her back arching. Tyriq hums in satisfaction, the vibration sending sparks through her.
“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you. Love the way you sound when I eat you.”
He devours her with practiced skill—teasing licks, then deeper strokes, sucking gently on her clit until her thighs tremble around his head. One of his hands stays possessively on her hip, holding her in place while the other slides up to squeeze her breast.
“You taste so perfect, Ry,” he murmurs against her, sliding two fingers inside her and curling them just right. “And you’re always so ready for your husband. I do this to you all the time?”
Rylie’s hands fist the sheets, his praises and teasing pushing her closer to the edge. “Tyriq—please—”
“Come for me, baby,” he commands softly, sucking harder on her clit while his fingers pump faster. “Let me feel you. Soak my tongue.”
She shatters with a broken cry of his name, thighs clamping around him as pleasure crashes through her. Tyriq doesn’t stop, drawing it out until she’s panting and trembling.
He rises, shedding his clothes quickly, his dick hard and heavy. He crawls over her, kissing her deeply so she can taste herself on his tongue.
“See how good you taste?” he whispers. “My favorite meal.”
Tyriq positions himself at her entrance, rubbing the head of his dick against her slick folds, teasing her again.
“Tell me who you belong to, Ry.”
“You,” she breathes, wrapping her legs around him. “I’m yours, Tyriq. Only yours.”
He groans in satisfaction and pushes inside her in one smooth thrust, burying himself in deep. They both moan at the feeling.
“Fuck, so tight. So perfect,” he praises, starting a deep, steady rhythm. “You were made for me. Keep gripping me like that.”
“You make me feel so perfect,” Rylie lets out a breathy moan as she tries to catch her breath.
His hand grips her hip possessively as he thrusts harder, the other braced beside her head. He leans down, lips brushing her ear.
“You take me so well. My beautiful wife. I’m never letting you go. This body, this heart—everything is mine.”
“Everything is yours, Tyriq,” Rylie’s nails dig into his back, her moans growing louder with every thrust. The praise and possessiveness make her clench around him tighter.
Tyriq’s pace quickens, his voice rough with pleasure. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. Gonna fill you up and remind you exactly who you come home to every night.”
He reaches between them, thumb circling her clit until she comes again with a sharp cry. The feeling of her pulsing around him sends him over the edge right after. He buries himself deep, groaning her name as he spills inside her.
Tyriq falls beside her. He kisses her softly as his arms wrap around her.
“Happy anniversary, Mrs. Withers,” he murmurs, voice warm with love and satisfaction. “And we’re nowhere near done celebrating.”
thinking about eren helping you out with your of/twt
when you finally want to switch up your content and abide by what your subscribers have been asking for you ask eren .
you've been making and posting a particular set of salacious videos to your twt to promote your of. you fondling your fat tits and rubbing body oil all them. circling your pretty clit while fully spread of course, in your signature purple mask, moaning sweetly to your eager audience. stuffing a variety of big monster/alien dildos inside you— sticking it to the wall for a good shot, from below, of you fucking yourself on it, quivering because its too much to take while your cum drips down onto the camera. or your favourite the dildo stuck to the floor the camera capturing your arse sinking down on a big purple cock, hearing, more salaciously— watching you take it then satisfying have it all inside your legs crossed inward at an angle for the feet fanatics while bouncing on it.
oh it was little ole eren favourite. the quiet boy in your world politics class. sombre yet more expressive with his friends. the boy always first in the lecture hall, not a teacher's pet per say but definitely intelligent. he always said hi, not always verbally. a nod was his main form of communication but he' has escalated. a squeeze on your arm as he walks down to the seats closer to the board or when your outside on campus.
now, does he know it’s you when he locks himself in his dorm room, pops in his earphones and strokes his cock to the personal video he paid for from you on of? no. so imagine when you ask him for a tiny favour. subscribers were getting restless with the cold plastic dildos and fake cum that they milk out of you.
"how about you take the real thing?" the commenter meant himself, but it really got you thinking... "the real thing"
eren — he'd look good in a mask and if not, his hair is long enough to cover his face, while he fucks you, in multiple camera angles.
you were shaking trying to get the words out. the class had just ended, the lecture hall was empty and he was looking up at you from a few rows below, patiently waiting for you. a little bit confused but kind enough to wait for you to form the words. "i can't hear you. let me-" when he walks on up to you, closer, taller, tucking away loose strands behind his ear, his tall and lean frame looming over you. "help with class? i can do that" he answers, intrigued at why you, with a higher grade than him would want his help. "no, no. not class..."
when you finally spit it all out. "just fuck you..."
"yeah i can pay you... you'll wear a mask"
"uhh no."
"im sorry for asking. i shouldn't have-"
"no, you don't have to pay me"
oh
oh
the first meet was nerve-wracking. you got ready as usual bathed, trimmed and waited for him. three light knocks. you greet him in a robe, locking the door before you both head to your bedroom. 2 cameras were set up facing the bed. one right in front and the other at the right. a 3rd camera was for eren to hold. the beds empty besides pillows, duvets and 2 masks, one black and the other purple. "please put this on" when you finally put on yours does he recognise you. "you ready?" you give him the hand-held camera.
recording...
in frame is eren legs spread in his boxers, a prominent bulge present as you crawl up stroking his dick through his boxers. he tries to keep the camera steady and his moans quiet, but a few keep spilling out. you let out small gasp when you pull down his boxers and his cock springs free. bigger than expected—he grins and moans when you stroked it against your face— certainly bigger than anything you've taken so far. that's proven when you wrap your mouth around his cock. tight fit. worse when eren reaches out grabs hold of your twists and makes his cock hit the back of your throat. when he pulls you off you take deep breaths and saliva coating his cock connecting to your mouth. he does it again and again and again.
cut-
next was eren above you holding your thick thighs together and over his shoulder as he fucked his cock between them. it was your turn to keep the camera steady and your moans quiet. watching his big cock just slide through, sliming your inner thighs with his pre-cum, dragging it back and forth. Beyond the camera, with the camera positioned squarely on his sculpted abdomen he took of the mask, ran his finger through his hair, glistening in sweat, his jaw locked and mouth agape he pushed your thighs open hastily grabbed the phone and started to slide it against your clothed cunt. pressed his cock against the white lace, moved back to poke your clit with his leaking cock, dragging it up and down and right into your slit— when he does you gasp and he just chuckles. Pulling the centre of the lace up he wraps it around his cock, now pressed directly against your core he slides up and down. teasing.
cut-
last shot was him with his mask still off his hair covering his face. you were face down ass up on the bed. he took time to wrap his hands around it shaking it a bit, watching it jiggle. he then grabs your waist and pulls you into him. you back into him, your arse seductively shaking. giving his cock a few strokes he finally pushes it in. as he bottoms out your knees shake and you start to move forward, away from him— “no. no. take it. i know you can. take. it.” he pulls you back on his cock slamming back in. he goes at it fucking the full length of his cock into you, rapidly and repeatedly. it made your eyes water and moan uncontrollably. when you knees gave out he pulled you up wrapped one arm over your chest and the other over your clit. back arched and pressed against him, you came as he continued his lustful assault on your cunt.
when he got close, when he really felt you cum and squeeze around him he bit down on your shoulder to keep his moans down. he came inside. warm, creamy and it felt incredibly good, nothing like the cold milky lube you used with the dildos. he buried himself inside you. laid you back down the bed, face down, grabbed the camera to the right, spread your legs and got the cum shot. filmed his cock sliding out and the cum running out your pretty convulsing cunt
A/n: Because @kennaskorner sent this idea and I needed to write to keep the juices flowing but I was too lazy to create other characters I thought it’d be fun to use Angel from this fic. Enjoy?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Stop pouting, you’ll have fun.”
“Your definition of fun and mine are clearly different, Virgil.” Angel reaches under her white pleated a-line mini dress to adjust her black underwear with a frown. The dress is from Chanel she thinks, she has long stopped keeping up with the designer stuff he gets her because “he thinks she’d look good in it.”
Virgil eyes her like he’s trying to contain a secret. A little mischief mingled with concern. “You enjoyed that musical I took you to.”
Even though annoyed, she adjusts his tie that’s a little crooked. He looks so good in his white Versace suit and yellow bamboo AP watch that Angel is sure is worth the GDP of a small island.
“Yeah, because I love music. I don’t give a fuck about tennis, Virgil. When you said we were taking a trip to London, I expected you to be doing your stupid business meetings while I lounged in hotel rooms or went jewelry shopping.”
“It is a part of work, it was a special invite. Good for networking too.” He presses a kiss to the shell of her ear.
Angel scratches her eyebrow that’s free of her signature metal barbell. He never asked her to remove it, Virgil never asks her to change her appearance no matter the occasion and she’s so fond of him for it. But she also understands time and place.
“You look beautiful.” He says softly.
She almost melts. Almost. “It’s like a hundred degrees outside, Virgil. This better not last longer than an hour.” Angel smoothes a hand over her shoulder length sew-in.
He presses a hand to the small of her back and leads her towards the elevator.
“The car is waiting outside, you won’t be in the heat long.”
She huffs again; she thought the heels on her feet would be the pain in her ass, but she thought wrong.
“Where the fuck did you get these panties? They’re uncomfortable.”
Virgil’s gaze turns tender at her petulance. Angel has been noticing that look lately. Their… arrangement has been going for almost a year now. At first, it was Angel taking him everywhere: clubs, the movies, house parties. Then, he slowly started introducing her to his world. Dinners, galas, recitals, musicals, business trips. Truthfully, she’s still adjusting, but he takes it all in stride— educating without over-correcting, showing her off proudly as his girlfriend though she never agreed to it; but Angel understands it’s more appropriate than calling her his sugar baby.
Virgil tips her chin up to press a chaste kiss on her lips. Her lipgloss leaves a sticky sheen on his mouth. Angel reaches to wipe it away with her thumb.
“Stop looking at me like that, it’s gay.” She teases with a smirk.
He grasps her hand in a loose hold and presses a kiss to her wrist.
“You’ll have fun, I promise.”
**************
Angel is sweating from every pore of her body before Virgil is even done greeting people. She tries her best to keep her expression pleasant, truly, but the heat and humidity are too much to bear. Even with all the familiar celebrity faces at Wimbledon, Angel is miserable. He leads her into a lounge with a few colleagues. Angel takes advantage of free flowing champagne and some pastry that’s stuffed with strawberries and cream. Virgil’s smile is almost tender when he looks over at her; he uses his thumb to wipe the corner of her lips and brings it to his mouth without shame. A few men in the circle formed visibly startle but don’t comment. Her face burns.
By the time they get to their seats, her expression is sour. Her brows are furrowed, mouth downturned at the sides.
“You said I’d have fun. Not off to a good start.”
“You haven’t even waited for-”
“I don’t care.” She folds her hands over her chest, eyes on the court. A few uneventful minutes pass between them. Virgil is roped into conversation with a man sitting to his left— some investor if she remembers correctly. Middle aged with a haughty laugh that makes her roll her eyes every time.
At first, Angel thinks she’s imagining it. It takes her brain about three seconds to process that she’s actually feeling vibrations. She whips her head in Virgil’s direction sharply, eyes wide, a whimper caught in her throat. He’s already staring. Their gazes clash; his eyes are smoldering, gauging her reaction.
“Virgil?” She clutches his hand for dear life.
“Okay?”
And Angel, for all her claimed expertise in debauchery, wants to chastise herself for not taking the time to properly assess why the underwear he begged her to wear feels the way it does. She can only offer a small nod while her pulse flutters in excitement. His hand shifts subtly in the pocket of his slacks. The vibrations increase. Angel almost doubles over. Her nails dig into his wrist but Virgil continues his conversation with the man like she isn’t even there. There’s some announcement of the men taking the court for the doubles. Angel has no idea what that means she can’t even pretend to care. Because she has to grit her teeth so she doesn’t cry out; because she has to focus on keeping every muscle in her body still so she doesn’t rock her hips like she desperately wants to. The muscles in her lower belly clench almost painfully while her clit throbs in wild abandon. She can feel herself almost soaking through the panties. The men on the pitch serve and an intense battle ensues. She hears the crowd react to every swing: loud cheers, tense gasps. Whatever is happening, it’s all lost on her.
“Are you alright, love?” The older man beside Virgil suddenly calls out to her. His thick brows are furrowed in concern. Virgil feigns concern but his eyes are raw.
Angel blinks several times, mouth gaping but words fail to come. Instead she squeaks, folding over and clutching her lower belly as the vibrations grow more powerful.
“Oh my, I think she might be feeling unwell.” He comments in concern.
“Probably flushed from the heat.” Virgil comments. It’s almost cruel. And she has always been somewhat of a masochist. Angel won’t say it, but she has been enjoying Virgil coming out of his shell these past couple of months. So after he speaks, she moans: long, low and unrestrained. Luckily, the sound gets swallowed up by the excitement rippling through the crowd. Virgil hears it though. He responds by gripping her thigh slick from sweat and her moisturizer.
“Okay?”
This time, when she looks up in his darkened eyes, tears are blurring her vision. She’s so wound up— she needs him inside. She needs to come, and preferably without a crowd of strangers bearing witness as she screams bloody murder. Angel shakes her desperately.
“I think you’re right, Wilson. Let me take her to the bathroom.”
Virgil hauls her up on her feet as soon as the words leave his mouth. Angel expects him to cut the vibrations to give her some respite, but he doesn’t.
“V-Virg— I… I’m gonna-”
“Don’t you dare, Angel. Not yet.” He smiles at someone he spoke with earlier as he leads her through the rows.
Her legs feel like jelly but she keeps up with his strides, biting her lower lip until she tastes metal.
Angel presses herself to his back the second they enter the lounge. Virgil’s grip on her hand tightens but he doesn’t slow his pace until they’re inside the spacious, clean private bathroom. His fingers fumble in his haste to lock the door.
Angel’s sobs echo through the room and it makes him pause a little. Virgil has never seen her so riled up— it throws him for a loop.
“Baby?” He touches her waist firmly with both hands as if to ground her.
“Need them off, please? Wanna come-”
He hoists her up onto the sink, reaching under her dress to drag the panties down her legs. They both moan.
He groans. “You’re absolutely soaking, Angel.”
“Inside? Inside, please.”
They’re a mess of harsh breaths and desperation as they claw at the buckle of his belt.
“Fuck, fuck-”
Virgil finally gets his pants loose, he barely gets his underwear down before Angel has his cock in a firm grip. She guides him where she needs him until she’s physically panting for it. Virgil takes over, pressing inside until her eyes roll to the back of her head. Shivers wrack her entire body when he bottoms out.
“So big, so full.” She sobs.
Virgil slaps a palm over her mouth. “Too loud, baby.”
The urgency is felt without either of them saying a word. It gives her a rush. Angel hikes her knees to her chest after kicking her shoes off. Virgil sets the perfect pace for the situation. It’s not erratic, but quick, hard and deep. A strangled sound leaves her mouth but it’s muffled by his hand. She’s so wet that every thrust inside rings around in the bathroom. Her heartbeat picks up, sweat trickling down the nape of her neck.
“So good, Angel. So fucking perfect.” His voice breaks somewhere in the middle.
“Make me come, Virgil. Make me come.” She chants under his palm until she’s chasing her high until her hips are hanging off the counter.
He thumbs her clit in tight circles until her legs quiver. She reaches down to grip at one of his muscular glutes, forcing him deeper until it hurts. But that’s exactly what she loves— she loves it so much until she breaks apart around his dick still hammering inside until she’s screaming. Virgil doubles over to bury his face in the crook of her neck to muffle his groans as he throbs. They rut against each other as they come; distantly, Angel prays she doesn’t hear a knock on the door. Not now. Not when she’s still riding the high that’s so delicious that it rattles every bone in her body.
“Fuck, Angel. Shit.”
Virgil presses their mouths together; the kiss is breathless and more tongue than lips.
“I might need to start taking birth control. You’ve been doing that often, lately.” She manages through heavy breathing.
“Sorry, it’s just… you make logic…” he waves his hand flippantly.
“How do you feel?”
Angel sighs at the gentle way he pulls out of her body. “So fucking good. You've been so chaotic recently and I love it.”
Virgil’s neck gets redder and she knows it isn’t from exertion. She smirks.
“We need to hurry and get decent.”
He picks her panties up. Angel eyes it in disdain.
“I’m not putting those back on, they’re gonna be uncomfortable.”
“Sorry.” He mumbles bashfully.
“Hmm, could’ve warned me so I would’ve come prepared but I can’t say I regret it.”
They move quickly to clean up as much as they’re able to. Angel wraps her panties in hand towels and stuffs them in her designer purse.
“Do I look like you just fucked my brains out?” She questions after re-touching her make up and running her fingers through her hair.
Virgil chokes, but shakes his head with a smile.
“Okay.” She re-adjusts his tie.
“And again, stop looking at me like that.”
“I just… like you a lot.” He clears his throat awkwardly.
She smirks. “I know, that’s why it’s gay. Let’s go.”
**************
They sit in the heat another two hours until they declare winners Angel doesn’t even care about. She sat quietly throughout, flustered every time the wind would send her dress fluttering up her legs. Virgil noticed, and after laughing at her a little, he placed a big hand on her thigh. Onlookers would think it an act of possession, but he was merely keeping the hem of her dress in place.
“It was nice meeting you, Angel. Glad you’re feeling better.” Wilson smiles softly at her.
“Thank you.”
“Well, apart from that incident, I hope you enjoyed yourself?”
She hesitates for only a second. “I did.” Her smile is genuine.
Virgil’s smirk is subtle.
“Good, that means you wouldn’t mind tagging along with us to go golfing tomorrow then, yes?”
Angel turns her attention to Virgil and cocks a brow, asking the question only they know.
Swiping a thumb across his lips, he nods with a glint in his eyes.
She faces the man with a smile; “I’d love to join you.”
in which onyankopon is your side nigga, but he desperately wants to be your main.
he told himself he wasn’t gonna get attached, but he did, accidentally. it’s just the way you spoke, your attitude, the way your hips moved as you walked like you were the baddest bitch ever. you were fucking mesmerizing and you knew it.
you paid him no attention, you just used him for some occasionally head and shopping. you had more and better niggas on your roster, ony wasn’t one of them. but you know he was desperate for you, so you used it against him. he tries to act so nonchalant and not about your bullshit but he folds anytime you mention something about him being able to fuck you.
it was 2am, freezing cold. ony texted your phone. DING! DING!
im os, hurry up it’s freezing.
two mins nd im leaving bruh, i look like im creepin lookin thirsty asf
you were just done facetiming your main, then rolled your eyes once you opened the messages.
k im comin
you opened the door for him with the most unamused face. “hey.” he said, staring at you. “hey,” you sighed. “i came all this way to see you and you just have a fucking bored face.” his brows furrowed his voice more stern. “do i bore you y/n?” he asked, sounding somewhat defeated. “no—” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and raising a brow. “ony, why are you acting like this?” you questioned.
“cause i know you talkin’ to all these lame niggas, y/n. why am i even here in the first place? just to know im in—” he thought what?—third place?!” he finalized. “it’s not fair.” he slightly pouted. “why won’t you just.. treat me like how i treat you. or..” he came inside slowly, getting closer to you who was standing in the doorway. “treat me like im him, just for tonight.” his hands on your waist gently, kissing on your jaw.
every thrust felt like ony was making straight love to you. “ony— fuck! hah..” you moaned, his thick hand gripped your cheeks, moving it so you can face yourself in the mirror. “yeah? see yourself? fuckin’ this pussy so good while you give it away to those fucking lames.” you couldn’t speak, your stomach churned with how deep he was. every few thrust they got deeper and hard, making you whine and groan. he ducked his head down, his lips by your ear. “you look so perfect, my princess.” he whispered.
“so beautiful when it’s just me fucking allat attitude out of you. you need a real nigga,” he kissed your ear, making your pussy flutter for a moment. “a. real. fucking. one.” he slapped your cheek harshly before gripping it again, you started to drool down his hand. “aint that right, princess?” he stared at you, looking all pathetic and slutty. “hah.. ha.” your words muffled, your mind melting with pleasure.
he for sure was gonna get ranked up.
a/n: do yall get the reference. issa teezo touchdown song ts has been stuck in my head for two weeks straight, got more ony fics in the making this is a lil sum.. pls request some jjba im itching to write I just dk what to write
pussywhipped!eren obsessed with finger fucking you
word count: 557
content warnings: rough fingering, male masturbation, cursing, slight dirty talk
He's able to feel your warmth, wetness and depth in such detail that he feels the phantom sensations run along his dick. The pleasure oscillates through him, pooling in his shaft and making it twitch. He treats fingering like fucking, completely absorbed by the motions as his mouth gapes and his eyes grow lidded. A pink dusting covers his face as he stares at your pussy shamelessly, groaning at the sight.
He finger fucks you deeper, curling his fingers to try and find impossible to reach spots inside of you, shuddering at the thought of his cock gliding against your insides instead. But, his imagination is so incredibly strong, his cock is already leaking from the fantasy.
It's even hotter when he brings a hand down to fist himself at the same time. He keeps his rhythm consistent, matching the pace of his pistoning fingers inside of you to the desperate tugs at his length. He doesn't hold back his moans or his movements, bucking his hips up into his hand as he begins to thrust his digits into you at a pace that sends your body gently bouncing up and down against the sheets. He loves it. "Fuck-"
The view of your body makes his cock impossibly harder. "Look at you..." His knuckles repeatedly slam at your entrance from the depth of his fingers, his lip finding its way between his teeth. And he knows he's supposed to focus on you. He knows he's supposed to make you feel good. He knows he's supposed to give you what you want. But, he can't stop fingering you just the way he likes it.
He selfishly fills you to the brim before scissoring his fingers inside of you and peering at the hole he creates. Once he sees it, he throbs. He throbs because seeing the wet, wide hole he had created inside of you has his balls draining and his shaft filling up. "Oh fuck."
He thrusts his hips forward, fucking his fist as he topples over the point of no return. He knows you'll be pissed at his premature high but the pleasure clouds his mind to the point where it becomes an afterthought. He curls his fingers into you, hard and fast, getting off at the feeling of your pussy until the pleasure becomes too much to handle. He lets go, letting out a tight groan in sync with the flex of his abs.
His hand stutters as he cums, the jerk of his cock sending ropes of sperm spilling over you. His body sways as the waves of his orgasm crash over him and his eyes flutter shut. Nevertheless, he revels in the feeling of his heightened pleasure by slowly gliding his fingers through your insides. He imagines filling you up, stuffing you with his seed until you're full to the brim; it only draws his orgasm out for longer.
And, when he's done, he opens his eyes to see your furrowed eyebrows and pouty lips. From there, he's spitting out apologies and rushing to retrieve a towel for you.
authors note: not sure how i feel about writing drabbles yet... i still prefer fics overall but drabbles are so quick and fun! i feel like i could get through a lot of requests this way. i won't be fully converting to drabbles though i just wanted to post something 😁
NSFW ALPHABET PT. 2 ⟢ various [wnba, nba, football, nfl] .ᐟ
summary ౨ৎ nsfw alphabet, yk what that means! a freaky letter for each one of your favs!
content ⟢ smut smut smut— mentions of receiving and giving oral, quickies, public sex, fingering, teasing...it’s still pure smut man just beware!!
serenity says ໒꒱ ignore how i posted this wayyy after 24 hours lmfao #loveyouguysthankyoufor200teehee! i def missed some people, but i wanted to prioritize the players i haven't written for in a while (or, like, ever)
nsfw alphabet template from @/ikiissagirl!!
the previous part includes players from the wnba, wcbb, nba, football, nfl, and F1 .ᐟ
MOTIVATION ⟢ what turns them on, what gets them going? 𝝑𝝔 JALEN HURTS
you. just you. no, really— just say the word, bat your eyelashes, and trust, jalen will make sure the two of you get a round in. what truly gets to him, though, are those quiet, domestic moments the two of you share. when jalen wakes up next to you in the morning, watching you snuggle into him. maybe you greet him with sleepy kisses, uncoordinated but loving while you mumble, "good mornin', baby". or when you're sat next to him in the living room, watching a random football game, wearing one of his old oversized "sooners" hoodie, wearing nothing but panties under it. or when you’re standing in the kitchen together, getting ready to meal prep for the week. you’re frowning at the recipe book his nutritionist gave you, bottom lip caught between your teeth while you try to figure out how long the salmon’s supposed to cook. it's not meant to be sexy, you're not even trying to tempt him at all, but that’s exactly what undoes jalen.
ORAL ⟢ preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc 𝝑𝝔 VICTOR WEMBANYAMA
wemby prefers giving more than receiving, but, if you’re offering— he will never say no. don't get him wrong, he loves when you give him head after a long day, but the stress relief he gets from eating you out is outmatched. whether it's him eating you out while on his stomach or eating you out from the back, wemby can forget about all his worries, the bullshit calls from the ref last night, or whatever's going on in the world. it's just him, you, and your pussy, all his to devour. now, is he good at it? i mean... look at those fingers?? even if he doesn't know what he's doing (which was the case the first time he found himself between your legs) they're so long, they can press against the right spots without even knowing. but, like with basketball, wemby doesn't half-ass anything. he'll put in the work to know what it is you like, asking you, "comme ça, mon amour?" while his fingers split you apart.
QUICKIES ⟢ their opinions on quickies, how often? 𝝑𝝔 JOE BURROW
quickies aren’t his favorite, but they’re necessary for a guy like joe, especially during the season. one minute he’s here, the next he’s not— practice in the morning, photoshoot in the afternoon, a sponsored event at night, it never ends! and although joe does try to make time for you, trying just isn’t enough with a schedule that almost wants to drive the two of you apart. you’re stressed, he’s fed up with the distance— he’d like to take his time and relish the moment, sure, but he doesn’t mind pulling you into a random closet or bathroom, big hand of his covering your sweet moans, while you’re up against the door, finally feeling his cock drag against your walls. joe hates not being able to ruin you properly, but sometimes you bent over the nearest surface and pulling your panties to the side has to be enough.
STAMINA ⟢ how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last? 𝝑𝝔 JIMMY BUTLER
if jimmy had it his way— he’d last forever. realistically though, i’d say maybe 3-4 rounds. saying 4 is me being delusional probably, but look at him! he’s an athlete— most of his time is spent at the gym or basketball court, keeping himself in shape. it just so happens that his stamina is affected in the process— in all the right ways of course. he’d drag out the last round especially because jimmy knows when he’s nearing his limit, and wants to keep having sex with you as much as he can before it’s over. now, for how long he lasts? it depends. normally, he tries to cum when you do, but there have been times where he was so excited to be inside you, he ended up… losing control.
UNFAIR ⟢ how much they like to tease 𝝑𝝔 RICKEA JACKSON
rickea loves to tease, she lives for it even. the way she gets all cocky when her fingers are deep inside, when your climax is completely in her hands. you’re so close to gushing all over her, begging as much as you can but— it’s not enough for 'kea. she’ll pull out and pout her glossed lips, saying, "now i know you can do better than that, babe." in public she's more subtle with it. to everyone else, it looks like she's the sweetest girlfriend— innocently smiling and keeping up with the conversation everyone else is in. all the while, you're trying to ignore how her heel keeps dragging up your leg, or how the hand on your thigh slowly inches toward your crotch. you don't even have the heart to tell her to stop, because of how badly she edged you during the car ride to the venue— desperately needing her to finish what she started. don't worry, rickea will have mercy on you, you're too cute when you're needy. just promise her you won't be too loud.
VOLUME ⟢ how loud they are, what sounds do they make? 𝝑𝝔 MICHAEL OLISE
ah, michael, our nonchalant king. but when it comes to you under him in bed, he turns very chalant quick— losing his mind at your beautiful body and the soft sounds of your moans. he tries so hard to make you feel good and hear you scream, that honestly, he holds back his own moans. he’ll grunt and groan here and there, but it’s low and rough, the kind of thing you hear when his face is nuzzled into your neck, breathy gasps brushing your ears. there was a time he did moan louder than a whisper— it was after bayern had won the bundesliga (again). still sticky from the beer that had drenched him, you made quick work of his shorts and boxers. maybe it was the rush from winning, adrenaline still in his system, but the moment your lips wrapped around his tip— michael whined. loud. it unmistakably came from him, but he still catches himself from letting out another, looking down to your wide eyes with a sheepish grin. you were surprised that he could even produce a sound like that in a first place— and although you made a mental note to tease him about it later… you most definitely did whatever you could to draw it out of him again, because fuck, that was hot.
long ass taglist i am so sorry...will add another option to the taglist form that'll make the taglist for fics like these shorter!
⤷ want to be added to the taglist? read this!
yourusername Today is a special day, not just it's your birthday, but because the world was blessed with someone as handsome, strong, and special as you. I want you to know that even when things aren't perfect, your life means so much to me and to everyone around you. You are truly one of a kind, and I thank God every day for bringing you into my life.
Enjoy your day, my love. You deserve the very best.
With all my love, (your name) 💋💌💕
view all comments...
michael's arms rested on your hips. tatted arm hugging the small of your back while the other occasionally rubbed against your plump bottom. the tight fabric of the skirt you wore allowed him to feel then outline of your underwear beneath his fingertips.
your arms were outstretched. forearms rested on his shoulders while your hands played in his freshly re-twisted hair. the both of you stared lovingly in each other's eyes. the silence around you was over powered by the silent words being shared between you. though that silence in the room would soon be broken by you.
"i love you my handsome birthday boy," your voice sweet and soft in his ears. his head leaned down to rest against your own before he responded.
a small hum of content as he spoke, "i love you too."
his eyes scanned over ever inch of your face as if trying to memorize it before you disappeared.
"you stay staring at me. you like what you see?" you peek up from under your eyelashes with a sly smile.
he smirked at that, slow and knowing, the corner of his mouth tugging up as his thumb brushed a lazy circle against your hip.
"more than that. i like what i see, smell, feel, and hear."
"oh really?" you easy caught the subtle hints he was throwing at you. and he would definitely get what he wanted later.
"yea."
his voice was low. that same tone you'd always recognize easily. but now you were on limited time and had to get going. so instead you settled for a small kiss. brief, but affectionate.
"don't worry, i gotchu later."
a breathy chuckle escapes his lips before he's dragged along by you.
jamalmusiala10 Replied to you story: Little Mikey is all grown up🥹😂
k.mbappe Replied to your story: Well look at you two🤞🏼🥴
theehotgirlmuse Replied to your story: I get no thanks for setting this up?
warnings/notes ➜ 18+ minors dni. cheating. angst. morally grey characters.
summary ➜ olise is getting married in a week. you’ve always been the friend, the almost, the what-if. but tonight you tell him the truth — you’re in love with him, you always have been. and no, you’re not asking for forever. just one night.
you weren’t supposed to say anything, you told yourself that. kept it tucked inside like a secret too ugly to name. because he was happy. because he had her. because he was about to marry her.
and you? you were just the friend. the plus-one. the one who helped him shop for rings, who held his phone and recorded the moment when he proposed, who smiled and said “i’m so happy for you” when it felt like your chest was splitting in half.
but now you’re here, in your apartment, five nights before the wedding. your palms are sweating, your throat’s dry, you haven’t even sat down.
and olise is standing there. in front of you. blinking like he can’t believe you’re actually saying this.
“just one night,” you whisper, voice already breaking. “that’s all i’m asking.”
he doesn’t speak, doesn’t move. just stares.
eyes darting between your lips, your eyes, your trembling fingers.
you swallow hard.
“i know you love her,” you say. “i know you’re getting married. i know i’m… not the one you want.” your voice cracks. “but michael, i’ve wanted you for so long. and it’s not about trying to change anything, i swear. i’m not delusional. i’m not asking for your heart. i just…” your voice drops lower. “i just want to feel you. just once.”
he still doesn’t say anything. but you see the shift in his jaw. the subtle flex of muscle.
the way his hand curls into a fist by his side.
so you go further, you spill the parts you swore you never would.
“i want to show you,” you murmur, “everything i’ve ever thought about when i look at you. all the things i imagine when you touch my hand. when you call me late. when you tell me secrets. when you tell me i’m beautiful like you don’t know how much that fucks me up.”
he shifts in his seat, jaw tightening, but still doesn’t speak.
your eyes burn, but you keep going. keep spilling.
“i’ve touched myself thinking about you more times than i can count,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “i’ve made myself cum to the thought of your hands. your mouth. your voice. i’ve woken up in the middle of the night, soaked, aching, because you were in my dream. and it felt real.”
his throat bobs. he’s breathing harder now. his knuckles damn near white around the glass of don julio in his hand.
you lean closer.
“i’ve thought about being on my knees for you. about riding you. about choking on you while you hold my hair back and say my name like it’s the only one you know. i’ve imagined you pushing me up against the wall and making me beg for it. i’ve wanted you to bend me over every surface in your apartment. i’ve imagined you so deep inside me i can’t breathe.”
olise closes his eyes. like it hurts to hear. like he’s trying to block it out but can’t.
you reach for his hand.
“i know you’re not mine,” you say, “but i’m yours. and i just want tonight. no strings. no promises. just you. however you’ll give yourself to me.”
he stays still for a second longer. then he opens his eyes, and they’re full of something dark. hungry. pained.
he sets the glass down.
then he stands.
and when he reaches for you, it’s not slow. it’s not gentle. it’s everything at once.
he pulls you up with both hands, your bodies crashing together like something’s breaking. he kisses you hard — messy, urgent, his mouth opening against yours like he’s been dying for it. you whimper into him, hands fisting in his hoodie, and he groans, deep and low, dragging your hips into his.
he walks you backwards. doesn’t stop kissing you. doesn’t breathe. just moves, chest heaving, hands gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.
you end up in your bedroom. the door slams shut behind him, and you’re already pulling your shirt off, already reaching for his pants. you’re shaking. he’s sweating. his hands are on your waist, your ribs, your face, your ass. he’s touching everything at once. kissing you like he’s trying to brand you with it.
“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he mutters against your mouth. “you’ve always been so fucking—”
you grab his hand, shove it between your legs. he groans when he feels how wet you are.
“you did that,” you whisper. “you’ve always done that to me.”
he doesn’t answer. just drops to his knees.
his mouth is on you before you can even think. no teasing. no pause. just a raw, hungry dive into everything you’ve ever imagined. he groans the second his tongue hits you — loud, guttural, like the taste of you shocks something alive in him.
he spreads you open with both hands, palms sliding under your thighs, dragging them wide and holding you in place with a grip so firm it leaves dents. his thumbs press into the creases of your hips, and then he licks up, slow and deliberate, from your dripping entrance to your clit, moaning like he’s already addicted.
he eats like a man possessed — messy, sloppy, starved. his tongue circles and flicks, then plunges deep inside you, fucking you open while his nose brushes your clit just right. every sound he makes vibrates through your core. low, feral sounds. moans that don’t belong to someone who’s supposed to be marrying another woman in six days.
your hips jerk, bucking up into his face, and he loves it. groans louder. sinks his hands deeper into your flesh to hold you still.
you fist the back of his head, hair clutched between your fingers, dragging him closer, needier. your thighs tremble around his face. your back arches. your chest heaves.
“olise—fuck—michael,” you cry, voice cracking as your thighs squeeze around his head.
he grunts against your pussy, tongue moving faster now, sloppier, wetter, dirtier. his spit’s all over you. your wetness is all over him. his chin’s soaked, lips shiny, and he doesn’t care. doesn’t pause. doesn’t breathe.
he’s eating you like this is what he came for. like this is the only reason he’s here. like he’s trying to memorise your taste, tattoo it onto his tongue.
“you taste so fucking good,” he murmurs against you, his voice rough and muffled. “been dying to know… fuck, baby, you’re dripping—”
and then he flattens his tongue and drags it over your clit in slow, heavy laps, using the whole of his mouth, and you quite literally scream. loud. uncontrollably. you clutch his head so hard your nails dig into his scalp.
he moans again. louder. grinding his face against you. like he wants to live there.
and maybe he does.
“fuck, olise,” you cry, voice splintering right down the middle. “i’m gonna—”
you barely get the words out. your body’s already betraying you, already seizing up, thighs trembling against the sides of his face. your hips instinctively grind into his mouth, like you need to chase that final stroke of his tongue. you sob when it hits — loud, broken, one hand clawing the headboard, the other fisting his hair like you’re scared he’ll stop before it’s over.
and he doesn’t. not even when your whole body jerks. not even when your voice hits a pitch he’s never heard before. he keeps going, slower now, lips soft around your clit, tongue gentle but greedy. like he’s trying to memorise how you taste when you fall apart for him. like he’s never going to get this again, so he’s committing everything to memory.
he breathes against your cunt like it’s oxygen. face soaked. you can feel him groan into you one last time, and then he finally pulls back, mouth all slick and wet and perfect.
he stands up slow. wipes his face with the back of his hand, eyes half-lidded and wild, like he’s drunk off you.
“you’re gonna take everything,” he says, voice dark, ragged, like he’s still catching his breath. he grabs your thighs and drags you up the bed, your back hitting the pillows, your limbs loose, chest rising and falling fast. “you said you wanted it all. so take it.”
you nod. barely. your lips parted, chest heaving. your body’s still buzzing, but your eyes are locked on him now — dazed, hungry, worshipful. like he’s the only thing in the room.
he pulls his hoodie over his head in one motion, muscles flexing under that soft skin. he drops it somewhere behind him, then tugs the waistband of his sweats down.
your breath catches.
his dick slaps against his stomach, thick and heavy, the tip flushed, glistening with precum. it’s pretty in that filthy, overwhelming kind of way. big enough to make your throat dry and your thighs squeeze together. your mouth goes slack, your whole body leaning forward like it’s out of your control.
“fuck,” you whisper, crawling toward him on all fours, slow and shaky and still dripping. “please let me taste you.”
he looks down at you like you’re something unreal. like you’ve just cracked something open in him.
he doesn’t say yes. doesn’t nod. he just smirks. slow. lazy. mean. grabs you by the jaw and pulls you to the edge of the bed. plants his feet. stands tall in front of you while you kneel.
his voice is low when he says, “open.”
you do. wide and eager. tongue out, eyes on him. like a girl who’s dreamed of this too many times not to know what she wants.
“good girl,” he murmurs, sliding the tip across your tongue. your lips wrap around him instantly, eyes fluttering shut as he sinks in deeper — slow at first, letting you adjust. he hisses through his teeth. “shit. your mouth feels even better than i imagined.”
you moan around him, taking more, letting your lips stretch, your jaw ache. spit pools fast, dripping down your chin. you’re already gagging a little but you don’t stop. don’t want to.
you look up at him through your lashes, mascara smudged, eyes glassy.
he smiles. both hands in your hair now. not forcing, but steady. guiding. like he’s trying not to lose it. like he could, so easily.
“just like that,” he breathes. “that’s it. fuck, look at you…”
he thrusts once, shallow, and you gag again, throat tightening. he groans low, his grip tightening in your hair, hips twitching like he wants to ruin you right then and there. his dick is heavy on your tongue, warm and pulsing, and so fucking deep in your throat when you take more.
your hands are on his thighs, nails digging in, your own pussy clenching like it’s jealous of your mouth. he’s moaning now, talking low and nasty, head thrown back.
“been wanting this since the first time i saw you in that little fucking dress,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “you remember that night?”
how could you forget?
it was a year ago. some packed nightclub in london, all low lights and expensive liquor. you met olise before the engagement. before there was ever another woman standing beside him.
you'd spent half the night orbiting each other. he'd bought your drinks, laughed every time you gave him that look over the rim of your glass.
there'd been dancing, lingering touches, but nothing happened. not really. you flirted until sunrise without crossing a single line. and somehow, that almost made it worse. because you'd walked out of that club convinced it was only a matter of time before you two became something more.
then, barely two months later, there he was. same smile. same eyes. different woman on his arm.
you'd swallowed whatever disappointment settled in your chest, told yourself you'd imagined the chemistry and taught yourself to be happy with being just his friend.
until tonight.
his fingers tighten slightly in your hair.
“you spent half the night sittin' on my lap,” he says, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. “all pretty, all sweet... looking at me like that.”
his eyes meet yours, his smile small now, almost disbelieving. “thought about you for weeks after that.”
you whimper, drooling now, spit all over your lips, your chin, down your neck. he groans again and pulls out slowly, dick slick and shiny with your spit, your mouth hollowing around nothing as you chase it.
“fuck,” he mutters. “you’re so desperate for it.”
you nod. chest heaving. mouth open, lips swollen, tongue out like you’re begging. like you’ll cry if he doesn’t give it back.
and he does.
he slaps it gently against your tongue once. then slides back in.
deeper this time.
you moan, choked and messy, as he rocks his hips forward, fucking into your mouth with slow, filthy strokes.
and you? you let him. like it’s all you’ve ever needed. like your whole body was made for this. for him. even if it’s just one night.
you gag around him, eyes burning, spit dripping down your chin. your hands are gripping his thighs for balance, knuckles damn near white, and his skin is warm under your palms — muscles flexing as his hips roll forward, slow and steady and greedy.
he watches you — jaw slack, mouth parted, eyebrows stitched together like it’s taking everything in him not to fuck your throat recklessly. like he’s savouring the feel of you, the heat, the mess, the wet sounds echoing through the room.
"fuck,” he rasps, voice sharp. “you look so pretty like this."
your lashes flutter, tears threatening to spill, and you hum around him in response, vibrating his dick with the sound. that’s what makes him twitch in your mouth. that’s what makes his abs clench beneath your hands.
he pulls out fast, a gasp catching in his throat as your lips chase after him. but he’s already bending down, grabbing your face between his hands, his thumbs swiping messily at the spit smeared down your chin. then he kisses you. hard. filthy. tongue and teeth and a low groan buried in your mouth.
he breaks the kiss, panting.
“get on all fours.”
you obey. there’s no hesitation. you’re dizzy, dripping, spine arching as you crawl across the bed and push your ass up for him. vulnerable. shameless. wanting.
he groans behind you, deep in his chest, and then his palm comes down on your ass — loud, stinging, almost possessive. you jolt forward from the force of it, moaning into the pillow, and you hear the blunt sound of him stroking himself once, twice, then nothing but silence before—
he thrusts in. one long, slow push.
your mouth drops open. your whole body seizes.
"oh my god—” you gasp.
“fuck,” olise groans behind you, like it’s being torn out of him. “so fucking tight.”
he pulls out halfway. slams back in.
your vision blurs.
“this what you wanted, baby?” his voice is all gravel now. “this what you been dreaming about?”
“yes,” you cry out. “yes, michael, yes—just like that—”
he fucks you hard. relentless. filthy. his hips snapping against yours over and over, the sound obscene, echoing through the room like proof. like shame. like satisfaction.
your face is buried in the pillows, hands fisting the sheets, your body rocked forward with every thrust. he’s gripping your hips like he owns them. dragging you back onto his dick like you’re his to use. and you let him. you want it.
you need it.
he leans over you, chest pressed to your back, one hand creeping up until it’s wrapped around your throat. then he pulls you up. your back flush to his chest, your neck curved in his grip.
“look at me,” he breathes, right against your ear. “you get to have this. just once. so fucking look at me.”
your eyes flutter open.
you meet his gaze in the mirror across the bed.
and it’s everything.
his face is wrecked. flushed. eyes wild. sweat beading along his brow. his mouth is kiss-swollen, hanging open like he’s trying to catch his breath — like he’s trying to hold onto this moment before it disappears.
he looks at you like he’s never going to see you again. and maybe he won’t.
your thighs are shaking. your mouth is open. you look like sin in that mirror — cheeks tear-stained, lips bruised, body bouncing on him with every thrust.
he whispers, like a confession: “you feel like heaven.”
you whimper, grinding back into him. and for a second — just one — it almost feels like love.
he reaches between you, fingers slick with how wet you are, rubbing tight circles on your clit. not slow. not gentle. fast and firm like he knows exactly what you need.
you’re already close. have been since he first kissed you. since he told you to take it. and now it’s building fast, sharp heat blooming from the pit of your stomach to the backs of your knees, to your spine, to your scalp. you can’t even think. can’t breathe.
your voice cracks. “i— i’m gonna—”
he grunts, barely holding himself together. thrusts deep, hits that spot inside you that makes your whole body lurch forward.
“go ahead, pretty girl,” he says, low and gritty, right in your ear. “cum all over me. let me feel how bad you needed it. how fucking desperate you’ve been for me.”
and you break.
loud.
you scream for him. choke on his name. your whole body tenses then shudders, waves of pleasure ripping through you, thighs trembling, vision going white around the edges. your walls clench around him so tight he curses into your neck, hips faltering for the first time all night.
but he doesn’t stop.
he fucks you through it. keeps his fingers on your clit, keeps pounding into you like he’s determined to make you cry again. like he wants to ruin your body for anyone else. like he’s trying to burn himself into your nerve endings.
he pulls out for a second just to flip you over like it’s nothing. your legs spread open without thought, aching and spent, but your body is still begging for him. he lines himself back up and slides in deep, one long, hard thrust that knocks the breath out of your chest.
your legs wrap around his waist. your heels dig into his ass. you claw at his back, pulling him closer, needing his whole weight on top of you.
you drag him down by the back of his neck, crash your mouth into his.
the kiss is everything. desperate. messy. your teeth clash. your tongues tangle. it tastes like sweat, tears, sex, everything you’re too scared to say out loud. you moan into his mouth. he swallows it.
his hands are everywhere. one on your jaw, the other on your thigh, spreading you wider, keeping you open so he can stay deep. your bodies slap together with every thrust. you’re soaked and swollen and sensitive, but you need it. you need him.
he’s panting against your lips now. fucking you harder. sloppier. his forehead pressed to yours.
“i’m gonna cum,” he pants, voice shaking. “fuck— where do you want it, baby?”
you don’t hesitate.
you grab his ass, fingers sinking into his flesh, dragging him impossibly deeper.
“inside,” you whisper, eyes wide, wet. “i want all of you. every drop. please, fill me up.”
he groans like you just shattered something inside him. his whole body trembles, he buries his face in your neck, lets out a broken moan.
“mhmm, fuck—”
then he’s gone.
hips jerking, dick pulsing, thick and hot as he spills into you. deep. messy. all of it. he moans your name like it’s a goodbye, like he’ll never get to say it like it again.
his body collapses on top of yours, heavy and shaking. your arms wrap around his back, holding him close. his cum filling you up.
neither of you move for a while. you just lie there. full of him. wrecked by him. knowing this was your only night. and it was everything.
you lie there. tangled. silent. your bodies sticky and sore. the air heavy.
you don’t know how long you lie there like that — your chest under his, your breath catching beneath the weight of it all, your legs still wrapped around him like you’re trying to keep him close. like if you hold him tight enough, he won’t go. that morning won’t come. that he won’t go back to her.
but it will. and he will. and you always knew that.
his body is warm against yours. all muscled and solid and still pulsing inside you. you feel the wet slide of him leaking out of you, sticky and hot between your thighs, and for a moment, you pretend it means something more. pretend like maybe it rewrote what this night was supposed to be.
you shift beneath him. and when he presses a kiss to your collarbone — soft, like an apology — something in your chest breaks. your eyes sting.
then it comes.
quiet at first. not dramatic. just a slow ache of breath shaking loose from your lungs. a crack of a sob slipping out before you can stop it.
he freezes. lifts his head. sees the tears spilling down your temples. the way you try to blink them back. the way you try to hide your face from him, even though it’s too late.
his voice is barely there. “baby…”
you shake your head, lip trembling. try to hold it in. fail. your hand covers your mouth but your chest keeps jerking with every silent sob.
olise props himself up, cupping your face with both hands. he kisses the corners of your eyes, the salt of your cheeks, your jaw, your lips.
“i’m sorry,” you choke, eyes screwed shut. “i didn’t mean to— i didn’t mean to cry.”
“don’t do that,” he whispers. “don’t apologise.”
he leans his forehead into yours, breath warm against your skin. you feel him everywhere. still inside you. still wrapped around you. still the one thing you wanted more than anything.
you whisper, barely audible, “i told myself i could handle this.”
he presses his lips to your nose. your eyelids. your chin.
“you’re handling it,” he says. “i promise you are.”
but he knows you’re not. and so do you.
you sit up slowly, pushing your hair out of your face. the sheets fall from your body, but you don’t care. you’re too raw. too exposed already. you curl into yourself a little, arms wrapping around your knees.
“so what now?” you ask, voice hoarse.
he’s watching you like you might disappear. like he wants to memorise you. every inch. every expression. every shadow of this night.
he breathes in deep, then says it quietly. “i marry her.”
your eyes close. a slow nod.
“and i just… forget this happened?”
“no,” he swallows hard. shifts in place. “i don’t even think i can.”
that makes your heart stutter. that makes the tears come back. because he means it. and somehow that makes this so much worse.
he stands. pulls on his sweats, then his hoodie. his movements are slow. like he doesn’t want to touch anything too roughly. like he’s afraid of breaking something more than he already has.
“i should go before i make this harder than it already is.”
you nod. bite your tongue. your vision is blurred.
he walks to the door, hand on the knob. pauses.
then he turns back around, eyes soft and full of something too heavy to name.
“you were everything,” he says, voice soft. “i wish things were different.”
and then he leaves.
no kiss. no promises. just the door clicking shut. just the echo of him walking away.
you sit there in the stillness, naked, trembling, full of him and yet empty in a way you’ve never known. the sheets smell like him. your body aches for him. and your heart?
your heart never stood a chance.
you gave olise one night. now you’ll live the rest of your life with it.
turnnoffyourmind
prguitarman
izzy806
discoholicmusic
vaporwave
tangentwithtanner
