Hellooooo, i was hoping you coukd do s deji smut or angst maybe??
Of course of course, getting through my requests (which are still open!)
Misunderstanding
Prompt: you and your Fiancé clearly haven’t communicated OR managed time too well.
Warnings: smut, kind of angry sex, cowgirl, she/her reader.
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It was a long, tiring day. Too many people to please and not enough sleep. Getting home was meant to be peaceful. Meant to be.
“Can you do this?” Deji, my fiancé yawns, pushing a list into my chest lightly, sloppily kissing my temple.
Our dog, Kai, a lovely chocolate Labrador circles my feet.
“No, not right now I wanna go to bed.”
I kick my shoes off, seriously not thinking it’d be a big deal yet he frowns at me.
“What? Come on.. we need-“ he starts but I shake my head.
“I’ve been working for like- s-sixteen hours straight.” I tug my coat off and he just looks to be growing more and more annoyed.
“Yeah! So have I! I’ve been editing that fucking-“ He cuts himself off after taking note of my scowl.
“Yeah but I’ll go tomorrow. It isn’t a big deal.” I go to swerve past him but he grips my arm.
“Can you just go?” He urges, annoyed.
“No, I can’t. I don’t want to. You go. I’m tired.” I push past him.
“I’ve been home for like an hour and we don’t have food.” He says, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
“Then you shouldn’t expect me to want to do it! Fuck off, Deji.”
I cross my arms, he narrows his eyes and turns to his room, I go to my room and purposefully slam my door. We could just order for the night or make something with what we did have. He was overreacting.
-
After being pissed off in my own bed for a while I clean my room. I can’t find those stupid gummies I ordered. The ‘infused’ ones. They seemed silly. I wanted one now. To be alone and possibly spite my fiancé
I frown and make my way to the kitchen to see Deji, face focused and sweating mildly.
I ignore him and get on my tiptoes, looking in the cupboards for my gummies. They were for me and him. But I was petty.
“I’ll order something.. if you-“ I start as I stand properly he hugs me from behind. I can feel how hard he is. Maybe that’s where my gummies went.
“Yeah.. yeah, we can order.” He murmurs into my neck, gently pushing his hips into my ass.
“I’m still not happy-“ I start but cut myself off from his lips enclosing around my neck, sucking lightly then changing to a soft nibble.
“Mm- yeah.. should have spoke to you about it.”
He breaths gently, arms wrapping around my middle, pushing himself further into me.
He bites me a little harder, I lean my head back on his shoulder, he squeezes my waist and spins gently spins me around. His pupils are so blown i have to assess his lovestruck face.
My anger simmers away at his face, I get on my tip toes and press my lips to his briefly. His own flutter shut and when I pull away a small pout is left on his lips.
His hands find my hips and he pulls me to him, pressing his forehead against mine.
A soft squeeze to my hips and his bottom lip going between his teeth is all I need to know what he wants (though, his cock pressed into my ass did also tell me.)
“Come on..” He whispers gently, squeezing my hips again, pulling me impossibly closer.
“Alright..” I follow him closely, watching his eyes rake up and down me.
I smile softly and he pulls me to him, chest to chest. I feel how fast his heart is beating as he stays to suck and bite at my neck.
I straddle him, slowly, watching his lashes flutter as I settle down. He’s still warm from the kitchen, hands on my thighs like he’s grounding himself.
I don’t move. Just sit. Let him feel the weight of me.
“You still mad?” he murmurs, looking up at me like he’s scared to blink.
“Little bit,” I say, tracing his chest with one fingertip. “But this helps.”
His hands twitch on my thighs. I roll my hips once, slow and mean, just enough to make him exhale sharp.
He lets his head fall back against the bed. I press my palms to his chest and rock again. Slower. Deeper. I let him feel me through my shorts and his jeans.
“Still mad?” he tries again, voice breathless.
I lean in, mouth at his ear. “Shut up.”
His fingers dig into my legs, and I finally start moving — slow at first, then faster when he groans.
The bed creaks under us. He keeps looking up at me like I’m some kind of miracle. I avoid his eyes.
He knows not to push it.
My hands stay on his chest, holding him there. He lets me have control — for once.
I smile softly and finally let my hands undo his fly, his bulge not going unnoticed.
He swallows, watching me, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on either side of my hips.
He helps me out of my shorts like it’s a favor. Like he’s doing me a kindness.
“Lift,” he says quietly, and I do — just enough for him to slide the fabric down. My panties go with them.
I climb back over him slow, still watching his eyes. He’s already undone his jeans, pushed them low enough. He’s hard, leaking, his hands hesitant like he thinks I’ll change my mind.
“Still mad?” he whispers again, voice more hope than question.
“Still talking?” I shoot back, and that shuts him up.
I sink down on him slow, slower than he wants. His breath stutters, his hands gripping my thighs tight enough I’ll have little bruises in the morning. Good.
My hands brace on his chest again. He’s warm. He’s mine.
I rock once, slow, deliberate. He groans like I’m pulling the sound out of his lungs. His eyes flicker closed.
“Eyes on me,” I murmur. “You don’t get to look away.”
He listens. Barely. He’s struggling.
I move again — slow, deep, hips rolling just enough to make him bite down on a curse. His hands go to my waist. I slap them away.
“Let me,” I say. “You had your little tantrum. Now be good.”
He nods, biting his lip.
I ride him slow, steady, letting every grind pull a new sound out of him. His jaw’s tight. His chest rises sharp. I press down harder, roll my hips deeper.
“Fuck—” he gasps, fingers twitching like he wants to grab me again. He doesn’t.
“Yeah,” I whisper, leaning down, mouth at his ear. “You’re lucky I’m still here.”
He moans.
And I smile gently, watching his face as he gets closer and closer to climax.
His moans are struggling. He doesn’t know to keep his eyes on me or let his throat do the talking. So he’s struggling, eyes half lidded and grip tight.
“You close baby?” I ask gently after a particularly high pitched noise. He finally shuts his eyes, brows knitted together.
“Mm- mhm.” He whimpers, mouth lightly agape.
I smirk weakly myself and press my lips to his, I swallow his noises until he cums inside of me, his breath hitching and sloppily thrusting upwards, I shudder and squeeze his shoulder, going limp on top of him. We stay like that for a few minutes.
We’re quiet after. The kind of quiet that doesn’t need fixing.
His chest is sticky under my cheek, still rising a little too fast. One of his arms is wrapped around my back, lazy, the other resting across his forehead like he just finished a marathon.
I don’t say anything. I just listen to the fan hum overhead and his heartbeat slow down.
His fingers skim up and down my spine like he’s still trying to apologize without saying the words.
“You still mad?” he whispers again, barely audible.
I sigh. “Less.”
He nods like that’s enough. Maybe it is.
We lay there a while, neither of us in a rush. His skin is warm. The sheets are a mess. I should get up. We should clean up.
I don’t.
Eventually, he shifts a little, kisses the top of my head.
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