#FILTH LOL!!!

[fleursbending]

THE TAILS OF TSU'TEY AND TONOWARI. | 18+

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : do you see that pun ?? isn't it so funny ?? ^^ hahahahaahahahahahha.. okay here u go whores have sum headcanons 🙏🏼‼️‼️ (i was gonna link the jake sully one but i think everyone and their mom has seen it). this filthy asf i did not hold back. my mind ran and fell out of my ass. edit / ok the bullet points were glitching out for wari but i'm hoping it is okay now!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : MDNI, nsfw, UHMM seggsy times with blue big ass aliens idrk what else to say ?!?!? choking, overstim, brief degrading, mention of somnophilia & oral (f! receiving).

✰ 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐈 :

wari knew you were drawn to his tail, for a differing amount of reasons. one of them being that it made you feel really good

and he'd be so consumed by making you feel good, because you're his girl. your pleasure tops everything for him

like his tail is so thick in and the width of it is so girthy lord

"take it like the good girl you are." he'd say as he forces you beneath him and lets his tail gravitate up your leg to where you need him most

i just see his tail acting before he can even fully think of what he was about to do

whether it is in his possessive nature, or just watching out for you

he'd totally use the width and thickness of it to his advantage come on. probably would let it lay in between your plushy thighs and press it against your throbbing clit.

"ahh" he'd say, as he would spit in your mouth - making you swallow it as you grind down on his tail.

I'm not sure how sensitive the metkayinas tails would be considering how different they've adapted to their surroundings, but i'd like to think

if you were to tug on it, it'd still elicit a deep guttural grown from tonowari

he'd fist your hair and smash your lips against his, nibbling at your bottom lip

"yeah? is all of this mine?" he'd growl, hands groping your ass and squeezing it.

wari would whisper such filth to you as his lips hover right over yours, basking in your whines and moans that waver in differing octaves.

"what's wrong, sweetheart? can't take anymore? why? oh...-" he'd let out a low chuckle. "is that it? i don't care. keep going."

his tail would be like. undeniably smooth.. so imagine thigh riding but switch thigh with tail lol!

some of y'all gonna be like wtf!! but dont lie to me ik some of u guys are eating that concept up

like him gripping your hips and pulling you up and down, other hand trailing down to press his thumb on the pearl of your clit and gently just rubs

or when you've made him fucking angry he'd use his tail as some sort of fuck toy until your legs are too sore to keep going.

like he'd give you such a condescending glare, "what? you're spent? when did i tell you to stop?"

tonowari is a beefy man, and with all that strength lordddd you're all gonna be going at it for quite some time !!

like ik for a fact he'd make you use his tail to get off until you reach the point of pure exhaustion

he'd let out a booming laugh, making you comfortable as he just towers over you

"guess it's my turn now"

and his cock would just be so ready for your cunt

and he'd coo at you as you let out something akin to a scream and a cry as your poor lil hole is finally filled with himmm and his balls would just smack at your skin lorddd

there'd be instances where you'd go on midnight swims and his tail would just curve into your waist pushing you closer to his proximity.

he'd have a wolfish grin as your chest presses into this, hands palming at every inch of your skin.

and as things get more heated, more desperate. you'd begin to tug him back to shore, to head to your shared mauri.

but he'd insist with a shake of his head, grasping below your thighs and wrapping them around his waist.

his head would dip down then, hovering over your ear. his breath making the hairs on the back of your head stand.

"how about i just take you here?" like! ok yes pls-

i can just imagine his tail sometimes pushing the ends of your hair back so he could have access to your chest, kissing you everywhere.

like not to deter but tonowari is such a boobs guy like he'd fr suck on your nipples while bucking into you real deep.

mans has such a high sexdrive like, he's going to crave you constantly. especially if he didn't have a successful hunt, or people in the clan are way to up his ass that day.

either he'd fuck you into oblivion, or just sit back and let you use him however you wish.

his tail swishes ever so slightly at the mere thought of you, that's the affect you have on him.

he doesn't know if it's possible but the next thing on his kink list is to definitely somehow choke you with his tail as he fucks you.

you'll have more than enough time together alone, (especially on your night escapades) for him to really test those, so be ready

✰ 𝐓𝐒𝐔'𝐓𝐄𝐘 :

let me just say. he'd be gripping your throat as his lips are so precise with the way they kiss yours in that very moment

and you wouldn't acknowledge it at first as he leans in closer to you. not even realising his tail that trails up your leg

but then it would tug at your loin cloth. once to check how tightly it is on. two to check the waters. 3 to rip it right off of you.

and you'd gasp in shock as the cool air hits your already wet pussy

tilting his head, a coy smirk graced his lips as his forefinger ever so softly dragged through your folds

"ah, what have i done to already make you this wet. do tell."

your hips would jolt then, desperate for more friction, for him to fill you up

the smirk would drop, tsking at you as one of his large hands would push down on your lower tummy to keep you settled

you'd take a deep inhale of breath, both your eyes following the tail that once again trailed up your leg

this time it'd wrap itself around your breasts, squeezing. it was pure erotic, back arching and everything.

the smoothness and how sleek it was, the way it pressed down on your chest - had your eyes closing in pure utter ecstasy

"that's right, use it like it's my cock. there you go, baby. yes." he'd urge you when you are having sex

he'd be very watchful of your reactions, solely just wanting to please you and make you feel good

like can you imagine at a bonfire one night, tsu'tey had gone off to get your food

you're just happily waiting for him when suddenly another man from the clan approaches, trying to seduce you to follow him to the forest

you'd respectfully declined, knowing that of his true intentions behind his words - but he wasn't seeming to go without staking a claim on you

did he live under a rock? oh no tsu-tey

tsu'teys hands are preoccupied, anger making his posture stiffen ever so more as he quickened his pace over to you

"i am taken, i have a mate. please leave before he-"

he makes himself known from behind you, balacing the food on his hands as he uses his tail to smack the wrist of the mans hand that was trying to make its way to your face

"you heard her, leave. before i take out all your teeth and beat you to-"

"tsu'tey!" you'd hiss, arms wrapping around his waist.

he'd snap out of it, glowering at the pathetic excuse of a man as he scampered off.

your cheeks flush as you realised his tail now seemed to wrap itself right above your loin cloth - an action he'd do unintentionally when feeling possessive

after your meal,, let's just say he was still starving for some more

the way he'd restrict your hand by his tail, or how the swishing motion of it would tenderly linger on your legs when he'd devour your pussy

"shhh, don't want the rest of the hunting party to you hear you. unless you do?" he'd say as he had you against a tree and completely having his way with you

i can see his tail having a mind of its own while he's asleep sometimes,, like he'd be having quite a vivid dream of you

and suddenly his tail would just be pressed against you, in a tired haze you'd try to ignore the pressure

but with tsu'tey spooning you and now unintentionally rutting against you, his tail seems to be growing in sensitivity as it curls against you

the feeling of the fur at the end of it brushing your upper thighs is what would finally jolt you awake

i can just imagine his tail trailing down the dip in your spine as you ride him, or the best part

when you'd surprise him by tugging on it

it'd happen at those times where its your turn to take control during your nighttime charades,, yk y'all like to switch it up

just a lil tug is all it takes sometimes

he'd harshly bite down on his bottom lip, "y'n" he'd let out in a low growl that makes you clench and squeeze down on his cock even more

eyes rolling to the back of his head, jaw and thighs clenching in sheer pleasure as the feeling of it equates to that of him teetering over the age of bustin

he'd definitely use his tail to choke you out when you're about to cum

i just feel like tails can do so much more than depict the emotions he is feeling at that very moment

he'd honestly use it however way you wish for him too as long as you're fine with it and it makes you feel good

like him fucking you from behind as his hands grip at your ass and his tail wraps around your hair and tug on it...??? damnnn

𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

⤷ feedback and reblogs are always much appreciated ! feel free to ask through my inbox if you would like to join my nsfw taglist. ♡

also i am sorry if this is bad </3 she was written at like 3am last night!

[maevelin]

Re-watching the first scenes of the first episode and what I noticed is that when Colin returns Penelope just avoids him, even though with her he is himself.

So he got frustrated and when he chased her out of the ball he tries to charm her in the way he had learn to pose with his new persona.

Penelope is NOT BUYING IT ...AND THEN Colin uses the same fake charm he used to every lady since he came back to PEN.

He says...I missed you, but it is with a sly look, with pride, charm and smile and yes he feels it but he is delivering it with a shallow way.

When Penelope asked "You missed me?"

His look is ...yeah I got her.

Only he does not because Penelope is not like everyone else.

AND THEN IS WHEN SHE SNAPS AT HIM... and it was the push she needed to actually tell him she heard him at her mom's ball saying he would never court her.

And in all those interactions PENELOPE READ HIM SO WELL that while what she wrote in Whistledown is something she later regretted (because Colin came back and was honest and real with her without using his new little tricks) it does not make it any less true.

Like Penelope SEES HIM. She is the only who actually SAW through his bullshit and did not even have to try to guess why he was doing it like the rest of his family did.

And Colin lashing out about how he will ruin LW because of what she wrote about Marina and Eloise is also bullshit.

Penelope struck a nerve with what she wrote because ultimately it was so true that Colin could not believe that someone could see through him so clearly and expose his most inner insecurities like that.

And IF Whistledown writes gossip in that moment Colin could only wonder if what he was doing was actually wrong and the Ton gossiped about it behind his back.

Colin got hurt in the previous two seasons and tried to wear a fake armor in order to fit in and Penelope was NOT HAVING IT.

Girl was like....I SEE YOU! YOU ARE NOT FOOLING ME!

[irl-simon-riley]

MDNI

"Ghost is so tall! He has to be big down there." okay, but what if he isn't?

//ghoap, maybe ooc, drabble

what about Ghost who's four inches max? what about three inches? two? what about Ghost who is so small he can't find condoms his size in stores? Ghost who dealt with the hell of the communal showers early in his career, avoiding them like the plague once he's got his own private one. Ghost who couldn't help but flirt back when a certain sergeant started a playful back-and-forth that never seemed to stop. Ghost who is confident and forward when it's just kissing and groping and taking care of Johnny, but backs off the moment Soap's hands travel toward his belt. Ghost who freaks out internally, thinking that Soap must think something's wrong with him. Soap who doesn't even bat an eye, getting used to hearing "just you tonight" as Ghost gently moves his wandering hands away. Soap who just assumes Simon is a stone-top. Soap who always offers nonetheless. Soap who casually teases Simon for never taking off more than his shirt. Soap who apologizes the moment Ghost flushes bright red and hides his face. Ghost who ashamedly admits his big little secret, sputtering out apologies for his 'lying by omission' and 'it's okay if he wants to change his mind about this'. Meanwhile, Soap is smiling like an idiot because he could maybe maybe maybe get his mouth or hands on Simon tonight. Soap who lets Simon blab on (he's thinking with his other head right now) for a bit until he squeezes the meat of Ghost's chest to get his attention. "Did ya think I wouldn't be into you because of that?" Ghost just looks away and shrugs. Soap who just chuckles and begins kissing Simon's neck. "What are you doing?" "Showing you how into you I am." Johnny who takes all the time in the world, sitting on Simon's lap while kissing his neck, softly trailing his hands all over. Soap who finally gets Simon comfortable in just his boxers, laying him back and crawling on top. Ghost isn't even sure he can open his eyes when Soap's lips travel down to his chest, then stomach, then hips and thighs. "You want these off?" Soap, finally, asks. "Uh-huh." Johnny peels off Simon's boxers, ogling at his cock before making use of his drooling mouth. Ghost who feels like his soul is being sucked out of him and can't stop moaning and cursing under his breath. Soap only stops his hard suction and laving tongue to blow cold air on Simon's dick to make him whine. Simon who lasts an embarrassingly short time, arm covering his eyes and moaning apologies. Soap doesn't mind, shushing Simon and cuddling up to him. Ghost's hands trail down to Johnny's ass, squeezing it before tugging at the waistband of his boxers. Soap, who's turn it is to say "just you tonight" while dragging Simon's hands up to his waist. Ghost and Soap who snuggle and fall asleep together like they do every night.

(I love pathetic men)

[chokepoet]

Cruelty & Empathy 18+

gif by @romulussy

Summary | A night alone in the office has Roman and his assistant escalating their tension past a point of no return. The aftermath of which leads to confessions that will change the trajectory of their relationship forever.

Genre | Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot

Content | anxiety, biting, blood, bondage, choking, crying, dom/sub tones, degradation, dirty talk, mentions of past physical abuse, power struggles, thigh riding, sadomasochism, slapping, spitting

Word Count | 8.5k

A/N: Y’all this fic is fuckin’ filthyyyy… but like in a romantic way??? I wasn’t going to share it but my best friend insisted. If y’all hate this I volunteer as tribute for boar on the floor lmao

Roman Roy’s Office | 10:33 pm

He was sprawled out across the couch as if this were his family’s private estate. It might as well have been. The building’s climate control always seemed to be blowing a peculiar air. One that felt like his father breathing down the back of his neck at all times. Left calf draped over the backrest, right hand cradling a whiskey, and head tilted back over the armrest. His once-slick hair now hung limp, with loose strands reaching for the carpet below. His upside-down gaze willed me to stop my attempts at meeting our deadline and to focus solely on him instead.

My bank account's dwindling had my morals emaciated. They’d weakly played tug of war with my last braincell when I'd accepted Roman’s job offer nearly two years prior. About 6 months into being his assistant, I found myself earning another role: his best friend. His only friend. My typing picks up speed as I contemplate what level of fucked-up I had to be in order to actually enjoy this job. I decide it must have been top-tier when my thoughts drift to the one Roy that had me feeling this way.

In the past 22 months, I came to understand Roman better than anyone else ever had. He somehow wormed his way into gaining just as much insight into me as well. It made me feel strangely protective over him. Oddly enough, he seemed to reciprocate. We still rarely aloud ourselves vulnerability in the presence of the other. We much preferred self-immolation. I don’t think he ever intended to grow so attached to me. He certainly would never admit to it. If you had asked me if the feeling was mutual, I’d lie through my teeth.

I loved him madly.

I don’t exactly know when or how it happened. I do, however, vividly remember when I first realized he held something soft for me.

Siena, Italy | 4:21 am

He was drunk off his ass, his head resting on my shoulder. He had been leaning into my frame for support long before he even needed it. Roman mumbled something about liking me because I was the only “sad sack of shit” in the office who could make him laugh. I asked him why I was a sad sack and not just a regular sack. He blew out a huff of air, causing his lips to trill. The sound was quickly preceded by the flipping of his wrists in a few circles.

“Isn't it obvious?” I nudged my shoulder against his head.

“Because I work for your sorry ass?”

He clumsily tapped the tip of my nose with his right pointer finger, nearly blinded my left eye in the process.

“Bingo, bongo, banjo.” The nonsensical words tumbled out and the rest of his drink tumbled in. “Itstheeyes.” I’d been unable to make out the slurred syllables mumbled just under his breath. For all I knew, they could’ve been Latin for ‘bastard’.

“What?” He dropped his now-empty glass into a historic fountain as we passed. I stopped to try and fish it out, but he dragged me away. I remember wondering if he had made a wish on it in his drunken haze. Rich and careless enough to pretend it was a penny. Maybe that had been why he was so adamant about me not retrieving it. My mind wandered as I pondered what Roman could have possibly wished for. His father's approval? An endless supply of luxurious Korean face creams? A pair of stunning Italian supermodels to lean into instead of me?

Tripping over his own two feet, I instinctively gripped his bicep. Stubborn as ever, he shoved me and muttered something along the lines of 'fuck off'. God forbid he’d take my help. Throwing my hands up, I left him to walk alone a few steps ahead of me. He weaved for a while before slowing his pace until he could lay his head back on my shoulder.

A beat passed, where the only sound was the soft crunch of our shoes against the weathered cobblestone. I caught one of his bleary eyes peeking over at my face. Content with whatever it was he found, he nodded to himself.

“Yep.” He popped his lips on the 'p' and absentmindedly kicked a pebble from our path. “It's the eyes. Sad sack of shit eyes. You've got 'em.” The laugh that had left me seemed much too loud as it ricocheted off every crumbling brick ahead of us. Roman smiled proudly for a moment. “I love your laugh.” The words were said mostly to himself. My cheeks warmed considerably.

“Really? It's obnoxious as all hell.” His brows furrowed, and he shook his head.

“No, it's fuckin’—fuck off. No, it's not.” He kicked another stone. “It's pretty. Pretty like… like your face.” Pretty. “Nothin’ like a hyena.” Hyena? “I think I'm gonna puke.”

He did.

Roman’s Office | 10:47 pm

“Hi.” A small voice lounging across from me pulls my attention. I look up from the computer and rest my head in my hand, my elbow propped on his desk.

“Hi.” I smile softly with a raised brow.“Need somethin’?” The grin that breaks across his features is almost childlike. His big brown eyes could even be mistaken for innocent; I knew better.

“As a matter of fact…” Extremely happy to have garnered my attention, he pulls himself to a sitting position. “Yes!” With a swift motion, he slams his whiskey onto the coffee table. The sharp sound of glass on glass reverberates throughout the room.

“Yes?”

“Yes?” His voice drops into a cartoonish impersonation of my own. His hand was still clasped around his drink for some reason. Flipping his face up to me with a saccharine simper, he adds, “Will you kindly suck my cock?”

“Will you kindly go fuck yourself?” My impression of him was just as cartoonish as his of me. The hand holding my head returns to typing. Groaning loudly, he lets go of his glass to dramatically fall back into the couch.

“Will you? ‘Cause I’m fuckin’ bored!” He drags out his words until they turn to whine. “This is fucking boring. Aren’t you bored?”

“Yes, you’re extremely boring.”

“Hurr-hurr.” He mocks while crinkling his nose. “I’ll have you know I’m anything but and am widely known as delightful company.” A snort escapes my nose and Roman smiles.

“Really? I thought you were widely known as a terrible person.” He rolls his eyes as I quote his cousin.

“Yeah, yeah fuck you.” He gives me the finger. I flip him off in return. “The fuck does Nosferatu fuckin’ know anyways?” The nickname makes me chuckle and has Roman mimicking Greg. “Oh, I—I couldn’t help but—couldn’t help but notice that my gargantuan height may be alarm—alarming the schoolchildren. I—is that why Iverson is um c—crying? Or is he like, I—I mean, is he… y—ya know… special?”

The laughter still bubbled up uncontrollably even as I tried maintaining focus on the task at hand. My passive interest towards Roman was annoying him to no end.

“Come on! I want entertainment! Entertain me, woman!” I roll my eyes. A cinnamon tinted stare was steady burning apertures into my features, willing me to stop ignoring him. “Come—Come on…” His hands outstretch in my direction, middle and index finger beckoning quickly. “Come show big daddy watcha got.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, my typing stops and I fully turn my attention towards him. His face contorts in a grimace already knowing what was to come. My brows raise as I slowly repeat his words back to him.

“Come show big daddy what I got?” Roman’s hands drag down his face and he groans loudly as soon as big leaves my mouth.

“Oh, fuck y—shut the fuck up.” He sinks lower into the couch with high hopes of it swallowing him whole. The smile that breaks across my features is downright malevolent. I couldn’t recall having ever seen him this embarrassed. Surprising, considering all the lewd shit he spews at me daily. There was something sick inside me that enjoyed it. The urge to play cat rather than mouse overtakes me.

“No, no, no. I just want to understand you clearly, Mr. Roy.” Our dynamic had never been much of a professional one. I couldn’t recall the last time I had addressed him so formally but I wanted to really get under his skin. Oddly enjoying my place in its prickled embrace. Rising from my chair, I place both palms on the desk and lean forward with a pout. “Are you saying you wanna shut me up with your cock, big daddy?”

“I’m going to fucking kill myself.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Aw! Weawwy, Daddy? Jus' 'cause I won't suwck yo big thick cock?” At that, a cushion flies towards my head. I narrowly catch it as I’m doubling over in laughter. He’s standing now, hands overtly animated.

“I swear to GOD, I’m going to fucking—fuck! Fuck you! Out the window!” He’s angrily pointing towards the giant window panes beside him. “I’m going to throw you out the fucking window!”

“Oh wow, you’re gonna fuck me out the window?” His face was the deepest shade of crimson I had ever seen it.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I swear to Christ I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” I was doing a piss-poor job at stifling my laughter.

“I just fucking told you. Ass through glass.” He dismissively waves a hand in the air.

“Bullshit.” Finally looking at me, I cross my arms. His eyes flicker to my chest. “You don’t have the balls.”

“Are you saying I don’t have the balls to murder you?” The words come out in a bemused laugh. “I could murder the fuckin’—murder the shit out of you. Easily.”

“Okay.” With a shrug of my shoulders, I feel a dark coil in the back of my mind start to twist. “Prove it.”

“Prove it? You want me to—to what? Throw you through the goddamn window right now?”

I smirk back at him with a shrug, an inkling I had about him spilling to the forefront of my mind. It colors my vision and stains my tongue. If there was ever a time to find out if my suspicions held true, for some reason, I decided that now was the time. The office was definitely empty at this hour, and the privacy blinds were drawn, so no cameras. Risky as all hell, but if things go south, maybe I could play it off as riffing. I could be quite the convincing liar when I needed to be. My mother saw to that.

“See? I knew it.” With hands on my hips, I tilt my head to size him up. My tone shifts into something silky as sin. “You won’t do shit.” The air begins filling with static causing Roman’s lips to twitch. “You and I both know it. Don’t we…” I slide out from behind the desk, feeling taller as I grow closer. Feeling bolder seeing him swallow. “Romulus?” Using his father’s nickname for him causes his nostrils to flare. A clench in the jaw, a quick exhale. I fucking knew it. “So why don’t you just…” Fully standing in front of him now, I look down with a smirk “sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up for once in your life.”

The air was now overcome with static. Thick and heavy. The subjugated desire etched into his features felt so familiar to me. While I had never seen him this way, or anyone else for that matter, I myself had given that look many a time. That inkling I had was no longer an inkling. It had grown roots that smiled with wicked teeth; I was right.

The electric silence between us started to prick at my skin. My bottom lip twitches as it fought against every instinct to fill the silence with some form of an apology. To try and turn my sudden shift from dominance back into normalcy. His eyes dart to my mouth immediately; he knows.

“Make me.” His head slowly tilts upwards, as do the corners of his lips. The heat that had been slowly brewing between us for well over a year licks up my thighs. He was sneering up at me as we stood toe to toe. His burnt espresso eyes had my mind spiraling in their steam. The look on his face said everything. He saw me, he had me, he called my bluff, he won.

No.

My hand wound itself in the silky hair at the nape of his neck and I use it to jerk his head back. His jaw immediately goes slack. Something akin to a whimper escapes his throat. Surprise has my brows raising and Roman feeling embarrassed. His heavy lids fall and he turns himself away. Reaching up with my free hand, I grip his jaw until he’s facing me once again.

“Look at me.” He does in an instant and I’m flooded by a mixture of emotions. Relief, power, love. I never want to forget how he looks beneath my hands. The way his pupils eclipse the hazel of his eyes. The way his freckles scatter under the pinkish hue of a blush. The way his lips part slightly as his breath shakes out across them. Just as my eyes dance across his every feature, his do mine. Is he etching my features into his own memory?

He attempts to lean forward but I hold him steady. Roman wanted to kiss me but I wanted to tease. I press my lips beside his mouth before trailing them along the smooth path of skin leading to his ear. Sucking his skin into my mouth, I bit gently. A soft sound of content slips from his lips, so I trace up the shell of his ear with my tongue. Upon my return, I bite down once more; harder this time. Just as my teeth release him, the fist tangled in his hair gives a sharp tug. His hum bleeds into a moan that has me squeezing my thighs together. A cool plume of air billows past my lips along the now damp skin; goosebumps erupt immediately. I slide my hand from his jaw until my fingers wrap around his throat to hold him.

“Do you like this, Rome?” The soft whisper has him murmuring his satisfaction. “Come on…” I lightly squeeze his throat. “Be a good boy and use your words.” When I pull away to look at his face, I find his lids are nearly shut.

“Y-yeah.” He swallows in an attempt to steady himself. It doesn’t. “Y-yes, I like it.” He could barely look me in the eyes and it made my stomach flip in the best way possible.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.” The words slip out before I have the chance to stop them. He inhales sharply, and the air seems to rattle through his skull. His eyes quickly leave mine as his face warms considerably. My heart beats as if it were trying to rip itself from my chest and collide with his. The blood rushing in my ears was chanting 'I love you' over and over again. My teeth dig into my cheek until the taste of blood envelops my tongue. I'm raging a war with my own body in silence. This newfound power was locking talons with my own subjugated nature and death spiraling through the emotion in my chest.

His pulse was racing underneath my thumb. My voice cascades over his flushed skin as I let feather light kisses rain upon him. His first name glides along the tip of his right cheek, his last over the tip of his left. Hovering just out of his reach, I whisper into his open mouth.

“Tell me what you need.” He desperately tries to press his lips into mine but I just pull back. He grunts in frustration.

“Just fuckin’ kiss me already.”

“No.” Releasing my grip, I shove him into the couch. He trips backwards, gracelessly collapsing into the cushions. I climb onto his lap with my knees pressed to either side of his hips. With one hand, I weave my fist around his tie and pull him to me. My other grips his jaw tightly. “You wanna try that again?” His jaw clenches beneath my fingers. His eyes were wild as they flared up at me. Suddenly, his hands lock onto my hips, hard. He pushes his face into my fingers until the tips of our noses bump together.

“I said, just fucking kiss me and I meant do it now.” His words were caught somewhere between a hiss and a growl. He never could handle the word no, so his response shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. The power I’d been holding over him was now leaking through the lace under my skirt. My thighs instinctively flex around him and it has him digging his fingers in harder. A liquid heat spreads through my chest at the thought of later seeing the bruises he was surely leaving behind.

“Well?” My teeth clench and the hand holding his jaw twitches. The attitude lacing his voice drug it’s nails up my spine as I’m reminded of how entitled he could be. He wasn’t supposed to be the one making demands anymore. His smile twitches as a darkness blooms behind his glee. “You wanna hit me don’t you?” My grip loosened; my lungs suddenly feeling like he held them in his fist.

“W-what?” I didn’t want to hit him. Did I? He was selfish, he was arrogant, and he could be so goddamn cruel. Still, the urge to physically harm him was something I had never once encountered. Knowing the history of his childhood and having bared witness to his father’s present day violence against him had made me hyper aware of the constant pain pulsing below his surface. My eyes rapidly blink as they search past his burning stare and into the darkened crevices of his soul.

Oh—he wanted me to hurt him.

His need for it radiating from the blackened pits to scald me. It scared me. It scared me because it felt dark. It felt wrong. But it scared me the most of all because suddenly in this moment, I wanted to. “I-I don’t-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Again, my teeth clench and my grip retightens on his jaw. His smile grew. Mother fucker knew what he was doing. He was basking in it.

He reaches for my hand wound in his tie, quickly unraveling before bringing it to his throat. His own then slide towards my ass. Gripping tightly, he pushes me down against his length to make sure I felt how badly he wanted this. He throbbed against my center; he wanted it bad. “Listen to me. You’re gonna let go of my jaw and you’re gonna fuckin’ slap me, aright?” I nod and release him. “Fuckin’ hit me.” As I draw back my palm, his tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip.

Slap.

My palm makes contact and brushes across his cheek. It was a sad attempt really. Weak. Even though I knew he wanted it, needed it, something inside held me back.

I was still scared of harming him.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Come on!” He roughly digs his fingers into my ass, significantly harder than before. “I said fucking slap me!”

Crack.

I slapped him. Hard. His face jerks to the side. My hand stung as it instinctively goes to cover my mouth in shock of myself. His lips twitch before slowly turning up in a demented grin. A bloom of red seeps out from his bottom lip and his tongue slides across it. With the taste of his own blood, his smile widens. He laughs softly to himself and I slowly lower my hand.

“There she is.” His voice low, a rumbling purr. “You fuckin’ bitch.” The hand I had just used to strike instantly flies into the mess of his hair; our lips collide. A groan escapes, but from which of us—I didn’t know. The metallic taste of him fueled me. It felt frantic, bruising, needy. We pushed ourselves into each other as if we were feral creatures, held captive and starved. Feeding on something we had buried deep inside only to be found behind the teeth of the other. Sucking his tongue into my mouth causes him to moan and set me ablaze.

I force our mouths apart with a pull of his hair; desperately needing to catch my breath and clear my head. Panting heavily, we stare into the depths of the other in quiet disbelief. This was really happening.

“You sure you want this?” I needed to hear him confirm that he did, in-fact, want to go where we were obviously heading. I knew Roman long enough to know he had serious intimacy issues. Their seeming lack of presence in this moment had me in a whirlwind. He pressed himself into my center once again, his nails bruising crescents into my skin.

“What do you fuckin’ think, dumbass?” I let go of his throat and dig my own nails into his jaw to grip him harshly. He openly smiles with swollen lips.

“Tell me then. Tell me exactly what you want.” His expression falters and his jaw tenses beneath my fingers, eyes flickering from mine.

“You know what I fuckin’ want.” His words seep through gritted teeth. I press my forehead to his. Ever so slowly, I begin rhythmically grinding my hips down upon him. The friction causing his eyes to slip shut. A loud groan escapes from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Roman, I swear to God I’ll stop.” He doesn’t say anything so I still my hips. Umber eyes shoot open and he tries to move me himself. I won’t budge. “I will get up and I will fucking leave you here like this. Pathetic and alone with nothing but your hand.” As the words leave my mouth, so do my hips leave his. His brows snap together and tries in vain to pull me back down again. Still, I don’t budge. “I will walk out this door and you will never fucking see me again. Is that what you want?” The threat was hollow but said with a bite that had shaken me. I was falling into this role a little too easily, a little too well.

He gapes up at me when I completely let go of him. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I attempt to push myself off. It’s him who doesn’t budge this time. He yanks me back down with every ounce of strength his small frame contained. The sudden action has all the air escaping my lungs. With a hand clasped to the back of my neck, he seizes me into a searing kiss.

“Whatever you want.” The words frantically rush into my mouth. “I don’t care.” Fighting against the grip on my neck, he finally gives. I pull back to contemplate his words. Tilting my head slightly, my gaze falls to his tie. An idea begins forming as I slowly untie the silk. My nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt has him intently studying my face. Whatever I want.

Cupping his warm face in one hand, I smear the blood of his bottom lip with my thumb. He parts his mouth and sucks it in. With my other, I reach for Roman’s and slide his own thumb into my waiting mouth. As I swirl my tongue around him, Roman’s eyes darken and he sucks me harder.

Pulling from his lips with a pop, I rub my now wet thumb against his nipple. A soft moan is let loose. My tongue continuously plays with him inside me. He shudders as I pinch the bud beneath my fingers before doing the same to the other. Letting go of his hand, I reach forward to pinch both simultaneously and he groans loudly.

My cheeks hollow around his thumb as he slips it from me. He drags it down my bottom lip and stares intently. Transfixed by my spit glistening in the incandescent light. Cupping my jaw, he pulls me forward to replace his thumb with his tongue. That familiar groan returning when I suck him in. His other hand tangles itself into my staticky waves and he kisses me with everything he has.

“Give me your wrists.” The order was partially muffled against his mouth.

“Huh?” The question was mumbled into my lips.

“I said,” Threading my fingers into his own hair, I pull him back. “give me your fucking wrists.” With a dramatic tug, his tie is jerked from underneath his collar in a rush. He sat still, blinking up at me. The walnut shells of his eyes fall into my hands. There was a slight apprehension, a nervousness to them. “Do you trust me, Rome?”

“Y-yeah.” His voice was hushed as he presents his hands to me and I slowly start wrapping the silk around his wrists.

“We can stop at anytime. You know that, right? Just say the word and I’ll stop immediately.” My reassurance seems to irritate more than comfort. He rolls his eyes with a tilt of the head.

“Would you fuck off? I’m fine.” A crease digs itself into the bridge of his nose and my actions immediately still.

“I’m not going to fuck off unless I know that you know that you’re safe with me, okay?” This dominate role was far from the submissive one I was innately familiar with. We obviously had never discussed boundaries and I didn’t know where the lines were anymore. “I need you to know you can speak up. That I’ll stop the second you tell me to.” Roman looks like he’d rather get a root canal than continue this discussion, but I don’t care. This was far too important. “I need you to know that your comfort is important—that your feelings matter.”

“I fucking know it, alright?” He snapped before groaning and throwing his head back. “God, what the fuck else do you need to know before you just shut the fuck up and get on with it already?” My hand quickly finds its way to his throat with a squeeze. He seems more than pleased by this response.

“Do you wanna fucking cum?”

“Clearly I wanna fuckin’—“ My other hand slaps over his mouth and I can feel him smiling underneath my palm. Roman was gladly trying to piss me off. He was itching to see me lose control; yearned to meet the creature locked inside me. The wicked one I never acknowledged or came near; the demon only he could see. She bathes me in the blood of solidified suspicions.

Roman didn’t want my empathy.

Roman wanted my cruelty.

“Then are you fucking stupid? If you don’t shut the fuck up I’ll make damn sure to have you crying like a little bitch before I even think of letting you cum.” His eyes blackened as he watches my succubuss unhinge her jaw to swallow me whole. “Got it?” He nods quickly. Rapid bursts of air shoot from his nose across the back of my hand. “And lose the fuckin’ attitude.” Removing my hand, I slap him across the mouth; handing myself over to his desires completely.

Having finished binding his wrists and setting them behind his head, I rise from the couch. Standing between his ankles, I unzip my skirt and let it fall to my feet. The muscles in his forearms flex. His tongue peaks between his lips as he gawked at the damp lace between my thighs. Sliding my finger below his chin, I tilt his head until he meets my eyes.

“You know what I want, Roman?” My hand takes home around his throat once again. Now having his full attention, I feel him swallow as he shakes his head. His excitement was palpable. Settling my right knee between his thighs, I nudge it gently against his hard length. His nostrils flare with a sharp inhale. “I want you to watch me get myself off on your thigh.” He groans loudly. I couldn’t tell if it was out of desire, frustration, or a mixture of both but the response delighted me nonetheless. Placing my left knee to the other side of his thigh, I fully seat myself upon him. “Knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“Fuck.” Slowly grinding against the fabric of his thigh, my lashes flutter at the sensation. A soft moan escapes me before I can stop it. I was dripping wet and could already feel myself swiftly ruining his ostentatiously expensive pants.

“How does it feel Roman? To have me use you like this?“ A whimper meets my ears. His eyes transfixed on my clothed center sliding roughly against his thigh. There was a fire beneath his skin and he was entranced by the sight of kerosene being poured upon it. “To ruin you like this?” His smokey gaze flickers up to mine and I use the moment to grind myself harder against him. The rough friction elicits another moan from me, louder this time. “This is all you’re good for—” My final word comes out in a whine causing Roman to tear into his bottom lip hard enough to draw more blood. “Tell me. How does it feel?” I nudge my knee into his throbbing member once more and the deepest groan ripples through his teeth. His arms jerk against his binds as I use my free hand to sharply twist his nipple. “Answer me!”

“Good! It feels—Fuck.” The sentiment came out hoarse and husky. He shoves his head back into his tied wrists, thrusting himself against my knee. “Feels so f-fuckin’ good.” Digging my thumb into his pulse point, I slide my knee back. He whines; all hopes of friction dashing in an instant.

“No. You don’t get to cum until I say you do. Got it, you demented little fuck?” He’s a whimpering mess beneath me; eyes wide and watery. I wanted to drown myself in the sight and never touch the light of day again.

My thong bunches to the side from the aggression in my movements. Now fully bare against him, a shiver rushes through me as my clit kisses the luxurious fabric of his thigh. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

“If you don’t fucking behave I swear to God I’ll leave you like this—tied up and soaking for whoever to find.” The bite in my threats were losing their edge. My voice lost somewhere between a moan and sigh. An impending orgasm flicks it’s tongue at the base of my spine.

“Wouldn’t want it to be your father who finds you like this, would you?” A mangled whine shakes itself from his throat and has me smiling.

The blood seeping from his parted lips seem to glitter under the city light of his windows. I flatten my tongue across his jaw and drag it up his chin until my mouth fills with copper. The taste causes a sigh to slip from my mouth into his.

“You’re close. I-I can feel it.” His voice tight and high-pitched as he starts to slightly bounce his leg. “You’ve f-fucking drenched me.” The jolting of his thigh into my clit has my head falling into his shoulder; grinding harder and faster against him. The nails of my right hand embed themselves into the skin of his waist. A carnal mosaic of the flesh born below my grip. I was at the brink. “I-I wanna feel you cum.” He’s whining as he starts to bounce his leg faster; face buried in my hair. His shaking breath against my cheek has my entire body erupting in goosebumps. “P-please lemme f-feel you cum.” His beg hitches to an even higher pitch. His thigh nearly vibrating under me, desperate pleas rippling through me. Every nerve ending in my body felt ablaze.

It was all too much.

A scream rips from my lungs and I sink my teeth into the flesh of Roman’s shoulder. He tasted of salt and brimstone. My nails frenetically scratch into his skin as my thighs tremble and squeeze. Groans barrel up from his chest to mingle with my own. My release shatters through me with a blinding intensity I had never experienced before. I was overflowing; drenching his thigh to seep into his soul.

The heaving of our chests pressed tightly together slowly lulls me back down again. My fingertips absentmindedly painting shapes into his skin with the blood I’d drawn from his waist. Sparkles of light and voids of soot twirl across my vision. An indention of my teeth remained etched into his shoulder. He shudders when I press a soft kiss onto the bruised skin. My head falling heavy when it replaces my mouth to lean into him.

I’m suddenly reminded of Roman’s own much needed release upon finding his hips desperately grinding circles into empty air. He’s whimpering; body begging. My hand still cradled his throat so I languidly brush my thumb along his pulse point. His heart was racing.

“Do you need to cum, Roman?” A loud, high-pitched whine answers me.

“Please.” The word comes out in a choked sob. “I need—“ He was fighting against his binds, the silk digging painfully into his wrists. “Please.” He frantically presses open mouth kisses into any inch of my skin that he could reach; pleading with glassy eyes. “Please lemme cum.” I leave his throat to gently cup his cheek and smile softly before pulling back from him. “No—“ He stops himself when I thread one hand into his hair and place the other bloodied one atop his chest.

“You gonna cum your pants for me, Romie?” I take my sweet time sliding my palm towards where he needs it most. “Like the needy little slut that you are?” The whispered words were dripping in ghost pepper honey that had him swallowing. “Are you that desperate? That pathetic?”

“Yes.” The answer comes out in a quiet quick rush of air. “Y-yeah, I am.” My hand finally reaches his pulsing length and it twitches beneath my fingers. He immediately ruts against my palm and I squeeze him before jerking his head back.

“Stop.” He clenches his teeth but surprisingly does. Tensing beneath me, using every ounce of self control to still himself. He was trembling beneath my grasp. Frustrated tears caressed his lashes and began streaming down his flushed cheeks. His breath was coming out hard and shallow through flared nostrils.

A memory flashes through my mind: Roman’s captivated stare watching his glistening thumb press into my bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.” Again, he follows my orders instantly. Hovering my face above his, my lips purse with a drop of spit. He catches it with a moan that I immediately kiss into my mouth. “Cum.” My voice drops just above a whisper against his raw lips. “Make a mess of yourself.”

He instantly begins fucking himself roughly into my grip. The heat of his flesh searing me through the fabric. Grunting into my open mouth as I tug his hair into the cushions just below his wrists. His hands opening and closing before locking into tight fists. “Look at me.” His eyes shoot open. “Such a good boy for me.” A familiar emotion swirls through the sliver of hazel around his pupils. His lids flutter as he fought with everything in him to keep himself rooted in my gaze. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Roman.”

His hips shoot from the couch as he explodes and spreads me open across his thigh. The sensation causes my breath to catch in my throat. A gravely yell rips from the deepest parts of himself and tears apart every muscle in my body. He pours everything he has into the fabric beneath my hand with wide eyes never leaving mine. He collapses hard with shuttering breaths; body limp and twitching.

I release him to bring my palm to my lips; the slightest bit damp from him. My tongue paints his taste into my memory with pupils blown. Jaw slack, he watches intently through heavy wet lashes. His muddy eyes fill with that same emotion I had seen from him earlier.

“Lemme taste you.” The request was nearly silent but it rattled me like a wail. If I was any further from him I wouldn’t have heard it, but I did and couldn’t believe he had asked. Lifting my hips slightly, I run two fingers through my sensitive folds and shiver. He immediately takes notice and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

My fingers tremble as they rise towards his mouth. He inhales deeply before parting his lips for me. Slipping into the velvet of his mouth, his eyes flutter shut. His pointed tongue runs up between their gaps before flattening to drag back down. He was savoring every drop as if he were a starved man lost at sea. An involuntary hum reverberates from his throat into my skin and his cheeks seem to darken even more. He playfully bites down with sparkling eyes when I slip my fingers from his warm mouth.

The sight had the blood pounding in my ears beginning their familiar chant: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’ It overwhelmed me and I couldn’t help but pull him into one last searing kiss. Tasting myself on his tongue had my head spinning. Here on my knees, I prayed to a godless sky that he could taste my heart overflowing into his mouth. Cupping his cheeks in both hands, my thumbs brush away the damp paths left by his previous tears. His forehead suddenly creases beneath mine.

“You okay, Rome?” He shakes my hands from his face and turns away from me. My own brows knot together in worry.

“I’m fine.” His face further contorts upon hearing how his voice cracked. It might as well have cracked my ribs right along with it. He clenches his jaw before gnawing at the inside of his cheek. His hands form into tight fist behind his head. He was trying not to cry again.

My fingers twitch in my lap and it takes everything in me not to wrap him in my arms. Instead, I reach for his wrists and bring them forward. They felt heavy and limp in my hands. Right as I began my attempt at untying them, a small sniffle brings my attention back to Roman’s face.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay, you know?” I try to gently reassure him but it only deepens the tortured disgust in his features.

“I said I’m fucking fine.” The words are spit with a venom that eats through to my bones. Feeling me search his feature has him crumbling before me. Fresh tears immediately start spilling down his cheeks and into the pits of my soul. I couldn’t help but reach for him. He surprisingly lets me cup his cheek, so I gently turn him to face me. His eyes squeeze tighter below my lips as I lightly kiss their corners. The small gesture of affection has a mangled sob ripping from his chest. Fully burying his face into my hand, he lets himself weep into my palm.

Brushing back the strands of hair sticking to his sweat, I feel my own eyes filling with tears. Refusing to let myself cry, I leave his hair to clumsily attempt untying his wrists with one hand but the knot had grown significantly tighter. No doubt from Roman constantly pulling against it all this time.

“Hey, Rome?” He responds with a mangled sound in the back of his throat. A desperate need to comfort and free him started anxiously clawing at my throat. “Listen, I know you’re totally fine and everything but I’m actually not.” His watery eyes glance to me, not registering that I’m joking. “The she demon that possessed me, she—the bitch was a Girl Scout from hell. This knot’s tighter than a goddamn hangman’s noose.” Roman pulls his face from my hand while rapidly blinking. The sounds of grinding metal fill my ears and their smokey scent tickles my nose. I flash him a goofy, albeit nervous, smile and the gears inside his head finally click into place.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” There was no bite to his words, having spoke them through a bemused chuckle. He wipes his nose with back of his hand and inhales the remnants of his vulnerability. Grateful relief balms the scrapes at my neck left by worry’s desperate claws.

His smile falters when I suddenly get up and leave him; it's as if a burst of panic fills his chest. However, when he watches me pick up a pair of scissors and the joggers from his gym bag, I sense the tension in him ease slightly. It's only when I climb back atop his thigh that he appears fully relieved. The weight of my warmth sinking into him seems to ground him.

After tossing his change of pants onto the cushion beside us, I carefully slide the blade under his tie and free him. The silk had dug in painfully, leaving nearly raw indentions in it’s wake. I mentally make a note to check my purse for some soothing lotion later as my fingers lightly brush across his skin. My thumbs begin rubbing into the muscles of his forearms. Roman was studying my face intently.

“These feel okay?” Shaking out his wrists, he rotates them a few times before letting them fall limp in my lap. It was his way of silently asking me to continue with my actions. He had far too much pride to express his desire for such a tender expression.

“Feels fine.” He fights off a shy smile when my hands pick up where they left off, massaging him gently. “My side on the other hand feels like fuckin’ cruise papers with the way ya shredded me.” He chuckles but I could still hear the residual emotion behind it. I lift the corner of his shirt up to take a look. The sight has my stomach instantly dropping; tangled weeds of angry wounds imbedded deep into flesh. Needles of red hot guilt begin sewing threads of shame up my legs. Looking down, I’m greeted with his blood caked under my nails. Memories of violence and words of degradation take ownership of my lungs.

“Fuck Rome…” My voice cracks and I suddenly feel my own tears holding a knife to my throat. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Roman quickly tears the fabric from my grasp and yanks it down.

“Oh shit. No no no no no—fuck fuck fuck.” His panicked expression made me feel so much worse. The canines of an anxiety attack drag up the nape of my neck like a threat. “I—I was fucking kidding!”

“I shouldn’t have d—done that to you. I—I shouldn’t have hit you. I shouldn’t have said—I didn’t—Rome, I didn’t mean them! The words—I—I’m so sor—“

“Oh dear God, would you fuckin’ stop.” He quickly cut me off but I had already dove to the deep end of a molten lava shame spiral.

“I—I made you fucking bleed Roman!” He rolls his eyes. “Multiple times!” His hands slap themselves onto the sides of my face, pressing hard into my cheeks.

“Yeah and you licked it up and it was the sexiest fuckin’—” I couldn’t open my eyes to look at him. If I looked at him I’d most certainly start crying. “I mean, I’m literally fucking drenched in cum right now.” My mouth was set in a hard line but my bottom lip quivered. “Come on now…” Nope, didn’t have to look at him. Turns out his voice alone could send tears falling. “I was kidding! I liked the fuckin’—fuckin’ feral scratchy shit! It was hot! And—and I told you to hit me! I—I wanted it! I wanted you to say all that fuckin’ nasty shit!” His fingers press into my skin harder as if he could force his sentiments to penetrate my skull. “I…I fuckin’ loved it. Like a lot. Okay?” My head was shaking back and forth trying to gain some control over my emotions, shake free of my tears. Roman didn’t know that though. How could he? I wasn’t speaking. He probably thought my actions were just my way of rejecting him. “Please don’t fuckin’ do this.”

My eyes crack open as I remove Roman’s hands from my face. The knotted look of bewilderment etched into his features summons the childhood phantom of my mother. Taking her disembodied palm to slap me across the mouth and rattle me with shrill screams: ‘You need to pull yourself the fuck together!’ I follow suit, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes.

“Promise?” My question came out pathetic and small. I fucking hated it and I fucking hated crying. I’m being fucking ridiculous. Stupid.

“Again, and I can’t stress this enough, soaking in my own cum right now.” His reassurance comes with a laugh that tugs my frown up slightly.

“I just—I’m sorry. It was one thing in the moment but just like… I dunno. I’ve never done anything like that. I—I don’t know what came over me.” My face felt feverish as the backs of my hands wipe the shame staining my cheeks. “Seeing the aftermath just kinda, it just—The thought of actually hurting you makes me feel fucking sick, Rome.” I feel the back of Roman’s knuckle brush away the tears I had missed. Chancing a look at his face gifted me the softest expression I had ever seen from him. “I never want to cause you any real harm.” My voice sounded almost foreign, weak with emotion and vulnerability. Where did all my bravado go? Oh yeah, it’s dripping down my thighs.

“Well you didn’t, alright? I’m fine. Like completely. A-o-fuckin’-kay over here.” He throws me the okay symbol and tries offering me a reassuring smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“But you were crying, Rome.” The smile instantly drops.

“That? No, I wasn’t—“ He shakes his head before scratching at his jaw. “It—it wasn’t because of that.” My brows furrow, and he groans, hands dragging down his face. “Look, I didn’t—I don’t—fuck!” He shakes his fingers through his hair and looks as if he’s about to rip it out. Refusing to meet my eyes, his stare finally settles on my hands lying face up in my lap. “It was your fuckin’—your hands, okay? It was your fuckin’ hands.” My eyes fall from his face and focus on the blood staining my fingertips. So it really was because I hit him. “The way you—“ He sighs. “The way you held me.” Oh. His head falls back as a long frustrated groan escapes him, eyes searching for heaven in the ceiling. “I dunno, okay? It just felt—it felt—“ He couldn’t finish. His eyes fall shut before he continues, his voice even quieter than before. “All I could think about was how you had looked at me.” I swallow before whispering just as quietly as he.

“How did I look at you?”

“I don’t know.” His voice grew thick with emotion once again. He shakes his head and finally meets my eyes; looking so defeated and sad. His pain bled me. “You’re always fuckin’ lookin’ at me like—like—“ Again, he can’t finish. He clenches his jaw like a threat towards the words caught in his throat.

“Like I love you?” His eyes squeeze shut and he turns his face from me once again; hiding himself from my words. I watch him clench and unclench his jaw until courage clenches my own. “Because I do love you, Roman.” Every muscle in his body seemed to tense beneath me, but I couldn’t stop my feelings from shattering their shackles. They’d been locked up for so long that their first taste of freedom sends them sprinting. “I love you so fucking much.” He clenches his fists, still unable to open his eyes and look at me.

I let myself lean into him and lay my head onto his shoulder. His fist start to unfurl and he lets his head fall against mine. A shuddering breath leaves him and he buries his face into my hair, hands tentatively resting on my hips. We sit in silence as I listen to his breathing slowly steadying. Once it had nearly returned to normal, I feel his lips gently press into my temple.

“I love you too.” The words were murmured into me, a heavy sigh follows after them. “You have no fucking idea.” The wilted buds of my heart and mind begin to bloom. My arms wrap themselves around him and squeeze him to me tightly. He reluctantly wraps his arms around me as well; slowly tightening his embrace until he’s clinging to my soul. Turning my head I press a kiss into the side of his throat and hear him sigh once again; the weight between us was dissipating.

“I’m sorry for freaking out earlier.” The words he had stuttered out when trying to calm me drift to the forefront of my mind. “I—I liked it too.” The warmth of his skin embraces my shy confession. “What we did together, I mean.” I hear him snort and it has me smiling against him. The air was feeling lighter.

“I’d fuckin’ say so, ya fuckin’ banshee. You shoulda seen how fuckin’ hard you came. I mean—Jesus Christ, you were fuckin’ feral.” I hide my face further into his neck but can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from me. “And now you act all fuckin’ bashful and shit? How the fuck does that even work? You literally tied me up and road my thigh like a buckin’ bronco.” I bite his throat and my body shakes from his laughter vibrating through me.

“Fuck you! I’m complex.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He tangles his hands in my hair and pulls me back to face him. “You’re fuckin’ insane, you know that?” He was smiling as he said it. “You drive me fucking insane.”

“The feelings mutual.” His smile only widens and he bounces his leg. I yelp in surprise, frantically gripping at his arms to maintain balance. He’s giggling uncontrollably. “You’re a sick fuck, Roman Roy.”

“Ooo round two already, thigh master?” He bounces his leg again. I try to slap his chest but he catches my wrist with his freehand and pulls me into a kiss I’m never going to forget. It was different than all the ones we had shared prior. This one was so much softer, so much gentler. Our foreheads rest against one another. His smile against my lips illuminates every crevice once void of light; I was loved.

[0livdocx]

They’re two of the saddest men alive

[rottentiger-art]

He had not one bad thing to say about Debling and he knows it lmao

[simpforboys]

just… just sit here and hear me out.

rafe was so fucking close, his hands tied up on the bed post as you rode him.

his cock was hitting your cervix deliciously, making you almost forget the whole reason you came to tannyhill in the first place.

“you wanna cum, baby?” you asked, staring down at the dangerous man that fell apart like putty in your hands.

he nodded widely, his eyes pleading as he threw his head back.

“tell me you’ll give the cross back to us.”

your tone was harsh as you reached down to choke him, pleasure consuming his face as you were fucking him dumb.

he hadn’t had a good fuck in months, and the way you were so skillful and teasing drove rafe insane.

“y/n-“

“promise me and i’ll let you come.”

you stalled your hips, grinding low circles as your clit rubbed against his pelvis. he was so desperate for you, so pathetic.

you gripped his hair and forced him to look at you, his eyes showing signs of caution.

but he wasn’t thinking straight, too overcome by lust and pleasure.

“i promise-“ he choked out. you grinned, grinding your hips more.

you took your fingernails and dragged it along his chest, bright red scratches leaving your mark.

“promise what?” you hummed.

“i promise i’ll give the cross back.”

“good boy.”

and with that, he came inside of you. he whimpered out at the feeling of you milking him, eyes squeezed shut, unaware of the deal you just made.

[matchingbatbites]

and devour what's truly yours

Explicit | 2.4k | Read on Ao3

This is a belated birthday gift for dearest @strangersatellites! You were my first friend in this fandom and you mean a lot to me. Thank you for being crazy with me, for helping me talk through things, and being a constant source of enablement over the last year-ish. <3

CW: Mean Dom Eddie, Brat sub Steve, boot kink, spit kink, hand and finger kink, and Daddy as a title.

Steve has been having such a good day.

He'd had two tests earlier that he's sure he'll pass, work had actually been bearable because he'd had the slow shift with Robin, and the evening has been fairly peaceful so far, creating the perfect environment for Steve to get ahead on the required reading for his early education degree. 

Steve’s heard Eddie moving about the apartment, worrying with his own projects for a while before making them an easy dinner that he deposits into Steve’s lap, along with a kiss to the top of his head. It’s so nice, and all told, Steve gets in a couple good hours of studying before he’s distracted by a hand sliding into his hair.

The action is surprising but not unwelcome, especially when it tightens and tugs, pulling Steve’s head back. He barely gets a glimpse at his boyfriend’s face before Eddie’s mouth is on his, lips meeting in a searing kiss.

Steve melts under it as he kisses back; he always loves when Eddie gets into a mood like this, loves how demanding and rough he is.

Teeth sink into his lower lip and Steve groans, opens his mouth so Eddie's tongue can push inside. It's possessive. It leaves him aching with how thoroughly Eddie claims his mouth, how he explores every nook and cranny like he doesn’t already know each one by heart.

Like he doesn't know that Steve is slowly shaking apart at the soft, wet sounds of their kiss, at the metal piercing that rubs against Steve's tongue before clicking against the back of his teeth.

Eddie breaks the kiss, pulling back with a firm “Open,” and Steve doesn’t hesitate, just drops his jaw and sticks his tongue out. He knows what’s coming next and his dick twitches in his pants in anticipation, waiting patiently as Eddie gathers the spit in his mouth before releasing it, letting it drop into Steve’s eager mouth. 

Steve shudders and swallows, and is rewarded with Eddie's hand dropping to palm at his dick, groping it through the fabric of his sweatpants. The expert touch sends him flying past interested and right to hard and needy, and he keens at just how fucking good it feels. Eddie just grins and leans in to nip at Steve’s lip.

“Does that feel good, Stevie?”

Steve nods. “So good, daddy. Love your hands.”

“Yeah, baby? You like when daddy plays with you?”

Another nod, followed by a whiny “Yeah.”

Eddie mutters a soft “Yeah, that's my good boy,” against Steve’s mouth before he pulls away completely, releasing his grip on Steve's hair and his dick and just. Walking away. Steve blinks at the sudden shift, the abrupt loss of heat and touch, and it takes him a moment to register that Eddie is leaving.

“Where are you going?” 

“I've got some stuff to work on, I'll just be in the office,” Eddie replies without even looking at him, and Steve can’t help the affronted sound that escapes him.

“Are you just gonna leave me like this?!”

At that, his boyfriend pauses and glances back at him with a sly grin. “Yep.”

Steve is appalled by the smug indifference; he thought Eddie was going to fuck him, not work him up and leave him stranded. “But-”

“I'll be in the office,” Eddie repeats, and raps his knuckles on the door frame as he passes through it. “Don't touch yourself!’

Steve isn’t ashamed to admit that he pouts. He settles back into the couch and looks down at his abandoned dick, still straining against the confines of his sweatpants, and he pouts. He looks at his text book still sitting nearby and thinks about pulling it closer, about just ignoring his situation and going back to reading.

If only he could stop thinking about the feeling of Eddie’s tongue in his mouth, Eddie’s hand on his dick, and- Well, that's a thought. It's not touching himself if something else touches him, right?

Steve rises from the couch and makes his way down the hall, following the sounds of typing to their office. He pauses in the doorway to watch as Eddie sits at his desk, fingers moving over the keys expertly as he types out something, before going over. He stops next to Eddie's chair and waits a moment to see if he's going to get any kind of acknowledgement from his boyfriend, and when Eddie doesn't even spare him a single glance, he rapidly comes to terms with the fact that he isn't.

Time for Plan B.

Steve huffs as he bullies himself between Eddie and the desk, not even caring that he’s interrupting Eddie’s typing. The man just watches as Steve settles himself right on his lap, legs straddling Eddie's thighs and arms wrapping around his neck. He rolls his hips forward to grind against the soft plane of his boyfriend’s stomach, and sighs at the instant relief it gives his aching dick.

“And just what do you think you're doing, baby?” Eddie asks, voice light like Steve is amusing him.

“Said I couldn't touch myself. Didn't say I couldn't come.”

He's acting like a cheeky little shit and they both know it. Steve knows better than to twist Eddie's words around like this. Last time he did Eddie didn't fuck him for a week, just edged him over and over until he was sobbing out apologies and begging be filled. You think that Steve would have learned his lesson after that, but his common sense always seems to take a back seat when he gets worked up like this.

Eddie hums and tangles his fingers into Steve's hair, the touch gentle until it's not, until he's wrenching Steve's head back and back. Until Steve is falling off Eddie's lap and landing on the floor, the carpet barely protecting his ass from the impact.

“Well, I have work to finish, and I can't do it with a whiny brat in my way. If you wanna come so bad, you'll have to find something else to rub your dick on.”

Steve’s breath hitches slightly and he thinks he might just cry at the easy dismissal. He knows it’s just part of the game, part of the roles they’ve agreed to play, but being ignored is still something Steve struggles to handle in any setting. Eddie reads him like a fucking book, as the hand in his hair loosens slightly and Eddie moves Steve so he can look him in the eye. 

“What's your color, baby?” he asks, voice gentle and reassuring, and Steve knows that he has no reason to not trust that Eddie will take care of him. Steve mutters a soft but sure “Green, daddy,” and Eddie nods before releasing him.

Something moves and Steve glances down, under the desk and- fuck. Eddie's wearing his favorite boots, the shiny ones that Steve bought him, that he saves for special occasions and play time, and Steve realizes all at once that- 

Eddie planned this.

He wanted Steve worked up into a frenzy until he was eager to rub his dick on the boots instead of being ordered to. He strung Steve along in this mean little game instead of just telling him what he wanted, and the thought of Eddie planning through this whole scenario like it's one of his D&D sessions makes Steve feel like he’s fucking kindling, every nerve alight under his skin.

Steve glances up to meet Eddie's eyes, and the older man just stares him down, waiting for him to make a decision. His shame evaporates under the heat of Eddie's gaze as he moves forward, crawling across the carpet until he's under the desk. He has to hunch over a bit so his head doesn't bump the underside of it, but it’s not unbearable, and he feels weak as he straddles one of the perfectly polished boots. 

Steve’s hands settle around Eddie's calf, needing something to hold on to, to ground himself with, and he rocks his hips down just as the sound of typing continues above him. The first touch is electric, and even as eager as he feels, Steve does his best to keep his motions slow and measured; he might be humping Eddie's foot like an untrained puppy, but he refuses to lose control like one. 

That doesn't stop him from whining when he grinds just right, the friction on the head of his dick so sweet, and he repeats it over and over, chasing the sensation. A sharp tap - not quite a slap - lands on his cheek, and Steve gasps at the tingle it sends through his face.

“Get your dick out of your pants, baby,” Eddie says, blindly taking hold of Steve's face. “You don't want to get them messy, do you?”

Steve shakes his head and reaches down to shove his pants and briefs out of the way, earning him a pleased hum and another firm tap on his cheek before the hand retracts. The rough laces against the sensitive skin of his dick makes him quake, the sudden change almost overwhelming but not enough to make him stop. It feels better once he shifts to the side a bit, adding the feeling of eyelets and leather into each stroke.

It's easy to lose himself in the sensation, in the constant, steady friction. It’s addicting, and his hips stutter as he gets closer and closer to the edge. He claws at the fabric of Eddie’s pant leg as he starts to lose control, and then-

He's pulled from the reverie as Eddie's chair moves back, pulling his foot away, and Steve scrambles to follow. He was so close. Eddie laughs a bit and Steve flushes at the condescending sound, at the “Poor baby,” that follows it.

Steve keens and barely gets out a choked “Daddy,” before two fingers are pushing into his mouth, effectively silencing him. Eddie grins as he tugs Steve’s jaw down, opening his mouth wide as he says “Come on, princess, keep going.”

Ever Eddie’s good boy, Steve rolls his hips again and his eyes slide shut as the fingers push deeper, rubbing over his tongue and along the backs of his teeth. It feels like possession, like Eddie wants nothing more than to claim the smallest, most hidden parts of Steve’s very being.

Steve wonders what it says about him that he would let Eddie do it, no questions, and certainly no complaints.

The fingers disappear just long enough for Eddie to spit on his tongue again, and then they’re back, mixing it with the saliva slowly collecting in the well of Steve’s jaw.

“That’s it, baby. So fucking greedy for anything you can get, huh?” Steve just moans into the open air and Eddie just shoves his fingers deeper, until Steve is nearly choking on them. “Yeah. So good, so desperate to come.”

He is. He’s so close to coming, he’s right on the verge. All he needs is-

“Look at me, Stevie.”

Steve opens his eyes, he can feel the drool now dripping off his chin as he meets Eddie’s gaze. The man just looks at him for a moment, eyes burning as he lifts his foot, pressing up into Steve's dick, and that's all it takes.

His hips stutter and jerk as he comes, spilling over laces and leather and marking the shiny black with creamy white. Eddie’s fingers slip from his mouth and Steve keens as he rides out his high. He’s shaking as he comes down, hands trembling where they clutch at Eddie’s jeans, and the sound of fuzz slowly starts to leave his head.

The sound of metal-on-metal pulls his attention, and he looks up to see Eddie undoing his belt and jeans before pushing them down just enough to free his dick. Eddie slides a hand into Steve’s hair and tugs him closer with a soft “C’mere princess, let me come on that pretty face.”

Steve lets Eddie move him as he wants, just drops his jaw and sticks out his tongue as the man starts to jerk himself off. He’s clearly worked up, because he skips his usual slow tease and goes right to something fast and rough. 

The pre-cum already leaking from the tip has Steve’s mouth watering with the desire to taste - literally. He can feel it dripping off his chin once again as he keeps his mouth open, and Eddie coos when he sees it.

“So fuckin’ messy, Stevie, drooling over daddy’s dick. You’re just the greediest little baby, huh?”

Eddie releases his cock and reaches out to wipe his hand over Steve’s chin, collecting some of the fluid before he starts stroking again, the way a bit easier with the makeshift lube. Steve sways a bit, still so floaty as he’s forced to just sit and watch, and for a second he’s certain the only reason he’s still upright is the grip Eddie has on his hair. 

Eddie’s orgasm seems to hit him out of nowhere. A groan punches out of him and then he’s gone, dick twitching as he comes over Steve’s mouth, his nose, his cheek. Some of it lands on Steve’s tongue and he doesn’t hesitate to swallow it, he hums at the taste and licks his lips, chasing more of it.

Eddie groans a soft “Jesus, Stevie,” before he’s leaning in, giving Steve a hard kiss that quickly turns soft and tender. He runs his clean hand through Steve’s hair and mutters “That was so good, baby, so perfect. I’m so, so lucky to have you, honey. You’re so good for me.”

Steve goes gooey under the praise and he leans into Eddie as they just sit there, catching their breaths and slowly coming back down. He would be happy to stay here longer, just kneeling at Eddie’s feet, but the cum drying on his face coaxes him into action. He whines softly, words still hard as he slowly settles back into his body, and Eddie knows exactly what he’s asking for. 

The man presses a kiss to Steve’s forehead and says “Okay, baby, get’s get you clean,” before standing and helping Steve up onto shaky legs. Their aftercare is extremely consistent, the familiar motions necessary to keep Steve from crashing quickly. 

It’s not until they’re out of the shower that Steve finds his words again, and he mutters a soft “We need to get satin laces for those boots or something, my dick is sore.”

Eddie just laughs and presses a quick kiss to Steve’s mouth. “I’ll get right on that, sweetheart.”

[undefeatablesin]

My angel, my pride and joy, my beloved AKA the Good Hunter Ruza lmao 🧡 ft. Her Lost Chikage and her fun outfit from these screenshots! + some lil headshots of her in the Yharnam Hunter Garb, a look I also care Deeply About ✨️

[victoria-styles]

Feel free to reblog lmao.

[johnslittlespoon]

dog coded bucky fic update btw <3

[chasehollow-doodletour]

This one is for the Key Buddy theorists.

[theflagscene]

Me, scrolls through my YouTube subs: No… omg, they actually did it.

Mom: Did what?

Me: Pit Babe season 2

Mom: Butt Babies season 2?

Me: Ma!!

Mom: Hopefully they don’t puss out and actually slap one of those men in a fake pregnant belly this time.

Me: You didn’t even watch the show!

Mom: I didn’t have to, I got your texts as you watched it.

Me: I need more friends.

Mom: I mean, you’re not wrong.

[becca-e-barnes]

'Jesus Christ, behave.'

That's an instruction you were always going to ignore but it's even easier to ignore over text.

You follow up with another picture of yourself, your ass this time, barely hidden behind thin lilac lace.

'No. We can do anything you want, whenever you want to this week. Nothing is off limits.' It's thrilling texting him like this, knowing he's just across the room. His poker face is a hell of a lot better than yours but you're not sure it'll last the full week that he's staying with you. 'Just don't get caught.'

No one in this room full of people would ever suspect he's texting you, or that you're sending him some photos you'd taken just before the guests arrived.

'Really? I thought you'd enjoy putting on a show.' He texts back quickly, not looking up from his phone after the message is delivered.

You hadn't really thought about it until now and perhaps it isn't the very worst suggestion you've ever heard.

'Is that what you want? You want other people to watch me cum for you?'

'Fuck no.' You expected that answer but it still makes you laugh to yourself. 'Come upstairs in 5.'

You do as you're told, practically counting down the seconds until it's time for you to follow him up to the bathroom.

"Do you mean it? Anything I want?" Hearing him repeat your own filthy thoughts back to you makes it all feel very real.

The sound of his voice and the way he's looking at you has you uncomfortably aroused but there's nothing new there.

"Anything." You confirm, taking a deep breath when you feel his hand snake its way up your inner thigh, under your skirt. You know what he'll find at the apex of your thighs. You're warm and slick and needy already and you notice how he raises an eyebrow at you when his fingertips slip past the soaked lilac lace of your panties.

"You mean..." He taps your clit with his index finger and it almost feels like he's sending a shock around your entire body. "I can slide two fingers into you whenever I want?"

You look back up at him and nod, desperate for him to do just that.

"How about three?" He sounds so calm and you can't help but shudder. Three of his long fingers stuffed inside you sounds fucking magical.

"Yes." You pant, grinding yourself against his hand, hoping he'll be tempted to slip those fingers inside you.

"Or I could bend you over this sink? I'll make you watch your own pretty face in the mirror while I flood your tight little cunt with my cum. I know you'll take it like a good girl too. You promised me you would." His head is running away with him and that's exactly what you want. He comes up with the most wonderful suggestions sometimes.

"I'll be so proud of you, you know that?" One of his thick fingers slips into you, then another, curling against the front wall of your cunt and you can hear just how wet you are.

"Mhm, please." You groan, your forehead falling forward onto his chest. You need this more than you want tell him but his movements are measured so they only tease you.

"Soon, sweetheart. Later. Be a good girl and go back downstairs."

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

All I’m going to say I think now that my brain remembered part of what it was thinking is that Taylor and Joe went through a lot together (good and bad) and regardless of how it ended or what led to it they both seem to be determined to keep that private and not throw each other under the bus and in the end they’re just two very, very different people whose outlooks in the long term were just never going to align and never has that been clearer.

[lottiecrabie]

rockstar girlfriend – matty healy

tired of being treated like the girlfriend and not like the rockstar, you decide to pull a very rock move in the studio

warnings: 18+, oral (male receiving), fingering, soft dom!matty, praise, bit of degradation, drug use

2696 words

The New York Times calls you ‘everyone’s favorite rockstar’s girlfriend’. Twitter fan accounts gather a curated four picture reel of your best candids and caption it ‘rockstar bf it girl gf’. E!News’ periodic articles updating the world on all your recent outings read ‘Matty Healy and his girlfriend’. (Matty Healy and his girlfriend enjoy a steamy kiss outside a club in Manchester. Matty Healy and his girlfriend spotted in New York City with Coppola Cafe to-go cups. Matty Healy and his girlfriend hold hands as they wait for the London underground.) MusicoCritics title their deep dive on you ‘Matty Healy’s girlfriend’s album is a surprising masterpiece’. 

Nevermind that it’s your fourth critically acclaimed album. Nevermind that your living room shelves ⁠— clustered with flower-pressed poetry books, esoteric trinkets found in thrift stores worldwide, potted plants on the edge of death ⁠— hold multiple well-earned awards. Nevermind that you’ve been singing for fifteen years, scribbling incoherent lyrics in the corner of books for longer than that. 

Nevermind that you’re a fucking rockstar yourself. 

You are Matty Healy’s girlfriend; you are the appendix of a musician. Your boyfriend’s name collects apostrophes while yours dust away, forgotten under aliases, rotting from underuse. 

And, well, you’re fucking pissed. An entire career, fifty-seven songs, countless of voice-killing concerts, and it pales to practical inexistence for a nine months relationship. 

Not that you don’t love Matty. It’s just⁠— You want to be more, you want to be whole.

You’re in your rented studio, sitting on the dirty couch, reading countless Reddit comments asking ‘who’s Matty’s gf’ and ‘i didn’t knwo she made music lol’, fuming. You should be working on your fifth album, the idea of a ballad lingering in a corner of your brain, but you are too busy driving yourself nearly insane. Injustice grips your guts, twists up around it. You want to scream.

Matty sits beside you, lighting up a joint. His hair is unmade, falling messily around his head. Smoke pours out of his lips. “Stop reading that bullshit,” he says, not unsmartly. 

Your lips purse. “I know, I know.” You groan, head falling on the back of the couch. “Fuck, I just can’t help it. This is actually fucking shitty.”

In an effort to distract you, or perhaps loosen you up, Matty passes you the joint. He has two rings, silver and chunky, and chipped nail polish. There is something incomprehensibly attractive about his hands, callused and masculine; long, dexterous fingers around waxed paper. Desire pools in your stomach. You lick your lips, looking away, taking a hit. 

“You should go crazy. Be a fucking cliche rockstar just in spite.” Matty grins. “Smoke a ton, do even more drugs. Destroy your voice. Show up late. Be too drunk to play.” 

You snort. “Fuck groupies.” 

“I might have something to say against that.” 

“Die young.” 

“You’re already past 27. You’ve lost your chance.” 

A smoky laugh leaves your lips. Still, you consider his words, cocking your head. An idea half-blooming somewhere in you. “I think you’re onto something.” 

“What?” 

“I should make a rock album,” you say. “Be super fucking obnoxious about it, too. Make all these references, interpolate all the greats.” You smirk, giving him a teasing glance. 

A curl of hair falls over his forehead. His Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a drag of his joint, cheeks digging it, brown eyes closing in ecstasy. He’s so fucking hot. You’d tell him if it wouldn’t go straight to his head, blow it up until he couldn’t fit through the door at all. 

Cheekily, you throw a leg over his legs, straddling his lap. He welcomes you easily, a lazy hand holding onto your hip. “I’ll be the rockstar. You can be my eye candy,” you continue, fingers hungrily climbing to his shoulders. 

“Is that so?” His fingers tighten, dragging you closer to him. Your hips roll over him with precision, clever hand working you at just the right angle. Your mouth parts, a strike of pleasure climbing up your spine. You stare at him through your eyelashes. He’s entirely too casual, too pleased. Cocky as he watches you, makes you rock your hips again. 

“Yeah,” you nod, breathless. 

You grind slowly, teasingly. As soon as you try to speed up, a powerful hand halts you. A puppet to a cruel man who smiles as you fail to get any real action going. The pace is torturous, lighting up your body until all parts of you are aware of him, of his hardening cock. You feel him most of all in the ache between your thighs, in the absence of him. 

Frustratingly, your hands dig in his shoulders, clawing at the cotton. It’s unfair how little he reacts, how put-together he seems in his white button-up shirt, watching you grow desperate. Brattily, you add, “Yeah, you’re almost pretty enough.” 

Matty laughs, but you can tell he’s a little peeved; overblown ego shot down with your cheeky smirk. He adventures a hand under your band tee, pinches your side, digs his nails into your back, encouraging your hips to rock faster with a rough, ruthless hand. Victory feels like a wave of toe-curling pleasure. Heat spreads under your skin, tightening your muscles. A small, self-indulgent whine leaves your mouth. 

A grin breaks his face, cocky and pleased. How quickly the upper hand slips from you. Huffing, desperate to wipe it off, you crash your lips against his, swiping it away with a greedy tongue. 

The kiss leaves you hungrier. Matty has always known how to coax the wanton need from you. How to leave you rocking furiously against him, hot and desperate, thoughtless except for the overwhelming need to get off. Throbbing and uncomfortably wet, a high-pitched moan slips into his mouth. 

You break away to pant in his parted lips. Your hands hide in the mess of his hair, tugging at the roots, vengeful, careless. Still, Matty groans, rolling his head backwards. You smile too, just as cheeky, just as proud. He puts out the dwindling joint on your sofa, throwing it thoughtlessly in the studio. Finally free, he slips under your shirt, grabbing a handful of your breast. 

You bury yourself in the side of his neck, licking and biting under his jaw. With expert fingers, you undo the buttons of his shirt until pearls of breathy, pained moans spill out of him. It sounds like a song, like the rhythm of your favorite melody. You’d bottle it up if you could, burn it on a CD to listen for later.

You sit up, spine straightening, practically ripping your mouth from him. The movement is so sudden you feel it reverberating in your head. Your hips still as thoughts spin in your soupy brain. Matty whines unhappily, hand digging in your back. 

It takes five seconds. Once the idea fully forms, you look back at him with a mischievous smile. You start your rolls again, tantalizingly slow. You whisper, half to him but more to yourself, “I’ll be the rockstar, alright.” 

Matty frowns. Out of breath, he says, “What?” 

You don’t bother explaining. Instead, you stand up, leaving another moan to fall from his lips.  Hands tumble from your shirt. Turning around to your mixing board, you hit the record button.   

He’s even more confused when you come back to him, standing between his open legs. You take your time, racking two hands through your sweaty hair. Towering over him, you feel power gather around you, a heady mixture leaving you wetter than before. 

You’re drunk on him, on the taste of weed and toothpaste, on the look of his thoroughly destroyed hair, of his red, swollen lips hanging onto your every possible word. His chest rises up and down in quick succession. A tempting tent in his slacks draws your eyes lower. 

You ignore the throb. You ignore the need. You ignore the coil of building tension. You say, “I’m gonna make you scream.” You fall to your knees. 

His legs widen, hips rising in excitement. “Fuck,” he groans just from the sight of you. Mesmerized, he watches in sacred silence as you work on his belt buckle. “Fuck, love, look at you.” 

Matty’s own hand helps at his pants, ring twinkling in the low light. Finally, you manage to free his cock, hard and up, begging. You stare at it for a second, appreciating its glory. Your eyes snap back to his. 

You follow every expression as it overwhelms his face when you first wrap your hand around it, allowing one slow stroke. His eyes close, his lips part, his head falls. He’s an atheist experiencing religion for the first time. He’s breathing your name, he’s worshiping it. 

You smile. Your lips wrap around his tip, sucking on it. His hips jump in surprise. Matty’s eyes snap open, staring at you with a gasp. Exactly what you wanted. 

“I want you to look at me,” you say, licking up his shaft. “Don’t stop looking at me.” 

You could tease him. A part of you wants to, hand burning to slow down. A bigger part of you wants to ruin him. 

You swallow him down. Matty’s breath comes out in heaving puffs amidst the scattered moans. You feel his thighs flex under your hands; his open shirt reveals a taut, tattooed stomach, muscles rippling with ecstasy. 

You bob up and down, an electric pace that has you swallowing back a gag. Whatever you can’t fit, you stroke with deft fingers, twisting your wrist just like he likes. Feeling particularly devilish, you moan around his length just to hear him mutter a pained, “Shit.” His hips rise, but you push him back pointedly. Payback is salty and lingers on your tongue. 

Feeling yourself choking, you release him, spitting on his dick to lube it up. Matty thrusts up in your hand, eyes rolling back until he remembers your order.  

You lick at his tip, swirling your tongue around it, before taking him back in your slick and swollen lips. “You’re so pretty,” Matty says, voice hoarse. “Fuck, you were made for this, weren’t you?” You moan in agreement. “Yeah, that’s right. Made to be drooling on your knees for me.” 

Perhaps embarrassingly, you feel a pool of arousal gather in your stomach from his words. Your thighs clench, hips rolling against nothing in hope of relieving that burning ache between them. Your clit feels criminally ignored. 

Matty’s hands fly to your hair, racking through the mess he’s made of it. “Show me your tits,” he orders. Your eyebrows shoot up, but he’s only peering down at you with challenge. 

Releasing him with a bop, saliva stringing from your lip to his dick, you take your shirt off. You can’t bother to unhook your bra, lowering the cups down and grabbing one of your nipples with your free hand. You pinch meanly, just like he would, and the pleasure spreading through you feels heavenly. A broken groan leaves your lips. “That’s it,” he breathes. “What a good girl, giving me a show.” 

You whine. You can feel the control slipping from your hands with every ticking second, but your thighs are so sticky, your clit so swollen, your climax so far. 

He gathers a handful of your hair, bringing you to his dick. Your head stings, but you welcome him back with an open mouth. This time, you do none of the work, letting him thrust himself in your throat. Your eyes water as he goes deeper. 

“Shhh,” he sighs as tears stain your cheeks. “It’s okay. You’re doing so good, baby.” You nod, coaxing a desperate groan out of him. “What a good, little slut. Taking my dick so well.” Again, you nod, mouth full. Your hips shift, moving left and right uncomfortably. You can’t seem to get any real friction going, but you feel your insides throb against nothing. 

“Poor baby,” Matty coos. “You want to come too?” Needy screams muffled by his cock. Matty sneaks his booted foot between your thighs, pressing so deliciously against your clit you cry out. “There you go, baby. Grind.” 

And so you do, furiously rocking against his boot. Your hand not busy playing with your nipples wraps around his leg, gripping his calf. The pleasure is so pure your eyes roll back in your skull. 

“Eyes on me,” Matty’s rough voice rings through the room. You open your eyes, locking with his darkened ones. “That’s right. I want you to look at me.” His face breaks with a victorious grin. Payback probably tastes like sweat and sweet moans to him. 

You can feel both of you grow frantic. Matty bucks into you with a merciless, frenzied pace. His hold onto your head is ruthless; his fingers dig into your scalp, but you only scream more. Your hips follow his rhythm, each leather drag over your cunt making sweet euphoria grip your stomach. 

“Gonna come for me?” He thrusts with abandon, practically choking you. Tension builds in your core, pussy clenching. “Gonna come all over my boot?” Bold words coming from a man just on the edge of an orgasm. 

To prove your point, you hollow your cheeks, watching with glee as cries break out of his throat, eyes scrunching tight, cum spilling out of him. You suck on his tip indulgently as he comes in your mouth, cock still pulsing while strings of incoherent promises fall out of him. He strokes your hair tenderly as he slowly comes to himself. 

Matty cracks an eye open. He falls out of your mouth and you swallow his seed, watching him as you promised as you lick your lips. Another rough moan leaves him, half stitled by a chuckle. Ringed finger swipes your chin, gathering a forgotten rope of cum he shoves back in your mouth. You suck on it. 

He seems to realize then you still haven’t come. Face grimacing in shame, he grabs you by the armpits, putting you back in his lap. “Poor baby. You’re so close, aren’t you?” 

“Please,” you whine. 

Matty pouts, nodding indulgently. “It’s okay. I got you.” 

He sneaks two fingers in your pants. You should be ashamed by the amount of wetness; sticking thighs greeting him home. You’re too gone for that, of course, just sighing happily as he rubs tight circles on your clit. 

Your head falls on his shoulder. “I know,” he says, imitating your spineless whine, thrusting two fingers inside of you. You’re so wet there’s not even any resistance, cunt opening to let him in easily. 

His thumb continues his drawings on your bundle of nerves. He fucks his fingers into you, rapid and wild. You’re close again before you have time finishing a coherent thought, moaning in his open mouth. 

“Right there,” Matty encourages. “Come for me.” 

Your body shudders as you scream. You finally lose the tyrannical strings holding your body together. Euphoria spreads to each limb, making your head fall back as the edges of the world blur around you. Tension leaves your body in wiping waves. You flutter around his fingers, clenching and unclenching as you cry out his name. 

It takes you a few moments to come back to Earth. Matty takes his fingers out of you, wiping the wetness on the couch. You slap at his shoulders, but he simply laughs. “I love you,” he whispers in your hair, bending down to kiss you. 

When you finally regain control of your legs, you stand up to reach your mixing board. Hitting pause, and then play, Matty’s needy groans fill the studio. You throw him a look over your shoulder, but not even a pornographic recording of him could make Matty Healy blush. 

And, maybe your fifth album features a song named Blow You. Maybe deep, masculine sounds of pleasure accompany the chorus ⁠— just out of reach enough for people to be incapable of pinning it down. Maybe countless news outlets try to figure out, articles upon articles attempting to elucidate if it really is your boyfriend, Matty Healy, moaning on the track. Maybe they call you by your name. Maybe they even call you a genderbending, masterful, classic rockstar.