#How does it feel being on your knees for once

[gojocon]

❝ FIRST KISS ❞ — gojo satoru

mdni, fem!reader, smutty but no p in v, 1k wc, childhood best friend satoru, he just wants a kiss (you make out with something alright…), the first kiss that isn’t on his cheek :’) reader can’t say no (i couldn’t either tbh), extremely premature ejaculation, satoru is desperate and sensitive, maybe he likes being looked at like he’s a freaking weirdo...

you don’t know how exactly you found yourself in this situation.

“c’mooooon, just one kiss?”

satoru holds up his forefinger to emphasize his words, a childish pout playing on his pink lips.

you roll your eyes, feeling a slight heat creep up your cheeks as you avoid his gaze, avoid all of him, trying to maintain your resolve.

“ugh, no satoru. don’t be weird.” you mumble, voice strained.

his eyes widen in response to your rejection, but sensing your wavering stance, his eyes narrow, and he proceeds to push further.

“why not? you kiss me all the time!” your best friend whines, pout growing more pronounced when he juts out his lower lip further, making him look even more adorable. those eyes of his sparkle with mischief as you shift on your knees, exasperated at his persistence.

you try to maintain a strong front, you really do. but the boy, no, the man in front of you had a certain power over you even after so many years, and you were helplessly weak when it came to him, when it came to satoru, your annoyingly endearing best friend since childhood.

“this is different, ‘toru. it’s silly, you know it is.” you try reasoning, voice laced with a hint of warning.

your tone does nothing to put him off, however, and he simply shuffles closer, transfixed on your lips before heaving out a dramatic sigh. beautiful eyes well up with crocodile tears as he gazes down at you, voice taking on a pleading tone.

“please, pretty? just one liddol kiss?” he whimpers before leaning in close, face inches from yours, warm breath whispering against your skin.

you can’t help but glance down for a moment to school yourself, before looking back up to his face, your own flustered in embarrassment. you hope it’s quick enough that he doesn’t see, but satoru notices the aversion, he always does. he knows you so well, better than anyone.

“you’re not scared, are you?", he teases suddenly, a big warm hand now padding along the soft skin of your cheek.

a shiver runs down your spine as his breath caresses your ear, his words sending a spark of desire down your body.

there’s a subtle twitch in the muscles on your face once you process his question, evidently irked by his words. at this, your best friend flashes you his infamous goofy grin. his demeanor had changed rather quickly from his performance a mere sentence ago in a way that was hopelessly satoru.

despite your better judgment, you can feel yourself melting at his touch, crumbling in the face of his charms.

a deep, stuttering sigh leaves your lips, voice firm with an air of finality. “fine. only one, and that’s it.”

his gaze shoots back up and locks onto yours the moment those words leave your mouth. big blue eyes fill with a heart fluttering affection and a certain heat, a look you were all too used to, a way best friends should never look at each other, and a familiar feeling of warmth spreads through your chest.

a triumphant smile spreads across satoru’s face and he lets out a whoop of excitement, face lighting up, and you can’t stop the small smile curling onto your lips as he quickly adjusts his position, spreading his legs slightly as he leans back, giving you more room to shimmy yourself into, which you do without question.

“go on, give me a kiss.” he sighs, breathless in anticipation.

you decide to end his suffering and give him what he wants. with reluctance, you lean forward, inching close until your lips hover over a way too adorable shade of pink before you’re planting a quick, wet kiss onto the tip of his cock.

it’s just a peck, but you can feel the shudder wrack through his body at the small contact and he lets out a soft gasp, eyes rolling back to his skull.

“mmmph . . .”

pulling back, his hips make a desperate attempt at following you with a jerky movement, but fail miserably. his cock was erratic in its movements, with a mind of its own — it was big enough to have one anyway — twitching, bobbing and most of all, sensitive, like all of satoru.

“why did you move away?!”, your best friend whines like a petulant child, brows pinching together and eyes once again glimmering with tears, though this time, they were quite real.

“it was kissing you back too! don’t you love me? you’ll give me more, right? i’m your best friend, you should — ”

he babbles on, brainless and dumb, as if a single kiss from you triggered an onslaught of neverending desperation. you watch him, startled, brows knitting together in mild irritation, looking him right in the eye before backtracking to the achy, leaking, baseball bat he calls his cock.

“o—oh god! please, don’t look at me like that—”, he barely manages to strangle out in a moan, clutching the couch cushions on either side of him in a tight grip to ground himself, knuckles white.

his hips lurch forward, a spurt of hefty pearlescent droplets shooting out from the top before running along the side of his length, shirt stained and ruined.

“h—hah . . . hnghhh — ”

your breath hitches at the overwhelmingly erotic sight, throat going dry. continuing to look on in poorly concealed amazement, unable to look away (did you even want to?), pupils dilating as you take in the copious amounts of thick, white cum dribbling out of his shaking form. satoru’s body jolted with each rope of his load, eyes fluttering closed in what seemed to be pleasure, but almost bordering pain.

it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that your best friend just nutted cause you kissed his cock.

[simp-ly-writes]

Wedding Night

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.12)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: After weeks of minimal contact before the wedding and from you teasing your new husband throughout the reception with photos of yourself, you and Jayce share your wedding night together.

─ · · THE FOLLOWING CONTENT IS BETWEEN CONSENTING ADULTS AND IS NOT MEANT FOR ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 18.

─ · · TAGS: can be read as a standalone, nsfw/smut/pwp, fem!reader, unprotected pinv (be safe please!), dom!Jayce, making out, teasing, dirty talk, size differences, groping, nipple/breast play, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), marking/biting, aftercare.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,902

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: uhhh... i'm just not gonna say anything lol.

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─ · · You are last to leave the restroom having finished your conversation with Mel and are happy that you waited as a pair of hand grab your waist picking you up and dragging you into a secluded corner. You can hear as Jayce moans while pressing a kiss to your lips, eyes dark as he pulls away, breathing ragged as he takes in your new look, the same dress as in the pictures, "fuck, sweetheart," his tone is raspy making your thighs clench together at the sound as you wrap your arms around his neck- feeling as one hand slides behind your neck, pulling you in for another kiss.

The lack of oxygen has you starting to feel light headed as you tap thrice and pull away pressing your forehead to his shoulder and kissing his chest, "Jayce we-" you gasp, sentence cut off as his knee parts your thighs, a hand pushing down your waist making you sit against it. The sudden pressure against your clit has you biting your lip and closing your eyes hearing as Jayce feels your wetness soaking through his pant leg- groaning. You start to grind yourself upon his knee, "fuck," you whimper, trying to get more friction with Jayce's help as he rocks you against him, "yeah? feels good taking that pressure away-hm? can feel how wet you are- must have felt so sore tonight but you just had to sit still and look pretty even when you were dripping down your thighs."

"Feels really good Jayce," you breathe out, picking up your head to quickly look around his shoulder- the hall empty as Jayce starts to paw at your chest, pinching your nipple through the fabric hearing as you gasp. "M'sure it does. I'm a good husband, right? Touching you where you need, whispering filth into your ear to get you off, making sure that no one can see how easily you come undone for me in this corner like a good girl- yeah?"

"Yes Jay," you nod your head, pushing more of your weight against his leg hearing him chuckle squeezing your hip before slowly setting leg down and pushing your leg off to the side as you grip his arms- pleading, "Jayce please-I" Jayce shushes you with a kiss too quick for your liking as you try and pull him towards you again but he does not budge, simply patting your thigh and getting you to jump, wrapping your legs around his waist- eyes hopeful as you peer into his hazel ones.

"So if you're such a good girl then why..." he rocks his hips into your own as you squeeze your legs tighter around him, "...is your husband walking around with images of you in his pockets that your friends got to see? Why leave me hurting with need-hm? All I wanted was to be good to you, make sure you feel so good tonight but you're so cruel to me, darling," Jayce rocks his hips into your once more, holding you up against the wall in wait for your answer.

You feel his breaths heavy and feel your once desire-filled brain being flooded by guilt as Jayce blinks away tears of need. You can feel him shaking beneath your touch, "I'm sorry, Jayce. I'm sorry just was frustrated by your teasing," you say softly, kissing his face and lips in apology before hugging him tightly feeling as he shakes his head.

"I did it for your own good, sweetheart just knowing how good you'd feel afterwards but I know you're sorry so I'll be nice tonight since it's our wedding night... just know that I do remember what little scheme you did." You nod, not exactly caring for your future self just yet when Jayce placed you back down on your feet, helping you into his jacket and taking off your shoes before picking you up again in his arms and walking you both back home.

"I'm sorry again, Jayce," you murmured partway, Jayce only nodded, "still not going to help later, darling." You sigh, tucking your head into his shoulder with a pout, Just have to make the most of tonight then...

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─ · · Once inside Jayce throws you onto the bed leaving you giggling as he crawls over you and kisses all over your face, trailing down your neck to your shoulder where his breath lingers, teeth scraping against your skin as you wiggle beneath him, "my gorgeous wife," he mumbles before sucking that mark to life as you grasp at his hair at the pressure.

Feeling him pulling away you lean forwards, stealing a kiss feeling as he smiles into it, "my handsome husband," you tease back watching as Jayce's eyes light up at your words leaning into your touch as you caress his cheek before standing and loosening his tie.

You sit up in bed, head tilting to the side as you watch him slowly undress before you. Slipping out and kicking his shoes aside before gently placing his cufflinks on your vanity. He unbuttons the first button to his shirt before pausing and looking at you expectedly. Hopping off the bed you throw his jacket on a nearby armchair within the room and race over to him standing on your toes as you slowly expose more skin and scars for your eyes.

Looking up at Jayce as you reach the final one the shirt slides off his shoulders with ease as he walks forwards and you sit at the foot of the bed reaching for his belt listening to the metal click out of place as you thread the leather out through the loops and cast it aside.

"I rather liked that one," Jayce fakes a saddened tone watching as you simply shrug your shoulders, "you like your wife more," you smile up at him, hearing him hiss as your hand gently squeezes the bulge in his pants before stroking up and down his length.

"I would like my wife even more if she didn't make me finish in my pants," Jayce groans at your laugh, the sound not helping to calm his heart rate as all his senses became heightened from his building need for you. He stares down at you, eyes narrowing in a silent command as you sigh and comply- unzipping his pants watching as they fall down to his ankles and the way he kicks them aside.

Jayce motions for you to turn around as you lie back on the bed and roll yourself over. He brushes your hair out of the way, pressing a trail of kisses across your shoulder blade before slowly unzipping your dress adding more kisses down your skin with every new inch of skin he sees.

He stares for a moment at your lace undergarments as you move your head to the side, watching as his eyes widen at the sight of your garter belt connecting to your stockings. You kick your feet excitedly, feeling confident about your look, "they even have miniature bows!" Jayce chuckles, shaking his head at you, a finger traces down a strap across the back of your thigh causing you to shiver as he observers every part of the design with both his hands and eyes.

Picking up a strap on your other leg, he lifts it gently before letting go, watching as the material snaps back against your skin and how you wiggle in place in reaction. "Jayce please let me get out of the dress at least," you beg.

"So outspoken tonight, sweetheart," Jayce teases, grasping your hips and helping you to roll over, he bends down to pick up your dress and gently drapes it against the armchair with his jacket before turning back to you, biting his lip to your frontside now in view.

Your chest rises and falls in short sharp moments as you press your thighs together, "Well I've had a couple of drinks and am so desperate for you to touch me I might just combust so I apologize if I'm acting out of person because I cannot fundamentally think straight in my current state," you ramble while taking the pins out of your hair, humming out contently as Jayce helps, massaging your scalp, "thank you."

Jayce leans forwards, pressing his lips against your own in a lingering kiss as you trace the ridges of his abs, feeling every deep breaths he intakes and exhales. Jayce continues his exploration of your outfit, humming at every new ribbon and lace detail he discovers- mapping it to memory as you start to grind against his thigh in desperation.

Jayce leans forwards allowing for a better angle as he coos mockingly at your little whimpers and whines as his thumbs brush over your chest, teasing your nipples through the thin material. You wrap your leg around the back of his thigh, pushing more weight onto your throbbing core. "Need you so bad, Jay," you plead, rubbing up and down his back, scratching lightly with your fingers to feel him shiver.

The little movement stimulates your clit forcing your hips to rise and fall again with a dissatisfied huff. You can feel how wet you are, dripping down to the covers knowing that your white panties must be see-through by now but Jayce is not yet satisfied- wondering if he can make you cum without needing to touch dripping cunt.

He pulls down your bar before kissing down the valley of your breaths, tongue trailing to one of your nipples, swirling around hardened buds before grazing gently with his teeth. His hand works to pinch and twist the other as you arch your bag to the sensations, hands gripping long strands of hair before he pulls back and gives your other breast the same treatment.

You cry out in pleasure, goosebumps coat your skin as your head tilts back freeing your sobs to echo throughout the room feeling as your hole clenches around air just catching Jayce's knee as he shifts his position and you fall over the edge, squeezing his thigh as Jayce gropes your chest, praising you endlessly, "Such a good girl for me, can cum without me needing to touch her. You always look so beautiful when you let go, sweetheart, I'm sure it feels good to-hm?"

The relief was only temporary as you quickly fall from your high- the empty feeling you have afterwards has silent tears dripping down your cheeks as you shake your head, "made it worse, so much worse," you whine, hating the way the cold material of your wet panties sticks to your sex and how sensitive your nipples feel to the night air seeing as Jayce just makes no sudden movements.

"You said that you would be nice tonight, my love," you pout, Jayce bites your extended lip before kissing your cheek and reaches down to cup your sex, the intimate position oddly comforting as you lay still in his hold. "I did, didn't I... I'm sorry, sweetheart, let me make up for it?" Jayce begs, eyes wide and pleading as his fingers pinch your clit causing you to yelp and nod your head vigorously.

Jayce sits up as you crawl further back towards the centre of the bed, thighs spreading slowly apart watching as Jayce crawls after you, thumb circling your clothed clit, fingers tracing your opening, teasingly pushing inwards as far as the material would allow. "Need your fingers inside, Jayce."

Jayce complies, pushing your panties to the side as he pushes a singular finger inside, leaning down to lap at your clit, large honey eyes melt into your own as he hums at the familiar sweet taste. Your exhale is shaky trying to keep your head from falling back in the same direction your eyes roll as his fingers starts to to move in and out at a slow pace, testing how far he could bring you to the edge... and you were highly receptive, walls fluttering as he hummed with satisfaction before pulling his mouth away, watching as he slowly slid a second finger in, scissoring you open with ease from your slick.

"You're torturing me," you complain, eyes casting low to Jayce's boxer briefs that strain yet Jayce's expression seems nothing but content watching how you react from his touch, a third finger quickly followed by a forth shuts you up as Jayce curls the digits within you, pressing down on your most sensitive spot within.

You bit down hard on your lip, muffling your cries as Jayce glares at your restraint wanting you to utterly crumble beneath his touch before he fucks you. "Where did all those pretty sounds go? I want to hear you, sweetheart, while you fall apart by my fingers and beneath my eyes. You can do that for me right?" you let go, Jayce takes your moan an answer seeing as your thighs started to shake and the way in which you squeeze your chest, "Let go like I know you want to, I can feel you clenching around me, darling... you like me talking you through this, don't you? So if I said, 'cum for me?' I know you would right? Would feel so good- So cum for me, sweetheart, fall apart for me. I'll be there when you come back down."

Jayce leans back down to kiss your clit, feeling as your body tenses as you teeter on the edge before be begins to suck on your puffy clit- your left hand continues to squeeze your chest, the other rests upon your neck as you swear out upon your release, crushing Jayce's head between your thighs, squirming from the overstimulation causing it to worsen as you grind upon his face as he continues to finger you through your orgasm, humming contently against your clit before finally pulling away, licking his lips as your hooded eyes plead at him.

Jayce sighs, adjusting the band to his black boxers as you quickly pick yourself up, albeit with a few wobbles while making your way over to him. Your eyes blink themselves wide, "please Jayce, you never let me suck you off." Jayce looks up, pleading for strength as you press your hands against his length, finding and rubbing the leaking tip through the cotton, "c'mon Jay. Just for a second."

Jayce looks back down at you, knowing that he couldn't refuse you tonight, "Sweetheart you know I just don't want to hurt you-"

"Jayce Talis, I am asking you on the cusp of pleading and before you start rambling, I feel myself becoming more sober by the minutes and could care less if you finish in my mouth," you beg, hands dragging across the the band to his boxers, picking up and snapping the material against his skin in an act of revenge.

Jayce holds your stare for a moment watching as your mouth slowly opens, you listen to the way he quietly curses at the sight, "just for a-" you've already pulled down the material and are pushing on his thighs for Jayce to lie down.

Your hand struggles to wrap fully around Jayce's cock, stroking him slowly as you lick you lips excitedly, dragging your thumb across the slit of his head watching as the pre-cum drips over your fingers and down his length.

Dragging your tongue from the base all the way to his leaking tip and swirling you tongue to collect the salty taste against your tongue as Jayce feels you swallow and giggle against him.

His head reaches down to cup your cheek, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail, guiding your movements up and down as you look up feeling him heavy against your inner cheek, casting him a wink to feel him twitch. Whatever you can't fit into your mouth, your hands work, gently squeezing as you stroke up to your lips. Sighing happily through your nose as Jayce whimpers for you, "fuck, baby I-" he growls as you press more of him into your mouth, teasing your throat, "shit, sweetheart please- I want to finish inside you tonight."

You flick your eyes back up to him, sad and pleading but pull away eventually with a plop, kissing the angry tip gently before rubbing and down his shaking thighs. Jayce closes his eyes, calming himself as he threads his fingers through your hair, "later this week, okay?"

You nod before sitting up again and straddling yourself over his waist, position his cock right above your prepared entrance as you place one of your hands on his chest to support yourself, the other between your tights feeding the ache as you slowly sit yourself down, the stretch delightful- finally feeling full as you bottom out with a satisfied hum in tune with Jayce's deeper one as he rubs your waist, allowing you time to adjust.

"I missed this," you close your eyes, smiling at the feeling of your connection and slight burn, Jayce's thumbs rub into your skin softly, "missed the feeling too, so... comforting." You nod before gently picking your hips up and slowly pushing yourself back down onto his length.

Jayce helps your movements, allowing you to set the speed, his brain struggling to process the woman he has within grasp and gets to call his wife forever more. You open your eyes sensing his warm stare, "something wrong, my love?" you ask, rocking your hips again as you lean forwards, moaning out to the new feeling as Jayce rocks his hips, meeting your movements half way before pressing a kiss to a scar across his chest.

"Just thinking about how much I love you, Mrs. Talis," his tone raw, hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks flushed as he blinks twice at you, pupils dilating. "I love you too, Mr. Talis," smiling through your words as you continue your rhythm, the pace satisfactory at best as use use Jayce's cock to reach that point inside you before your legs begin to give out, your release escaping you sending you slumping forwards against Jayce's chest with a huff.

Jayce laughs in between his words- asking if you want him to continue. You try raising your hips again before deciding against it and admit defeat. Jayce reaches down between your legs, thumb light against your clit as he gently rocks his hips up into you. "You did so good, taking me so well, sweetheart."

Yet his words do nothing to ease your on-coming frustration from the lack of stimulation you feel. Jayce slows his pace even further as you begin to shake against his chest, confused and needy. "Is everything okay?" he asks softly, you pick your head up, shaking your head, Jayce freezes starting to pull out yet you squeeze your legs together, holding him in place, "No stay I just-" you feel heat rising up from between your legs, across your chest, up your neck and resting upon your face as you pick yourself up from his chest, sinking back down onto his length while tracing patterns across his skin.

"It's just not enough Jay," you mumble, looking off to the side. "What can I do?" Jayce asks, tilting his head- trying to connect your eyes that you squeeze shut, trying to even out your breaths, feeling yourself dripping upon his cock at the various dirty thoughts flooding through your imagination.

Jayce groans as your walls flutter around him yet remains patient, about to open his mouth to ask again before hearing your voice, "need you to fuck me Jayce, s'not enough just," you grind your hips against his, "need you to talk to me, please, just fuck me harder."

You look over to watch as Jayce's brows furrow, "but I thought-" You wiggle your hips remembering how hard he slammed himself into you in that bathroom- how he teased and muffled your cries with kisses as you couldn't stop yourself. "Jayce it was nice to start but you know better than anyone that I won't get off as much from you being so soft-" you would regret your words as Jayce slams his hips up into your if I didn't end up feeling so good- causing you to collapse against his chest at the sudden motion, "fuck," you moan as he grips your hips tighter, you can hear your skin slapping together as his pace hastens.

"My needy girl, can't get off like normal couples do?" you shake your head, not finding your words solemnly focused on the pleasurable brusing you feel around your thighs as Jayce rams into you- feeling as the way his skin sticks to your own, nipples brushing against his hard chest.

"Just need to be fucked hard and fast until you feel yourself being split in two, or am I wrong?" Jayce asks, you moan out your response hearing as he chuckles, kissing the top of your head as you nuzzle your face into his neck, smiling. "You were so talkative earlier, what happened?"

"Jayce," you strain his name, feeling as he shifts position from underneath you- gracing your cervix, your nails dig into his shoulder blades, gripping for strength as every drag of his cock into your ruined hole brings you closer to the edge.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he teases not expecting an answer just kissing the top of your head, "can feel you squeezing me, so tight and hugging me just right like you were made for me." You feel your walls flutter at his words, breaths becoming fast and short, "you like that thought huh? Being mine?- my perfect wife letting me use her hole." Your body begins to tremor, shoulders tensing with the curling of your toes, "so close," you beg pitifully, withering against your husbands chest, his pace unrelenting, bruising your inner thighs with every clap of skin that echos throughout the bedroom.

You feel every part of yourself so vividly, can imagine every bulging vein of his cock pulsing against your walls, feel his head kissing parts within yourself you'd never dream of reaching. Jayce's calloused hands grip you tight, lifting your body up and down to meet his thrusts, his breaths hot and heavy against your ear, growling as your legs lock, seeing white as you twitch and come undone, "fuck, shit, Jay-Jayce, please slow down, fuck-I-uh," Jayce fucks you through your orgasm not hearing you use your safeword or tap against him, feeling as your knees give out again as you shake for him, the mere though has him twitching within you as he withholds his release, growling into your ear, the sound going directly between your legs that quiver.

Tears cloud your vision as your words become increasingly incoherent, loosing yourself to the overwhelming waves of pleasure that rise across your hot skin- burning from his touch and gasping for air. You take in deep breaths, cold air filling your lungs contrasting your sweaty skin as Jayce slows down for a moment, still hard within you, pulling you up just enough to watch as your release drips down coating you both, the whole scene impossibly lewd as you wiggle underneath his concentrated stare.

"Got a forth one in you, baby?" he asks gently, watching your rigid movements as you try and slowly lean down, jittering with your incline towards his lips for a slow kiss, "need to lie down," you mumble, voice strained, body feeling weak as Jayce wraps his arms underneath your own, pressing your chests together as he rolls you both over, moving a pillow beneath your head.

He looks at you waiting for your nod to start moving again, you feel extra sensitive, already feeling close by the initial drags as you extends your hands out trying to pull his face closer to your own. Your tongues lazily wrap around the other as you taste yourself on him. Your noses brush in a second kiss, tipping your head to the side, feeling as Jayce moans from your nails dragging down his back before trailing up to his hair and sorting through the mass of curls.

Pulling away you sweep the strands away from his sweaty forehead as he braces his weight on one arm to cup your cheek with the other, wiping away the remnants of your earlier tears, "I love you," he mutters against your lips before trailing a line of kisses down your throat and shoulder as he rocks into you at a steady pace, waiting for your orgasm as he postpones his own- focusing on marking your skin. You close your eyes, tracing hearts across his skin, "I love you too."

Jayce listens for your breath to hitch as he works his way across your neck leaving evidence of his adoration for you like a necklace- waiting for the sound, "Jayce!" of your tone high and airy, he smirks against your skin, canines brushing against the side of your neck as he licks the spot carefully before pulling away and blowing gently watching a hundred of goosebumps coat your skin causing you to shiver and try to squirm away only to end up gripping him tight as be bites down gently, moaning deeply as your ankles lock around his lower back pulling yourselves closer together, closer to the edge.

"I'm here, its okay, you can take it," he reassures you, listening as you call out his name like a mantra- watching as your eyes slowly blink open, wide and glistening- meeting his own, "going to go faster okay? I-fuck," he growls from you casting your own mark on his neck, pulling his head down, gripping his hair tightly as your legs pull his hips closer to you forcing him deeper.

You pull away, wrapping your arms and crossing your wrists behind his head as he swallows your moans that turn to screams as he chases his high, yours falling partway as your touch loosens and you fall back- crashing against the covers, back arched as you try and crawl away yet Jayce's hips chase you, bucking into you with force as he grunts, chest rising and falling in short breaths, eyes dark as he watches your lip quiver, your chest bounce with his every thrust, listening to how your voice fills the room, flooding his ears and filling his head with nothing but you.

"A-ah fuck baby," he swears as he releases, hands gripping the covers by your head in tights fists, knuckles turning white at the sounds of your moans. His hips start slipping from their rhythm becoming increasingly sloppy with each drag through your sore walls that flutter and pull his release deeper within yourself.

Jayce shakes, muscles straining to hold himself up- mindful to keep his bodyweight from crushing you. A shared hiss comes from you both as he slowly pulls out- you frown at the sinking hollow feeling you develop from the lost weight between your legs- crossing them for comfort as your combined release drips out of your fluttering hole and onto the sheets.

You both lay there still, catching your breaths, Jayce plays absent-mindedly with a strand of your hair as you trace the various scars running up his arm. "How does a bath sound?" Jayce asks quietly into your hair hearing as you hum in approval, sitting up and watching as he stretches, back muscles flexing in the moonlight as you throw a pillow in your face to muffle your whine, get it together, you tell yourself hearing as Jayce laughs, voice horse as he speaks, "we're never getting out of here, sweetheart if you keep making those sounds."

The pillow slowly slides off your face as you glare at Jayce, chucking the pillow at him that he catches with ease, "not my fault I'm attracted to my husband," you retort, crossing your arms over your chest hearing as Jayce moans at the sight your glare and the way in which you push your chest up with your arms.

Jayce rubs his face, mumbling to himself before quickly turning on his heel, shaking his head and turning on the tap, watching as the bath fills slowly before choosing a scent.

You look back towards the air chair, seeing your dress and Jayce's suit jacket draped across it with a smile, unknowing to your husband leaning against the doorframe observing your already reminiscent eyes, "the night is still young, darling and even when morning greets us we have the rest of our lives ahead of us."

You snap your head over, eyes lighting up as he tips his head into the bathroom mirroring your smile. Jayce watches as you slip out of bed and slowly unclip and slide your various undergarments from your body before slowly walking over to him, brushing your hand across his stomach, feeling up his chest as you press a kiss to his heart before turning past in and stepping into the bath- waiting impatiently for him to join you as you splash a bit of water his direction, hitting his leg with a giggle.

Jayce's eyes crinkle at your playfulness before stepping in behind you, your back and head resting upon his front, eyes closing from the warm water that surrounds you and the feeling of Jayce's hands wrap around your waist beneath the water- holding you close before placing his head atop your head, smiling at your combined reflection in the mirror, "I love you."

"I love you too."

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─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · JAYCE TALIS TAGLIST: @sseleniaa @sunshiines-stuff @kiromiix @todorokishoe24 @w2momo @m-arj-1 @reid490 @kaminocasey @chickenlvr123 @peachhiz @hellokittyluvr69420 @mommymilkers0526

[seresinhangmanjake]

An Heir

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: You and Feyd intend to be together forever--marry, have children, lead Giedi Prime side by side--but your plans are disrupted when the Reverend Mother of the Bene Gesserit reveals Lady Fenring is pregnant and, to Feyd's utter shock, the baby is his.

Notes/Warnings: This will be a two or three part fic (happy ending). Based on a request from @tgmreader. Implied sexual manipulation (assault), mention of pregnancy, feelings of betrayal.

Words: 2350

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Reader POV

A woman always knows when another woman is scheming. And you can practically smell it on her. She’s been working to draw him in for days, sneaking looks at him out of the corner of her eye; looks she makes sure he notices. She peers at him from under her blonde lashes like she holds a secret she’s willing to share with only him, and being a woman yourself, you know what kind of secret she is hinting at. 

You just can’t decipher what she wants with him. Yes, he’s linked to power and that power will one day be his, but for now and for a long time to come, he is the na-Baron only. Compared to her, he’s still a boy in some respects, which makes you fear Feyd falling prey to the manipulation tactics you know she’s gained from her Bene Gesserit studies.

She’s mature, bewitchingly beautiful, she knows the ways of sex, of life, and she watches him in a manner that you’ve seen tug at some sort of string inside of him. With each day that has gone by, he’s seemingly grown more accepting of her sneaky advances. The seductive tone of her voice when she whispers words in his vicinity as she passes him, the subtle quirk of her red-painted lips, the sparkle she cleverly plants in her eye—he questions it less and less. 

It’s not until you follow her the night of his birthday that you understand just how far she intends to go. You follow her following him, hiding from the bursts of light that fireworks outside are shooting through the windows. She’s a venomous beast in the shadows, the bright flashes illuminating the beauty she dons, a perfectly crafted mask. 

As she trails after him, you observe her steps—her quiet, seductive advancements—that do not go undetected by Feyd. But she does not fear him, and she does not startle at the blade he holds to her throat once he’s tired of her games.

“You’re following me,” he says, and for a moment, you feel a sense of relief. He’s not entranced. He’s not so blinded by her wiles to be tricked. But then he releases her and says, “I dreamed about you last night,” and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. 

“A pleasant dream, I hope,” she replies. 

Her voice is altered. Too smooth. An odd pitch. He follows this time, his head twitching as he tries to block out the words you know are slithering into his mind. 

They continue through the hallways like master and pet until they’ve entered an unrecognizable wing of the Harkonnen fortress. Only once she disappears behind a door do you step out of the shadows. You’ll grab him, you think—take his arm and pull him away from the range of her influence so he will snap back to his senses—but he’s following her through that doorway before you can reach him. 

She’s successfully lured him in, and you don’t know what to do. She can control you if she wants, have you slit your throat right in front of him if you make yourself known. And being under her spell, will he even notice that he’s losing you until it’s too late? Or will he stand there with a blank expression as your body drains of life?

You tiptoe to the entrance he had not fully closed behind him and peek through the sliver of space between the door and its frame.

With a gasp, your hand flies to your mouth. Tears pool in the corners of your eyes. Your eyelids beg to squeeze shut at the sight of him on his knees before her. And it’s then that you realize she has yet to use the full power of the Voice on him. Had she, you surely would’ve heard it. It’s a distinct sound, immediately identifiable.

Some part of him must want this—to be at her mercy. 

Your chest caves as your knees begin to wobble. Your heart shatters.

He leans closer and you can’t watch anymore. You can’t watch their lips meet in a kiss he swore he would only ever give to you. So you take a step back, then another, and another, until you’re running. 

—

Feyd POV

Feyd stands before them: three figures that, when concentrated in a dense grouping, mold into a formidable foe. The Baron, whose features are hard. The Reverend Mother, whose aged mouth is set in a frown detectable through her veiled headdress. And the Fenring Bene Gesserit, whose lips curve in a soft smile and eyes glance down at her feet every time he looks at her as if she’s some bashful girl untouched by man, which, given the circumstances, is far from true. 

“It’s not mine!” Feyd snaps. 

The Reverend Mother lets out an irritated huff—her third of the morning. “My Lord–”

“It’s not!”

Feyd turns his head to where you’ve been standing off to the side. He wants to see your face; he needs to reassure you that the information relayed in the last few minutes is nothing but sick lies, but you’re not there. He didn’t notice you leave. Did you sneak out? Did you run? Did your heels click on the floor with your retreating steps and his ears were too fuzzed from vile words to hear it? You’ve been avoiding him for days, but he didn’t expect such asinine chatter would get you to completely abandon him now. You’re smarter than to believe what they say, and you know him better than that.

“The child inside Lady Fenring belongs to you, my Lord na-Baron,” the Reverend Mother repeats, drawing Feyd’s burning gaze back to the trio. “That is a fact.”

His fists ball at his sides. “It’s impossible. I didn’t touch your witch.” And he never would have. He’s had other plans. Plans with you. He intends to marry you, to put his heir inside of you, and he wouldn’t have jeopardized that future for anyone, let alone a Bene Gesserit. 

“Do you not recall the night of your birthday, my Lord?” Lady Fenring asks, her voice soft. “I was with you for hours.”

No. She’s wrong. He was with you, beside you, your warm, bare skin against his as the celebrations for his coming of age took place outside the walls. He was in the only place he ever chooses to be once darkness has descended upon the city. Not once has he strayed from the consistency of bringing you to his room under the noses of your parents and his uncle. And on that night barely three days ago, he’d fallen asleep with you in his arms after you were both spent. He remembers the lull of your soft breaths brushing his chest. 

“Stop with your lies, you–” 

Flashes invade his mind, almost painful as he tries and fails to shut them out. His eyelids pinch. His jaw ticks. The guest quarters are a blip of an image in his head. A body on top of his. Unfamiliar touch. Foreign moans. A scent that isn’t yours. 

As the fogginess fades, Feyd shakes his head. No. He didn’t. He couldn’t. Not to you. 

“I would’ve thought the time we spent together would be worth remembering,” Lady Margot says.

“You got in my head,” he grits out through clenched teeth. 

“It matters not!” the Reverend Mother snaps. “The child is yours and it must be legitimized. Once Lady Fenring gives birth, you will wed.”

—

Reader POV - Three Months Later

You’re disappointed. 

You’d spent days preparing yourself for what was to come—hours upon hours of strengthening your resolve by talking yourself through every possible scenario—and yet, as you step off of your family’s ship onto Giedi Prime soil, you must begrudgingly accept that it was all for naught. 

Touching the ground is like touching him. What belongs to him is a part of him, and you sense his presence in every grain of white sand under your shoes. 

Your heart jackrabbits in your chest, pressing against the cage of your ribs. If it could free itself, you wonder in which direction it would leap: back to the ship, ready to return to the protection of your home planet? Or toward the fortress, toward him. You wonder if his hands would be willing to catch it, brush it free of dust and grime and keep it close to his. But there’s no way to know until you’re in front of him. You lost the right to expect him to cradle your most precious organ when you left him without explanation, before he could level you with excuses for what he had done. 

Noticing your absence from their sides, your parents pause and turn back to face you. 

“Have you frozen, dear?” your mother asks with a chuckle. “You don’t appear to be breathing.” 

She glances at your father, whose brows raise and lips curve into a lopsided smile. Your mother loves that smile. It’s one of the qualities she finds so endearing about your father. The first time he smiled that smile, she claimed it soothed her nerves over the arrangement your grandparents made for her future as his wife. And you know that feeling, that sense of calm; the safety of a lover’s company. 

Your body aches as the memories of Feyd settle onto your shoulders. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he kissed you, held you, moaned your name—all unique to him. They are what persuaded you to open your body, allowing him to wrap a hand around your love and hoard it for himself. And it pains you to know that if he has chosen to let it go, if he no longer cares for it, your love will never be the same. It will not make its way back to you. It will not heal. Like your rejected heart, your love will lie at his feet, shriveled and abused and begging for his attention. 

“Come now, we don’t want to keep the Houses waiting,” your father says. 

Your eyes are sandpaper. You blink. Damn the Houses. The frequency of meetings, which once seemed reasonable considering they afforded you and Feyd more time together, now feels like a nuisance; torture. There is no logical reason why every House member must be in attendance. Your being here changes nothing of the outcomes of negotiations and thinly veiled threats. 

Your mother grabs your hand. “Come,” she demands, towing you toward the aura of darkness.

You flinch as you enter through the doors. You’ve been predicting that upon returning to this place, you would have to fight the urge to cower into a corner, but as your eyes scan the fortress’s interior, all you can think is: home. Black walls and cold floors and hovering orbs of harsh light—a comfort that unexpectedly welcomes you as a former lover rather than rejects you as a traitor. 

Guards lead you further into the fortress toward a familiar room. You’re the first family to arrive—so much for making people wait—and you run your palm across the metal table in the center of the room. How many times have you sat at this table, imagining the rest of your life? Teasing one another? How many times has he taken you on it? As Lords and Ladies join your family, you find it best not to think about it.

You settle into a seat beside your father and, like everyone else, patiently wait for a machine to bring the Baron into the room. As he arrives, so do his nephews. 

You stop breathing.

Feyd’s eyes scan the space until they find you, and though you plead with yourself to look away, you can’t. He’s a force outside of nature. A magnetic presence much too alluring for your willpower to resist. And the longer he looks at you, the quicker the protective shell you’ve worked to build up chips away. 

He chooses to sit across from you rather than by his uncle. Not a seat he was meant to take, but no one argues. 

The Baron talks. Feyd stares. Your body heats. 

Eventually, you find a shred of strength and use it to rip your eyes away from his, but it doesn’t stop the ghostly caress of his gaze. What is he thinking? He doesn’t appear to hate you, but appearances can be deceiving. He’s capable of tamping down his emotions in front of others. There’s no telling what he would do should he get you alone, but you’re determined not to let that happen. You have no reason to be alone with him. He’s not yours. You’re not his. And people who do not belong to one another do not need to spend time secluded from others. 

You remind yourself of that many times over the duration of the meeting, repeating the words in your head until they’re at their barest bones. You’re not his, he’s not yours, never be alone together. Not his, not yours, never alone. Never alone. Never. 

But the harder you push, the more you want it; the more you want to drag him away, put your mouth on his, bite him, feast on his skin, swallow the groans you know you can pull from this throat. 

Fuck. 

You need to get away from him. 

You fidget with your fingers under the table, praying for the seconds to tick faster. Each one passes as if trying to outlast the one before it, and it’s sending you into a spiral of anxiety. Blurry vision, rushing blood, dry throat that’s beginning to overpower your ability to sit silently and still as you are meant to. 

But then, by some miracle, you’re granted mercy. The Baron dismisses the meeting, and you’ve never been more relieved in your life. A chance to escape. To breathe. You rise so quickly that your chair nearly flips over. 

And then you realize your mistake. 

Feyd’s eyes drop to your stomach. 

You swallow hard. 

A flutter fills your belly from the baby’s kick. 

---

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please let me know! It makes my day <3 Also, let me know if you wanna be tagged for the next part.

[planet-hwa]

୨୧  the remedy to resistance teaser – 우영

   ↳   chapter one ; immunity to my charms

  ୨୧  summary     without regret — the last thought before falling asleep next to wooyoung after finally giving into temptations, so why did you feel so strange the next morning? it wasn’t regret but an unknown emotion; unexplainable and underlying with anxious thoughts and over thought questions… maybe you should’ve stayed in your content state of immunity and denial, then you wouldn’t be fighting yourself to avoid him.

pairing     fratboy!wooyoung x reader genre     angsty best friends to lovers… and of course with smut *kiss kiss* word count     1k

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warnings     MDNI !! —

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the look of love, the rush of blood now playing   no. 1 party anthem ; arctic monkeys ⇄  ◁  II  ▷  ↺

⋮≡  in queue     ◦  blue ; pools     ◦  i wanna be yours ; arctic monkeys     ◦  mistakes like this ; prelow     ◦  the beach ; the neighbourhood     ◦  you get me so high ; the neighbourhood

You never thought this would happen, always remaining unfazed to the flirtatious charms of Jung Wooyoung — well, that’s what you told yourself. And yet, here you were, cuddled up under the duvet of his bed. 

The sunlight glimmered through the cracks of the curtains, setting the room with an orange tinge. You swivelled your head and peaked over your shoulder at the digital clock on his night stand: 8:59 which quickly flicked to 9:00. Considering the exciting night you had last, you expected yourself to be waking up closer to noon.

The sheets shuffled next to you, turning your head to watch as Wooyoung had flipped to his side and was now facing you, still in a deep slumber softly snoring. His hair fell across his face and his expression was tranquil. You observed as his facial muscles slightly twitched every few minutes, similar to how a cat does when they’re dreaming. A soft smile grew on your face as you thought about the events of last night, not the party but what happened once the two of you left.

You finally gave in to your temptations for Wooyoung, after always being so adamant that you would never hook up with your best friend, or even admit that you had feelings for him to him. But when he reciprocated those feelings? It was like fireworks burst in your heart, every ounce of love you had for him — platonic and romantic — exploded and shot through your entire body. No man had ever made you feel like that, no matter how much you were interested in them.

The peaceful state of mind was ruined as sudden thoughts of anxiety began flooding your brain, conversations that were blurred by the hangover and unknown to you if they were real or not. 

“Is that why you looked so mad just now? Because I was hooking up with her?” Wooyoung scoffed, pushing his hair back with his hand just for the front strands to fall back to covering his face. The emphasis on the last word proved he already knew the answer. He knew how you felt about her and how she felt about you. He knew that you usually didn’t care about his hookups, but because it was with her; you cared. He knew that you being upset wasn’t just because of her.

“Why would you even go for her when you could get any girl you want?”

“Because the girl I want doesn’t seem to want me back.” He slowly drifted towards you, settling himself in between your knees and resting his hands on your thighs. “Don’t you?”

Did this actually happen, was I dreaming it?

“You know,” He purred, petaling kisses from your chest and down to your belly, falling lower and lower until he sat between your legs. “I’ve always dreamt about this; how you’d look… how you’d feel… how you’d taste.”

Did he actually say that, or was I blinded by orgasmic bliss?

A nausea swelled in the pit of your stomach, fueled by anxiety and the lingering effects of alcohol in your system. You needed to get out of there, right now, before you mentally broke down. Quickly gathering your clothes and throwing them on, but still wearing the shirt Wooyoung gave you to sleep in, you silently left his room and tip-toed down the stairs. You glanced around the lounge room, the floor completely covered in confetti and red plastic cups, sticky drinks staining the walls. Mingi was knocked out on the coach, a beer still drooping in the grip of his limp hand. The house was quiet, more quiet than you’d ever experienced it. A complete change in setting from the previous night.

“Oh! Hey Y/N,” You turned to see a very sleepy looking San standing in the hallway, a bowl of cereal in his hands. “I didn’t know you stayed the night. Did you sleep with Wooyoung?”

A sudden heat blushed over your cheeks at the question, thoughts of the possibility that they heard you — even knowing it would be impossible over how loud the music was — had begun running through your mind. “Did I do what with Wooyoung?”

“Oh no! I mean, did you sleep in his room with him?” Quickly corrected himself before letting out a low chuckle. “I know you would never sleep with him in that way.”

“Oh… yeah, right.” The awkwardness that came over you was embarrassing, but San was too invested in his breakfast to notice. “Yeah, I think I passed out on his bed.”

“Damn, poor guy had to listen to you snore.”

“Hey, I don’t snore!” You retorted, giving him a light smack to the shoulder. His eyes turned to crescent moons as he laughed at your defensiveness, almost choking on the milk of his cereal.

“You definitely do.”

“Whatever you say,” You rolled your eyes at his comments, as annoying as they were, they were a nice distraction from the thoughts on a possible ruined friendship.

But those thoughts quickly returned the moment you sat alone in the uber, no music to distract you and the driver was too focused on a phone call to attempt to start a conversation with. Your brain crashed around your skull like a tidal wave, filled with so many emotions that threatened to spill through your eyes. But you were not about to be the drunk person who cries in the back of an uber. It wasn’t until you got back to your dorm, crashing onto your bed with a huff that you let all your emotions out. The scent of Wooyoung clung to your his shirt. bringing back all the memories of the party, your eyes were welling up with tears as each played in your mind.

Why did you do that? Why did you hook up with your best friend?

Tears rolled down your cheeks at the thought of losing him, your brain convincing itself that it had already happened. You couldn’t live with yourself if you ruined your relationship over something like this, over your own lustful thoughts that you brought to life. Curling up into the blankets, wet tears stained your pillow as sleep quickly claimed you. 

author's note a little snip it of chapter two of immunity to my charms [that was written quite quickly and hasn't been reread yet so it might change once i finish the whole thing]

the full story will be posted within the next week... probably

current taglist @morethingsfandom @dreamsoffanfics @butterflydemons @youmeandwords @hwascutewife @e3ellie @hoe4kpop @moonlight-hwa @dawn-iscozy @chososho3 @dejatiny @betda @woozit

if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist, please let me know !!

[stargirlygirl]

if they were househusbands

denki, izuku, tamaki x fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — fluff, tama's is a bit suggestive, kinda hcs, 870 words

a/n: thinking about doing a part 2 where it's the guys who you would be a housewife for (bakugou-coded)

kaminari denki

100% a househusband

not exactly unemployed ⟶ he’s tryna be a pro gamer and with you being the breadwinner, he picks up the slack around the house

kinda ends up being a part-time gamer (cause i’m not so sure about those skills making him a pro) just because of how hard it is to balance gaming and keeping your home in order

does he do the chores well, though? i would imagine that he tries to bake muffins or banana bread for you but it ends up getting burnt; he tries to fix one of the lights but then short circuits the entire house; he makes the leaking tap ten times worse so you have to call bakugou over to fix it

apologises profusely after setting the kitchen curtains on fire and buys you new ones that you absolutely love

he would look so cute in his lil apron that you got him for his bday!!!!!!!

you’re sitting on the couch, watching with a smirk as denki pulls a frilly, pink and white waist apron out of the gift bag you got him. his golden eyes are wide as he stares at the garment. he’s holding it up in the air, gaze flicking between you and the apron.

he stutters, “what-what the fuck?” you burst out into laughter as he just stares at you, thumbing the frills. you bend over as you laugh, your hand on his knee, unable to contain yourself.

denki places the apron down on his lap and says, “what am i to you? a maid?” you nod, your hand in front of your mouth as you continue to laugh at him.

once you calm down and wipe the tears from your eyes, you say, “don’t you like it?” you try to pout but your giggles make it nearly impossible.

denki sighs, “only a maid for my beautiful, sexy wife.” you notice his adorable pout, his blond brows furrowed. you lean over and wrap your arms around his shoulders, planting a big smooch on his cheek.

“all mine,” you taunt in his reddening ear. he gently pushes you off, causing you to laugh as you lean back. “try it on!” you squeal in excitement. at that, denki’s face reddens. he looks at you, mortified by the thought of how he’s about to humiliate himself for his wife. he gulps and grumbles about how stupid this is, how mean you are. but it doesn’t stop him from slipping the apron around his slutty waist and tying it in a bow at the back.

you stare at him, checking him out shamelessly as he does a little twirl for you. “happy now?” he pouts. you nod enthusiastically.

“very happy.”

midoriya izuku

househusband because he got injured during hero work

you tell him to take it slow and rest but he’s up early every day, making you lunch for work and putting on a load of laundry

he’s the successful househusband ⟶ great at all of the chores; never leaves a mess, not a speck of dust to be seen, nothing out of place

during the winter, he’ll throw your work clothes in the dryer so that when you get dressed, they’re still toasty; he’ll place a beanie on your head and even put your mittens on for you

when you come home from work, dinner’s on the table and izuku is greeting you with a sweet kiss; he takes your bag from you and asks you about your day while leading you to the bedroom to get changed

if you’re tense, then he’ll give you a massage and shower with you

“come and sit, honey,” izuku coos to you. he pats the spot next to him on the couch. you shake your head and try to tell him you’re fine, but he insists. sighing, you plop down on the couch next to him. he tells you to turn and face away from him and so you do. then, you feel his warm, large hands on your shoulders and upper back, kneading the tender muscles. you let out a sigh of relief and ease into his touch, letting him take away the stress of your day.

he ends up convincing you to take off your top so he can have better access to your upper back and, therefore, give you a better massage. and your pure-intentioned boy is true to his word, his fingers and palms pressing into your soft flesh and soothing you. after he’s worked your shoulders, he adjusts your body so that you’re sitting facing forward. he gets down on the floor and props your foot up on his knee. he repeats the process, helping you relax with those perfect hands and their relieving rhythm across your skin.

he kisses your ankles, shins, and calves, working his way up to your knees. you giggle as your hand threads through his curly green locks. you let him wrap his arms around you and carry you off to the bathroom, setting you down on the cold tiles and helping you undress. you two get into the shower and he lathers your body in body wash, sprinkling little kisses here and there before rinsing it off.

you sigh into the crook of his neck, “thanks for taking such good care of me.”

he hums in response and says, “always, honey.”

amajiki tamaki

idk about this twink

he’s giving shy cutie who does all of the laundry and makes the most delicious meals for you

he’s also great at gardening ⟶ you have the most beautiful garden in the neighbourhood because of this man and his quirk; he spends his days wrangling those weeds and planting pretty flowers and vegetables and fruits

of course, he uses your homegrown produce in your meals, making it taste amazing and extra special because of all the hard work he put into cultivating them

he would also make you the cutest bentos!!!!! like with the tako sausages and star-shaped fruit and veg ⟶ makes literal edible art just for his beautiful wife

i think he would always be trying new recipes and dishes and sharing them with you ⟶ like every friday, he’ll cook something new and won’t try it until you get home and try it with him

“tama, i’m home!” you call as you enter your home. you slip off your shoes, the scent of something savoury and delicious filling your nose. you walk into the kitchen and find your husband stirring a pot on the stove. you skip over to him and plant a kiss on his cheek, making him flinch in surprise. he lets go of the wooden spoon and looks at you with wide eyes, red dusting his cheeks.

“i didn’t hear you,” he says quietly, averting his gaze from yours.

you giggle and say, “did you miss me?” he nods furiously and returns to stirring the pot. you ask him what he’s cooking, and he tells you he’s making a soup from a magazine he read. you nod and leave him be.

for dinner, he serves you the most yummy soup you’ve had yet. with wide eyes, you tell him just how good it tastes, and he murmurs that he’s glad you like it. you two talk about your days, tama listening quietly to you rant about work drama. afterwards, you help him clean up.

you stand next to him, drying the dishes that he washes. after setting a plate down, you lean over and whisper in his ear, “maybe i’ll have to show you how much i like your cooking, tama.” you pull back, giggling and feeling cocky once you see that familiar blush rise to his cheeks and ears.

he glances at you every so often, watching his perfect angel dry the dishes and put them away. he quickly looks away once you bend over or reach up, your ass far too round or your tank top riding up and exposing a strip of your soft skin. you can’t wipe that shit-eating grin off of your face. you’re well aware of how he’s watching you, and you like how nervous you make him.

it takes some convincing but eventually, you let him know just how much he and his cooking, his taking care of your home, means to you.

[mixolya]

ᓚᘏᗢ — beneath the stars, we became one: chapter 016.

the kiss lingered. not on your lips, but in your mind.

it played over and over, the memory of rin's hands cupping your face, the softness of his lips, and the intensity of his gaze. the way he'd kissed you wasn't impulsive, it was careful. so so careful, like he'd been holding back and finally let himself go. for someone like rin, who kept his emotions locked away, it felt like a moment of quiet vulnerability. and that terrified you.

the first night after the kiss, you couldn’t sleep. you lay awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling, the city lights casting faint patterns on the walls. the kiss replayed, but it was no longer just a sweet memory. it was tangled in a mess of doubt, fear, and questions.

what does this mean now?

rin wasn’t the type to kiss someone casually. you knew that. and yet, the weight of what it implied felt suffocating. you weren’t sure you were ready to face it.

because you'd been here before.

not with rin, but with kyo.

kyo. your first love.

the thought of him made your chest tighten, the ache of old wounds resurfacing. kyo had been your first heartbreak, the kind that left marks you couldn’t see but always felt. you thought back to how you’d loved him, how you’d given him every piece of yourself, only to watch him carelessly break it again and again.

the charm, the laughter, the sweet words - kyo  had been everything you thought you wanted. until he wasn’t. until the promises turned empty, the texts unanswered, and the apologies hollow. and even then, you’d forgiven him. not once, not twice, but so many times you’d lost count.

you forgave him because you were attached. because you thought that was what love was supposed to feel like - painful, messy, and one-sided.

you curled into yourself, hugging your knees to your chest as the memories washed over you. the fear of being hurt again, of being vulnerable, felt paralyzing.

kyo had taught you how to hold on, even when you should’ve let go. rin, on the other hand…

rin wasn't kyo. he wasn’t careless or manipulative. rin didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep, and he never made you feel small. he didn’t chase after your attention with flashy words or grand gestures; he was honest, steady, and… real.

and that scared you more than anything.

because with kyo, you’d expected the heartbreak. you'd almost braced yourself for it every time you forgave him. but rin? rin made you want to trust again. to hope again. and if things didn’t work out, you weren’t sure you could survive that kind of pain a second time.

you sat up, rubbing your temples as you tried to make sense of your thoughts. the room felt too small, too confining, and your mind raced. the logical part of you knew rin didn’t deserve to be compared to kyo, but the emotional part of you, scarred and cautious, couldn't help it.

maybe if you pulled away now, it wouldn’t hurt as much later.

the thought hit you like a punch to the gut, but it made sense. if you distanced yourself from rin, you wouldn’t have to risk falling for him completely. you wouldn’t have to risk him breaking you.

but as much as you tried to convince yourself, a small voice in the back of your mind whispered the truth:

you already were falling for him.

the thought settled in your chest, heavy and unyielding. you were already falling for Rin, and it scared you. because falling meant losing control. and control was the one thing you had promised yourself you’d never give up again.

you sighed and pushed yourself off the bed, pacing the small space of your room. pullinh away seemed like the safest option, but the idea of actually doing it made your stomach churn. rin wasn’t someone who would let things slide without noticing. if you started creating distance, he would call you out on it. and what would you say?

“sorry, rin, i'm scared of you breaking my heart”?

how pathetic.

you shook your head, frustrated. you hated this. you hated the overthinking, the fear, the way you couldn’t just enjoy the moment. you wanted to be brave, to take a leap and see where things would go. but every time you tried to convince yourself, memories of kyo's lies and your own heartbreak came rushing back.

what if rin got tired of you?

what if you weren’t enough for him?

what if this ended the same way as before?

you stopped pacing and leaned against your desk, staring out the window. the city lights twinkled, indifferent to your turmoil. for a moment, you let yourself imagine a different version of yourself - one who didn’t overthink, who didn’t hold onto the past, who could give rin the trust he deserved.

but that version of you felt impossibly far away.

your phone buzzed on the desk, breaking the silence. you picked it up and saw a message from rin.

my beloved 😈😈😈: got home safe?

three simple words, yet they made your chest tighten. 

your fingers hovered over the keyboard. for a moment, you considered not replying, letting the distance start now. but then you thought about the look in his eyes when he kissed you, the way his hand lingered on your face like he was afraid you’d disappear.

you couldn’t do it. not yet.

you: yeah, just tired. and you?

the reply came almost instantly.

my beloved 😈😈😈: same.

you stared at the screen, at the single word that somehow felt like more. you could almost picture him, sitting in his room, his expression as unreadable as always but his thoughts possibly just as restless as yours.

closing your eyes, you let out a slow breath. you weren’t sure what you were going to do, how you were going to handle this, but one thing was certain: you couldn’t avoid rin forever.

for now, you’d let yourself be in this moment. just for a little longer.

chapter 015 > here > chapter 017

back to beneath the stars, we became one !

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a/n: I'm crashing out

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[coconut530]

LEARN WHEN TO QUIT MAN

(the last pic of Pluto was me watching him try to keep this going)

[chastiefoul]

nanami kento is known to have a habit of crossing his legs when he sits. when he's reading, or just idly thinking. it's just something he does unconsciously, often time he doesn't even realize it himself.

yet this quickly changes after he got together with you.

now, everytime you come into the same room as him, the man quickly shifted his legs back to a regular position; you know, just in case you want to sit on lap.

fine, he wants you to sit atop of it.

this is all because he had the mistake─one he'll gladly do over and over, of experiencing it once.

the feeling of your body pressed so close against him while you ramble on about absolutely nothing, which he listens to intently with a smile on his face; his hand running along your hair ever so softly while he hums once or twice as response to your animated chatter.

and then you rested your head on his shoulder after getting a bit tired, your strands tickling his neck in the best way possible. his hands moved smoothly to your sides, rubbing up and down. all soothed and relaxed, nanami loves the sight of you being so comfortable near him.

you probably couldn't get closer to him more than this could you? he thought, as he held you tighter nonetheless. he felt content, whole.

so yeah, in short, nanami wants you to sit on his laps.

and with how fast he does it too there's no way you don't notice the subtle change of how he sits lately. yet you don't have the heart to point how obvious he was being, so most of the times you just indulged him, no questions asked. although it's not like it wasn't enjoyable for you, it was the opposite.

not to mention the smile he wears everytime you do it... it's enough to make your knees go weak. a smile you'd go to war for, a smile that's worth doing anything he's asking for.

it seems like nanami isn't the only one who has a new habit, then.

[screampied]

𝜗𝜚 CHECKED THE RACK ?!

☆ sum. bóob obsessed jjk men who just can keep their hands off of you, their sweet sweet wife. toji, choso, gojo, geto, nanami.

warnings 𝜗𝜚 . fem! reader, wife reader, feral handsy men, bóob fondling, unprotected, cowgirl, dry humping, praise, dirty talk, lactátion fantasizes, brief face-fucking, bréeding mentions, implied multiple rounds, overstim, petnames.

☆ SATORU GOJO.

“god, really missed my girls,” satoru huffs, sucking in a single sharp breath as he buries his face right between your breasts.

you gasp, feeling him lick a single long stripe down the sloping valley of your chest before he roves his tongue to teasingly lap near your perked nipple. he takes a single whiff, and he’s enticed. satoru was always a clingy man. you had his cock stilled inside of your cunt the entire time you laid back against the cushioned mattress. despite it being so early in the morning, he couldn’t help but want more, want you.

pristine white tresses of hair rub up against your chest as he nuzzles further into you. “mhm, seems like they missed me too, mwah,” he kisses your left breast, feeling you cutely writhe. satoru’s still reclined back against the king-sized bed before he shoots you a sleazy grin. “tell me somethin’,” he whispers, and his hands suddenly grab onto your unsteady hips. you moan—feeling him start to leisurely rock you quicker into him. the bulbous curve of his shaft makes your legs merely collapse inward. “you touched yourself today, sweets? while i was work, hm?”

“n- no,” a soft whisper sprints out of your lips as you watch his hands tenderly guide your hips back and forth. you’re drenching his cock with your sweet syrupy sap, clamping down mercilessly within each sloppy thrust. so good, you bit down at the bottom of your lip before your tits start to bounce again. satoru glances straight toward them and he almost moans himself. the way they slap back against your chest. pap pap pap, he feels himself get harder the more he stares at your loud tits hitting against you, his cock sporadically and shamelessly twitching inside of you.

“no?” he repeats, and he noticed how your eyes dart away for a split second as you speak in a hushed voice. as his fat shaft continues to deeply barrel inside of your puffed cunt, he hums, cupping one of your springy soft breasts. “ ‘course ya did, you sent me those soapy pics of you in the bath on my break,” shit. you completely forgot, and you now start to whine as you’re just bouncing on his cock. your head fills up with nothing but clouded empty thoughts—not a single thought in your mind but the longing anticipation of satoru pumping you full of yet another thick load.

ruthlessly, the skin of your own starts to smack back onto your chest over and over as you thoroughly dig the centers of your knees into his thighs. “silly girl,” the white haired man playfully taps against your forehead, giving it a soft dumbing knock. ‘m making that my wallpaper by the way. fuckin’ sexy.”

as you’re whimpering the same repeated cacophonies of his name, you gasp, feeling his palm softly swat against your tits. “fuck, satoru!” you clench down on your jaw and your hips continue to sway. it was a tender delicate spank against your breasts, but he grunts once he feels your pussy squeeze against him the second he does it. you liked it. your body, he knew it—he knew every part of it, and he found it cute how you always responded to his lewd antics. “hngh, ‘m not gonna last, ‘s still sensitive, ‘toru.”

“you’re a kinky ‘lil thing, huh,” he lips curve into sly simper once he hears your cute hiss. you’re growing dumber and dumber the more your ass pounds against him and the brief sting makes him groan. his fat thick base sits right underneath you and you feel how full it is, so swollen. your mouth starts to salivate at the realization of just how deep he’s inside—merrily massaging your gummy clingy walls. satoru loved more than anything to give you a good filling after a long day of work. it was his treat to you, and he couldn’t resist when you were just so sweet. “ooh. like that?” he purrs, and you moan once he then gives your nipples a squeeze with two stubby fingers. fuck, your legs were shaking and he felt it—your body was a ticking time bomb. “yeah, yeah you do. pussy’s a sloppy dead giveaway, angel.”

“sato—ugh,” you moan, and he goes back to sucking on your tits. even whilst buried between your chest, he’s so pretty. satoru’s got the biggest cheekiest grin plastered on his lips as he’s got nothing but your boobs in his mouth. you’re still riding him but once his tongue slurps against your sensitive nipple - it’s over. your brain short circuits and your hands grab onto his hair hard. he’s drooling all down your chest and yet he doesn’t care about being messy. his tongue traces everywhere down your skin until he’s just tenderly sucking at any spot his lips can reach. “fuck, fuck, m- more please.”

“my wife’s got such a pretty body,” he groans, his lips ‘popping’ loudly once he removes your boob from his lips. glossy strands tear away from the slim cracks of his mouth before he rubs a thumb over your throbbing nipple. “y’know what though,” and his voice lowers. you gulp, still having his dick idle inside of your sopping cunt before he leans up close to your ear, pressing a hand down on your tummy. “you’d be an even prettier mommy. think ‘m ready ‘ta see that tummy round ‘n plump again, sweets.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURUO

“ah, ah babygirl. hold still, need ‘ta give the twins some extra lovin’ too,” a raspy voice whispers against the back of your ear.

you moan, slumping back against your husband’s chest. he still had his work clothes on and he’s just came back from home. it’s late evening, dusk preparing to set and yet—the first thing he made sure to do was to touch his pretty wife everywhere.

his bare scarred hands softly grab against both of your breasts, making them playfully bounce in his palms. “no bra too? such a good girl.”

“t- toji,” you whimper, almost forgetting that his cock was still buried deep inside of you. hes not even moving, you’re not even moving and yet you feel his thick heavy cock plummet through your goopy insides. he’s always been a clingy man, you knew that, and if it wasn’t your ass toji fushiguro was utterly obsessed with, it was your tits.

you were wearing nothing but a silky ivory colored nightgown. he peeped at how your perky nipples would rub and poke out against the showy soft fabric and he hums in sly amusement.

your hips were slow, painfully slow.

you were barely moving, but his cock was very much keeping your gummy insides occupied. his touch was fiery hot and you collapse back against his chest before feeling his lips kiss down your neck. “fuck, i still have to m- make dinner.”

“no need, hon,” he huskily snickers, and you let off another moan once he gives both of your breasts a firm squeeze. he’s obsessed, the rotund prints of his thumbs couldn’t resist to swipe and swerve all across your sensitive nipples just to feel you squirm and writhe on his cock.

oh, you could never stay still and it was his favorite thing about you. you cutely shiver from his touch, leaning into his grasp before hearing your own cunt squelch.

it’s screaming out a pretty sloshing ‘pop’ sound that echoes through the thin peeling dry walls and a wry smile compresses against toji’s lips. “already got my dinner right fuckin’ here,” and you moan once one of his hands creep down toward the curvature of your ass, giving it a soft spank. “ah, never said you could stop ridin’ me, pretty mama. work those hips more f’me. chop chop.”

“ngh, toji i’m gonna cu— oh!” you shriek, and as your jerking hips start to pick up again, slamming meaner and quicker against his lap, you gush right out. you end up cumming far earlier than you anticipated, all thanks to his rude blushing tip repeatedly kissing and mashing up against your most sweetest spots. you’ve never felt more dumb. you’re at a lost for words, stupidly dumbfounded. you’re moaning out inaudible whimpers as you hear your slick mess slosh down right between your pried open thighs. toji grunts, feeling your honeyed mess spray and cream all down his twitching lengthy shaft. his cock’s still plugged into your greedy pussy as your legs now grow limp. toji’s got his hands glued back on your tits and he playfully gives them a few bounces. “f- fuck.”

“did ya just cum from me playin’ with yer tits, baby?” he coos, a wolffish grin spreading against his lips.

so hot, your legs continue to spasm before squeezing shut, keeping his dick inside. you could barely even swallow without moaning out little whimpers of his name as your tongue’s just casually lolled out of your mouth.

“aw,” he tsks, giving your nipples that poke through your blouse a kittenish pinch. you’re weakly grinding against his lap whilst he’s whispering sweet nothings to you from behind. you’ve never felt more sensitive—and ripples surge all through your body as you ride out your orgasm, hearing toji’s breath get more rasp against the shell of your ear. “there there babygirl, ‘s okay. relax,” he whispers in a gruff tone as one of his hands slide down your body. you twitch from his callused fingers slithering down your chest. “such a messy cutie, should play with y’er tits more often if ya get like this, heh.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO.

“thought about you today at work,” nanami purrs, a husky baritone smoothing underneath his tone. your drooling wet pussy was so so closed to milking him yet again, and he’s just in awe at how you ride him good—bouncing on his fat cock with droopy half-open eyes. he’s exhausted, he’s been up and about his feet all day everyday, same old same old nine to five job but he was missing you. and now that he had you, he was clingy. nanami kento was clingy, so clingy to the point where you had to pry his hands off. he’s got you riding him in his creaking wooden rocking chair whilst he’s got a flustered grin curling against his slick glossed lips. “thought about you ‘n these pretty girls too.”

right as he said that though, he’s got two big hands squeezing against your tits, cupping them each in such a delicate manner. you gasp, continuing to rock back and forth against his halfway pulled down silk slacks before you moan. “fuck, ‘ken,” and his touch was so tender. his fingertips trace everywhere—every crevice and corner of your body. you still had your bra clasped on and he can’t help but openly gawk.

your wobbly hips continue to swivel all around him as your ass rigorously throws itself on his lap, smack smack smacking away. it feels sharp, your unpredictable movements that were once in sync with his grew more and more unsteady and it makes the aging rocking chair behave more and more rickety. it’s pathetically crying from the pounds of hefty weight crushing against it. “mhm,” you mewl through gritted teeth and your hands softly grab onto his wide wrists. a thumb of yours ghosts against the band of his rolex and he shoots you a needy grin. “kento, you never answered my question.”

“hm? oh,” there’s a playful glint in his eye, and you moan again once his head goes right between your springy tits. he’s showering every exposed area with a multitude of wet chaste kisses, making sure your skin knows who’s making it feel good - him. “oh, my day was fine sweetheart,” and a drawing hot breath gets stuck in the back of your throat, feeling his sly tongue slowly and playfully lap down the valley of your breasts. “mhm, so fine,” and his voice drops lower and lower. your hips start to slow down with seconds and he’s just toying with you. nanami’s hands now slither further down to toward your quavery hips. “my day’s even better now that i’m spendin’ it with my pretty wifey.”

and you let off a sweetened three second moan once he starts to latch his glistening lips against your swollen neglected nipples. shaggy blond strands of hair tickle against the upper part of your chest as he starts to suck, closing his eyes and allowing his mind to roam. “ah, i remember when milk used to come from here, my love,” he grunts, shifting between each tit — he’s tender, making sure to take his time whilst his hardened cock’s still hidden inside of your puffy cunt. nanami’s cupping each hand over your breasts before his gentle fawn eyes meet yours. the tip of his tongue swirls around your achy nipple before he groans right into your chest. “thinkin’ about that makes me wanna put another baby in you, sweetheart. f- fuck, all swollen ‘n plump. you’d like that?”

“y- yes,” you moan, and your hips start to frantically pick up again. the angered plump crownhead of nanami’s cock extends through each pivotal thrust and you feel it. the curving hook of his cock repeatedly thrashes up inside of you and you’ve never felt more full. he’s just so deep, you bite back a moan or two before your breathing starts to catch up with you. he’s tapping against a spongy texture and it makes your thighs squeeze together in sudden rapture. “want another baby, please. give me another..another baby,” your words start to chop as your hips become sloppy. your pussy’s got his entire cock slobbering down from the veiny sides with your sap and he grunts at the sloshing slickness.

“give you?” nanami softly rasps, and he raises a blond eyebrow at your needy demand. “oh, baby. that’s not how we ask. c’mon, be a big girl ‘n ask me the right way, sweet thing,” and he grazes a thumb over your pouting lip, kissing it gingerly. “talk to me nice, my love.”

as his cock roughly punctuates inside of you within each exaggerated thrust, you toss your arms over him, whimpering loudly. “please, please can i have another baby, ‘ken. breed me, make me full. want it so bad, want you.” and he leans in to kiss you. it’s passionate, his lips dance against yours whilst his tongue slides into your mouth, demanding access. you moan, feeling his solid weight continue to anchor into yours. slamming, he’s got your hips working to the bone and it makes him groan. nanami’s hand go back toward your tits and he gives them a nice good feel, smiling against your lips once he feels the full doughy mounds bounce and jolt in his hand.

“better be a g-good girl ‘n take it then,” he huffs, stammering over his own words. nanami leans in, going back to sucking against your tits. they slap and move move all against his face due to your rocky hips and a faint grin tugs on both sides of his lips. your hips grind further into him at full speed—full throttle and you moan once one of his hands gives your ass a squeeze which turns into a quick spank. “mhm, that’s it. ride me, honey. milk me, got so much ‘ta give you,” and your skin melts into him the faster you move. skin against skin and it smacks rough, ricocheting against both pounds of flesh and you whimper at the brief twinges of pleasure. each smack against flesh makes your ears ring and it’s only seconds before he’s cumming.

it’s a lot, a thick load of velvety ropes that deeply pours into your aching cunt. it’s so much to where it’s unapologetically dribbling down your thighs in creamy stringy clumps. it can’t fit inside of your cunt—he groans at the realization, cupping your right tit before going back to sucking against it whilst staring you straight in the eyes. “fuck, i- i need a minute,” and he’s gradually feeling his body succumb to defeat as his burly muscles tense underneath his business attire. with your tit still popped in his mouth, nanami shoots you a wry pussy drunk smile before lathering his tongue around your tender nipple. after a few seconds, he takes it out of his mouth before falling back. his and clench underneath his business shirt and he playfully smacks your ass, another hand dramatically fanning himself. “whew.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO.

“a- are you sure?” choso mumbles with a pout, and he’s panting heavily at the sight that’s right before him. you’re on your knees for him whilst your two hands cup under both of your tits. doing so—you show off your pretty nails he paid for about a week ago. you make direct eye contact with his leaking cock. his tip was a pearly pink, swollen with tears of pre-cum spewing from the sides. he’s got a hand wrapped around his length before he exhales. “i just—put it in between..?”

“mhm,” you softly coo, occasionally glancing at the black curly specks of hair that glue near his base. his happy trail, you stare at it for a while, watching his chiseled abs achingly flex before you puff out your bottom lip. “c’mon, baby. nice ‘n slow. ‘s okay. just pretend you’re fuckin’ me.”

an elongated breath gets caught in his throat at your lewd words. just pretend he’s fucking you. choso’s sable dark pupils dilate as he gives his throbbing cock a few single pumps. he’s slow, a thumb of his swipes against a pulsating vein that’s prodding on his skin before he slowly positions his dick between your plump tits. “f- fuck,” he murmurs, watching as two of your hands squeeze your breasts together. so soft, he watches you with cute widened eyes as his achy cock rests in between both of your mounds. choso’s so hard too, it’s almost painful at how much he’s throbbing but it feels too good to shy away. “baby, can you use your mouth too?”

“yeah, ‘cho,” you hum sweetly, and he hears the tease in your tone. it was probably a dumb question and he already felt a hot wave of embarrassment spray over his body. his breath continues to hitch as he sees you—gradually starting to bounce your breasts up and down with his twitching shaft caught between the slick valley. your dewy glossed eyes never leave his, and every few seconds you’d grab his shaft, using a hand to pull it up to your lips for a quick suck. choso whimpers, desperately craving for more. he’s never did such an activity like this before. a boob job, apparently humans call it that. he’s not a stranger when it comes to intimacy but this, he could get used to having his cock between your pretty tender tits. “mhm,” you purse your lips, briefly wrapping them around his sweltering hot tip. he’s close, you could tell he wasn’t gonna last long and the bouncing of his thigh gave it away.

“ugh, w- when you use your tongue, i—” he cuts off, a keen gasp ripping out from his vocal chords. you drag his leaky pulsating tip to smear around your nipples before popping it right back into your mouth. choso takes a mental image of this entire scenario, storing it in the back of his mind. but he just couldn’t take it anymore. “fuck it.”

you let off a sheepish giggle before it’s your turn to gasp once choso’s hand suddenly grabs the back of your head. you look up at him and he moans, pushing your head all the way down until his tip greets against the roof of your mouth. the edges of your nails pierce into his thighs as you’re now being face fucked, ruthlessly.

your head bobbles up and down continuously as your tits bounce in sync and you’re slobbering all down his cock. lustrous cobwebs of saliva start to string away from your lips and it’s so pretty. he’s trying to luxuriate in the feeling of your warm mouth keeping his cock warm.

so so good, he’s rolling his eyes in pleasure but that’s when you then feel his dick twitch inside your mouth and on your flat tongue once he spots you starting to drool. oh, and that was all it took for him to grow weak. glimmering sheeny strands of saliva cascade past your lips and further down the crack of your chest. it brings a brighter shine to your breasts and he’s never felt more turned on. “fuck, y- you’re so fuckin’ hot, baby,” he babbles, black arched brows contorting together in awe. choso’s tugging at your roots - pulling hard. you’re getting his entire dick wet with the help of your mouth—slurping inch after inch until his mushroom tip’s continuously kissing against the back of your throat. “ohfuckohfuckohfuck.”

as he’s blabbering out the same repeated cries, your eyes briefly widen once he’s shooting gooey ribbons of cum right into your mouth. the bittersweet taste never fails to make you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment. choso’s dick resumes to weakly pump down your throat as his milky hot cum sprays on the center of your pink tongue. twirling your tongue around his tip whilst your hands still play with your pretty breasts, you meet his gaze once he’s shaking—releasing his rough grip against the back of your head. “shit, was i too mean? ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry baby-”

and his voice slowly trails off once you pull his cock out of your mouth, hearing the loud ‘pop’ sound from your lips before you lick the side of your mouth. “i’m okay, ‘cho,” you coo, feeling yourself throb a bit at choso being rough for a change—it was just the image of him shoving you down his cock, watching you play with your tits, gripping hard on your strands all while whining. “you liked that, baby?”

“a lot, actually,” he grows sheepish. but even after the fact, choso can’t help but smear his achy tip against your swollen lips, before softly smacking it against it against your rolled out tongue. you looked a mess - his mess. strands of saliva land on his tip once he brings it toward your lips, watching you give it s quick kiss. but as he glances at your twitching cum-glossed lips, he desperately to kiss you and snatch a taste for himself but he knew he had to wait. choso starts to pant, wrapping all five fingers around his veiny length before stuffing it back between your tits. “one more,” and he lets off a soft moan once you spit on his cock, slimy transclucent drool glissading down the valley of your chest and onto his rosy tip. “you’re so n- nasty, heh. do that again, princess.”

☆ SUGURU GETO

“stay still,” he whispers, and you glance down at geto who’s resting his chin right between your breasts.

they’re all bare and exposed, his favorite view. he’s missed you all day and he couldn’t wait to pounce on his pretty wife. “my, look at these. jus’ waiting for me,” and he cups both of them, giving them bother tender kisses. fat silky covers go over the both of you and just seconds ago, geto was pounding into you raw until your pussy was literally overflowing with velvety ropes of cum. “untouched, i presume?”

“y- yes, sugu,” you breathe, feeling a bit tender from his delicate touch. he grunts, shifting a bit under the plump covers. his cock rests flat against the dull grey sheets before he starts to rut against your leg. a hand of yours finds its way to run through his strands, digging near his tender scalp. “didn’t touch myself all day. waited for you.”

a small hum leaves from him before he brings his crooked lips up toward your right breast. groaning, geto leand in to suck against it—he’s feral, sloppy rutting hips slowly grind against your thigh that’s propped up underneath him as his tongue flicks up and around your nipple. “ah, sugu,” your eyes squeeze shut for a moment as your fingers intertwine with his thin raven locks. his eyes were closed and he was so into it, his tongue circles around your nipple before he slurps—popping sounds shrieking out from his slim reddened lips. “fuck, don’t stop. . please,” and your words only made him grunt more. he didn’t even realize he was humping all up against your leg but he didn’t care.

this place—buried right between your tits, absolute heaven to him. .

he’s so sloppy too, he’s got strands of slippery saliva dripping past his perfect parted lips as he’s snaking his head down the crack of your chest. “oops,” he whispers, dark hooded eyes observing the mess he’s creating. your breasts were all swollen, the centers of your mounds were so shiny all because of his saliva. your nipples were poorly tender and glistening with drool. “sorry, sweetie. couldn’t help myself. had ‘ta get a taste of my favorite girls,” and his words get a bit muffled once he stuffs his face back in between your tits. you giggle but it quickly turns into a sultry long moan once he starts to greedily suck against the other neglected breast. “mhm,” and he groans loudly, the tip of his cock brushing up against your thigh. geto’s wearing sweats but even still, you could feel it. his dick rubbing off against the grey fabric, ticking all against your leg. he’s brick hard and with your tits stuffed in his mouth, it only made him ten times worse.

“fuh— fuck,” he snarls, and his half on boxers continue to snag against your skin. geto’s brows come together before he ends up cumming - it’s so abrupt, his eyes roll back and you can almost hear a whimper leave from his throat. “goddamn,” he huffs, and as his chest heaves in and out, he stares up at you with the most feral expression. his mouth’s open and no words come out anymore for a while—just breathy hot pants and faint whimpers. geto couldn’t have felt anymore embarrassed. damp grey splotches soak and create a patch near the center of his boxers as his hips grow substantially weak. geto’s shuddering, and you pull him close as his head’s buried between your tits. “you drive me c- crazy, y’know,” he moans, and he’s still feeling the sharp after effects. his cock was now soft and flaccid, bulging inside of his cerulean blue boxers that hide underneath his sweats before he pouts on your chest. “got me h- humpin’ your leg ‘n moaning for you, fuck.”

“it’s okay, suguru,” you whisper, silvery fingers still kneading through his hair. his face softens at your reassurance. his eyes meet toward your lips before you give his forehead a kiss. “good boy.”

“s- shut up,” he scoffs, both sides of his cheeks angrily flushing the second those two horrid words slither out of your lips. the audacity, geto’s still laid on top of you as if he’s practically glued against your body. he’s so hot against your skin that both pounds of flesh practically melt against each other. but, geto can’t help but pout more against your chest as he looks up at you, his pride’s nowhere to be found as he’s now happily nuzzling his face into your tits. “say it again, sweetheart,” and he sounds annoyed but he’s actually pleading for more—not only did you make him insanely sensitive but you also made suguru geto whimper. “tch. call me that again. see what happens. f- fuck.”

[leyiorr]

you and satoru decide pretty quickly that you want your daughter’s ears pierced.

she’s a gorgeous baby; bright blue eyes and soft white hair just like her father. her nose and lips are your genetic touch, and satoru insists that it’s your features that make her look so adorable.

you’d asked your husband what he thought about getting her ears pierced so young, and obviously he thought it was a great idea - his two favourite girls should match earrings.

and so, once she’s old enough, the two of you bring her to a store to get her ears done.

satoru has her sat on his lap, entertaining her as you spoke with the piercer about the placing and colour of the earrings. he talks to her like he can understand her baby babble; no one understands his daughter better than he does.

eventually, the time comes, and the piercer lines up the piercing gun with your daughter’s ear after marking the spot with temporary ink. she’s giggling gleefully, trying to grab hold of the piercer’s hair.

satou’s anxiety is on high, he doesn’t want his daughter to flinch and cause an injury that no one wants. the peircer seems nice enough though, and her friendly smile coupled with your hand on his shoulder and his baby’s laughter settles his nerves marginally.

but he speaks too soon.

the minute the metal pierces her skin, your daughter instantly breaks into tears, twisting her small body toward her daddy as she lets out dramatic screeches of pain. satoru’s heart sinks immediately, large hands gently trying to soothe his daughter - her tiny ones fist his shirt like a lifeline.

she cries and cries like she’s dying, and satoru feels his soul bleed.

“daddy’s sorry, baby,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “it’ll go away soon. i wish i could help you, sweets.”

but she’s having none of it, crying harder when he tries to put her back into position. he feels his own eyes sting; his heart aches from being unable to take away his precious daughter’s pain.

his eyes snap up to your face, hoping you’ll have some insight on how to help her. you’re smiling fondly, softly pinching her cheeks in effort to distract her from the pain.

“don’t be dramatic,” you scold sweetly, dropping into a crouch to press sloppy kisses to her chubby cheeks.

she hiccups, letting her father’s shirt go in favour of trying to grab your nose instead. her cries turn into wet giggles within a few seconds and satoru feels relief fill his veins.

you look up at him with a raised eyebrow, “i mean you, mister.”

it takes him a full second to realize that there are tears rolling down his face, and he quickly wipes his eyes in embarrassment. he hears the piercer giggle; may the ground open up and swallow him whole.

“you’re such a baby,” you say, but your heart felt so full - your husband just cried at his daughter getting her ears pierced? you were never going to let him live that down.

satoru doesn’t say anything, obediently allowing you to tilt his head back to meet you in a kiss. through the salty taste of his tears and your fingers holding his throat he doesn’t even notice when the piercer approaches again, quietly lining up with the other dot.

she looks to you for consent, and you give a subtle nod as you continue to distract your husband with kisses. he breaks it in surprise when he feels your daughter flinch, though this time there’s no wails.

he looks down. her face is scrunched up in effort not to cry, cheeks puffed up as she looks up at her father proudly as if to say: look, daddy, i didn’t cry that time!

he feels his eyes fill up again. his head drops to rest on his daughter, kissing her all over her face and eliciting a series of giggles.

“that’s my girl,” he boasts proudly, grinning wide while bouncing her on his knee, “i knew you could do it!”

he hears you laugh from the counter, “you cried the most, satoru.”

he scoffs, picking the baby up and nuzzling his face against hers, “i don’t know how you didn’t! her cries broke my heart!”

[bi-writes]

thinking about being the new addition to tf141. you are an asset given to laswell by the CIA, a timid little thing but your aim is always on target, and you are quiet, tech savvy, and you do as you're told. (18+, dark)

just how lieutenant riley prefers. he dwarfs you. the first time you meet, your eyes nearly come out of your head from how wide they go. he's so large, and you feel so tiny compared to him, and even though he does nothing but a disinterested once over, it is obvious to the rest of the team that you might just be his favorite.

it's most obvious in the subtle touches. when you're getting ready to jump, ghost comes up from behind and tugs on your parachute, nearly topping you over making sure it's secure. when you're getting ready in the back of the humvee, he reaches over and buckles your thigh holster for you when he notices the strap is coming loose. you nearly choke when you feel his big hand between your thighs, and you stare up at him with wide eyes when his pinkie moves up the seam of your zipper when he tugs his hand away.

and then the way he's on your six is unlike anything else. like glue, chest pressed to your back, his gloved hand squeezing your waist as he moves you every which way he pleases because you're so small to him, so easy, and he growls under his breath when he touches the curve of your hips or the fat of your ass.

maybe you might enjoy it if he wasn't so fucking awkward about it. if he didn't stare at you without blinking. if he didn't adjust his cock in his jeans right in front of you. if he didn't grip you by the back of your head, tugging you any way he wanted as if scolding a kitten using the scruff of their neck.

you think the team would notice by now--that they would step in, tell ghost to back off, but they turn a blind eye. they tolerate this behavior, and you don't know if it's because ghost is so good at his job, they don't want to, or that they are so afraid of him, they refuse to say anything.

or maybe they approve. maybe it keeps ghost at bay. maybe it keeps a lion in his den. a spider in its nest. maybe indulging ghost in his fucked form of flirting and socialization is what keeps the foundations of this team right where it needs to be--and you realize, slowly, that maybe that is why you're here.

because ghost likes them soft, and they need to put a muzzle on their dog.

so when you feel him in the dark, slipping a gloved hand under the blanket that keeps you warm at night, he is pleasantly surprised to find you awake. and even more surprised to feel your hand slipping the soft lace of your panties right into his fucking pocket.

"they teach y'that 'n basic training? how ta give y'r knickers to y'r lieutenant, eh?"

"no," you whisper, and when you meet his eyes in the dark, he looks so hungry. he's untamed, no training, he's used to getting what he wants with no resistance. you turn over in bed, and you don't get to see the way he sucks on his teeth when you let your knees fall, revealing the pretty place between your thighs, soft and puffy and wet, just waiting for a good mutt to eat her up. "but i learned other things."

"tha' right?"

"yeah," you say softly, and you turn over onto your stomach, pushing back onto your knees right in front of him. he bends, leaning over until he's pushing his masked face right into the seam of your cunt, and you grip the sheets tight when he inhales deeply, a rumble following as both of his hands grip either side of your ass and spread you open for him. you're drooling, wetting the nylon fabric, and you gasp when you feel the wet, warm muscle of his tongue suck on your folds through the mask. it's lewd, and you're wetting the material so much it sticks to the strong lines of his face, but he continues, tilting his head to the side as he laps at the pretty slick that dampens your thighs.

"what'd y'learn then, swee'eart?"

not how to fuck your lieutenant. but...you did learn to keep them happy.

"h-how to be a good girl."

and you think you feel him smile.

[affableramen]

no nut november day 1. how to make them come for the really horny darlings who read my smol insignificant blog :)

crack, smut, established relationships mature themes, minors dni

Wriothesley:

he loves when you choke him really well. he goes crazy once your hands start squeezing his neck

grabbing or scratching his butt. Wriothesley loves when you touch his rounded ass, and if you do he will definitely lose it

Tartaglia:

when you moan loudly, tartaglia loses his mind. he loves when you vocalise your sensations and satisfaction

praising him. tartaglia is not very experienced in bed activities, so he’d be really grateful if you kept praising him while having sex cause it makes him feel encouraged to proceed.

Neuvillette:

being on your knees for him (he does not expect that from anyone because he is such a humble individual, and it turns him on almost instantly)

when you take charge and offer him to have sex by your initiative. do not get me wrong, neuvillette is anything but submissive man, however even he gets tired of being constantly the controlling one. he wants you to be bold and shameless too

Pantalone:

when you play with, pull or grip his hair, it makes pantalone go insane. he is very sensitive to your touch in general, and he especially loves it when you try to tease him by playing with his wavy locks. he will be turned on immensely

when you touch his nipples (his erogenous zone. rub them nice and well, he will cum hard, mumbling “have mercy on me” to you)

Ayato:

dirty talking to him (praising his cock mostly) he loves his sex a bit dirty and overstimulating

when you slightly dominate him. this man is fed and sick of people constantly servicing him and seeing his s/o showing responsibility and taking a bold action like riding him will make him nut wildly

Capitano:

squeezing him inside. his manhood is thick, and the tip is fat enough to make him feel things when you suddenly tense up. capitano will give in to his passion, you will hear loud impatient grunting escaping his mouth that you never knew you needed

when you call him by his real name. in most circumstances capitano hates it when someone mentions his true old name, but when you do it during intimate moments he simply goes nuts for you. the way his name falls from your lips when he thrusts into you fast and hard enough just gets him going

Alhaitham:

he adores when you scratch his back. you always fear hurting him, but alhaitham wears your marks proudly and insists on you to not hold your passion in. he needs more of those blooming red marks of lust on his body

when you assist his thrusts by forcing your hips closer to him. he enjoys when you participate in love making equally to him, and will definitely cum unexpectedly generously if you continue

Dottore:

when you play by his rules. dottore is a very old and assertive man who’s used to things happen his way. at first he will kindly ask you to follow his lead but later on he will be incredibly blunt and dominant with you

when you use his vibrator on himself. not to mention him liking impressing you with new toys, when you grab one and press it against his skin, he will squirt his release earlier and thicker than expected

Dainsleif:

when you moan or whisper sweet nothings into his ear. this makes him particularly horny, especially given how much your voice turns him on in a private setting

when you try to unnoticeably run your hands over his hips. there is something about your claws grazing over his strong legs that makes him go completely frenzied for you

Baizhu:

when you bite his ears and neck. baizhu has those very sensitive and he will come almost instantly if you tease the delicious earlobes and neck of his.

when you wear sexy outfits. he likes to take you when you’re wearing those naughty, revealing but incredibly gorgeous outfits. he practically loses control of his arousal and can come even prematurely simply because he is staring at your beautiful body

[misswynters]

Jinx having a gf who’s touchy and affectionate

requested. @luc1dw0rld

Jinx’s hideout was always filled with chaos, half-finished inventions strewn across every surface, faint scorch marks on the walls, and the constant hum of machinery that never quite worked the way she wanted. But today, it felt different. Calmer, almost peaceful. It wasn’t because she’d finally decided to clean up the mess. She hadn’t. It was because of you.

You were sprawled out on her couch, an old, tattered thing she’d salvaged from a junkyard, but it felt like a throne whenever you were on it. Jinx sat cross-legged on the floor in front of you, tinkering with a grenade she’d been working on for days. Your legs dangled over the edge of the couch, and every so often, your foot brushed against her shoulder. Each touch, light as it was, sent a warmth through her that she didn’t know how to handle.

“Y’know, I think I’ve got this one right this time,” Jinx muttered, her tongue poking out as she focused on the tiny screws and wires in her hands. Her usual frenetic energy was dulled and her movements slower.

“I don’t doubt it for a second,” you said from above her. Your voice was soft, laced with the kind of unwavering confidence in her abilities that always made her stomach twist in unfamiliar ways.

She glanced up at you, her eyes wide and unguarded for a split second before she remembered herself and looked away. “Pfft. Don’t go jinxin’ it, babe,” she said, forcing a smirk as she set the grenade down. But her voice lacked its usual sharp edge, softened by the way you were looking at her.

You slid off the couch and onto the floor beside her, your legs folding neatly under you. “Need help?” you asked, even though you both knew your technical skills couldn’t match hers. It didn’t matter. The question wasn’t really about the grenade.

Jinx tensed for a moment, her fingers twitching against her thighs. She wasn’t used to this. To someone just…being there. It was a different kind of tension, though. Not the kind that made her fingers itch for a trigger or her mind spiral into chaos. It was much softer.

“Nah, I’m good,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. But she didn’t move away when your hand rested lightly on her knee.

You smiled at her, that small, knowing smile that always made her feel like you could see straight through her defenses. “Alright,” you said, leaning back on your hands.

Jinx’s gaze flicked to your hand on her knee, then to your face. She could feel the weight of your affection in the smallest gestures. The way your fingers curled slightly, as if anchoring her in place. It was overwhelming and comforting all at once, a contradiction she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

“You’re all…touchy, y’know that?” she said, trying for a teasing tone, but it came out softer than she intended.

“Does it bother you?” you asked, tilting your head.

Jinx hesitated, her fingers drumming against her leg in a rapid rhythm. “Nah. It’s just…weird. Not bad weird. Just…weird weird.”

You chuckled, the sound light and easy. “I’ll take weird weird.”

She watched as you leaned closer, your fingers brushing a stray strand of blue hair out of her face. The gesture was so gentle, so casual, it made her heart stutter. She wasn’t used to people touching her like this. As if she was something fragile, something worth handling with care.

“Why’re you always doing that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Doing what?”

“Touching me. Like…like that.”

You tilted your head, your expression soft but serious. “Because I love you, Jinx.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to do with them. Love wasn’t something she was good at. It was messy and complicated and full of things she didn’t understand. Whenever she was with you, her entire world felt simpler.

She looked away, her cheeks flushing a faint pink. “You’re such a sap,” she muttered, but there was no bite in her words.

“That means you like it,” you said, your voice teasing but warm.

She rolled her eyes, but the faint smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head.”

You didn’t respond, just leaned closer until your forehead was resting against hers. Jinx froze, her breath catching in her throat. She could feel the heat of your skin, the steady rhythm of your breathing, and it was…nice.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice shaky but sincere. “Just…not used to this. Feels…weird.”

“Weird weird?”

“Yeah. But, like…good weird.”

You smiled, your hand slipping into hers. Her fingers twitched, hesitant at first, but then they tightened around yours. She didn’t say anything, but the way her grip lingered said more than words ever could. For a while, the two of you just sat there, her hand in yours, her forehead still pressed against yours. The chaos of the hideout faded into the background, replaced by a quiet that was rare for her. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that came with loneliness. It was the kind of quiet that felt safe. Jinx absolutely loved the time she would spend with you. You are her world.

banner. @anitalenia

[anantaru]

GENSHIN + BREAK UP, MAKE UP

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — you fuck your ex boyfriend and shocker, you love it ᰔ

— ꒰ including ꒱ — alhaitham, ayato, heizou, wriothesley x fem! reader

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — ex boyfriend trope, slightly toxic & mean boys, bratty! reader ??? dirty talk, oral (male! receiving), fingering, cowgirl position, cumming inside, lots of cum lol, dom characters

— ꒰ ALHAITHAM ꒱

"hey, don't insult me now," alhaitham looks at you with a prized confusion in his eyes— while also taking care of your bodies needs and desires, his cock pressing deeply in you. "what's with the attitude i hear?" his voice was clearly hinting at a hazed tone as he pants against your wet cheek, your tits flushed against his solid chest.

you gasp at him, curving your fingers into his hair to pull it, "w-what attitude?" your hips involuntarily buck into his cock so he would hopefully get the hint and continue to move, more so stop being so annoying for once in his life.

"you're hiding it from me," he whispers cruelly, "don't act stupid now, aren't you so smart?" as his hips begin to grind through your tight hole, a warm press slowly distending in your cunt and swelling in your belly.

"you hide your moans from me, fuck, you brat, you know what that does to me," under the cover of a shaken exhale, he shoves you into the mattress even further— no mercy, no signs of previous affection, only a raw and pleasuring handle.

archons, how much you loathed the way he always had you figured out this quickly.

how, just how.

but well, it's not like you were a couple anymore, correct? so why would you give him the pleasure of hearing you? knowing full on well he finds it to be the best part whenever he fucked you.

just so he could pride himself again? scrap that, he doesn't deserve it, nor to indulge into every drop of desire you give him.

"hah, you're so weak alhaitham," you bite back a whimper, "still so weak for me," as your hole clenches, throbs and milks against his awfully hard cock before you look at him through a wet expression, his hair soused and messy sticking all over his forehead, pressed into the light sheen of sweat across his face, "or maybe you aren't doing a good job,"

it's dangerous— playing that game with your ex. but it's also worth the gamble.

— ꒰ AYATO ꒱

like a puppy, you preciously kneel between ayato's legs, slightly leaning against one of his muscular thighs— one hand proudly holding his cock in your grasp to stroke him, your wet tongue circulating over the leaking slit just how he liked it.

but that familiar infatuation from months ago, when you were still considering yourself a team, that disgustingly known taste of your tongue on his cock made the yashiro commissioner twitch in your hand— is it desperation in his movements? or longing?

it reminds him all too much on how things used to be.

when you were in a relationship, of course, "in love", and where fucking you wasn't just fucking to neither of you, it was making love.

a longing that filled the whole breast with its mad virus.

it was much, much. he could never argue against the fact that you were the only one who could make him fall to his knees.

you flick the tip of your tongue back and forth over the inflamed head, teasing the slit and making him shudder, finding it more and more satisfying to have someone within such position under your grasp, the constant press of need and attention on your cunt only coming second.

"y-your mouth feels so fucking good," he heaves and embarrassingly coughs out right after— well, it's not that deep? because hey, a commissioner doesn't curse now, does he? but he did it for you, always.

how were you able to always coax that out of him?

your hand tightens around his erection, adding shallow yet precise pumps over his shaft as you cup his balls roughly, massaging them in your palm and wetting them with your saliva.

he's already wet of both his pre and your spit, yet you do not waste any chance to spit on his tip again, again and again until your cheeks and chin where littered with filth, finding it rather enchanting whenever ayato moans disgustingly hot.

chest rising, falling again, groans hitching at the feeling of your saliva sliding down his tip.

"i want to touch you too, come on now, don't you want me to touch you?" he begins to whimper, stroking over your head affectionately as you look up at him, flexing your throat, grabbing at his shaft more firmly.

he continues, although it gets harder to breathe, "don't you want my fucking hands on you, come on, admit it," fuck, ayato was so pent up— from work? from going through a messy break up? from being alone?

archons who was he fooling besides himself? it's due to how much he has missed you, missed this, missed your scent all around him.

— ꒰ HEIZOU ꒱

"oh your so wet, well look at this, look at this all over my hand,"

"some things never change, hm?" heizou moans softly and parades his glistening fingers to your blinking eyes as you whined out, trying to shift from his body hovering on top.

it's futile— not because you actually want him to stop, but because you really wanted this, despite him being so embarrassing and blunt about it.

what little movement you managed to coax from your hips merely aroused you further as heizou stuck his fingers back into your cunt— two slippery digits scissoring you hard, reaching deeper and floating inside you like inside water before rubbing his thumb back and forth your clit.

your thoughts were sluggish, and you found yourself overwhelmed due to the fact that your body enjoyed it, and so did your mind.

you knew this was wrong, this shouldn't happen, this wouldn't make it easier for either of you in the long run. but you couldn't think beyond that when all you thought about was his next touch and buck of his hands thrusting into your cunt.

your skin tingles, ever hot as he presses and rubs and strokes until every inch of your being was shivering in need and regretting ever breaking up with him.

no matter how often you try to act like he isn't setting a fire along the slopes of your skin, the detective will never stop seeking you out for this, conquering your sinful spots until you're fucked out of your mind, only then he will get close to your ear and ask you to say that you regret ever letting him go.

— ꒰ WRIOTHESLEY ꒱

"do you still fucking hate me?" there was a rumble emitting from wriothesley's chest, and for one long moment, he was consumed by nothing more other than your tight cunt riding him fiercely, "do you still refuse to admit that you secretly like this?"

if only he could shut up for just a damn second, just one.

"do you?" your eyes flew open to him in anger, your gaze aggravated in its entire embrace, how dare he mock this— but an expanding shock of his hips bucking into you forced a new bodily reaction from your shuddering frame, enough to override the otherwise enticing anger you were about to spit like venom into his proud face.

your back arches as you shoot him a dangerous glare— one that could easily get confused with a please please do fuck me harder, instead of hold your tongue you asshole.

because you see, don't act out on anger, instead luxuriate in the crushing weight of his cock between your legs, hard and heavy throbbing as you ride him, pleasure and fuck him hard— still pondering about how difficult it always had been to fit his entire length inside of you.

you let your legs shift apart more as your tits bounce in combination with your movements, your back arching as your pussy began to milk him fiercely, squelch and squelch as the deep, bloating throbs of his shaft scrub over the bends of your walls, until reaching your swelling belly.

you turn sensitive, he knows it, the duke can feel it.

"oh, come on now baby," pride gushes from his mouth as he tilts his head, tightly holding your waist before thrusting up. you wouldn't let him bath inside his confidence any longer as you lightly punch his chest upon hearing him use a damn petname.

"oh? you don't want me to call you that?"

"obviously not," you shake your head, wetting your lips, despite that, he could hear the arousal in your voice, "why are you clenching when i say it then? baby~" as he maintains his ardour, refusing to allow you to control your little get together as he mercilessly thrusts up into you, thick and heavy cock slipping in and out, your arousal running down his balls.

your moans are a little more breathless now, shaken as the pumping motions of his erection slapping against your pussy only grew needier.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 18th. mattheo — hate fucking / enemies.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: “at least her favourite form of foreplay isn’t an argument…” “or being a bitch her kink..”

warnings: 18+ MDNI, dubcon(meh), ex bf/gf trope, toxic behaviour, mutual manipulation, these two are chaotic as fuck, mentions of blood, gagging, degradation, rough sex PIV, hate fucking, spitting, spanking, uhhh i think that covers it. this one is a ride. can you tell this is my fav trope?

"I'm so fucking sick of you.”

"Get well soon, princess."

"Get fucked, Riddle."

Three sentences, three venomous insults that cut the room in half—heavy enough in their intensity to make you want to tear through dungeon walls, splintering stone and mortar with bare hands if it means sparing yourself another second in this blasted room, with him.

Detention at midnight—on a Friday, no fucking less—is unheard of. But leave it to your dickhead ex to make the impossible a reality. His fault, of course. Like always.

Snape had turned a blind eye for months. It was only a matter of time before something had to give. An hour unsupervised was as good as you'll get.

Sulking defeat, you sink back in your chair, rough wood digging into your spine as you eye Mattheo with a glare that could rival a bullet. He looks like hell, and it's infuriating how even in that state he manages to look so nonchalant, so maddeningly unbothered—like even exhaustion makes a home on him and he's comfortable with it. Bags under his eyes, scar cutting across the bridge of his nose, those dark curls falling messily over his forehead, white dress shirt wrinkled and open at the collar.

You roll your eyes, a gesture that feels like your only act of rebellion left.

And he notices. Of course he does.

"You haven't changed a bit," he spits, and you know it's an insult. You scowl as he swipes the blood off his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. "Always a bitch to me over something."

Bitch. The name strikes you, but you won't let him see it, won't let him know that it lands. You've bled too many times at his feet for him to draw blood again tonight.

"Am I not allowed to be pissed off that you dragged us into detention? We should be at the party, Mattheo. We should be anywhere but here." You hear the frustration rising in your voice, like it's boiling up from somewhere deep, somewhere you can't quite reach. It's hard not to let it slip, especially when he looks at you like that. "This is so fucking typical of you. You mess up, and somehow I'm the one who pays for it."

For a moment, there's silence, and it almost feels like a victory until you realize he's only biding his time, waiting to strike back.

"You really want to get back there? To that party?" He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You long for the chair to break from under him. "After what your new man was caught doing with Lovegood?"

You snort before you can stop yourself, the sound slipping out like a reflex. You hadn't expected that. And quite frankly, it's amusing—no, downright hilarious—that he's clearly been keeping tabs on you and "new man", and now here he is, trying to play it off like he doesn't care. Like it's nothing.

"I'll spare you the insults this once," you mutter, fingers loosening the tie around your neck with a tug. "Because, clearly, you're ignorant to the truth, even if you think you know every goddamn thing." You pause, ripping out your earrings. "He's not my man, so I don't give a shit what he does with who. He ended it last week. Good fuck, sure—but other than that..."

You trail off, making a mocking noise with your lips, a derisive puff of air, as if you could blow away the memory of him as easily as dust off an old book. A Ravenclaw. Brilliant in all the wrong ways—sharp mind, yes, but utterly thrill-less, like he saw you as just another page to flip through, a textbook he was annotating.

It is what it is.

A moment passes and then Mattheo grins—slow at first, but spreading across his face like fire, destructive in its consummation. It unsettles you. He looks more intrigued than he's been in months.

"A good fuck, huh?"

"That's what I said," you reply, clipped, your tone offering no room for him to crawl inside.

"And why didn't it work out? Too good for you?" He says, twisting the knife just because he can. "Too clean, maybe?"

Your eyes scan the room, searching for something within reach to throw at him, anything to break this unbearable tension. Insufferable. Every inch of him, insufferable.

You find nothing, so you throw words instead. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

He nods, as if that's the truest thing either of you have said all night. Of course he knows.

You barely suppress a dry laugh at his idiocy. "Like I told you—he ended it. If you're so fucking interested in why it didn't work out, then why don't you go ask him?"

There's a pause—he's chewing the inside of his cheek as he stares at you. You imagine chewing his head off as you stare at him.

"I'm sure you gave that bookworm the ride of his life," he says, voice half-dry, half-sarcastic, as if he's already bored of the conversation. As if he knew all of this information already. "Everyone knew that was temporary. Your first rebound, congrats."

And just like that, your blood is boiling. He knows how to needle you, how to get under your skin with the slightest flick of his stupid fucking tongue. Your eyes trace the cold stone of the dungeon walls, desperately trying to find something—anything—to distract yourself.

But it's no use. Mattheo's an asshole. He's always been an asshole. That's why you left. All the two of you did was fight and fuck, a chaotic spiral that was as thrilling as it was destructive. Now, he's easily your enemy—dragging you into his messes, never letting you get too far without ruining your life somehow.

And yet—

If you said you didn't miss the sex sometimes, that'd be a lie. Or at least a half-truth. The kind that slips out when you've had one too many glasses of firewhiskey, the kind you'd regret in the morning.

"What about you, dickhead?" You cut through the silence, ignoring his obvious attempt to rile you up. "That Hufflepuff you were seeing—why'd I see her all over Theo tonight?"

He answers far too fast. "They're friends."

You snort, disbelieving. "Right."

You rise to your feet, crossing the room to the bookcase as if it's the most natural thing in the world. The books feel safer somehow, less volatile.

"You're bored of her, aren't you?" You don't care to look at him. You can imagine the way his jaw tenses at the question.

The silence is telling. He doesn't answer right away. You know him well enough to understand what that means. Then, finally, he speaks, a half-answer that doesn't really answer the fucking question at all.

"At least her favourite form of foreplay isn't a fucking argument." He stands, slow, pushing his hair back from his forehead with one battered hand. You glance at him, pulse quickening. "Or being a bitch her kink."

"Does she even have kinks?" It slips out, a knife thrown without aiming. "Sounds like you're bored, Matty."

You watch as he blinks, his eyes darken. That nickname—you know you don't have the right to say it anymore, and that's exactly why you do. It's an insult wrapped in familiarity, and it hits its mark by the way his shoulders tense, jaw tight.

He steps toward you, one calculated step, and you feel it—that chaotic pull, the gravity that's always drawn you both in, no matter how far you try to stay away. A smile pulls at your lips, a cruel thing.

"How cute." He tilts his head just enough to inspect you, eyes dragging over you like he's searching for something to confirm what he already suspects. "Looks like you're jealous."

Your hand grips the bookshelf, eyes locked on him over your shoulder. Jealous? There's not a soul on this planet who could make you jealous. She may be the hero of this story, the girl that gets the guy, might even be everything you're not—

"Looks like you're learning the hard way," you're inspecting him now, too. Every piece of him you once touched. "When it comes too easy it's never gonna' hit as hard, babe."

Another pause from him—something dancing in his eyes. Anger? Maybe. Or something more, something twisted that you don't care to name. You've already lit the match, and now you're just watching him burn.

"You're so clever, huh? So full of advice," he sneers, ripping off his tie and chucking it on a desk. "Go on then, tell me more about how I feel, professor. Since you know everything about me."

You can't help the smirk that curls on your lips. Oh, he's pissed. And that means you're winning.

"What? You don't like hearing the truth? Too much for your delicate ego?" You take a step toward him, savouring every second of this. He hurt you, over and over, the scars from those days still fresh, still bleeding beneath your skin. This has been a long time coming. "You think I care about your new girl, Matty? The one you let your boys fawn over in the common room?...she kissed Theo tonight." You pause, letting that linger. "You think you're doing something, but I see right through you. You don't give a fuck about her. If you did, no one would dare touch her like that. So don't sit here, accusing me of jealousy, like I'm the one hung up on you. You're projecting. And it's pathetic."

He doesn't waste a goddamn beat—his laugh is bitter, sickeningly so—and he advances again, his shadow moving behind him, the space between you now barely there.

"That's amazing, truly. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a goddamn oracle. All-knowing, all-seeing." His voice is infuriating. The look on his face more-so. "What's your verdict then, my lord? You think this is all an act? That everything I'm doing is just to spite you?"

Your heart races, breath catching in your throat as he steps closer. This is a dance you both know too well, the kind where neither of you win.

"I know how you operate." Your chest heaves, anger rising with every breath. "It's all a game to you, Matt. A sick, twisted game to keep yourself entertained."

"That's rich, coming from someone who played it just as well." He takes another step forward. You could reach out and touch him now he's that close. His grin grows. "Too bad your Ravenclaw figured it out before you could sink your teeth in too deep. Next time you see him, make sure to tell him I said you're welcome."

Your brows pinch—the blood in your veins screeching to a halt, backing up like New York traffic at a standstill. You feel it, hot and furious, rushing toward a place it can't go, clogged behind the wall of rage building up inside you—

"You're welcome?" You spit, a sharp snarl caught between clenched teeth. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He's watching you, his eyes darting over your shoulder, fingers brushing over his lips like he's trying to dull that familiar smirk, that cruel little game he's always played.

Your stomach sinks, drops to your feet.

"Mattheo—" you snap, cutting him off just as he opens his mouth, before he can throw another snide word. "Spare me the cryptic bullshit for once in your life—“

His eyebrows lift at that, but there's a nod, a hint of something deeper in it. You taste the smugness in the air between you, can almost feel it slithering through his silence.

"Looks like you don't know everything after all. Isn't that ironic?" He straightens up, letting the moment breathe before his face hardens into something almost serious. "Your rebound came to me in the courtyard about two weeks ago. Had some questions about you."

"What?" Your nerves are vibrating, every cell in your body on edge. Your blood is so clogged, you swear you're seeing red. "What questions?"

"The usual sort of normal stuff. Your birthday. Your favorite colour. Childhood traumas. Our downfall. You know."

The casualty in the way he says it makes you sick, bile rising in your throat, a bitter burn at the back of your mouth. It's all starting to come together now. This stupid motherfucker—

"You're lying." The words feel weak, frail. He wouldn't—no, he couldn't. "You're fucking lying."

"Am I?" His fingers brush your cheek, but your skin's gone numb, your blood too frozen to feel anything but the cold burn of your fury. "Or, is the truth just…too much for your delicate ego to handle?"

Oh, fuck off—

Your wand is in your hand before you even realize you've grabbed it, instinct, pure reflex. There's barely a second of rational thought before you're casting, the spell hitting him square in the chest, sending him flying back into the chair he once sat in. His eyes flash, anger igniting there, and he scrambles for his wand—but you're faster.

"Expelliarmus."

One word and you're across the room before you even know you've moved, chest tight as you slam the tip of your wand against his throat. There's a cut on his lip, blood trickling down his chin for a second time tonight, but that stupid fucking smirk is still there, showcasing rubies for teeth and carved into his face like it belongs.

"Tell me what you did." Your voice cracks, but not from fear—it's fury, burgling through you, burning hot enough to make your whole body shake. You half want to cut him open just to bury your rage inside him, let him feel it. "If what you're saying is true, he ended things just days later. Tell me what the fuck you said to him."

Mattheo’s leaning back, hands raised in mock surrender, eyes glinting with the same smug amusement that's always haunted him. He's daring you, taunting you. He knows you never cared about that guy, not really.

You both know it. He was boring, easy.

This—this is something else.

His tongue swipes at the blood on his lip. "He didn't tell you—"

"Don't." Your wand digs deeper into his skin, cutting off whatever he was about to say. The pressure makes his breath hitch, but not enough. Not nearly enough. "I said tell me."

"Merlin—okay—I told him nothing, nothing really," his voice makes your grip tighten on your wand. He stares at you for a long, hard minute before he adds; "except that he should show me some fucking gratitude."

Your jaw slips, confusion rushing in like a flood. But before you can even question him—

"I told him he should be thanking me." Another pause. "When he's fucking you."

He laps at the blood seeping from the cut on his lip for the second time in only a minute and you barely notice the movement—the words hit you like a brick, but it's deeper than that, something visceral that crawls under your skin and settles in your bones. It's sharp, raw, cutting through the wall of rage so fast it leaves you breathless. You don't know how to explain it, this feeling that twists through you, something far too complicated to be named.

And then, you become aware of everything at once.

His legs, spread wide on either side of yours, the space between you so small, your chest just close enough to his face that his breath feels like it's fogging your skin. You're towering over him, wand pressed hard into his throat, your heart hammering in your chest like you're ready to ruin him—but his eyes, the way he looks up at you, says he'd let you.

"I may have even added that although you're with him, you'll always think of me. Both you and him know it’s true.“ That stupid smirk is gone, replaced with something you've never quite seen before. He pauses, before he continues. "You miss it. Us." Another pause. There’s something victorious in his tone, something that's almost breaking you. "And no matter how many times you try to forget, you never do, do you?"

Salazar save you—you should hex him. You should fucking hex him. Every nerve in your body is screaming for it, begging for it, but you can't. You can't fucking move. Your wand is still pressed to his skin, but it feels like you're the one pinned down.

"Shut up," you finally manage, but your voice is meek, thin, nothing like the fury you want to feel. "You...you're being—"

"I'll shut up," his hand finds your wrist, pressing your wand tip against his neck with more force—enough to make himself wince. "If you make me."

You blink, stunned, and you can feel your anger slipping, slipping faster than you can catch it. You don't know what's happening to you—it’s just him—his sick twisted insanity that disarms you. Time and time again. An endless fucking cycle.

"I could ruin you," you whisper, but it sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself than him. You press the wand deeper, just enough to draw a grunt from him, but the look on his face—he's not afraid. No, he's enjoying it. "I have more reasons than most to leave you here bloodied for Snape to find in the morning."

You say the words but the conviction is gone, swept away in the flood of heat between you—the dizzying proximity, the way his lips curl, almost smiling but not quite—

"What are you so afraid of?" He whispers, and there's something fragile in his voice now. "That you might actually want this?"

"I don't want this." You force the words out immediately, hoping they will make it real. Hoping they'll stop this spiral. "I regret ever wanting this."

He’s silent for a moment as he lowers his hands, dark eyes falling to trace your lips—

"I know you hate me, the feelings mutual...but I know. I know I'll always be your favourite regret," those chocolate curls shift, his head tilts closer, too close. Not close enough. "You're still my weapon of choosing."

Merlin. Merlin bloody forgive you—

"…to hurt yourself with?” It's half a question, but you already know the answer.

He nods, and that does it.

Your lips are on his, fast and hard and bruising—and the reaction is immediate, visceral. All that backed-up blood—all that rage frozen in your veins rushes forward in a single, scorching wave. It crashes low, between your thighs, a heat so sharp it aches. The shame comes with it. So does the disgust. A sick knot of self-hatred pulsing through you as you taste his blood on your tongue while his hands are under your skirt, grabbing you like he owns you, pulling you into him. It's only a moment before your wand clatters to the ground, and your hands are tangled in his hair, yanking hard, hard enough to hurt.

You want it to hurt. God, you want it to hurt.

He growls at the sting on his scalp—and then, everything flips.

His fingers tug at something, and you realize it's his own wand, the one you tucked into the back of your skirt—and before you can even think, he's got it, casting a spell that sends you flying back onto the desk behind you. You groan—the world spins, but you don't even have a second to gather yourself before he's advancing toward you, casting another spell on his tie.

Within seconds it's slithering across your lips and tying itself around your head, gagging you.

He steps between your legs, parts them with the ease of someone who's done it a thousand times before—rough hands gliding up your thighs, eyes wild. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, through your slit, and you try to hold on to any shred of control, but it's gone. You can feel it. The way you forget everything except the way he leans down, breath hot in your ear.

"Look how fucking wet you are," he spits through a sneering grin. "You're goddamn shameless, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes, but your thoughts scatter the moment his fingers shove inside you, curling hard—so hard you gasp into the tie, your back arching violently off the desk.

"He ever get you this wet?" His voice is like gravel, each word grinding into your bones. "Nod your head if he did."

Your body reacts before your mind does, arching against him, but you don't move your head. As much as it hurts your pride to give him that win. You dig your fingers into his hair and pull—hard enough to make him grunt, hard enough to hurt.

His hand comes down hard on your thigh in response, a sharp smack that stings, a warning. You squeal, and his fingers start pumping faster, deeper.

He huffs. "That's what I thought."

His fingers make quick work of you, relentless, and his thumb presses to your clit, rolling circles in a rhythm that has your blood on fire, shame licking at the edges of your vision, but it only makes you burn hotter. This is all wrong. Everything about this is wrong, something you'll regret with every fiber of your being tomorrow, but right now, it's an ache you need.

It's the wound you keep reopening, the pain you crave because it's the only thing that ever feels real.

"Fuck, you're close, aren't you?" He sounds almost shocked, like he can't believe how easily your body betrays you, but you feel it too, the disbelief crashing through you as fast as the pleasure does. Too fast. Far too fast. "Did he ever make you cum? Huh? When's the last time you fucking came?"

You can't answer, just groan, yanking at his hair again. His response is immediate, another stinging slap to your inner thigh, sharp enough to make fluid prick your eyes. Your orgasm is right there, teetering on the edge, ready to tip over—but then he slows his pace, dragging it out, torturing you.

You whine. A pitiful, desperate sound you hate yourself for.

"Look at me." His voice cuts through the haze, and begrudgingly, you do. "He didn't make you cum, did he?"

Your face burns, not from his breath or his fingers or even the astronomical amount of shame you feel—but from the truth of it. You shake your head.

"How long?" His voice shatters the air between you. "A week?"

You shake your head again, biting into the fabric of his tie as his fingers curl deeper inside you.

"Two weeks?"

Another shake. He curses under his breath.

"You poor little thing." His words are venom, but the second they spill from his lips, he pumps his fingers into you again, massaging at your walls, and your vision goes white. "Can't even cum without me."

You would've slapped him if you could, would've torn him apart, but the orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through you with violent force. You clench around his digits, thighs trembling as you ride the wave of pleasure, convulsing, moaning into the tie as he watches you like he's won.

"So fucking easy." He withdraws his fingers, and immediately, his hands go to his belt. "We'll make up for lost time."

Everything about this feels like a rerun. The same scene playing out on loop, again and again—a cycle of self-destruction you know too well, like running headfirst into a burning building, certain you can handle the smoke only to choke on it.

He's taking off his belt, ready to fuck you stupid, and by morning you'll be back to the same familiar hatred, tearing each other apart in new, inventive ways. Your hands move sluggishly to rip the tie from your mouth, but you're slow, too slow, still dizzy from the release that blindsided you, one that you haven't felt in so long—the fabric barely grazes your fingers before Mattheo catches your wrists, yanking them back, dragging you to your feet in one rough motion.

The spin disorients you—arms pinned behind your back, his cock sliding between your thighs.

"You've done enough talking today," he hisses at your ear as he drags along your slit. "You want this, don't you?"

Your mind screams for you to shake your head, to end this here and now. You know he'd stop—he's an asshole, but not that kind of an asshole. You know it. You almost do it, almost say the word that would shatter this madness. But then he drags his tip against your clit and you moan before you can stop yourself.

Your head nods with a wanton moan, and it's so full of shame your eyes sting with tears.

"Yeah, I know, baby." He's taunting you, every syllable smug, condescending. "This pussy missed me so much, huh?" His hand tightens on your wrists until your skin burns, the other hand finding its way around your thigh, pulling you closer to him. "Fuckin' lost without me. S'all it's good for, isn't it? Taking my cock."

You groan, shaking your head in defiance, but even that feels like a lie. You hate him. You want him. You hate yourself for wanting him.

"No?" His fingers inch toward your clit, ghosting over it—you squeal, hips jerking for more. "Maybe we should call this off then?"

You blink once and his fingers are gone—wrenching a whine out of you, pathetic as you push your ass back against him, shame burning through you as you shake your head. Fuck him. Curse him. But you need him inside you, need him to fill the aching void that gnaws at you.

"That's my slut," he growls, and before you can process the words, he's inside you—one long, brutal thrust that spears you open, the stretch burning deep. The sting mixes with shock of his fingers returning to your clit, rubbing circles that make your knees buckle. "You know you're the only girl I've fucked raw? This pussy will always be mine."

He's fucking insane. Completely insane. And the worst part is, you're just as insane for wanting him. For needing him. You can't fight it. You don't even want to. Not now. Not when his voice drips like poison and he's tearing you apart in the only way you understand.

"Mmmf—" you groan into the tie and he's matching you, his teeth grazing your shoulder, marking you in ways that will last for days.

"I hope it hurts," he grumbles against your skin, his breath ragged. He's lying, you can feel it in the way his fingers are moving, coaxing you to cum, even as he pretends to wish you pain. "I hope it fucking stings."

Your hands ball into fists, trapped in his grip, and you imagine clawing at his back until you draw blood, sinking your nails in until he feels every ounce of your anger.

"I want you to feel it—fuck—I want you to remember this," he pants, his voice barely more than a growl as your climax crashes toward you, unstoppable now. "Remember how weak I make you. How much of a slut you are for me."

Another harsh thrust and then, you're there—falling into the void—pleasure is so strong it bleeds out of you, forcing your cunt to clamp tight around him, legs trembling, barely able to support you through it. Mattheo’s curses slip through clenched teeth, but this only fuels him—his rhythm picks up, brutal, hips slamming against your ass with a pace that borders on unhinged.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck." The words are barely audible, grunted against the shell of your ear. You're whining, still twitching with aftershocks, but he doesn't care. His hands are on your hips now, fingers digging deep as he thrusts you forward, slamming you over the desk. The wood bites into your palms as you try to brace yourself, but his anger is palpable, drilling into you— "you wanna bitch at me now?"

The moan you release is automatic, instinctual. You can't stop it. Can't control it. His fingers curl around your throat, shifting the tie down to shove two into your mouth.

"Hhhhh—" you're trying to form words around his fingers, but it's impossible. The garbled sound is pathetic, but he knows exactly what you're trying to say.

"You hate me. I know." It’s smug, punctuated by a sharp smack to your ass, the sting of it making you yelp. He pulls his fingers from your mouth, wiping the spit across your cheek before he grips your jaw, forcing your head to turn, to meet his eyes. "Open your mouth."

There's no time to process the demand. His eyes are molten, crazed, filled with something raw and uncontainable. His next thrust is punishing, slamming into your cervix, making you sob—your mouth parting just enough—

He leans in close, and then he spits into your mouth.

"Swallow it." His fingers dig into your cheeks, pressing the order into your bones. "Be a good girl for once."

You choke out a laugh, even as you're panting, even as he's splitting you stupid.

"Never." The word barely leaves your lips before you’re spitting back at him—your entwined saliva landing across his chin and lips.

For a second, you expect the worst—you brace yourself for the retaliation—the slap, the insult, the way he'll tighten his grip and take back control. But to your surprise, instead of anger, there's a grin—wide and feral, big and crazed enough to reach his eyes.

You smile back. His cock twitches inside you.

"Fuck me," he mutters, then crashes his mouth to yours.

You taste the salt and bitterness of mingled spit, a mess of his and yours, and it pulls a moan from somewhere deep inside you. He devours it, greedy, his hips growing erratic, sloppy as his high nears.

His hand drops to your clit, fingers pressing with a precision that obliterates every last shred of sanity—and it takes only moments before the pressure builds again, fast and furious. Your third orgasm rips you apart, your body clenching tight, muscles seizing as you're lost in it. You're not sure where you end and he begins—your breath congealing with his, your moans swallowed in the space between you.

His release follows right after, crashing over him as he buries himself deep, spilling into you with a groan that reverberates through your bones. You hate the way it feels. You hate the way he fills you. But you also can't deny the twisted satisfaction of it—the way you sought this punishment, needed it. The shame consumes you, but it's comforting in its familiarity.

He pulls out, and the silence between you is easy, broken only by your ragged breathing. The room feels impossibly small now, your body still thrumming with the aftermath, but the moment is over. You both start to move—piecing yourselves back together, pulling clothes into place, avoiding the weight of what just happened.

You don't understand how it came to this, how it always does, but you're not surprised. Not anymore.

After a long, silent moment, he looks at you. “I don’t regret what I did.”

You know he doesn’t.

“I know.”

He blinks. “I won’t apologize for it.”

You know he won’t.

“I know.”

He nods, now, a smirk on his lips as he watches you fix your skirt. You note the hair sticking to his forehead, how he’s still catching his breath even though he’s pretending he isn’t.

“You aren’t mad.” An observation.

“I’m not.” You reply. You know you should be, but the relief you felt when that Ravenclaw ended things tells you everything you need to know. “Just, never do it again.”

He nods again. “Sure.”

You’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean that—but, at least now, as you glance over at him, there's a small comfort in knowing you no longer want to kill him.

[nikovraskol]

crack baby ; two

wc ; 3089 masterlist after dying, you expected to be greeted with the open arms of the void swallowing your body, mind and soul. what you didn't anticipate is waking up sixteen once more with a chance to change your fate -- but something strange is happening, why are the locks changing and why are all eyes suddenly on you ?

tw ; brief mentions of death, neglect, mentions of smoking, curse words

prologue, one, two, three, tbc..

You were a fool.

It had been a few days since your conversation with Bruce, and yet here you still were, sat in your bedroom with a few dollars to your name. 

How foolish you were to believe that your father would remember to give you anything, that he’d remember you at all. You feel so helpless, like that pitiful child who would hide in this very room, their knees to their chest with only their deep loneliness for company, the morose feeling of nothingness cradling them close, hiding them from the sight of a family that could’ve been.

Gritting your teeth, you push your face into your pillow, muffling your groans, your hands curl around the sheets, annoyance rising in each of your organs, they tighten in a way that makes you cringe. You were given a chance by fate, for some reason she had chosen you to go back in time, to fix your foolish mistakes once more. So why do you feel this familiar bile crawling up your throat? Why do you feel like that child once more? Why can’t you escape the void of solitude, the desolate ache in your hollow bones, numbing everything else from your mind.

You hate this feeling of vulnerability. Despite having the power to change everything, you’ve been unable to do anything but embarrass yourself, cry and then cry some more. But wallowing in self-pity will do you no good! You need to get up off your ass.

If you were going to survive, you needed to toughen up, no more pissing about! You get up with a newfound determination, you won’t foolishly rely on your ‘family’ anymore. If they don’t care about you, that’s fine! No worries! It doesn’t matter, you’ll do what you need, get out and live a happy life!

Easier said than done, how the fuck do you buy a house? At sixteen, no less, funds are one thing but finding a morally-correct landlord in Gotham is akin to being told to find a needle in a haystack. Impossible.

And every single half-right landlord you do find is somehow connected to Wayne Enterprises, you grumble, tapping on your phone with frustration, fighting the urge to throw the damn device against the wall. That wouldn’t do you any good, a phone is essential when buying a house, or so you’ve read from the multiple sight’s you’ve been consulting on help for house hunting.

Your knee’s crack as you get up with a huff, deciding that online surfing is no good anymore – you need to go get some fresh air. It’s still light outside, so it’ll be relatively safe. And with that you set off. Walking through the Manor after that strange interaction with Bruce earlier was strange, the walls suddenly felt different – each fancy painting, trinket and portrait feeling like a direct mockery towards you. As you’re huffing, stomping through the halls in an almost childish manner, you’re suddenly met with a familiar sight. Your younger brother, Damian. He’s looking at you with a familiar glower, one you’ve seen one too many times, it doesn’t bother you anymore, what does bother you is when his hand snakes out to grip your wrist in a tight grip.

“What the–” You cut yourself off when he squeezes your skin tightly, a spike of pain running through your arm as you glare at him. You had forgotten how vengeful Damian was to you for some reason, it mellowed down as you grew older but at sixteen he had it out for you.

Probably out of strange superiority complex. You shared the same father, but his mother was a key figure in the League of Assasins and your mother was some just lucky broad who managed to get lucky with Bruce Wayne.

Plus, the whole lack of vigilantism, but to you that's an afterthought.

You didn’t have time to deal with this, not today! Time was a-ticking and the Gotham housing market wasn’t getting any younger. You were sick of the walls around you, the walls which seem to mock you, belittle you for your shortcomings, you needed a change, hopefully changing your surroundings will change your person – or however the quote goes.

Though, you digress.

“Is it true?” Damian asks lowly, his eyes trained on you in the same way Bruce did, it’s eerie, like he’s picking you apart in his mind. This is– odd. Usually, Damian would sneer at you, threaten you, degrade you. That’s what you were familiar with, that's what you were expecting to be true, you are not prepared for the chilling look in his eyes. “You’re planning to leave?”

“What– What business is it to you?” You hiss, ripping your arm from his grip, rubbing over the aching skin in a soothing motion, a hand-shaped bruise pulsing against your skin. “You dare to try and leave? How foolish can you be, you can barely stand on your own two feet.” He says, a sardonic edge to his voice as he assesses you. What is his problem!? Your head was reeling, a small conversation with Bruce is one thing, you can rule it to some strange coincidence or whatever the hell it was.

But Damian seeking you out? To have a conversation? That is strange. He’s definitely the sibling you’ve interacted with the most, of course, not in a good way. Nothing in this manor was ever in a good way. 

Damian’s always been hostile, seeing you as some sort of anomaly, inferior to him, to everyone in the family. He made a note to remind you of that fact every time you’d bump into each other. His words always struck you deeply, the cavern in your chest growing, urging you deeper into despair at his cruel words, despite that, a small, skin-hungry part of you looked forward to seeing him as you wander around.

His words were cruel, but it was better than the dismissive eyes, he insulted you but he didn’t ignore you. He kicked you down but he made you feel human, he made you feel seen. Even if you had stared at the mirror with disgust after you’d cross paths, desperate to rid yourself of any physical connection you share with him, courtesy to your shared DNA.

“I’m– I didn’t ask for your opinion.” You huff, the nerves in your stomach knotting together, weaving an intricate pattern that has your head spinning. 

“This has gotten too far, your pathetic attempts for attention were amusing at first – but you’re taking it too far.” He states with all the certainty in the world. Is this what he thought it was? You splutter at the incredulity, the one time you’re not doing something for attention is the time he takes notice of your efforts outside of his snide remarks?

“This isn’t a ploy for attention, I’m moving out because I want to.” You say, surprising even yourself with your even tone. You’d never spoken to him– no, you’d never spoken to anyone in your family in such a sure tone. It felt almost nice to stand up for yourself, “I’m allowed to do things because I want to, I’m a person outside of my surname.”

He seems taken aback by your comment, his brows furrowing in a way reminiscent of Bruce, his hands twitch – itching to reach out and remind you of your place. How dare you speak back to him? To Damian, family was everything. The paramount which molded him into what he was. With his parents both having legacies he has to live up to, expectations he needs to meet. Without his family, what is he? Without his Mother and Father, both powerful figures, he’s just Damian. His family dynamic is important. He’s shaped his everything based on the roles everyone plays, from Richard, to Jason, to Drake down to you. Even you, as useless and pathetic as you are, maintain a role in it all.

Your threats to leave breaks that apart, he’ll have to pick up the pieces and scar his hands once more to rebuild it. He doesn’t want that to happen, you can’t just leave without any warning, you’re much too weak-willed to survive without the family shielding you. Can’t you see, (Name)?

“Why don’t you try to actually converse and communicate your thoughts before immediately running away like a coward?” Damian asks, his hands clenching as he breathes through his nose. It’s not worth losing his temper now, not over you.

What he didn’t expect is the harsh laugh that emanates from your throat, “That’s – shit, that’s really funny, Damian.” You say between huffs, your head tilting back. Was he for real?

You’d spent your entire life with only a sullen shadow to keep you company, forced to follow behind a pitiful loser such as yourself. It’d cradle you close, threading your fingers and coaxing you to reach out for a mirage of a family you could’ve, no, you should’ve had. It holds you close, squeezing your heart in it’s hands, you had nothing but loneliness to keep you company, despite your cries for more.

In that sullen time, you reached out, cried until your throat was scratchy and your voice hoarse, until the words of pleading for affections became so natural you’d utter them in your sleep. The loneliness became so unbearable, you would try your very hardest for someone, anyone to look at you with even a slither of warmth.

You picked up many extracurricular activities, drowning yourself in sports, gymnastics, writing, choir – trophies and medals stashed under your bed – a testament of your failure to be seen. You’d skip home, a pretty, golden medal around your neck, only for each of them to walk past you, to ignore your efforts. It was soul-crushing, the loneliness you experienced.

How dare he stand there and accuse you of not communicating? Was the small child, pawing at their legs for them to merely look at you not enough? The mere accusation, the prospect of this whole thing being a ploy for attention, and not your own personal development was enough to make your skin crawl with anger, your flesh thumming as you fight the urge to reach over and show him just how communicative you could be.

“You don’t get to say anything like that to me anymore, I’m done trying to chase after all of you.” You reply, a sickly feeling groveling through your throat – rage simmering in your stomach. “I’m leaving because I am my own person, because I’m no longer content being just (Name) Wayne.” Damian watches as you push past him, your footsteps hard and heavy as you stomp away, his eyes trail on your back and he distinctly wonders if the nagging feeling pulling on his heart is the same way you felt all those years ago.

“We won’t let you go.” Those were his parting words, echoing in the Manor’s walls, the eyes of each painting, each portrait staring at you. Only at you.

‘We won’t let you go’, how disgustingly egotistical. You weren’t some possession, you were your own person. Living in this loveless Manor is what got you killed last time around, you don’t want that to happen again.

But there was a strange finality in his words that made your head ache, a sense of impending doom encasing your neck firmly, like a warning – a rope that threatens to pull you up if you stray too far. It was terrifying, and it had you second guessing everything.

The future had changed, and you had a nagging feeling that this time around, you’ll be centre stage.

And for once, you hope you’re not.

By the time you reached the Manor’s doors, the exchange with Damian was still heavy in your mind, you couldn’t help the nagging feeling that something is off. This isn’t how the future is supposed to go, you’re supposed to stay as a figure in the background, you’re not supposed to converse with Bruce or squabble with Damian.

Whatever had happened, it couldn’t have been that big if you missed the catalyst, so those weird exchanges should be the end of it all. What’s two conversations with your family? You’re overthinking everything, again!

That’s all that’ll change, you hum, reaching for the door handle.

“(Name)!”

Oh, what the fuck. Who now?

As you turn around with a scrunched up expression, you almost faint. Dick Grayson, your big brother is running towards you – a sickly sweet smile plastered on his face.

A bitter taste fills your mouth, you’re acutely aware of how warm your saliva is – how your throat seems to close up and plug all your scary emotions deep inside you. This is really odd. Never in your life had Dick spoke to you first, what was going on? You barely fight back the urge to combust into tears as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

What the fuck?! You’re too dumbfounded to notice the way he subtly shifts your body so that he’s between you and the door, your face pressed against his chest.

This goes beyond simple conversations, you cannot recall a single time you’ve ever been embraced by anyone in your family. What the fuck!? Your mind blanks for a few moments before you attempt push him away.

He pulls away slowly after a moment, his arms staying planted on your shoulders, heavy – restricting. “What are you doing down here, you heading somewhere?” He smiles, but you can see the way it doesn’t reach his eyes. What does he want from you? What the actual hell is going on?

“I was going out for a walk.” You mumble, your eyes looking everywhere, everywhere except Dick. His attention is suffocating, in the last timeline you’d probably drop to your knees and thank whatever deity has graced you with such benevolence, thank the stars above that your big brother just hugged you. But right now, all you feel is an oppressive, overbearing anxiety.

Your heart punches against your rib cage, threatening to break free and spill out, it was so intense you felt in your ears, in your lungs – everywhere, down to your very fingertips. Each breath felt like a dozen blades being shoved down your throat, the anxious feeling in your stomach reaching forward to encase your throat, squeezing until you can’t breathe. “A walk? I’d love to join!” Dick declares with a strange tone of certitude, throwing his arm across your shoulder, but you stay firmly in place – refusing to move a single inch. This wasn’t good, your brother sent you a confused expression at the silence coming from you. This wasn’t like you, a few years ago – even the promise of hanging out with you had you cheesing from ear to ear.

So why did you look so– terrified?

“I’m– I suddenly remembered I have homework to do, bye.” You shrug his arm off you, before practically sprinting away, you were sure that staying by his side any longer would have you breaking down. You ignore the indignant shout from Dick, your lungs burning as you speed towards your room. You cannot deal with another impromptu meeting with anyone from your family, your heart cannot take such stress! I mean, you were twenty-one a few days ago, and by trying to live a life away from the stifling Manor, you’ve inadvertently caused some sort of change.

You’ve got to figure out what went wrong, you haven’t made some grand gesture, hell, you haven’t made an effort to even reach out. So what is it that’s happened, what have you done that’s unlocked the branch towards your family? The branch that poor child (Name) was desperate to nurture. Why is it sprouting now?

Dick stays stood in the doorway, his brows furrowed and his mouth gaping. You – ran away? He expected a lot when he saw you leaving, he expected that by embracing his poor sibling, you’d open up to him, tell him your fears so that he can guide you away from a future where you move away, what nonsense.

But instead of crying and looking up at him with those familiar eyes, you looked at him as though he had done something wrong, as if he had scared you. Then you ran away! You! You ran away from him? Him!

His fists clench as he lets out a heavy sigh, soothing the frustration inside him. You looked scared, why on earth were you scared? Could it be you were scared of him?

..

Impossible, he’s your dear, older brother! There’s no way you would ever be scared of him, not when you used to follow him around like a duckling, your eyes sparkling with excitement, clutching onto him no matter how many times he had pushed you away.

So why? Why did you look so terrified? Where was that awe-struck expression? His heart clenches as though someone was squeezing it, pumping it so quickly he’s sure it’s minutes aways from popping.

You’re not scared of him – you’re probably just.. shy. Too nervous to speak, that must be it! Poor you, you just don’t know how to speak up properly, to ask for affection. You’ve grown from that small star struck child to a socially inept larger child! That’s okay, he understands. He’s alright with guiding you, like a good big brother should.

It’s not too late, no, he has more than enough time.

You’re one interaction away from ripping your hair out of your head and strangling yourself with it. You could deal with that awkward conversation with Bruce, Alfred probably paid him to check in on you – and squabbles with Damian, no big deal, that’s all a-okay. But Dick! Hugging you? Asking you to go on a walk with him? What happened!?

You groan into your pillow, your hands clutching onto your hair with frustration, with another deep sigh, you sit up and ponder.

What has changed? What happened for this drastic change in your family to occur? Excuses for Dick’s behaviour were stale on your tongue, he did that of his own free will, of his own volition. Fuck, you need a cigarette. Instinctively, your hands reach into your pockets.

Oh right, you’re sixteen. How annoying, nothing good is coming from this ‘second chance’ bullshit. With each passing day, the likelihood of your billionaire father, Bruce Wayne, giving you money is growing increasingly slim, so you have finances to worry about again. You're closer to becoming Batman than you are to moving out.

This is really so bothersome.

tag list (open, ask to be added) ; @estreiiuh @beyondblissxoxo @jjsmeowthie @vanessa-boo

sorry yall i was gonna post this six hours ago but i ended up watching young sheldon instead also sorry for the bum ass chapter im eager to get to the next park

jason and tim r coming dw