#I thought I should share some tips here

[eggs-are-my-passion]

how to communicate with your child as an autistic parent:

ask them to be clear about their emotions. Midori confuses me a lot sometimes cause they aren't very open about everything, but whenever they feel sad or mad about something I did, they draw a face on one of my eggs so I know I did something wrong.

be open with them as well. Midori used to scream a lot when they got angry and it always made me feel bad and I'd usually end up curled up in a ball crying, which helped no one, so they learned to not scream and instead, move around, walk as they talk. This helps them calm down and keeps them from shouting.

and most important of all, listen to them. Most of the time your child only wants attention, someone to vent to, someone to talk about their problems. Don't go around like some parents do telling their children that wtheir feelings don't matter because "there are people in worst situations" or "I am too tired to deal with this", because they'll close up to you and might end up leaving you behind once they leave your house. Listen to their complaints, share knowledge on how to deal with them if they need it, treat them with respect, love and kindness.

[hoshifighting]

— Synopsis: Where you “unfortunately” caught your best friend's roomate—your unsaid enemy—masturbating in their shared apartment. — WC: 4.6k — WARNINGS: smut, monster cock!seungcheol, explicit language and content, overstimulation, dry fucking, oral as a tongue massage (f. receiving)—a reward <3, body fluids (cum), dry humping, cock riding, dumbfication, degradation, aftercare, exhaustion, and DIRTY TALK.

here’s how it always goes with seungcheol:

you walk into a room, he immediately finds something to scoff at. maybe it’s the way you dress, maybe it’s the way you talk, maybe it’s just the fact that you exist in his general vicinity. but it doesn’t matter what you do—he hates you. or, at the very least, that’s what he insists on showing you.

joshua, your best friend and possibly the only person in the world who can tolerate both of you without losing his mind, always tells you to be the bigger person. “he’s not that bad,” he says, as if seungcheol didn’t practically hiss at you last week for sitting on his side of the couch.

but whatever. you don’t go out of your way to piss him off, and he doesn’t go out of his way to be nice. that’s just the way it is.

which is why you hesitate when joshua calls you:

“i swear, i wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. i left my keys at your place before i flew out, remember?”

“okay, but i literally don’t want to step foot in his apartment,” you stress, cringing at the thought.

“it’s my apartment, too,” joshua deadpans.

you groan, already feeling a headache coming on.

“just go in, grab the folder on my desk, and leave,” he insists. “cheol probably won’t even be home.”

which is how you find yourself standing outside their apartment door, holding joshua’s keys and hyping yourself up like you’re about to enter enemy territory. which, in a way, you are.

you unlock the door, push it open,

and immediately wish you hadn’t.

seungcheol. on the couch. fisting his cock.

your brain short-circuits. like, full shutdown, blue screen, cease all functioning mode.

the man is spread out—legs wide, head tipped back, theres a drop of sweat that drips from his neck aand land in the middle of his chest. hes exposing his toned abs that clench with every up and down of his hand. and his cock is huge. thick from the base to the top and flushed deep red at the tip, veins prominent as his fist works over it.

he’s so lost in it that he doesn’t even register your presence at first, not until he finally cracks his eyes open and sees you standing there, frozen stunned into silence.

the next few seconds happen in slow motion.

his eyes widen. his entire body stiffens. his hand stops.

“WHAT THE FUCK—”

seungcheol scrambles to cover himself, reaching for the nearest thing—which, unfortunately for him, is a shirt that does nothing to hide the absolute tent he’s pitching. his face goes red, splotchy from the neck up, and he looks so flustered that for a split second, you almost feel bad.

“why the fuck are you here?!” he practically barks at you, voice ragged from whatever the fuck he was doing before you ruined his life.

you blink, still processing the image that’s now burned into your brain for eternity. “uh. joshua?”

“what about joshua?!”

“he… he needed a document.”

seungcheol lets out a sound that is so frustrated, so exasperated, that it almost doesn’t register as human. “and you didn’t think to knock?!”

“why would i knock?! i didn’t think anyone would be jerking off in the living room like a fucking pervert—”

“IT’S MY APARTMENT.”

“IT’S JOSHUA’S TOO.”

“HE’S NOT HERE.”

“WELL, NEITHER AM I, NOW.” you turn on your heel, hand reaching for the doorknob. “i’ll just get the doc later—”

but before you can escape, he rasps, “don’t you dare tell joshua about this.”

you pause. smirk. oh, this is fun.

back still facing him, fingers still wrapped around the doorknob. you should leave. should pretend none of this ever happened. but something—some sick, wrong part of you—doesn’t want to.

so you turn. lean back against the door. cross your arms.

“what?” he snaps, shifting on the couch, the shirt still pitifully draped over his lap.

you tilt your head, dragging your gaze slowly down his body—his hard nipples, the taut muscles in his arms, the way his thighs tense like he’s fighting the urge to close them. you can see the way he twitches under the shirt.

“you’re still hard,” you note, your voice syrupy sweet, but your eyes gleam meanly.

seungcheol tenses. “so?”

“so… you’re mad at me for walking in,” you say, cocking a brow, “but you’re still hard as fuck.”

he grits his teeth, but his silence is loud as hell.

so you take a step forward. just one.

his breath hitches.

“cheol.” you coo at him. “you sure you hate me?”

he glares, but it’s weaker now, faltering under your scrutiny. you can see it—the slight tremor in his fingers, the way his pulse jumps in his throat, the way he’s not telling you to stop.

so you take another step.

and another.

until you’re standing right in front of him, the shirt the only barrier between his cock and your eyes.

his jaw tightens. “don’t.”

“don’t what?” you murmur, reaching forward to trace your fingers over his wrist—the one that was just wrapped around his cock. “don’t call you out? don’t get closer? don’t—”

in a flash, he grabs your wrist, yanking you down.

you gasp as you land on his lap, his hands firm on your hips, his cock pressing against your ass through the thin barrier of the shirt and your clothes.

his lips are right by your ear when he growls, “don’t fucking test me.”

you shiver, but you’re not scared, you’re thrilled.

so you shift, pressing back against him, and smirk when he lets out a sharp breath through his nose.

“or what?” you whisper.

his grip tightens. “you really wanna find out?”

your fingers curl into his hair, tugging just enough to make him hiss.

“yeah,” you breathe, lips brushing his jaw. “i do.”

he snaps.

the shirt under you is gone.

his mouth crashes into yours, hot and angry, his hands gripping your waist like he’s trying to burn the shape of you into his palms. his teeth nip at your bottom lip, his tongue prying your mouth open, swallowing the gasp you let out when his fingers dig into your hips.

you grind down, moaning into his mouth when you feel just how fucking thick he is, leaking against your skirt. 

his hands are rough when he yanks your skirt up, bunching the fabric around your waist with no intention of letting it fall back down. you barely have a second to breathe before his fingers push past your thighs, finding the front of your panties hooking his thumb into the damp fabric and pulling it to the side.

the rush of cold air makes you gasp, thighs trying to snap shut, but his thighs pins them open. and maybe, he has a shred of decency in him, because he lets out a low breath and murmurs, “this is gonna be rough.”

no warning. just that.

you should stop him. you should tell him to go slow, to prep you, to at least spit on it—but you don’t, you need to feel this big cock stretching you until every single thought inside your head gets completely erased.

there’s no lube, no prep besides the mess between your thighs, just the torturous process of sinking down.

seungcheol watches all of it. watches the way your lips part, how your lashes flutter, how your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders the lower you go. he’s leaning back against the couch, one hand gripping the plush of your ass, the other wrapped around his base, guiding you onto him like you’re something delicate. like he’s trying to help.

but he’s not.

because he knows what he’s doing when he taps his cockhead against your clit first, dragging the tip through your slick, coaxing out little whimpers that make him smirk. he knows what he’s doing when he presses up, just the tip slipping inside, barely enough to be satisfying but more than enough to make your thighs twitch.

your breath catches in your throat, your whole body twitching up as you take the next inch too fast. your brain is empty, your body is working on instinct, thighs shaking as you brace yourself against him, trying—failing—to push down further.

and he sees it. sees how you’re struggling, sees how your muscles twitch like you’re about to give out, sees how you want to take it but your body is fighting the stretch.

so he helps.

his hands clamp down on your waist.

and then he slams you down.

the sound that leaves your throat is so ruined that he cant help but feel a bit of compassion.

because suddenly you’re full. suddenly you’re sitting completely in his lap, completely engulfed in him, your thighs flush against his, his cock buried so fucking deep that you can feel it pressing up against every nerve inside you.

but when you try to move, try to lift yourself even an inch—nothing.

your thighs won’t cooperate. your muscles won’t listen.

you can’t move.

“oh?” seungcheol tilts his head, smug grin curling at his lips as he grinds up, watching the way your mouth falls open at the sensation.

“too big for you, baby?”

you whimper.

“thought so.”

and then he takes control, because you can’t move—so he does it for you. his hands lift you effortlessly, dragging your hips up before slamming you back down, setting the pace, forcing your body to take what it’s given.

and you can’t think straight anymore. every thrust knocks the air from your lungs, every time he slams you down it punches little whimpers from your throat that only make him hungrier.

“awww… thought you were so tough. but you can’t even fuck yourself on my cock, huh?”

you cry out, body giving up, melting against his chest as you desperately try to follow his rhythm, hips twitching with little, pathetic attempts to keep up. your body isn’t even yours anymore—just a toy, something for seungcheol to use, something he’s breaking in with every brutal roll of his hips. 

his fingers dig into your waist, gripping you so tight it hurts, but the pleasure drowns it out. you’re so deep into it, into him, that every ounce of shame has left your body, every shred of dignity gone. because you can’t do anything but take it, can’t do anything but let him use you like you were made for this.

he tilts his head, watching you fall apart, watching how your thighs tremble with every slap of his hips against yours.

“damn,” he laughs, licking his lips, voice mocking. “you’re making such a fucking mess of yourself.”

you whimper, forehead pressing against his collarbone.

and then he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“mm-mm, don’t hide now,” he says, smirking. “be a good girl and let me see that dumb little face while i ruin you.”

a sob rips from your throat, high-pitched and wrecked.

he groans, grinding up into you.

“fuck. bet the neighbors can hear you, huh? joshua’s gonna be so fucking embarrassed when he gets a noise complaint for his dumb little best friend getting dicked down like a whore.”

your whole body jerks, a whimper escaping your lips at the humiliation, the filth dripping from his tongue.

and he sees it.

his grin turns cruel.

“oh, you like that?” he taunts, thrusting up so deep your back arches. “you like knowing that you’re loud enough to make it everyone’s fucking problem? that you’re such a good little fucktoy for me that i can’t even keep you quiet?”

you nod, because you can’t lie. his fingers tighten around your jaw, his lips brushing against yours as he coos.

“poor little thing.”

he thrusts up again, so hard, so deep that your whole body bounces, hands scrambling against his chest, voice cracking in a choked-out sob.

and he moans, deep and satisfied, because you’re so fucking perfect for him. because your body is his to use, to mold, to ruin.

“joshua’s gonna kill me c-cheol.”

his hips snap up again, knocking the breath from your lungs.

“but you’ll tell him it was worth it, won’t you, baby?”

he smooths one over your back, pressing down so your tits rub against his burning skin, while the other stays firm on your hip, keeping you still. your body jerks with every pulse of his cock inside you, twitching as you flutter around him, so overstimulated you can’t tell where the pleasure starts or ends.

“s-seungcheol—” his name is nothing but a broken cry, muffled against his neck, but he’s relentless. he doesn’t even let you finish, just shifts his knees slightly and thrusts up into you with all the power in his core.

“fuck,” he hisses when you clamp down, crying out into his skin, and he wraps an arm fully around you to hold you up. “shh, baby, you’re being so loud.”

his hand snakes up your back, fingers tangling into your hair, forcing you to lift your head. you meet his gaze, and it knocks the breath from your lungs. he looks fucked, mouth parted, sweat dripping from his hairline, chest heaving, but he still manages to look at you like he’s about to devour you whole.

“c’mon,” he coos, tilting his head, his grip tightening just enough to make your scalp tingle. “tell me it was worth it. tell me how good my cock is.”

he punctuates it with a sharp snap of his hips and you keen, trying to lift yourself, trying to relieve some of the intensity, but your thighs betray you. seungcheol laughs, breathless but smug, and his fingers press bruises into your skin as he maneuvers you like you weigh nothing.

“see? can’t even move, huh? my poor baby,” he murmurs, voice syrupy sweet, his free hand cupping your cheek now. “you’re just gonna sit here and take it like the perfect fucktoy you are.”

heat prickles at your skin at the words, your brain too fogged up to be embarrassed, too fucked out to do anything but let him guide you. he rocks you against him, making sure you feel every inch of him dragging against your walls, rubbing at all the right places, pressing into you deeper than you thought was even possible.

“you take me so well, baby,” he praises, leaning in to press his lips against yours, just enough to tease. “so fuckin’ tight, so warm—fucking heaven.”

his hand slides between your bodies, two fingers finding your swollen, neglected clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over it. the sensation makes your thighs twitch, your nails dig into his back, a fresh wave of tears pooling at the corners of your eyes.

“shhh, i got you, baby,” he whispers, kissing your jaw now, your temple. his fingers on your clit work in time with the slow, torturous grind of his hips. “i got you, yeah? you gonna cum for me? hm?”

he kisses you full on the mouth when you sob, swallowing the sound like he wants to keep it forever. and then he speeds up just a little, rolling your clit with more pressure, meeting every rut of your hips with a firm thrust up.

you shatter.

your whole body seizes, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as you clamp down so tight on him that it sends him tumbling over the edge with you. he groans, long and low, holding you so tight against him that you can feel every pulse of his cum inside you, hot and deep. his hips jerk once, twice more before he stills, forehead pressed against yours as you both gasp for air.

it’s quiet for a moment, the only sounds are the distant hum of the city outside the window, and the soft squelch when he finally shifts, making you both moan.

your body trembles like a leaf caught in the wind, and seungcheol drinks it in, the heat of your overstimulated form twitching against his chest as he presses slow, lingering kisses into the curve of your neck. his lips move down, sucking at the pulse point that hammers beneath your skin. your breath stutters. his fingers, nails just barely grazing, trail down the arch of your spine, featherlight but enough to make you shiver. you barely even realize you’re moving, the last bit of strength in your boneless limbs used to weakly push yourself up, to let his cock slip free from where it’s buried inside you. 

the second it leaves you, your body gives out. you collapse right into his chest, heavier than before, spent and trembling, the exhaustion hitting all at once. you can’t even pretend to be embarrassed about it. you just sigh, your lips brushing the base of his throat as you settle against him, body limp.

seungcheol holds you steady with both hands, like he’s afraid you might melt right into the couch and disappear. his broad palm cradles the back of your head, fingers splaying across your scalp, scratching at your roots. he keeps the other hand wrapped around your waist, thumb stroking absentmindedly against your ribs. the tension in his body hasn’t left yet. his shoulders are still tight. you know him well enough to know what’s coming before he even says it.

“you good?” 

you hum in response, nuzzling into his chest as your fingers curl weakly against his pecs. “just a little sore.”

he exhales through his nose. shifts beneath you. you can feel his fingers flex where they rest on your waist, like he wants to squeeze but holds himself back. then, with zero effort, he grips the back of your neck and lifts you up, just enough to force you to look at him. your lids are heavy, half-lidded, dazed, and fuck, that shouldn’t make him feel so possessive, but it does.

his thumb sweeps across your cheek, his jaw tensing. “shit. i’m sorry,” he murmurs, eyes scanning over your features like he’s searching for anything more than just exhaustion. “lemme take care of you, hm?”

you don’t have it in you to resist, don’t even want to. you let him move you, let him handle you like you weigh nothing as he lifts you from his lap and shifts you onto the couch, laying you down as if you’re something delicate. and maybe you are, now, after the way he ruined you. maybe that’s why you don’t fight him when he presses your thighs apart, watching as they just fall open on their own, spread wide like a doll.

you don’t have the strength to do much else than whimper softly as his thumbs spread you further, gaze locked onto your swollen cunt, still so slick from where he fucked you. his jaw clenches.

you don’t even get a warning before he moves in, before his hands grip your thighs to keep them open as he dives between them, mouth sealing over your clit in one slow stroke of his tongue.

you jolt, a weak little gasp punching from your lungs. your fingers barely find the energy to tangle into his hair, and the grip is nowhere near as firm as it usually is, but he groans anyway. whether it’s from the feeling of your grip or from the way you instantly react to him, you don’t know. but he doesn’t stop.

his tongue moves slow, warm and so fucking wet as he licks broad, flat strokes over your sensitive flesh, working you open again with patience. he isn’t trying to overstimulate, isn’t trying to get you off again—though you can already tell it wouldn’t take much. his focus is entirely on easing the ache, on massaging every tender inch of you with his mouth, his lips, his tongue.

“feels good?” his voice is muffled against you, but it vibrates in just the right way.

you nod, breath hitching when he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue rolling it in slow circles. your body twitches, heat curling at the base of your spine. “cheol…”

he moans against you, and presses you down harder against his face. your hips jump, an embarrassing whimper breaking free as his tongue dips lower, tracing around your entrance before dragging back up, collecting every bit of slick along the way.

you whine, fingers curling tighter in his hair. he doesn’t tease. doesn’t prolong it. just keeps his pace slow and steady, gentle enough to soothe, firm enough to keep you on the edge of something, even if you’re too sensitive to chase it. and if the way he’s grinding his hips into the couch tells you anything—it’s that he’s just as affected as you are.

he’s not eating you out to get himself off, but fuck if it isn’t working.

the obscene sounds of his mouth working between your thighs filling the entire apartment, mixing in with your breathless moans and the way he groans right into your cunt. you don’t even have it in you to be embarrassed about the way your cum is smeared all over his chin, his jaw, his cheeks—how it drips down onto the couch below with every intentional roll of his tongue against your entrance.

his tongue works in circles, pressing flat to your hole before dragging up again, tasting every bit of your arousal as it gushes out onto his lips. his mouth is open the entire time, tongue rolling and flicking, nose nudging against your clit as he angles his head lower. he flattens his tongue, groaning as he drags it up through your folds before plunging it into you, so messy that you swear you see white behind your eyelids.

your back arches, chest rising in sharp, hiccupped gasps, every single nerve in your body on flames. your thighs twitch in his grasp, and he squeezes them tighter, keeping you spread open just for him. his hands slide up, one wrapping firmly around your waist, keeping you pinned in place, while the other travels up, up—his fingers finding the stiff peaks of your nipples.

your eyes snap open, a gasp catching in your throat as he rolls one between his fingertips, twisting just enough to make your eyes roll. you swear you hear him chuckle against you, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“breathe,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your clit before sucking it between his teeth, tongue rolling in lazy, teasing circles on the swollen bud. “breathe for me, baby.”

you try. you really do. but the way his mouth moves, the way his fingers tweak and pull, it’s too much. you’re spiraling. you feel another orgasm creeping up so fast it steals the air right out of your lungs.

he sees it. he knows.

his grip tightens on your thigh, his tongue flicking faster, working you open as his free hand continues to play with your tits, kneading the soft flesh, fingers rolling your nipples in rhythm with the lazy grind of his tongue against your clit.

your moans turn high-pitched, desperate. your body twists beneath him, unable to keep still as the pleasure builds, climbing higher and higher.

but then—a whimper.

not from you.

from him.

you force your heavy lids open, head lolling to the side as you try to focus on him. and fuck, the sight that greets you is almost enough to make you cum then and there.

seungcheol is rutting against the couch. grinding, fucking humping it like a damn dog, his hips rolling in slow thrusts, his rock-hard cock straining against his stomach, smearing precum all over his abs and the fabric beneath him.

he whimpers again, this time louder, his brows furrowed, his breath coming in short, uneven pants.

“fuck,” he groans, mouth still pressed against you, voice muffled by the way his tongue keeps working you over. he pulls back just enough to speak, his lips glistening, his chin soaked. his eyes are dark, glassy, pupils blown wide as he looks up at you. “can’t—fuck, i can’t stop. you taste too good.”

your chest tightens, a desperate, aching cry slipping from your lips as you clutch at his hair, thighs twitching in his grasp. “cheol—gonna—gonna cum, oh my god—”

he moans, actually fucking moans, his hips grinding down harder against the couch as he redoubles his efforts, tongue circling your clit in precise, teasing flicks, his fingers pinching your nipples just hard enough to send you over the edge.

your body locks up. your back arches. your mouth falls open, a silent scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you, all-consuming.

seungcheol doesn’t stop. doesn’t slow down. he works you through it like it’s his mission, licking you clean, his tongue rolling over your entrance, collecting every last drop as your body trembles violently beneath him.

your chest heaves, your vision blurring, but even through the haze, you can feel him still grinding against the couch, still so fucking hard and desperate, all because of you.

your brain is slow. dial-up connection slow. everything feels like it’s underwater, your body floating somewhere between consciousness and the best orgasm-induced coma of your life. it’s warm, so warm, like your body is still riding out the fever of your high, tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth, throat dry, muscles heavy like they’re full of sand.

you don’t even remember when it happened—when you blacked out, when you got moved. just flashes of cool wipes dragging over your skin, a damp cloth pressed between your thighs, seungcheol’s hands gentle, careful, murmuring something you were too gone to comprehend. like déjà vu, like something out of a dream.

but you’re awake now. sort of. and you’re in his bed.

the sheets are soft, cool against your fevered skin, and it feels so good that you can’t help the tired, pleased moan that slips past your lips, involuntary, barely conscious.

but it’s enough to make him look at you.

you blink, vision still a little hazy, but yeah, that’s definitely seungcheol, sitting at his desk, dressed in a loose shirt and sweats, hair damp, probably from a shower. there’s a slight smirk on his lips, but his eyes are soft as they sweep over you, taking in the way you’re still half-buried in his sheets, limbs heavy, body relaxed.

then it hits you.

the documents.

joshua.

fuck.

your eyes widen, and you jolt up too fast, regretting it immediately when the soreness between your thighs protests, a sharp ache shooting up your spine. “fuck—”

seungcheol’s already up, one hand pressing to your shoulder, guiding you back down before you can do any more damage. “hey, hey, relax. you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“the—documents,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut again as the exhaustion creeps back in. “joshua.”

he chuckles, and you open your eyes just in time to see him shaking a small stack of papers in his hand. “yeah, yeah. i got it. sent them over while you were passed out.”

you frown, groggy. “i was supposed to send them.”

“and joshua needs to get used to me handling shit for you,” he says, grinning as he sets the papers down. “besides, he��d probably prefer not to get another noise complaint under his name.”

your face heats up instantly. “oh my god.”

“mhmm,” seungcheol hums, tilting his head. “wanna know how loud you were?”

“no.”

he laughs, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, thumb tracing your cheek. “then go back to sleep, baby.”

you glare at him. or, at least, you try to. it’s weak, and he knows it, because all it takes is one more stroke of his thumb before your eyes flutter shut again, body sinking further into his bed.

yeah. you can fight him about the joshua thing later. maybe. probably not.

[tonycries]

Freak On The Cam! - C.K.

Synopsis. Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, camgírl! reader, spítting, Choso has rings and piercings, first times + loss of vírginity (Choso’s), oral (fem receiving), exhíbitionism, DOWN BAD Choso, cúmplay, use of “ma’am”, Sukuna is a menace, víbrators, light jealousy (Choso’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.5k

A/N. Meant to post this last week but hehe here we are. Also I’ve GOT to stop using Unc-kuna so much lmao.

“Wanna see a movie or do you wanna make one?”

Choso was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed. So badly, in fact, that he might as well just wipe off every trace of himself online and go into hiding - preferably forever.

All because he had been so stupidly careless as to leave his phone unattended for exactly 1 minute and 47 seconds around Sukuna. 

In the time it took Choso to raid the kitchen for his favorite brand of cereal, his uncle had managed to open his Twitter (because “that’s where all the juicy stuff is”), stalk your pretty page at the very top of his last searched, and send a god-awful pick-up line that would probably get him blocked. Or worse.

Damnit, he knew he shouldn’t have made his password Yuji’s birthday.

“Ya should be thankful I didn’t DM her myself, brat.” Sukuna chuckles, not even a shred of regret in his tone, way too amused with how Choso was frantically trying to tackle the phone out of his hands. “What’s the harm in asking? Such a pretty camgirl, n’ you look like you need some good pu-”

“She’s also my classmate.”

“Kinky. Even better.” 

No, not “even better”. God, this must be some kind of cosmic joke, and Choso just wished the Earth would swallow him up whole right now - and maybe his phone along with it too. 

It had taken him almost a whole semester to work up the courage to just sit next to you during your shared lecture. All gorgeous with your bright smiles, and your smart mouth. And Choso was very much content to admire you from afar - and from behind his phone screen, of course.

Never following, never liking. Never tipping you off as one of your hundreds of thousands of fans.

And now, not only had Sukuna revealed that he’d found your secret Twitter account - the one with those sinful little clips of yourself that had Choso opening the app way too much - he’d also propositioned you. Like some creep.  

“Ugh. This is why women hate you.” Still desperately grappling, he spits out more to himself than Sukuna at this point. “B-besides, she’s never even gonna respond any-”

Ping!

And the Itadori household had never been quieter. Never, on a random Saturday during spring break. Never, as the two men crowd the phone, jaws dropped and staring wordlessly at the singular message on screen. You. 

“Let’s make one ;)”

---

“So s’not a stream this time, jus’ a video. Is that okay?”  You hum from your desk, glancing at the man seated on your bed as he hastily nods along with whatever you said. Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. 

Weird. 

It had only been a few days of back and forth since you’d gotten that first text - the one that you’d honestly thought about blocking like the thousands of others. But there was just something about it that made you stop, something that had you clicking on the profile to delve a little deeper.

It hit you like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact - that this was someone in your class. Someone you knew. How the hell did he even find this account? 

You knew Choso as that sweet - albeit slightly gloomy - kid that sat next to you, always quick with his answers and even quicker to look away from your gaze, no matter how hard you tried to spark a conversation. You’d just guessed he was afraid of you or something.

So nothing could’ve prepared you for how ridiculously attractive he looked in that profile picture, all smug grins and dark locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner. Shirtless, giving just a peak of- oh god, were those nipple piercings?  

Could you really be blamed? You just had to have him.

But, here - it was like he was just itching to run away at the first chance he got. 

“You’re not held at gunpoint, y’know.” you giggle at how he startles at the mere sound of your voice. The mattress dips as you stop fiddling with the camera to sit next to him, thighs flush against his muscled ones. “Are you sure you want-”

“Yes.” 

It seems that both of you were surprised by the abrupt response. Too quick. Choso clears his throat, cheeks flaring as he tries to dredge up some semblance of dignity, he drawls lightly. “I mean- Yes.”

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - nothing quite like the suave impression his pick-up line gave off. 

But so irresistible just the same.

“Well…Cho.” you bat your lashes, voice dropping to a seductive whisper - not too heavy, for now at least. “Then why won’t you even look at me?”

Alas, Choso was not a strong man. 

Maybe at your words, maybe at that playful little nickname you gave him, he’s finally raising those dark eyes to look at you. Twinkling with- fear? anticipation? A flicker of something so dangerous as his gaze sweeps greedily over that tight dress you put on just for this occasion. 

Choso tries to ignore how sinfully it hugs all your curves. Or the way it would look a million times better on the floor. 

This was absolute torture. 

And God he thinks he could pass out right then and there as you lean in closer. Too close. The temperature in the room suddenly increasing by about 10 degrees as you purr, tone careful and balanced. “Much better. And now…” 

His breathing becomes heavier, eyes flickering downwards. Once. Twice. 

And you know you’ve got him in the palm of your hand. 

“...all you gotta do is touch me.”

Yeah, if Choso thought he was going to pass out before then he definitely wasn’t ready for those dangerous little words. Ones that have him shaken right to the core - fighting that urge to just take you how he’s imagined all those lonely nights.

“You- huh?” he lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he crosses his legs with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, desperately trying to will away the blood rushing straight to his throbbing cock right now. 

But how could he? Not when you only shift closer, barely even a hair’s breadth between you two - relishing in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. Such an adorable pout playing on your lips as you mutter, “Do you not want to?”

And he did. Oh, how he did - has been imagining it for the past five months, in fact. And Choso lets you know, a little twenty times, actually, as the words spill panickedly from his lips. 

“-idiot trying to set me up and I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for so long but I’m just-” Heat rushes to Choso’s cheeks, as he abruptly shuts the fuck up. But it’s too late - the damage has been done.

You give him a wry smile, lips mere inches from his ear. “Just what?”

His breath hitches, muscles rippling so deliciously as he shudders beneath your touch. “I’m a-” Choking out - as if it physically hurts to  admit - “-virgin.”

Oh. 

Now, you might’ve expected many things - but certainly not this. Though, looking at the cute flush on the tips of his ears, all the way down to those big, needy eyes, you don’t mind. Not one bit.

With one, quick glance at the rolling camera - your mouth is moving before your mind. “Do you want me to…do something about it?”

And then it’s like something snapped. 

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Choso’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - how could you not? 

Because goddammit it was always those pretty lips that you were staring at whenever he was spouting off answers in class. You just never expected he’d be kissing you back with such an infectious desperation. 

No sooner are you thinking about how sweet his lips are before he’s pulling away with a soft sigh, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. Your neck. Back to your lips like he wanted everything and anything.

You gasp licks a long, languid stripe up your neck - maybe at how utterly obscene it felt, maybe at that sharp cold feeling that makes you flinch. Fuck - a tongue piercing? The noise makes Choso’s mouth drop into a quick oh! surging forward to claim your lips again. Addicted. 

Only to be stopped by your hands cupping his face, letting out a pained grunt at how he was so close. Just a hair’s breadth away from your lips.

“Cho~ Open your mouth, baby.” you whisper, hotly. 

And he looked so pretty - dark hair askew, lower lip swollen and quivering with need, brows furrowing because he wanted more of your taste. But he obeys, of course he does, Choso thinks he’ll do anything you asked. And lo and behold, sitting right there in the middle of his tongue was a pretty silver piercing.

You just can’t help but thumb open his mouth further, looking him right in the eyes as you spit in his mouth. Once. Twice. 

“Bet no one else has done this before, huh?” Grinning at how sinfully Choso’s eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste, “Kiss me proper now.”

God, you were so good at throwing away whatever was left of his poor sanity. And it’s all that’s said before his kiss-bitten lips are crashing into yours again. 

“No. No one’s hah- done that before. Only you.” he’s panting into your open mouth, swirling his tongue with yours. “F-fuck only you. Only you only you-”

You barely even realize the way you’re on his lap now, sitting so prettily there that Choso half-deliriously wonders whether he should take a picture. Mind spinning too much with his throbbing erection under your drenched panties, a damp little patch at his fat tip. So hot and heavy already.

“Cho, do you want me to-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You certainly don’t have to be told twice - especially with that little nickname. Fiddling with his belt, you’re so hazy with want - the need to taste Choso, to see if the rest of him was as sweet as his lips - that you almost miss the look of confusion that flashes across his face.

You bat your lashes at him almost-innocently, “You alright?” And Choso thinks he could cum right there and right now at the sight. If he wasn’t currently battling for his life, that is. 

“Yeah, s’jus’- what I wanted hah- was to…” His hands sneak down, cupping your heated pussy through your drenched panties. “-taste her. ”

“Oh?”

“Are y’gonna teach me how?”

Oh. Fuck.

You know you’re fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

Only moments later, Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress, face-to-face with your sloppy pussy. So mean with the way he was pinning your hips down with one hand, all but ripping your panties off with the other. 

You feel his piercing before his tongue. Both the hot and cold so maddening on your cunt as Choso licks long, lazy stripes up your puffy folds - dragging his hot tongue all the way from your base. Just grazing your swollen clit. 

“Teach me- fuck fuck-” words muffled and slurring together, vibrations going straight to your pussy. “Use me. Use me how you want.”

You’re threading your fingers through his dark locks before you even realize it, grinding your sloppy cunt all over his waiting mouth. “Quirk your tongue like- ngh-” Angling him close enough so he bullies his soft tongue into your tight pussy. Piercing massaging all the right places. “Fuck-”

“Like this?”

“Sh-shit,” you gasp, nodding deliriously. “S’too ngh- good.”

And by God, did you mean it. 

“Yeah? Y’like this?” he’s groaning, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. “Can feel you clenching around me. Shit shit shit, you love this, huh? So slutty on camera for it?” 

Getting wetter and wetter by the second as his tongue roams for that one-

“Oh! F-fuck, Cho. Right hngh- there. Deeper-”

Ah, found it.

Choso grins as you tug on his soft strands, you can feel it on your throbbing pussy. Pushing your legs all the way till they’re at your tits to hit that little spot each and every time. Again and again. Eyes glassy, torn between devouring that slutty expression on your face and how fucking drenched you were. 

“Shit, baby,” his words are so strained now, like his sanity was dancing away at each flick of his tongue. “You’re drooling everywhere. See? Show the camera now.”

You don’t have to look. Because you can feel it.

Can feel how wet his mouth is, just glistening with slick and saliva. Trailing all the way down his chin - to his wrist - only second to how sloppy your dripping cunt was. It was like he was getting messy on purpose, like a little reminder to himself that shit this was you and he was eating out your pretty cunt to insanity-

“Oh my god, think m’hooked.” Tongue dragging all over your swollen folds, catching on his piercing. “Think your pretty lil’ pussy’s hah- driving me crazy. Ruined me, Fuck-”

And it’s so embarrassing how he’s talking you through it, grinning at every lil’ whine and whimper that leaves your mouth. You were acting all shy right now in a way that makes Choso’s cock twitch so painfully. He barely even notices, though, with the way he was so drunk off your pussy. 

So messy - unable to decide between rolling his tongue over your ravaged clit and dipping into your sloppy hole. Too much. In and out in and-

“Faster.”

He goes faster. 

“H-harder.”

He goes harder.

Anything and everything for you - to keep those pretty moans falling from your lips, walls getting tighter and tighter around his tongue. And Choso might just consider himself a man addicted.

“Can you ngh- cum f’me, baby?” You flinch as he spits out the words into your cunt. Harsh. Fucked-out. Sounding just as delirious and breathless as you. “Cum f’me please. Wan’ to taste y’on my tongue. Please. Fuck- need it so bad. So bad.”

You’re so caught up in Choso’s pussydrunk little babbles that you barely even realize when you’re cumming. Just that you’re letting out a strangled scream of his name, dragging your sloppy pussy all over his mouth. 

And he has never seemed more blissed out. Long gone is that nervous little expression usually on his face around you, Choso looked like he could be suffocated in-between your legs right now and love it. Hope for it, even.

He tells you that, of course. As soon as you’re blinking back your vision, blood still roaring in your ears. Delicate strings of slick snapping where he parts from your quivering cunt, lips swollen and glossed so prettily with your sweet sweet juices. 

“Baby, y’think the video of lesson one came out good?”

Oh. Shit, what have you done?

---

That certainly wasn’t the last time you saw Choso - or the last time you had him in front of a camera, either.

A few weeks later, you found yourself with an entire album for the man - a hidden treasure trove under the simple name of “Cho <3”. Most of the videos favorited, all sorted so tediously in a way that showed you spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you. 

So filthy on camera that you always wondered whether it was the same person in the sheets and in class, texting Choso for later. Just to confirm. 

But embarrassingly, only some of these videos made their way onto your Twitter account - with Choso’s pretty face largely out of the frame. The two of you hadn’t ventured into streams yet either, opting to hide him away. Because, okay, maybe you were slightly jealous of other people seeing him - but it was really hard not to be when he looked like that.

In spite of all that, you’d still gained a casual hundred thousand more followers since his appearance - ones who always commented on your solo streams asking where your “hot emo bf” was.

Comments you’d pointedly ignore, because, hell, you wished he was here on-stream helping you get off, too. Yet despite the endless flirting and videos, Choso actually hadn’t made it further than actually holding a full conversation with you. And you wanted more. 

For all you know, you might just be one of his many trysts - and it was just for the videos, right? You get the content, he gets the experience? A win-win situation, so why have you never felt more like such a loser?

Such a loser the way you’ve already lost count of the “lessons” but still haven’t gotten to feel him - to fuck him the way you wanted just yet. 

“S’alright if I take this, right, ma’am?” He smirks during one such session, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. Dangling your drenched panties like a badge of honor, flimsy and soaked with your sweet sweet juices. “S’alright if I-” And he can’t even finish the sentence. Your jaw drops as Choso raises the thin fabric to his face, breathing in your essence like a man possessed. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“You’re so filthy, Cho-” you manage to choke out once you find your voice. Squirming on his bed like such a slut for him. “Was the innocent thing just an act?”

“Nope.” he pops the p, licking lewd little circles on your neck, thumbing open your puffy folds to watch in amazement at the way you glisten and clamp around his fingers. Eyes flickering briefly to the recording phone in his hand. “But we gotta give ‘em a good show, huh?”

Right, you’d forgotten about the camera. But none of that matters anyway because-

Intensity setting 2.

“You’re so mean, too.”

“Am I?” he grins, teeth grazing along your racing pulse. “I think you taught that to me, baby. Shit, lesson 8 it was?”

God, he was addictive.

Choso’s having way too much fun playing around with the intensity setting of the bullet vibrator shoved inside your ravaged cunt. Sending quick, methodical vibrations all along your pulsing clit. In time with the breathless moans leaving your kiss-bitten lips, and it’s all you can to call out for- more? Mercy? Both? 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“God, you’re so perfect. Shit, so messy f’me.” he groans, and you could tell that the video wasn’t going to be uploaded anyway. Too shaky, focusing in and out of Choso’s fingers. Knuckle-deep and pumping in and out of your filthy hole. Relentless. “Almost makes me wanna show off to an actual audience.”

“Maybe I want to, too.” you muse, shifting at his heated gaze. Dangerously pressing your thumb over those nipple piercings you’ve gotten to know so well lately - as if to support your point. God you wish he’d take off that snug shirt.

Intensity setting 3.

“That so?”

And no matter how many times Choso’s ruined you on camera - and watched the videos over and over afterwards - he always thought they weren’t enough to capture your perfection. 

“Such a slut f’me, baby.” To capture the exact moment in which your wet lips fall into a soft little oh! when he massages your walls in time with the pulsing vibrator. To capture that absolutely sinfully excited little glint in your eyes as he ruts his clothed erection against your pussy. “Y’always this dirty?” Quickly turning into a look of slight panic at the sudden jingle of keys from the front door. 

“Yo, brat. Where the fuck are ya?”

Ah, there he was, the reason that Choso usually locked his bedroom door whenever you were over, even if he was home alone. 

Intensity setting 4.

As the silence continues, so does Choso’s abuse on your cunt. In fact, he only gets more erratic - like he wanted you to cum. Needed you to cum right now, right here in front of Sukuna, footsteps only growing louder. Nearer.

“Cho-” you fight to get out the words. “He’s hah-.”

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Can’t speak? That’s cute.” he coos, voice way too relaxed for someone whose mind was reeling with the realization that he couldn’t remember if he locked the door this time, and how adorable you sounded. Enough so that it made some raw, primal part of him wanna pull down his pants and fuck you right here right now. Cockblocks and his own virginity be damned. “C’mon now, use your words like a good girl. Tell the camera.”

Cocky bastard.

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Close!” you yelp, unsure of whether you were talking about yourself or the looming Sukuna. Jaw slack, tears springing into your ears as you look up at Choso. “So close.”

God, you were addictive. And this video was definitely going in both your favorites.

“Mhm,” he hums, movements getting hastier. More desperate. “I know, ma’am.”

Intensity setting 5.

That’s all that it takes for you to cum, letting out a loud strangled moan of Choso’s name. Or, you would’ve - if it hadn’t been for the way he’s shoving two, thick fingers into your mouth.

Silencing you - and in your hazy brain you think that if this was his way of shutting you up, then you really didn’t mind. Because all you could taste was you and the cold, cold metal of his rings. Somewhat intoxicating.

“Shhhhhh.” he’s breathing out, still mindlessly grinding his hips into yours. Though, you realize with a pang that today won’t be the day you get to feel that achingly hard erection straining his pants. “These pretty moans aren’t for him, hm?”

Pressing on the back of your tongue, smirking at the way you nod tearily up at him, moans still muffled. Hell, do you even know how sexy you’re being right now.

“Mhm, all f’me. All for fuckin’ me.”

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

“Why the fuck are you locked up in here on a Saturday night?” Sukuna sounds impatient, but not surprised. Probably imagining all sorts of dorky things his nephew was doing to hole himself up in his room. “Come out n’ get this takeout- what’s left of it anyways.”

And with that, it’s like the magic is over.

Your high only just bating before Choso’s hurriedly ending the recording on a hazy still of your disappointed pout, cursing Sukuna for his impeccable timing. 

Slightly concerned about the door being broken down and someone else seeing you in all your fucked-out glory, he hastily moves to grab the spare cloth by his bedside. Cleaning you up with hushed promises of ��sending the recording later”, and “s’alright, he’ll be gone soon.”

Close. You were so close.

A win-win situation - but you’ve never felt like more of a loser.

---

“By God, I never thought he’d get the balls to do it.”

You yelp in surprise at the deep voice from behind you, whirling with a defiant brandish of Choso’s (your?) keys. He’d given them to you a few lessons ago, saying it would make it easier for you to come and go from his apartment as you pleased. Which - to you - felt dangerously like something a boyfriend would say-

But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was the older man suddenly towering over you right outside Choso’s front door. Big arms crossed over his chest, that leering smirk clashing with his pink hair. “I knew it was odd that brat had a pair of heels by the door.”

Shit. Sukuna.

Ryomen awfully-wingman-his-nephew Sukuna.

“Spill.” At your confused head tilt, he plows on. “Spill the tea. I need new blackmail on my lil’ nephew. How badly did he have to beg you to go out with him?”

You don’t know what was more bizarre - what he was saying or the way he actually pulls out his Notes app as if hanging on to your every word. 

“I-It’s because of you.” you manage to choke out, unsure of what Choso has told his family about you.  Eyes flitting between him and the door right behind you, sounding your very best not to sound just as guilty as you felt. “You’re the reason we have this weird…thing.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two. 

And just as you’re beginning to wonder whether you’ve broken Choso’s infamous uncle, he throws his head back and laughs. Laughs, right in your face, sounding like he’d just heard the funniest punchline in the world. 

“Oh that’s hilarious.” he exclaims, wiping a mock tear. Cackles dying down as if he was suddenly aware that maybe Choso would hear and walk in on this impromptu interrogation. “Damn, that awful pick-up line is why you started fuckin’? I thought it’d get that sap blocked so he’d stop stalking your account so much.”

“No, we…” you hesitate, mind reeling with what Sukuna just admitted, and how bad it would really be that you’re divulging your sex life to a relative of the guy you’re fucking. Before thinking fuck it, might as well confide in someone. “...we’re just doing stuff for-” putting up air quotes. “-content.”

“Just content?”

“Just content.”

“And you like that fool?”

Your face burns at how glaringly obvious it apparently was, “...Yes.”

This seemingly sets Sukuna off on another wave of uncontrollable laughter. “Ohh, thanks for the blackmail on that emotionally-constipated brat.” Typing away on what you assume to be his Notes, he promptly turns to walk away, “See ya around, doll.”

“Wait!” you call after in confusion, making him stop and raise a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to like- I don’t know, give me advice for your nephew or something - like a good uncle?”

Scoffing, “Who said I was a good uncle?” He leans in ever-so-slightly, “Jus’ rock his world on camera or somethin’ n’ ask him out right in the middle.” Satisfied with being enough of a decent samaritan for today, he walks back with a half-wave, “He’d listen to whatever you say anyway.”

Oh. Is that so?

And Sukuna probably meant it as some joke. Something to tease the both of you with - but it’s something that sets the gears going off inside your head. Something that had you ignoring Sukuna’s slightly panicked, “Jus’ not too soon, I needa bully him with this first.”

---

You didn’t listen to Sukuna’s little plea, of course. Because only a few days later you’d steeled yourself to finally send that one text you knew would change your relationship with Choso. For the good, hopefully. 

You: 9pm my place. Get ready, cuz this time we’re gonna be live ;)

Cho <3: :0 

And with that, you’d thrown your phone on the bed, jittery about later tonight. Browsing through your wardrobe for that one set of barely-there lingerie in his favorite shade of pink. Hey, you could never be too prepared, right?

Nothing could’ve prepared Choso for this moment - absolutely nothing at all. 

He might’ve just died and gone to heaven the very moment he read that dangerous text - finally inviting him to join one of your streams. The ones that he’d always watch in the safety of his bedroom, lights dimmed, pants bunched around his ankles. 

Cock just achingly hard in his fist while he wished he was with you behind the camera. Getting you off so much better than any sextoy would. Just forcing those pretty moans from your lips - and everyone else could see that. Wish it was them ruining you instead. 

Alas, it was only a dirty little fantasy. 

Until now, that is.

slvt4u: Holy shit boyfriend reveal, about time.

uniwhore: THIS is the hottie from Twitter????? 

itsgenslut: idfc just fuck

“Nervous?” you smirk, looking down at the man sprawled so prettily on your bed. “You look just as close to an aneurysm as you were the first time. Though-” snaking your hand down, “-this is still the same as ever.”

You chuckle at the way Choso catches your lips with his, more to shut up those pathetic little moans threatening to escape him than anything. Because every glance at you in that sinful little pink bra gave Choso a mini heart attack. 

“B-baby-” he gasps, grinding his clothed erection against your palms. “I wan- hah-”

“Mhm?”

And God how you’ve ruined Choso - run him so utterly dry of his sanity.

Because he’s angling your head down, piercing cold against your tongue. “Spit.”

It was like that first time had gotten him addicted. So you do - right into his waiting mouth. Jaw dropping at the way he tips his head back, back, back to let it slide so obscenely down his throat. Moaning at just a taste of you, “God, I need to f-fucking ruin you.”

And if there’s anything you’ve learned after all these months with Choso, it’s that anything he says - he does.

The words have barely left his mouth before he’s pulling your bra off, ripping your panties easily off your hips. Each and every little regret about what a shame it was thrown out the window at the first sight of your pretty pussy. 

It never gets old - and Choso could never get enough of the sinful sight - your cunt so sloppy and ready for him already. 

“Cho-” you whine as ringed fingertips coming up to circle your sloppy entrance. Cold. Stretching you to insanity. “S-stop teasing.”

“Yes, ma’am. But first-” shifting you around ever-so-slightly on top of him. “Gotta show off how wet y’are f’me.”

uniwhore: did he just call her “ma’am”?? Me when??

roses101: idk who i wanna be they’re both so fucking hot ugh

“Fuck, y’look so sexy from this angle. Wonder if the camera thinks so too?”

Your face slightly burns at how he was seemingly taking over your own stream. Smug bastard, you think, glancing down at Choso, red-faced, hair untied, wearing a sly grin as his eyes slide over the flurry of comments. But two can play that game. 

“Cho~” fumbling with the hem of his underwear, “You’ve been holding out on me.”

A gasp leaves you involuntarily as you tug down Choso’s boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Blushed your favorite shade of pink - to match your bra - so so angry and soaked in precum. 

He was so intimidatingly long - longer than any of those toys you usually brought on camera. Thick enough that it had you wondering, shit, would you even be able to take it?

“S’this a-alright?” and for all his previous confidence, Choso sounded self-conscious. Peeking at you through his long lashes.

You grin, pumping a hand up and down his swollen cock, letting his precum drip down your wrist. “S’perfect.”

“God- fuck, baby. Oh-” Choso lets out breathless little profanities as you straddle his waist, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy as you sink down in by fucking in. Slowly. “Too- much-”

Apparently too slow because no sooner have you just taken in his fat tip, squeezing and clenching around him, that Choso’s flipping the both of you over. 

“M’sorry.” he breathes into your mouth as your back hits the mattress. “M’sorry m’sorry, fuck- just can’t-” fingers immediately drawing frenzied little circles on your pulsing clit to take your mind off the dizzying stretch as he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. “Can’t wait can’t wait- waited too fucking long. Want this so badly-”

You felt too good. Too perfect around him. 

“Ah! Hngh- Cho, oh my god. Too- ngh-” you moan, as he starts grinding in shallow, mindless little movements just to fit himself inside. Pushing and pushing, you wondered if he even realized what he was doing.

Sounding like his sanity was dwindling away with each little thrust, “S’too big? You can take it. Fuck fuck fuck please. Need this.” Pressing all the way into your lungs. “How do you wan’ it- how do you wan’ me?”

Honestly, Choso didn’t even need to ask, because he just bottoms out - heavy balls smacking against your ass, cock swollen and throbbing inside you - that you think that you just wanted him to ruin you. 

“R-ruin?” his voice breaks as he repeats - more to himself than you. Oh, shit had you said that out loud? You’re speechless as Choso throws your legs over his shoulder, dragging his swollen lips lazily across your ankle. “Yes ma’am.”

Oh. You might as well have just signed off your will. 

Because then he’s fucking into your sloppy cunt. Unforgiving. A man starved because he was. Jagged, quick thrusts, splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his rock-hard cock. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” he pants into your open mouth, finding it so fucking difficult to find any rhythm when your tight cunt was milking him so good. “You feel so good. So messy. Ya love it like this, huh? Being hngh- watched?”

“Hngh-” you buck wildly into his body, reaching up to play coyly with his nipple piercings. Tugging and pulling lightly. “Feels too good- are- ah- are ya sure this is your first time?”

Honestly, it was a wonder Choso didn’t cum right then and there. 

Tojisslvt: need someone to fuck me like this the first time

22sabi: Typing with one hand is so hard.

DaStrongest: i could fuck her so much better than than inexperienced loser

Choso throws his head back in a cruel little laugh at that last comment, something that makes you tingle all the way from your burning cheeks to your stuffed cunt. Clamping down deliciously on Choso’s unforgiving cock in a way that makes his hips and fingers stutter. 

“Ya think you could fuck her better?” it takes you a second to realize he was talking to the camera and not you. Thrusts getting sloppier, getting familiar. “I’m the one that got her so messy like this.” Purposeful. Calculated. Like he was aiming for that one-

“Fuck!” you scream as he hits that magic spot. Once. And then over and over like a man possessed. Just so utterly ruining you the way you knew he could. “Cho oh my god- I can’t hah- ngh-”

The cold metal of Choso’s rings dig into your cheek softly as he turns you head to face him. God, this was the stuff of his wildest dreams.

You - teary eyed and looking up at him like such a slut. Pussy getting wetter - tighter - as he teases you in front of the camera. Torn between running away from his relentless cock and bucking up for more more more-

 “Fuck no no no- Keep your legs open, baby. Don’t hah- run away from me.” his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “Don’t- need this. Need this so ba- shit.” 

And he sounded so genuinely worried he’d lose the feeling of your heady cunt. Fingers bruising on your hips as he pulls you closer. Like he was trying to fuck out any and every shred of shyness out of your body. 

slvt4u: Always the quiet ones.

DaStrongest: heh, fuck off. i’d make her cum so much harder.

Now, Choso was fucking you like he had a point to prove, and it was probably the only reason he hadn’t passed out from how good your pussy felt wrapped around him. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point - and he was out of control now.

Pussy drunk thoughts unfiltered, “No one’s ever d-done this- got me hah- feeling like this.” And you had the distinct feeling he just beat you to your original goal, letting out sweet little babbles into your open mouth - though his hips were anything but. 

So hard that you were sure the creases of your sheets would leave marks for tomorrow - along with his balls on your ass, your ankles on his shoulders, lips searing against yours. It was like he wanted to prove something - to prove he was good enough to- the viewers? To you? 

Knowing your body well enough to hit that one spot over and over until you were sobbing. Fingers erratic on your clit. 

“Cho-” you squeal, tears springing to your eyes as he only gets sloppier. “I-I’m gonna-”

“Cum?” he breathes, as if he couldn’t believe it. And fuck if you weren’t the gates of heaven spread wide open for him then he didn’t know what was. “Fucking cum. Please please- hah- f’me. Cum on m’cock n’ make them jealous. F’me- Like you’re mine.”

You barely even realize when you are. Jaw slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you see stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. God, he was gonna have to go home and rewatch this stream all over again. 

“Ngh- m’cumming m’cumming oh-”

Not even realizing the way you’re dragging your nails down Choso’s sculpted back. Marking up his milky skin - and he lets you. 

Loved it in fact- the way he loved you. 

Your eyes go wide, and Choso knows he’s fucked up. Realizing with a jolt that words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. But it’s the way you squeeze him tighter- giving him such a gorgeous little fucked-out smile that sends him over the edge.

Sharp canines digging into the crook of your neck like he wanted to break skin, holding himself back from breaking you while he cums and cums so hard it hurt. Over and over-

“Love you- love you love you love you-” he’s muttering into the skin, unbarred. “Since I first saw hah- you. Wanted this more than fuck fuck- air that I breathe.”

His seed was oozing out of you now, painting your ravaged pussy white, dribbling down your legs.  So fucking full and debauched. Thick, hot globs that were sure to stain those overpriced new sheets. But did Choso care for the mess? Not at all. 

Because you were holding him so impossibly tight, pushing away the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Whispering little praises as he fucks you through his first time. Close. Warm. Everything he ever dreamed of.

“S’everything I ever dreamed of, too, Cho.”

And he knows he’s won. 

urfavslvt: Proudest nut. Want more.

uniwhore: does this mean couples content??? Pls say yes plsplspls

DaStrongest: invite me next time <3

“Thought you were embarrassed.” he licks soothingly over the bite. Voice shot, piercing smooth against his tongue. Embarrassing little confessions leaving him with each spark of electricity running through his veins. “Thought you didn’t stream w’me cuz of that- but shit. Dreamed of this f’so long. So long-”

Oh?

“Hey, Cho.” your voice rings through his hazy mind. Just enough for Choso to raise his head and meet your intoxicating, sultry gaze. Giving a sly, sidelong glance at the still-blinking camera. 

“Mhm?”

“Wanna film a week’s worth of ‘movies’ in advance?”

---

Sukuna (do not answer): Oi shitty nephew, where r u Jin made me come over with (half) leftovers.

You: Sorry, not home. At the movies rn.

Sukuna (do not answer): When tf do u go to movies?? 

You: Since now, on a date. You probably can’t relate.

Sukuna (do not answer): Stfu n’ stop lying, a date with who? Ur body pillow?? Not like u had the balls to ask out that pretty lil’ camgirl anyway.

Haha

Right? 

You: *girlfriend

Sukuna (do not answer): Huh?

You: Girlfriend.

Sukuna (do not answer): THE FUCKIN’ PICK-UP LINE WORKED??

A/N. This came out a LOT longer than expected. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yandere Boarding school thoughts... (Gender Neutral)

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Multiple yanderes, non-con touching, dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, bullying, masturbation, aphrodisiacs, general perversion, dry-humping, voyeurism, controlling behaviors, typical yandere stuff, breeding, drug usage, horny posting.

(AN: I have rizz-en from my grave to be horny once more. All of these guys are avaliable for requests, but will be listed under the materlist simply as Yan!Boarding School.)

Background: Thinking about a Headmasters child!Reader at a private boarding school. For a Fem!Reader, perhaps you're just visiting daddy for the season while he's running the school, or maybe you've been bad, and need more supervision. For a Masc!Reader, it could be the same case, however, with Blackmoore Academy being an all male school, this opens up the availability for reader to be attending.

Student scenarios and profiles:

◇ Harrison Spence, star member of the swim steam, basketball player, and golden boy. Despite jock stereotypes, he's respectful and mature. He always looks out for others, and this lends to why your father suggests rooming with him. Plus... if anything were to happen, your father wouldn't hate to have him as a son in law. He's SOOO friendly when he meets you. Those big strong arms are perfectly suited to lug your bags upstairs to his room. Want help putting stuff away, sure! For a Fem!Reader, he's not suprised how awkward he is when he's unzipping your suitcase, only to be met with some thin lacy garments. He just coughs and backs off. For a Masc!Reader, he wears boxers too! So why does he still feel so hot. He should open a window.

He'll make sure you fit in around campus, mostly steering you in the direction of the athletics department. He'd love to see you at some of his games, cheering him on. You seem so nice, he could really seem himself with you long term, the more he thinks about crushing on you. Besides, you already share a living space. He feels awful about how his body reacts anytime you're too close. You left a jacket behind that smells just like you? He tries not to think about the consequences of fisting his cock into it. Late night out at one of his games? Who cares if you share a dorm and your bed is literally six feet away, it's too far of a walk. Slide into his bed, he's a gentleman. At least until he wakes up the next morning, mind foggy as he instinctively moves his cock up over the waist band, putting a leaky tip against your ass as he resists the urge to press his head into your neck, opting for a pillow instead. He's so, so sorry, but he's gott a deal with it, and you just feel so good. He rationalizes it by saying he's not just some horned up guy, no. You're his roommate, HIS. And what would the Headmasters think! No, he wants a future with you, romance, not just a warm hole to rut...

"Hey, roomie! Listen, practice is running kinda late tonight, so I'm gonna grab food on the way back. Why don't you text me your order, I can bring it back. We can make a whole thing out of it, no need to pay me back! I'm thinking burgers?"

◇ Carter Matthews, student body president, scholar, and in every AP class possible. Even some dumb ones. He doesn't pay much mind to you, you ate very attractive but so is he. If he felt the need for a relationship, he could get whomever he wanted. But he hates... hates how you make the other students, even some of the faculty act. He can't help but follow you around, making sure you obey curfew, and don't get into any trouble. He likes to keep order around here, and it bothers him to have to ignore his student body presidential duties to make sure some delinquent isn't trying to slip you a spiked drink, or some jock has you under the bleachers trying to get your mouth wrapped around their tips.

Eventually, he decides you could be helpful instead of a hinderance. He's busy, may need a form of stress relief, and given babysitting you when Harrison isn't around is one of the main sources of that stress, why shouldn't you help him out. Besides, you look so cute flustered. Maybe it starts small, he tells you your uniform bottoms aren't regulation, and while he tugs them down to 'fix' them, his hands wander a bit too much, grazing the soft skin of your ass. During random room inspections, he may let his hatred of the sports program taking up all the funding by mentioning how obvious it is your roommate wants to stick it in you. Harrison can't stand him, not trusting the cold creepy gaze of the prefect. He'll force you to come to student council meetings, under the guise of assisting him with preparing for a faculty dinner to appease your father, only to get you under his desk while he writes, trying to guide you with one stern hand. He doesn't like to go too deep, not one to enjoy gagging or unnecessary sound that would distract him from working.

"Keep it down." He scolds, cold eyes peering down through blonde bangs. With a sigh, his free hand strokes your cheek. "Just suckle, alright? There'll be plenty of time after I'm done for you to make sweet noises around my cock..."

◇ Evan Reed, CAPTAIN of the swim team, and student assistant PE coach. He's used to play basketball alongside Harrison, but got kicked out for being too violent. Shoving, pushing, and going as far as knocking teeth out. He's a fucking animal. He's handsome, of not a bit of a loner. He isn't popular or unpopular, people tend to leave him alone because of that bad boy attitude and his temper, but he's always welcome to party with the jocks, welcomed into parties and known as a keg-stand king. And boy do you catch his eyes, giving that your always hanging off Harrison, or being trailed by Carter. He's more than happy to accompany you to the pool or help you out in gym class, but it's obvious what he wants. He'll get up behind you in the pool, still smelling of cigarettes as he asks mundane questions while trying to pull your swimsuit to the side and get his hands on that sweet spot between your thighs. Or maybe he'll sit on the edge of the pool, congratulate you on how good your doing, legs spread as he pulls you between them, hoping you'll end up accidentally eyeing his cock. If you are a Masc!Reader, then there's definitely some internalized homophbia. He'll make sure you know these are just normal friend activities, even when he's got you bent over in the boys locker room, ass up. He doesn't EVER plan to be the one on the bottom.

He's a player, chasing tail outside of the school, hitting on peers sisters and mom's alike. But now, he plans to keep you around, not because he necessarily feels like he wants a romantic relationship with you, but because he loooooves how pissed it makes Harrison. He never liked the goody two-shoes, and half suspects he's one of the people who pushed to get him kicked out of basketball. He likes to pick on people, but Harrison sees himself as a knight in shining armor. So it gives Evan a major power boner to make you grind up against him on the dancefloor at some preppy party, while Harrison just has to stand by and not crush his beer can. Evan knows harrison will never, ever do anything to ruin your good guy image of him. Ever.

He's pissed, punching a locker as he let's out a growl. 4-0, what the fuck is wrong with his team? How could they get fucked over so bad after weeks of missing parties for shitty practices. Luckily for him, he sees you on the sidelines, probably waiting for Harrison to walk you back to your dorm. He takes this opportunity to slide up behind you, hands on your hips as you can feel his angry erection rutting up against your ass. "You. Me. Locker room, five minutes, stall three. Be ready, underwear off and bent over or I'll take you in front of the guys who are still changing? Got it?" He departs with a harsh smack on your rear.

◇ Joseph Mick, he's in the newspaper, but it's not like he's the head or anything. He just love photography, and he's the only guy at school to have really mastered the dark room. He's known to be a little... odd. He's the youngest in you and Harrisons class, with a petite stature and thin, lanky arms. He's pale, almost gaunt, but that could be a lack of sunlight given that he spends all his time in the dark room or toiling over photo arrangement mock-ups in the journalism room. People avoid him, but he's okay with that. He's more than happy to just watch from a distance, and photography is his real branch to the world. People only talk to him or react positively if he's taking photos for the paper or the school newsletter. He actually meets you at one of Evan's swim meets, he gets good seats for being student press, and you get good seats for just being Evan's new favorite piece of ass. Your aren't even sure why you were invited, you don't even know anything about how one wins a swimming competition. But Joseph does. He's been to enough of these, and you notice, so you lean over and start asking him questions. He's shocked someone is talking to him, and not about getting a bigger feature in the yearbook. He's more than happy to help point stuff out to you, even if he had to repeat himself or stutter his way through something. He's feeling his heart flutter and his hands shake so much so he can barely hold the camera. Soon, he's watching as you walk away, wishing he could grab onto you and hang you up on his wall to admire like one of his pictures. It's only made worse when he sees a pair of masculine arms dragging you into the boys locker room.

He's a stalker, but it's not his fault! For one, he's got no idea how to approach anyone, much less someone he likes as much as you. And since he's got that reputation as a creep, if he approached you in public, Harrison would be polite but firm at shooing him away, Carter would give him a look that makes him feel like a worm beneath his well polished shoes, and Evan would beat him to the brink of death, but then pass him over to his friends. But God, if he didn't think it was worth it sometimes to just be close to you. He can only get as close to you as his high-focus lens will allow. He's got hundreds of photos of you, some taken by him, some by campus security cams, and he treats each one like the piece that's gonna get him into a top art school. He almost feels bad taking risqué shots of you. He's always following you, and he sees the ways those... those pigs are treating you. If he could stand up to them, he would. He sees (from the cameras he's slipped into your bag) the boner Harrison is always sporting when he in your presence, he even caught a glance of Harrisons late night rendezvous with your pillow. He sees the way Carter leads you through the hallways like his little secretary, lithe fingers trying to get up your uniform bottoms. Worst of all is the way he sees Evan humping you in the pool like a dog in heat, with you obviously unsure about how you feel about this. He knows he'd treat you right, if you'd ever consider being with something like him. Notice he almost feels too bad to take risqué pictures. He can't help it if a picture or two from one of his hidden cams has a bit of an upskirt, or gets a little to zoomed in on your pecs. But know that as he drums humps the table in the dark room, those copies are only so he can keep one in his room and one on his person! He'd never, ever share your sexual exploits, not like Evan would, always bragging about what he does with, or more likely to you.

Being on the newspaper staff, he's got a pretty good idea of everyone's schedules. He's more than happy to try and squeak out some words to you if he knows your many admirers are preoccupied. Trust him, he knows A LOT of good spots to share a meal privately or maybe... maybe you'd like to see the dark room? He's even got a pillow in there, a cushion he can place on a soft stool in case you ever came to visit. He hopes he could get a private photoshoot in, maybe with some silly pictures of you, or even some lewd pics, he's just happy to see his collection expand. He doesn't have a lot of money, but he's more than happy to buy you as much cheap vending machine food as you want as long as you'll spend time with him.

"Oh, shi- hey! I didn't realize you'd be stopping by here. I'm just, uh, editing some photos for the paper." You don't notice as he slyly moves a tray of pics taken outside a dorm window that looks suspiciously like yours. He thanks whoever is out there in this moment that the dark room has a sink as he keeps his right hand out of sight.

◇ Tyler Mertz and Percy 'Pez' Goldberg, two outsiders, and self proclaimed 'dudes with bad tudes'. Put into the same headcanon spot because they aren't ever seen apart. Tyler and Pez got in on scholarship, and immediately bonded because they know they don't fit in among the rich kids at Ridgemoore. Tyler got in on a scholarship to pursue culinary excellence, because if he can do one thing, it's cook. Pez was awarded a scholarship by lottery two years ago, and even though he's barely passing most of his classes and is the biggest delinquent in school, he can't be kicked out. The school made too much of a big deal about his acceptance to create some good press, the faculty are planning to just wait the problem out. Repeating a year hasn't helped with that, though. Still, they are attached at the hip. Both struggle in classes, Pez because of a shitty social life and even shittier focus, and Tyler because he's just a little slow. Still, Tyler excels in cooking, and the faculty know he's trying. There's a few ways you might come across the pair. Maybe you decided to take culinary, and got paired up with a sweet, dopey guy who turns out to be a fucking MasterChef, or maybe your a brat!reader, like I mentioned earlier, and you meet Pez in detention, where he's glad to know the schools newest troublemaker is a looker too. Most likely, you come across them when either Evan makes you tag along to buy some weed and half-priced shitty beer for a post-game party, or Carter tells you he'll personally see to it that your father tethers you to him if he sees you talking to those 'deliquents'. Either way, they're probably some of the nicest guys in the school, even though Pez likes to fight. He's not a bad guy, but the school can't seem to recognize half of the shit he does is in retaliation to someone fucking with him or his friend.

Pez will like any kind of reader, any. If you're bratty!reader, he loves having someone to run around and bust shit up with. But he'll promise to leave the statue of your father alone, if that's what you want. If you're an innocent!reader, he can't deny he'd love to ruin that good guy/girl image you have going on. Smoke a little weed, sneak out a little, let him show you a good time. He promises he won't cross any lines or do something that would really scare or upset you. He's not a bad guy, he just wants to show you there's so much stuff out there to do. Unlike Joseph, he doesn't let the fact that others think he's a freak keep him from hanging with you. He wants them to see that you like him. HIM. He thinks your adorable no matter who you are, and frankly, snuggling up on the Headmasters kid is just another act of defiance he's happy to flaunt. Eventually, he might even open up to you about his shitty home life, and the fact he's only called Pez cause' when he's high that candy is all he wants to eat.

Tyler is a huge softie. He doesn't let the thing people say about him get to him, mostly because he's a bit dense in the moment to know he's being made fun of, but also because he's okay with being alone. He's happy with who he is, a nice guy. But, that doesn't mean he doesn't love his best buddy, or mind adding you to there little group. It's just one more mouth to feed in his eyes. He'll walk you to all your classes, slinging his big arms around you and keeping you close to his side. Unlike Pez, he grew up with a pretty loving family, and they're what he misses most about being away at boarding school. Most of the money he makes selling weed with Pez goes back to his family, but they don't really know how he makes it. He comes to see you and Pez as his new little family.

With these two, there will be lots of late nights with bad movies and pizza made from scratch. Being on some rundown couch squished between to large bodies, at least one set of arms wrapped around your waist. I think they both are pretty open about telling each other about the crush they have on you, given that they are best buds. These idiots probably got super high one night, and Tyler let slip that he, quote, 'thinks he wants to put a baby in you', to which Pez replies he'd like to put something along those lines in you too. It wouldn't be hard for them to both come to terms with wanting to share you, they share everything else. They just hope you'd want both of them, Pez and Tyler can't stand the thought of making things awkward by you only wanting one of them, so they both subtly try to transition you into the roll of being their partner.

Pez would be fucking fuming when he starts realizing the things boys at school are doing to you. Whether he witnesses it himself, or you come to him and Tyler seeking comfort, he'll pound the shit out of anyone who tries to touch you like that. If you like someone else, Pez wouldn't wail on them to eliminate a rival like Evan would, but rather he hands it over to Tyler. Tyler would come up with some rumors, maybe a reason the guy isn't right for you, and why would Tyler lie? He doesn't feel great about lying, but thinking about the things guys at this school do to you, fills the sweet chefs stomach with a bitter bile.

They wouldn't outright pressure you into sex, but rather try and find ways to coerce you into requesting or initiating it. Pez has some weed laced with something, nothing too strong, but it'll make even a nun feel a little frisky. He'll lay back or rub your thigh, hoping the weed will relax you enough to come out and say what you want. Maybe an aphrodisiac or two gets slipped into a warm drink Tyler made for you. It gets you feeling all hot, but don't worry, you can stay in their room overnight and wear their clothes, so they can... make sure you're not sick or anything.

"Hey," you can feel a pair of arms wrap around you from your spot at the library table. You look up and see Pez, with Tyler now playfully laying his head on the table beside you. "Heard that shithead Evan's got an away game, so it looks like your freed up after all to spend a little time with your favorite guys." His lips are dangerously close to your ear, making you squirm. "Yeah, man, we've got a bunch of movies n' shit from the store, and I'll even make your favorite. Stay the night, it's not like we've got anywhere to be tommorow, and my beds so cold..." Tyler teases playfully, eyes wide and feigning sadness.

All these boys make it difficult to get any alone time at Ridgemoor, but the men certainly don't make it easier... (Taboo part two with the faculty coming soon, because I'm horny for Dilfs and old men with questionable dynamics with reader.)

[rafesangelita]

♡ it’s that time of year again, and kook!sweetheart!reader is here and ready to kiss for charity in her annual kissing booth! however, rafe is first in line.. and a peck on the cheek is not the only thing he’s interested in

warnings: s1!rafe, flirty banter, dirty talk, heavy petting, fingering, overstimulation, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), hair pulling, multiple orgasms

a/n: now presenting… ‘KISSING BOOTH’ 🤍 i was so obsessed with this idea, i had came up with it last year but decided i should wait for valentine’s day to write it, so to say it’s been a long time coming is an understatement! i’m so excited for this valentine’s day celebration, i hope you all will love it <3

link: VALENTINE’S DAY CELEBRATION ໒꒰ྀི｡- ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

wc: 1.5k

“wow, it looks like cupid threw up in here.” you smiled at the familiar voice, your best friend rolling her eyes when she saw the way your cheeks heated at rafe’s teasing words. while she thought rafe was annoying and insufferable, you absolutely adored him, always laughing at his lame jokes and letting him hold you close at parties as if to let everyone know that you were off limits. “you don’t like the way i decorated the booth?” you pouted up at him as he leaned over the front counter, a smug grin gracing his features. “yeah, it’s cute..” he trailed off, “but are you really gonna kiss some random assholes for a fuckin’ dollar?”

you sighed, pointing towards the tip jar. “it’s for charity, rafe.. and i’m not really ‘kissing’ anyone, i’m barely grazing their cheek!” rafe scoffed before studying you for a moment. you were such a pretty thing, the idea of some losers waiting in line to get something as little as a peck from you made his blood boil. “how much money do you have to make today?” he was fishing in his pocket for his wallet before you even answered. “i would like to make at least three hundred dollars.” you watched him curiously as he managed to get some crisp bills out of the expensive leather.

“i’ll do you one better, and give you five hundred dollars to ditch this joint right now.” you blinked, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “are you serious?” he dropped the money in the jar that you decorated with pink heart-shaped stickers and red rhinestones. “yeah, but i don’t just want a kiss..” he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “i’d rather see those pretty, sparkly lips wrapped around my cock instead, yeah?” you felt butterflies flutter in your tummy, your needy gaze meeting his own. “come on, baby.” he took your hand in his, his thumb rubbing into your skin.

swallowing thickly, you glanced over at your bestie. “i can’t leave her to do this all by herself..” just as you were going to apologize and tell him maybe another time, she took the money out of the jar and placed it into an envelope. “i’m gonna go turn this money in to the charity organizers and close up shop, ‘looks like the boys of kildare will have to be kissed by someone else today.” you giggled, motioning for rafe to come inside once your friend left. he wasted no time, locking the wooden door shut as you closed the window, moving the silky red curtain over the glass.

rafe’s hands were palming the soft flesh of your ass in an instant, his large hands shamelessly flipping up your skirt to get a better grip on your skin. despite the small amount of pain he drew from squeezing you so hard, you still moaned blissfully when he took you in a sloppy kiss, his tongue wetting your bottom lip in the process. “you’re so sweet, y’know that? letting me have my way with you like this.” without warning, rafe took ahold of your thighs before hiking you up onto the counter. “i’ve been wanting to know how you taste for so long..” he groaned, both of you moaning as he rubbed you through your panties.

moving your hands to run down his chest, you and rafe shared a look before he slowly peeled back the pink lace. “all i gotta do is chat you up, and you’re already soaked like this?” he laughed incredulously, “fuck, you’re just dying for it.” you couldn’t help but whimper when he gathered the pool of slick between your folds, circling your clit slow and hard before popping his digits into his mouth. “rafe!” you’re shocked but so turned on at the same time, the look of pure disbelief on your face making him smile in amusement. “as much as i’d love to eat this sweet pussy, i need to feel you wrapped around me even more.”

fingertips hooking in the waistband of your panties, rafe slid the material down your legs before placing them in his pocket. “i’m keeping these for later, ‘that alright?” you nodded frantically, spreading your thighs open for him before he stroked your glossy slit. “m’gonna stretch you out just right..” you gasped, your eyebrows knitting together as he slowly inserted his middle finger. “shit, you’re so tight.” he smiled down at you, watching as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “if you think this is a stretch, just wait til’ i have my cock inside of you.”

rafe was knuckle deep at this point, your pretty moans giving him all the encouragement he needed to insert another finger. “oh, god!” your heel clad feet began shaking when his palm met your swollen clit, the pressure making you keen. rafe fisted your ponytail, pulling your head down so you could watch him curl his digits in order to hit that soft, gummy spot inside of you. your top was out of place, your tits threatening to spill out of your bra as rafe used his free hand to keep your chin pointed down. the closer you got to your orgasm, the more you tried to pull away from him, the intensity of your climax already coiling tight in your tummy.

rafe let go of your hair and pinned you down by your hip as he pushed you over the edge, the band in your stomach finally snapping as you came undone. you cried out, your nails raking down his forearm as he hissed at the stinging sensation. “you’re doing so fucking good, holy shit!” he cursed, the sound of your slick juices making your cheeks heat. you shook and writhed beneath him, your heart beating in your ears as you felt the pure unadulterated pleasure wrack through your system. surely, it couldn’t get better than this.. right?

wrong.

rafe wasn’t lying when he said the stretch from his fingers was nothing compared to the stretch of his cock, the tip of his length now kissing your poor cervix with each thrust. “t-too much! rafe, slow down!” he ignored your pleas, instead taking your arms and pinning them to your back so you couldn’t push against his abs anymore. you swore if it wasn’t for him holding your leg up, you would’ve fallen to the ground already. “ah, nah you got it, pretty girl.” he leaned down, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “this is all you, sweetheart, you’re sucking me in like a fucking vice.” he panted.

rafe was close, but he meant what he said earlier— he needed to see you on your knees for him, he needed to see those swollen lips wrapped around his cock just like how he’s imagined for so long. just when rafe felt like he was going to fill up your cunt, he pulled out, quickly pushing you to the floor so he could use your throat instead. you’ve given him complete control, and the power to throw you around as he got you on your knees, kicking your thighs apart so he could see the mess you made between your legs. rafe nearly came when he saw you open your mouth so willingly for him, almost like it was your instinct to take him whole.

taking the hem of his shirt between his teeth, rafe kept the cotton material out of the way as he slid between your lips with ease. you were so warm and so wet, and just so, so, so pretty with your mouth full, he took a breath before tugging at the roots of your hair. “make me fuckin’ cum,” your eyes widened slightly when he whimpered, the sound making you take him even further until your nose was nudging at his base, “oh, what the fuck, what the fuck—” he was done for as soon as you swallowed around him, your eyes watering with tears as you felt the warm ropes of his seed paint your throat.

rafe kept your head in place, his jaw slack as he emptied himself inside of you. it wasn’t until you tapped on his leg that he pulled you off, a strangled gasp leaving your lips as you finally sucked in a breath. he felt dazed, just the same way you did. “damn, sweetheart, should i bribe you more often?” you laughed, accepting the hand he held out for you. standing up on shaky legs, rafe got his shorts on, helping you readjust your clothing shortly after. “you don’t have to bribe me..” despite just doing the most filthiest things you’ve ever done, you still couldn’t help but feel shy underneath the intensity of his stare.

rafe kissed you, taking your hand in his before placing another kiss to your knuckles. “come on,” he poked his head out of the booth to make sure no one was around, “let’s get you back to my place, i need to get my head between those thighs like asap.”

[misserabella]

bloody and needy

just thinking about spencer being the kind of MAN that doesn’t care about blood. you want period sex? you’ve got it. that’s it. that’s the prompt.

cw: +18, minors dni!, period sex, blood duh, spencer being a service king, praising, lots of pet names and dirty talk, breeding kink, overstimulation, creampie, allusion to a second round…

it’s all a blur. you don’t exactly remember how or when spencer took off your clothes, but you’re laying completely naked over a couple of towels on your shared bed as his large fingers pump into your squeezing cunt.

“fuck.” and you’re moaning, cause it feels so fucking good you want to cry. it’s been over a week since you two have had sex, since he’d been away for a case, and just when he was finally coming back home and you hoped you’d finally get some release, that time of the month tagged along. so there you were, horny, desperate, and bleeding. but your boyfriend doesn’t care about blood. ‘it’s natural.’ he’s told you before. ‘tell me what you need and i’ll give it to you.’

so here you were now, legs spread as he adds another finger, your own in his hair tugging at the feeling of him stretching you so nicely… spencer kissed and sucked at your neck, his cock throbbing at the sweet sounds you’re making and the squelches that come from your cunt as he pumps in and out.

“spencer…”

“god baby, you’re so pretty like this…” he muttered, needy to be inside but waiting for you to give him the go ahead. his hand is a mess of crimson but he pays no mind to it.

“need you.” you breathe out, your back arching as his lips latched to your nipples.

“yeah? you need me?” he lapped at one of them and you nodded, whimpering. “should i take my fingers out then?” you nodded once again, but still whined at the loss of pleasure. “i know, i know baby. so needy for me.” he was quick to make work of his clothes, throwing them aside with your own and positioning himself in between your legs.

your hips and legs trembled when the tip of his cock teased you, and his tongue wetted his lips at the sight of the face you made when it bumped against your clit. “so sensitive huh?” he smiled and you nodded, eyes hazy.

“feels so good…”

“im gonna make you feel better, angel.” he said as he pushed inside with one single thrust, what made you scream. “fuck. you’re so warm…” he gritted his teeth as he started to move, leaving kisses on your neck. “so wet for me. you feel like heaven, love. so good for me.” he praised as he fucked into you, your legs surrounding his hips and your nails digging on his back. “you needed this, hm? baby? you needed me to fuck you, huh? my poor pretty girl. i’ve always told you that you just need to ask and i’ll give you anything.” your cheeks blushed, and you whined. “see what being a good girl and speaking up gets you, baby?” he pecked your lips and you moaned at a partially harsher thrust. “like that?”

“harder.” you desperately asked and he complied, fucking into you at the same speed yet harsher. you couldn’t stop the moans and whimpers falling from your lips. “spence…”

“i know angel, you’re so sensitive, doing so good for me…” one of his hands found your clit, circling it. “you can cum, pretty girl.” you moaned, your back arching. it was almost too much, until the overstimulation faded and you were grinding against his touch and cock in a daze. “jesus. if you could see yourself right now baby, so fucking hot… gonna make me cum so hard…” you whimpered at the thought. “yeah? you want me to cum for you baby?” you nodded. “where?”

“inside. cum inside please.” you babbled, your whole body tensing at the approaching of your orgasm. spencer groaned.

“you want me to fill this pretty pussy? make a mess out of it?” you cried and hiccuped in answer, muttering a ‘yes’ that almost made him bust in the spot. “want me to get you round and pretty for me?”

“yes! please, spencer, please…!” you begged and he moaned.

“i’m gonna cum baby, gonna fill you up so much it’ll be dripping out of you for a week.” that made you unravel, the tight band in you stomach snapping as you screamed in release, moaning his name over and over. “fuck, angel, fuck.” he groaned as he felt you clench, and after three stuttering thrusts, he spilled everything inside of you, kissing you sloppily as he fucked the two of you through it.

after the two of you came down, he caressed your cheek. “you okay, baby?”

“more than okay.” you smiled, and he couldn’t help but do the same.

“i’m gonna go find something to clean us up, okay?”

yoy looked down to find his thighs and v line along with his lower stomach stained in your blood. it only made you throb and him hiss.

“or maybe not.” he replied as he felt you starting to rock your hips against his already hardening cock.

“maybe not.”

-

❤️🩸i’m on my period, SO WHAT

[marauder-misprint]

Mystery Girl

Sirius Black x fem!Gryffindor!reader

5.7k words

cw: pining, bad flirting advice, fluff

You allow yourself to gaze in his direction for longer than usual. Your head is propped up on your hand, elbow resting on your desk, as you tap the tip of your quill to your lip in faux-thought. Professor Flitwick had announced the rest of class was to be used to work on the essay he assigned last class. Yours is about half done. You really should be thinking about what to write next, or looking up more information in your textbook. But, alas, you stare at Sirius with no real thoughts in your head. If anyone asked though, you would say it was just his general direction. 

Sirius isn’t even pretending to work. He’s having a full fledged whispered conversation with James, occasionally leaning forward to include Peter and Remus, the latter of which is attempting to finish his essay. You’re a bit surprised that Remus hasn’t finished it already, but with friends like Sirius, James and Peter, getting work done can be a challenge. 

Every once in a while, Sirius looks in your direction and flashes you his impish grin. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. You’re close friends; you’re one of the few that knows he’s an animagus. A few too many drinks one night got you that information. He recapped the whole process for you that night, which left you wondering how he managed to go through it all without mentioning it to you. The more you thought about it afterwards, the more you realized that his letters that summer were particularly odd. 

You became friends with Sirius during second year when you shared a detention with McGonagall. She had you scraping gum off the bottom of desks while Sirius was sweeping ash off the floor and then mopping and polishing. It was a long and grueling evening for two 12-year-olds. Through complaining and cracking jokes, you managed to survive and a friendship was fostered. It certainly helped that you continued to get assigned detention together over the years. 

Somewhere between here and there, you realized that you wanted more than friendship from Sirius, but with him being who he is, you had no way of knowing if your feelings were reciprocated. You buried them as deep as you could. You didn’t want any of your friends, especially the mutual ones with Sirius, to know that you had a crush on him. You’d rather live in the pain of watching him flirt with girl after girl that wasn’t you but have him as a dear friend than live in that same world except have him reject you and never speak to you again. 

His wild grin brings you out of your thoughts. He raises his eyebrows as you shiver violently. You look down at your essay, not giving Sirius any attention. You figure he’ll assume you were zoned out, which you were to a point. You don’t let your graze fall back on him for the rest of class, allowing you to miss how he looked back at you several times. 

Sirius catches up with you when Flitwick dismisses everyone. Not having worked on his essay, putting his stuff away had only taken him a moment while you carefully place your things into your bag. 

“Must’ve had some train of thought going,” he muses, leaning on your desk slightly.

 “What do you mean?” you ask, not looking up.

“Could’ve sworn you were staring right at me. I acknowledge you and nothing!”

You hum. “Then, yeah, I suppose. I was trying to make some progress.”

“And did you?” he asks as you leave the classroom and walk together to your next class.

“Not much,” you sigh. “Added a paragraph but it’s still too short. Can’t even bewitch my handwriting to be larger to make it close enough.” 

“We can work on it later. I have…” His voice trails off as he looks at the parchment hastily shoved into his Charms’ book. “Half of an introduction.”

You laugh as you gently bump into Sirius. You are mildly surprised that he even had that much done, but once he sits down and actually works on it, Sirius will finish his much faster than you ever could. At least he was offering to work on it with you. That meant you could ask him to look over yours when you finally finished. 

---

The common room empties out slowly as students head to bed. You’ve been sitting on the couch since dinner with your History of Magic textbook laying in your lap, open yet unread. Your eyes are unfocused, staring at the dancing flames in the hearth. Every once in a while you pick up sentences from your friends sitting around you. It’s nothing too exciting. The boys are discussing the intricate details for their next pranks on the Slytherins; the girls making plans for the next Hogsmeade weekend. And you were supposed to be catching up on the assigned reading.

It isn’t until Sirius falls dramatically into your lap that you tear your eyes away from the fire to see that everyone else has gone to bed. His dark hair splays across your book as he looks up at you with his stormy grey eyes.

“Did you finish the chapter?” he asks with a lazy smile. “Or were you seeking divine intervention from the fire?” 

“Divine intervention,” you reply, lifting his head ever so gently so you could remove your book, close it and set it aside. “The creation of the Being Division in the 1800s by some bloke Stumpy? End me now.” 

Sirius chuckles. 

“I’m glad Binns didn’t assign an essay on it. Imagine!” he says, making you smile. “There’s that smile. It’s not like it’ll be on an exam or anything.”

“Sirius, you know it will.” 

“And you can look at my paper. Or James’. Remus. Peter, wait… maybe not Peter. But Lily and Marlene would be okay.”

“And that’s cheating. It’s one thing on essays, but exams are another.” 

“Fine, study. Put in more effort than you need to.”

You ruffle his hair in response, earning you a noise of complaint from Sirius. You are allowed to play with his hair when it involves running your fingers through it or braiding it. Ruffling it and making it messy? Treason.

“Can I… talk to you about something?” Sirius asks as he adjusts in your lap. 

“I don’t know… Talking? Us? I don’t think we’ve ever done that before!” you tease sarcastically. 

“No, really, love. I need your opinion on something.” 

There is something more earnest in his voice that tells you it’s serious. You know he debated saying that it is but knew you would laugh and say that everything is Sirius with him. It was a dumb joke that you couldn’t get enough of. 

You nod somberly.

“Yeah, Sirius. We can talk about anything.” 

“So… there’s this girl.”

That one sentence is a punch to your gut. He wants to talk to you about a girl? While past girlfriends have come up in conversations before, it was always a fleeting topic, or they were key players in a story, like dates gone wrong. You thought it was understood that your friendship with Sirius avoided each other’s love lives - not that you ever had a boy to talk about with him.

“O-okay,” you manage to say. 

“I really like her. I just… I can’t tell if she likes me and the boys are no help.”

“So you’ve come to me because I’m oh-so-experienced in love?” 

“I came to you because you’re a girl. How do girls show that they’re interested when they aren’t obviously flirting?” 

You poke his cheek as you say, “Used to the obvious flirting, aren’t you?” 

He grins up at you. “Obviously.”

“Well, from what I know, they lean in when you talk, laughing at any and every stupid joke you make. When they touch you, they let their hand linger, especially if it’s on your hand or arm.” You demonstrate your point by touching his bicep and giving it a gentle squeeze. “A little more brazen, they’ll compliment you subtly. You should be able to see it in their smile. Maybe they’ll flutter their eyelashes at you if they are bold. Or desperate. They’ll also jump to your side if you’re alone.” You sigh. “Again, you know I’m too experienced with this flirting thing so…”

“Yeah, but you must’ve flirted with guys before. You’re no hermit.”

You exhale out of your nose. “I don’t flirt much.”

“Much! So you do! Your expertise shan’t be taken for granted!” 

Your expertise. Sirius really has you on a pedestal. You sit with him for a while longer, running your fingers through his hair to make up for your earlier ruffling. He closes his eyes as he enjoys the feeling. 

Over the next few days, you make a point to not do any of the things you listed off as flirting. You only lean forward when he talks at meals so you can have the excuse of needing to be able to hear him better. You rarely find yourself in a position to have your hand on his so that wasn’t an issue. You aren’t one to bat your eyelashes or stroke his ego. Your two vices are laughing and being at his side, but he’s your best friend. Could you really be expected to not spend time with him and enjoy yourself when you are with him? You think you’ve played it off fairly well.

Sirius thinks you’ve given him faulty advice. He is hyper aware of every interaction he has with this girl. He’s overanalyzing every move she moves around him, and every move he makes. What’s even more frustrating to him is that some of the things you listed off, he can’t imagine her doing. It’s just not who she is. 

He decides to bring it up again to you in the Transfiguration Courtyard after classes. James and Marlene are tossing a quaffle back and forth while Lily, Mary, Remus and Peter work on various assignments. You and Sirius are sharing a pack of cigarettes off to the side at Mary’s request. She claims she can’t focus when there’s a cloud of smoke around her head. There’s enough space between you and the rest of the group which gives Sirius the privacy he requires for this topic.

“You know that girl I was telling you about?” he asks you.

“The one you’re so in love with?” 

“Yeah, that’d be the one.”

“Then, yes, I know of her. You never told me who it is though.” 

“That’s not important right now,” he says, running a hand through his hair before immediately shaking it out. “She’s not doing any of those non-obvious flirting things you said.”

“She’s not?” you echo with your eyebrows raised. What girl could resist the temptations of Sirius? 

“She’s not. But now I’m wondering if I’m the problem?” 

You laugh loudly. Sirius’ firm gaze and stoney expression tell you he’s not messing around like you assumed he would be. 

“Tell me how you, you, could be the problem?”

“Like I told you before, I really like this girl. I do. She’s amazing, a real sweetheart, and I don’t want to mess it up before it’s gone anywhere. So I haven’t flirted with her the same way I’ve flirted with other girls.”

“Damn, Black. You must really like this girl.”

“I do. So much.” He takes a breath and leans in a hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong though. I know she wouldn’t like my usual flirting. She doesn’t respond to the new method. How do I get this girl’s attention?” 

You sigh and shake your head.

“It’d be easier to help you if I knew who it was,” you tell him. 

“Yeah, I know that, but I… I can’t tell you.”

“Sirius-” you chastise. 

“Love, I can’t tell you.”

“Have you asked the boys how to flirt with this mystery girl?”

“Sirius Black, master flirt, is not going to those virgins for help.”

You bite inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all: Sirius calling himself a master flirt, knowing damn well that James and Remus weren’t virgins, and that Sirius was willing to come to you, an actual virgin, for help. 

“So what do I do?” 

You can’t hold back your laughter any more. It breaks through. You expect Sirius to look upset at your laughing but instead he’s smiling at you. 

“I’m not trying to be mean, Sirius, but you do know who you’re talking to, right? A girl who’s never been flirted with? And you’re turning down asking Potter, king of pining, for advice? Like I’m one hundred percent sure that Lily knows he likes her.” 

You glance toward James and then Lily. You missed the flash of disappointment that crosses Sirius’ face when you say you’ve never been flirted with. He knows for a fact it isn’t true, but it wouldn’t help his cause now to tell you otherwise.

“I’m talking to my best friend who I think is more perceptive than she realizes,” he states. “Humor me: how would you like to be flirted with?”

How would you like to be flirted with? The question repeats in your mind as you think. Sirius can practically see the gears turning in your head. He waits patiently for your answer. It has the potential to change everything for him.

“I… I want genuine compliments. I want to be told that I’m pretty but also that I’m enough and to hear what they like about me, you know, beyond looks. I want them to choose to spend time with me. I want them to do all that chivalrous, gentleman-y things like carrying my books and holding doors,” you list off. As you continue your ramble, your face grows hot. “I sound like a spoiled child,” you laugh. “I want, I want, I want.” 

Sirius smiles at you with an adoring look in his eyes. 

“Maybe so, but I did ask you what you wanted.” He tucks a bit of hair behind your ear. “So no big, grand gestures for you? I’ll make sure to tell all your suitors.”

You roll your eyes as you’re fairly certain there are no potential suitors for him to tell. 

“I don’t know how you’ve been flirting with this mystery girl if it hasn’t been your usual tactics, but the little things really do add up.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I went from one extreme to the other?”

“Why, yes, yes I would,” you smirk. 

“Oi! Looks like rain, we’re going in!” Lily yells in your direction. 

Sirius stands up first and holds out his hand to help you up. 

Throughout the rest of the week, it’s like a switch flipped in Sirius. He’s more attached to you than normal. He’s always there to hold open a door for you, to offer to carry your books or put your supplies away. He starts using pet names with you more. You find it all a bit peculiar. He was spending so much energy on you rather than trying to win over his mystery girl. You try not to think too hard on it. 

When the weekend came, your whole friend group made their way to the quidditch pitch. It was nice when Gryffindor wasn’t playing so James and Marlene could jeer at the players, complain about calls and plays and explain moves to everyone. They bring a higher energy to the stands. But you couldn’t focus on their comments too much. Sirius is pressed into your side with how packed the Gryffindor section is. To make it more comfortable, he draped his arm loosely over your shoulder. His cologne overtakes the rest of the smells that accompany the stands. You’re not complaining about that, but it did make it hard to think about anything else. Again, you try not think too hard about Sirius’ mystery girl, or the fact that your body is much closer to Sirius’ than Lily’s, who was on your other side. 

After Ravenclaw beats Hufflepuff, you claim a table for yourself in the common room. You have an essay for Transfiguration to finish. Lily and Marlene had fretted earlier about your insistence on getting it done today when you had all of tomorrow to work on it and there was a party tonight. They certainly didn’t like you pointing out that it was Ravenclaw’s party so your presence wouldn’t be missed and you had more homework to do tomorrow. Merlin forbid school didn’t come easy to you. 

When they accepted that you were a lost cause for the night, they grabbed Mary and left. You are able to work in peace for a little over half an hour. Then the Marauders traipsed down the stairs. Their sheer presence sends energy pulsing through the room. You briefly look up as they pass your table. Sirius spins around after passing you and walks up to you, slamming his hands on the table.

“Why aren’t you at the party?” he demands. “Pretty girls belong at parties.” 

You feel your cheeks warm. You drag the feather end of your quill over the pages of the open book and essay in front of you.

“These essays. They never seem to write themselves.”

“So you’re just not going to the party?” 

“Padfoot! Come on,” James calls.

“Love?” Sirius asks, ignoring his friends. 

You sigh and look up at him. He’s looking at you so ardently. 

“Not until I finish this essay. So I’ll either be extremely late or I won’t go,” you answer him. 

He pulls out the chair across from you.

“Head over without me! We’ll catch up later,” he yells over his shoulder as he sits down.

Then he grabs your essay, scanning it to see how far along you are.

“Sirius, go to the party,” you tell him, reaching for your essay but he holds it out of your reach. “Your mystery girl is probably there. You could be making your move. My essay will get done.”

“Mystery girl will be there whenever I get there. However, your essay is more important than any party, and I don’t want to go if you’re not there.” He flashes you his wide grin. “How can you expect me to have fun when I know you’re back here, suffering?”

You sigh and lean back in your chair. With you no longer reaching for your essay, Sirius is able to finish reading it over. He hands it back to you and grabs your book. He flips a few pages before placing it back in front of you and pointing to a second you hadn’t looked at yet.

“You’re closer to finishing that essay than you think, love. You really just need a summary of that section and a conclusion. Then it’s upstairs to change and party time!” 

“Thanks, Sirius.” 

You lean over the desk to read the section he pointed out. After a few minutes, you glance up at him. He’s been watching you read and make notes. 

“You don’t have to wait for me. I’ll find you at the party when I’m done,” you say, although you have half a mind to crawl into bed when you’re done. Especially if Sirius’ mystery girl is at this party, you’re not sure if you have it in you to watch him flirt with her, a girl he seems to be in love with. 

“Please, don’t act like I don’t know you. If I leave now without you, you won’t go. You’ll finish the essay and then you’ll hide here. Nope. You’re going to have fun tonight if I have anything to do with it.”

“Fine…” you mumble, turning back to the book to reread the last paragraph. 

Another half an hour or so passes until you’re semi-satisfied with your essay. You set your quill down as you reread the entire thing, a frown appearing on your face. It’s not nearly as good as you want it to be. You should probably rewrite it.

“Ah, give it here,” Sirius says, holding his hand out expectantly. 

“It’s no good,” you reply, shaking your head. “I need to rewrite it.”

“Let me read it. I’m sure it’s fine.” He tilts his head while giving you a firm look. “Go change. I’ll read it while you’re gone. If it’s as bad as you think it is, we’ll work on it more. If you’re being hard on yourself, we’ll get you a drink to help you unwind.”

You sigh dramatically. You leave the essay on the desk for Sirius to grab, instead of handing to him. You trudge up the stairs to your dorm to change into something more party-like. Your indecisiveness means that you try on several outfits before finding something that you don’t hate. You don’t want to look like too much, too good. If you’re going to try to help Sirius get this mystery girl, you couldn’t be outshining her. 

When you return to the common room, Sirius has cleaned up all of your things into neat piles. 

“Oh, you look lovely!” he declares when he notices that you’re back. “And your essay, easily an E. Trust me. We ensure that Pete gets at least an A on every essay and that was better than what he’s turning in.” 

You roll your eyes at the ‘we’. You knew the Marauders often treated homework as group assignments. He holds out his arm for you to take, which you do with some hesitation. 

“Shall we go find your girl at this party?” you ask.

“We shall,” he says with a smile as he leads you out of the Gryffindor Common Room and toward Ravenclaw Tower. 

Once past the eagle knocker, Sirius is quick to get a drink in both his and your hands. You scan the room, seeing the rest of the Marauders and your other friends. You aren’t looking for them though. You’re trying to see if you can spot the girl who is so beautiful and desirable that Sirius would switch up his methods to diminish the risk of losing her. 

“Let’s find your girl,” you say, leaning into Sirius’ shoulder. 

He doesn’t say anything, but he guides you around the room. You pause to say hi to some of your friends in Ravenclaw. You expect Sirius to keep walking in search of the girl. He doesn’t. He remains at your shoulder, giving friendly smiles to the people you’re talking to. You lead him toward where the other Gryffindors are gathered. 

“Black!” Marlene yells as she grabs him by his shoulders. “Thank you for getting her out!” 

You’re taken aback by her comment, although it wasn’t uncommon for you to miss a party. You often found yourself reminding your friends that Hogwarts was in fact a school and not a party central. 

“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” he tells Marlene, grinning. 

He puts an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. You feel your face burn so you try to hide it with your cup. Maybe you can pass it off as the room being too hot or being flushed from the alcohol. Only Sirius knows it’s your first drink, right? 

You try to focus on what your friends are saying and laughing about, but the feeling of Sirius’ arm, his hand and his body are too much. Your body feels like it’s being constantly electrocuted. You take slow sips from your cup, as if the drink will somehow alleviate the feeling. You can only imagine how this looks to his mystery girl. You pressed into Sirius’ side with his arm around you as he talks and laughs? You’re trying not to melt into his touch. You try to keep the idea of this other girl in your mind. But you like having his arm around you a bit too much. 

“Shit, this is a good song!” Sirius roars before lowering his voice to whisper in your ear, “Dance with me, lovely?” 

You look up with him with concerned eyes. “How will that look to that girl you really like?”

You hate that you have to keep reminding him that he was supposed to be looking for this girl and flirting with her, rather than spending all of his time with you. He just gives you his trademark smile.

“It will show off my amazing dancing skills. Come on, you didn’t say no!”

He pulls you away from your friends into the crowds of people dancing. Sirius is far more at his leisure than you are. You would much rather be on a bench off to the side, sipping on a new drink as the music fills your senses. At least, you think that until Sirius has his hands on your hips, helping you move to the music.

“Ah, there it is! She does have rhythm!” he cheers with his face close to yours. It’s close enough to feel the heat of his breath and to smell the spiked punch. 

Everything about the moment makes your heart pound in your chest. For a second, the idea of his mystery girl flits into your mind, but she is banished as Sirius spins you around. Your laughter mixes with his and the sounds of people around you, laughing themselves and singing along to the music. You never fancied yourself a dancer before now, but with Sirius so close and all of his attention on you, it feels right. You wouldn’t mind if you could live in this moment forever. 

When the music switches to something slower, you prepare yourself to see Sirius move back toward your friends. You don’t expect him to place his hands on your waist and pull you even closer. 

You don’t expect him to lean in and whisper, “Put your hands around my neck, sweetheart. That’s how you slow dance.”

You do as told. It makes it easier to hide your bright red face in his shoulder. You know how to slow dance; you just never did it with anyone before. You certainly hadn’t expected your first slow dance to be with Sirius. It made sense to a point though that it would be with your best guy friend, someone you were comfortable with. 

The song ends too soon for you. The next song is back to the upbeat rhythm that previously filled the room. Your heart beat is too loud in your ears to process it.

“I need another drink,” you tell Sirius before walking away from him.

You did need a drink, but you also need a moment away from him. ‘He’s in love with someone else’ is on repeat in your head. You can’t have yourself falling deeper in love with him when you know his heart belongs to someone else, someone he wouldn’t even tell you the name of. 

When you have a fresh glass in your hand, you turn to look for Sirius in the crowd where you left him. He’s not there. You spot him back with the Marauders. It makes you frown. He was supposed to be finding this girl and asking her to dance, not spending the whole night with you and the boys. You want to remind him of that, but something prevents you from doing it. You walk over to the girls, hoping that maybe they’re talking about something interesting.

“Isn’t this so much better than essays?” Lily asks, leaning almost all of her body weight on your shoulder as soon as you join them.

“I mean, I guess so,” you answer.

“Oh, please,” Mary laughs. “It looked like you were enjoying yourself with Sirius out there.” 

Your blush immediately returns.

“So is it a thing? You ‘n’ him?” she asks. 

Marlene turns her full attention to you at the question and Lily throws her arms around you in a hug. 

“It really should be!” Lily gushes, her voice far too loud in your ear. “You’d be so cute together! It’s obvious he adores you!” 

You smile as you shrug Lily off.

“Sorry to disappoint, but he’s infatuated with someone else,” you say, mockingly saying infatuated to make yourself feel better. You try to hold in a sigh. 

“Who?” Marlene demands. “We’ll take care of her!” 

“Dunno. He won’t tell me.”

Marlene and Lily don matching frowns and furrowed brows. 

“Darling! There you are!” Sirius’ voice booms.

The three girls glare at him.

“What’d I do?” he asks, his arm finding its place around your shoulders. 

“I’ll tell you what you did, Black,” Marlene starts.

“Nothing! You did nothing,” you say quickly, cutting Marlene off before she can say too much.

While you’ve never said anything directly about liking Sirius to them, you’re sure it’s obvious to them now and you’ll hear more about it tomorrow. 

“Well, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” he asks cautiously, eyeing the girls who are still glaring daggers at him. 

“No, you’re not,” you say firmly, also eyeing the girls. 

You really hope they don’t say anything right now that would embarrass you and possibly hurt the friendship you have so carefully preserved. 

“Then I’m sure they won’t mind if I steal you away again!” he says cheerfully and steers you away from them.

He takes you to a quieter area down a few flights of stairs and stopping on a landing. Based on the doors you’ve passed, you figure you’re by the dorms. You’re glad that he took you down rather than up because the air is significantly cooler. 

“Did you find your mystery girl?” you ask as he leans against the wall, sipping his own drink that he must’ve refilled at some point.

He nods. 

You cock your head to the side. “Then why haven’t you stolen her away to this little spot?” 

He chuckles. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

“You’ve already ditched her?” you ask accusingly. 

“No!” He stands up straighter and moves closer to you. “No, I’m with her right now.”

“But it’s just us here?” 

He takes another step toward you and tucks some of your hair behind your ear.

“Oh, darling, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you are so clearly not a Ravenclaw.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” you spit. “Are you calling me stupid?” 

He throws his head back, laughing.

“Yes! Yes, I am.”

You scoff and take a step back from Sirius. 

“Well then.” You turn to go up the stairs because why did Sirius steal you away to insult you?

“No, listen!” He reaches out to stop you from heading back to the party. “You’re not stupid. Blind? Maybe. A bit dense right now? Yeah.”

“You’re not helping yourself,” you say dryly. 

“It’s you. You’re the… mystery girl, as you’ve been calling her. It’s been you the whole time.”

You freeze for a moment. 

“What?” you breathe. That can’t be right. 

“When I asked you about how girls flirt? I was asking how to know if you were ever flirting with me. But then you never did any of those things. Maybe one or two once or twice. So I asked how I could flirt with you. I know you enough to know that you wouldn’t want me to use those cheesy or dirty lines on you. You wouldn’t want an overtly public declaration of love to ask you to Hogsmeade. But even with your advice, you don’t seem to respond to me.”

He stops talking for what feels like an eternity. He’s scanning your face for a reaction, for any kind of sign from you, but all he gets is utter shock and confusion. 

“What?” you repeat in the same quiet voice of disbelief. 

He takes a step toward you so that his body is almost touching yours.

“The girl I really like and don’t want to mess things up with? She’s you. She’s been you for a while now. And I’m asking you how you feel about me because you can be so hard to read sometimes.” 

His voice is so soft and honest. You blink slowly as you gaze into those grey eyes you love so much. 

“She’s me?” you echo his sentiment. 

“Yes. Please, love, I need to know. Do you like me or have I just made a rather large fool of myself?”

“That’s why you didn’t want to come unless I did,” you whisper more to yourself than to Sirius, ignoring his question and the way his eyes filled with uncertainty as you did so. “That’s why you’ve been complimenting me more and offering to carry my bag. Oh…”

“Love?” he asks with a wavering voice. 

You’ve never heard him so nervous before. His hand slowly reaches up to cup your face. 

“Please…” he whispers.

“This is all… real?” you ask, placing your hand on top of his. 

“Yes. It’s so real.”

You smile. It’s wide and filled with the most joy you’ve ever felt. But then it disappears as you glare at Sirius.

“Don’t you ever call me stupid again,” you say firmly.

“I won’t.” There’s a beat of silence. “Wait, so do you-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his. It was a moment of Gryffindor braveness that you usually didn’t showcase. It took Sirius by surprise. He takes a moment to process that you, the girl he’s been pining over for a while, is kissing him and that he should kiss you back. But he does and it’s everything you’ve dreamed it would be. All of those times you’ve thought about his mystery girl, you never really considered that she could be you. As much as you dreamed it, you never really believed you could be the girl he described as the sweetest, the most beautiful, the kindest and most wonderful, perfection. But you were and you felt it as Sirius wraps his arms around you to hold you close, even after you broke away from the kiss. 

“Oh, the girls were glaring at you earlier because I told them you liked someone else after they asked if we were dating.” 

“Hmm, too bad that someone else is you,” he mumbles against your shoulder, still not letting you go. “We can correct your misinformation later. You’re mine now.”

[rafesteddy]

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣’𝕤 ℝ𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟’ 𝔼𝕧𝕖 - ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕖 ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕟 𝕆𝕟𝕖 𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕥

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙱𝚘𝚍𝚢𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙿𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: pet names, swearing, angst, fighting, rough touch, kissing, degradation, name calling, possessive!rafe, jealous!reader, protective!rafe, rough oral male receiving, gunplay, spanking, overstim, cum licking (floor), choking, fingering, pussy slapping, dirty talk, teasing, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, creampie, ownership kink, brat taming, no safe words

from this au if you want to read about the night they got together 🌹

📖 the reader has been secretly dating her bodyguard. During her NYE performance, she learned she’s not the only one he crossed the line with.

⭐ unedited ⭐

Reader's POV:

The backstage area is a whirlwind of costumes, stagehands, producers, and backup dancers. You eye yourself in the mirror, body hugged in a glittering black bodysuit with thousands of sequins that catch every stray light beam.

You should be basking in the excitement of a childhood dream come true—after all, millions of viewers are about to watch you perform a duet on New Year's Rockin’ Eve. But the second she walked inside, any excitement you might have felt went out the window.

Bella Dean.

She's the diva you're supposed to share the big closing number with: petite, curvy, absolutely stunning. Her talent is almost as big as her ego.

Bella’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “Look at you, baby,” she coos, sashaying up to you, flashing a smile that makes your stomach flip. “You okay? You look a little sick?” She asks, pouting her lip, her tone almost demeaning; clearly commenting on your appearance and not the state of your health–just being a fuckin’ bitch.

You fake a smile as your pulse spikes. “Sick?” You ask through a breathy laugh as you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Ill? Not feeling well? Under the weather? You don’t know what sick is?” She asks, returning a nasty laugh.

“I feel just fine. Thanks for your concern,” you reply, your face twisting slightly.

"Of course," she purrs. "I think my makeup girl’s around here somewhere… Maybe it’s just because you look a little dull. I’m sure she has some highlighter or something to add a little sparkle,” she adds a little extra sweetness to her voice at the end, her cruelty making you feel like you could lose your mind as you try to remain professional. Your fingers tighten around your microphone as you try to focus on what’s coming next instead of the 5’2” nightmare beside you.

She steps out just before your cue, hitting the stage first, looking back at you with a wink and a smug smile you wish you could hurl your mic at her face.

You take a calming breath, reminding yourself that this will be a few minutes. You have a whole night ahead of you to look forward to. A night with him… Rafe stands off to the side, looking devilishly handsome in his all-black suit. He folds his arms over his broad chest, looking into the crowd, eyes trailing the space as usual.

You turn back to Bella, your eyes finding hers, her ruby-red lips curling into a wicked smile, making a knot of unease tighten in your belly. She quirks her eyebrow, stepping closer; too close for your liking. “That bodyguard of yours…” she says, tipping her head toward Rafe, making her platinum blonde curls bounce. “I haven’t seen him in a minute.”

You fiddle with your microphone, trying to seem as unbothered as possible, but she sees right through you.

“Rafe?” She chirps, making your eyebrows shoot up as his name leaves her lips effortlessly. “Mhmm… Rafey. Ugh, don’t tell me he didn’t mention me,” she tosses her hair to the side. “I’m sure he had an interview. That wasn’t brought up?”

You purse your lips, look out toward the crowd, and try to distract yourself.

“Don’t tell anyone, but we did get a little cozy on my last tour,” she leans in, giddily gossiping like she’s talking to a friend, but we both know what she’s doing. How unprofessional of me, right?” she chides as she smiles out to the crowd, giving them her million-dollar smile before blowing them a kiss.

You feel your body tremble as the adrenaline of the night and this admittance courses through your veins. Rafe did mention he’d once made a mistake by getting involved with a past client, but he never mentioned a name–her name. You swallow hard, clearing the lump in your throat as your mind starts spinning out, thinking of what the two must have done behind closed doors.

“That doesn’t sound like Rafe,” you assure.

“So you didn’t know. Ouch.” She flicks her gaze toward him again. “Doesn’t sound like you’re working the man to his full potential.”

You bite your cheek, lips tightening as you try to hold back your outburst. “Well, if you are and you don’t kiss and tell, just know he has a habit of getting too close. I just want you to be careful,” she pouts again, her voice like nails on a fucking chalkboard as the band starts to play around you.

And with that, she glides away, leaving you breathless and seething as she walks to the front of the stage. Your cheeks burn as you glance at Rafe from the wings. He catches your eyes with a concerned expression–the man no doubt reading your emotion like a book. Even though he has no idea what the fuck just happened, he knows something’s off with you. His eyebrows pinch together, beautiful features hardening.

Bella and Rafe? I can’t fuckin’ handle this right now.

The crowd roars excitedly as Bella’s voice pours out of the speakers. Your heart bangs with the opening beats of the song. You look toward the camera as it pans to you, forcing a smile. Your voice wavers as your anxiety gets the better of you–Bella looking toward the wings at Rafe as well, painting a picture of what their exchanges might have looked like in the past, her stealing little glances at him from center stage instead of you.

The lights sweep over you, and the first note leaves your lips. Your muscles tighten as the pitch wavers, just a hair off, but it’s enough for Bella to shoot a look back at you. Your stomach aches, heartbreaking, as you feel yourself starting to fumble while Bella shines. You push harder–the melodies leaving your lips sounding anything but natural.

Bella steps forward, delivering her verse perfectly, making the crowd scream. Her eyes twinkle as she passes you, making your blood boil. You lose track of the music for a split second, coming in a beat too late, making the blonde smirk in your peripheral vision. Fucking cunt.

You take a deep breath with the guitar break, straining to gather your emotions, trying to remind yourself of the night and how you’ll hate yourself if you let her ruin it for you. You turn toward her, melting your voices together in perfect harmony. The tension between you is thick, but it doesn’t read that way–the crowd, eating up every second of the duet.

The music cuts and the crowd goes wild. Bella moves toward you for the planned hug, but you step away and wave to the crowd. As she waves, you feel her arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in for a half-hug. Bella leans in, looking up at you, feigning concern. “You were a bit shaky. Are you okay?”

“Fuck off,” you hiss through a gritted smile to the crowd.

She gasps surprisedly before resting her head on your shoulder. “Don’t be upset, babes. Let me know if you are ever in the market for a new bodyguard. I always find the best ones,” she winks. “Have a happy New Year.”

You resist the urge to run, walking off the stage gracefully before storming toward your manager, taking your purse off her hands before snapping your focus to Rafe. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me it was Bella you messed around with, huh?” You hiss, quiet enough to meet his ears only as you glare at him.

“This isn’t the right place,” he warns as he looks through you even still, eyes scanning the crowd.

“No, Rafe,” you snap. “This is the perfect fucking place. I just found out about your little fling from Bella. Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Rafe steps closer, looking you in the eyes, making you draw a little breath. “Not now.”

“Forget it,” you scoff, and before he can stop you, you flee the scene, disappearing into the thick crowd of backstage traffic. You walk through the double doors, looking to the left at the long line of dressing rooms before taking a risk, pushing through the side door.

The winter wind whips as you walk through the tight, dark alley, heels clicking against the asphalt with each step as you head toward the main street. Fans and paparazzi push in around you, yelling your name, but you keep your head down, pushing ahead.

You look down the block, knowing your hotel is close, but how close? You shove through the thick crowd, still waiting to get into the venue. The middle of the road is packed, too, with a barrage of people gathered, waiting for the ball to drop. You lift your eyes for a moment. Halfway there… You cross your arms tighter around your waist, trying to keep warm while holding yourself back from answering the phone vibrating like crazy in your purse.

Silence.

You sigh in relief as you walk into the swanky downtown hotel. The noise behind you falls away. The lobby's hush and glamor starkly contrast what’s happening on the other side of the revolving door—velvet chairs, marble floors, and the soft golden glow of chandeliers hanging overhead.

You draw a deep breath and blow it out slowly, looking to your left. Your head hangs with mental exhaustion as you step toward the hotel bar, pushing through the door before heading toward the rail.

You order your drink, asking for a double, hearing your voice tremble with anger and stress. You stare at your reflection in the barback's mirror, your makeup perfectly done, stage outfit on; your hairstyle to perfection, but that was just a facade. You felt far from perfect underneath–completely broken.

Rafe seems so poised and professional. It was so hard to break his icy exterior…

As childish as it sounds, you felt special. He seemed so untouchable that when you were able to break through, you felt like maybe there was something different about you.

He didn’t seem like someone who would sleep with his clients, and now you can’t help but think just how many people he had took care of like he was taking care of you.

Bella… What if it wasn’t special, though? What if it was just a one-time thing–a fling, and Bella was trying to get in your head? You grab your drink, lifting it to your lips, downing half of it fast, letting it sear your throat, trying to numb your thoughts.

She wanted this to happen. You hated yourself for letting her affect you the way she did. The truth is, she saw you fall apart in front of her, catching every missed step and note; each misstep was a win for her.

The bar is quiet, the low roar of the New Year’s celebration humming outside. The soft jazz piano swells in the background, paired with the soft conversations of the guests dressed to the nines. No one bats an eye at your arrival; no one asks for anything from you, letting you sit for a moment and breathe.

“Sir!” You hear the shrill call of someone from the lobby. A sudden commotion on the other side of the door pulls you out of your peace as Rafe storms in. He looks down at his phone, eyes scanning from left to right. Your heart falls as he zeros in on you, his nostrils flaring with anger, contrasting with the look of relief in his striking blue eyes.

He sucks his teeth, holding himself back from cursing you out on sight. His Gucci suit jacket is half undone, his toffee-colored hair mussed, and his sharp jaw is set in a straight line. He looks fuckin’ angry, completely winded, like he's been fighting through thick crowds, going to Hell and back to get to you. Good. Let him be angry. Why should I have to suffer alone?

Rafe makes a beeline for you, his long legs crossing the room in a few strides. The bartender walks over, asking how he can serve him, his voice quickly fading as he sees the look in Rafe’s eyes. Your bodyguard thumbs through his wallet, slapping $100 on the counter before grabbing your arm.

“We’re leaving,” he hisses, tugging you off the barstool. You gasp, your unfinished drink sloshing onto the floor as he steers you back toward the exit.

You yank your arm back, disregarding the curious glances around you, shooting daggers at your brooding bodyguard. “You don’t get to boss me around right now,” you hiss as you fight him off, but it only makes his fingers twist a little tighter around your arm.

“Once wasn’t enough?” He snarls.

“Spare me the lecture,” you sass. “M’not in the mood for you —fuckin’ drama queen.”

Rafe leans in, his warm breath hitting your skin as he pulls you toward the elevator. “Do you have any fucking idea how reckless that was? Runnin’ out there alone on the busiest night of the year? In the busiest city? Are you insane? And you’re alone-”

“Did I look alone?” You snap as you lift what’s left of your drink. “Didn’t pour this shit myself,” you laugh tauntingly before shooting it back.

He scoffs annoyedly as his grip on you tightens even more. “So you’d rather run away and have somethin’ awful happen to you, risk my whole fuckin’ career than talk to me about what you found out?”

“Correct,” you clip. “Now, let go of me.”

“Let’s make a deal, tough girl. You can get outta my fuckin’ grip, then you can go. I happen to like you... I’m not some insane stalker who wants to wear your fuckin’ skin. Aight? It ain’t safe out there for you, and for some reason, you think that your best option is to run,” he hisses as he bangs his fist against the up button.

The elevator door glides shut, leaving the two of you alone. You both stand next to each other, seething for different reasons. Rafe tosses your arm away when you fight against him one last time, making you push out an exaggerated breath.

Elevator music fills the space around you, so light and cheery it’s almost satirical at the moment. You stand side to side with your bodyguard, arms crossed over your chests, both of you waiting for the other to break.

“You have no right-”

“Run off again, and I swear to fuckin’ Christ,” he cuts you off.

“You wouldn't be mad? Really?”

“‘Course I would be. I'd be fuckin’ irritate, but I’d wait ‘til I got back to the hotel to say somethin’ like a fuckin’ adult. Not run away like a goddamn child-”

“I’m not-”

“A child,” he cuts you short, finishing your sentence as he turns toward you, his voice low and lethal. “You’re not a fuckin’ kid. Aight? You’re a grown-ass woman. Start actin’ like it before you get yourself hurt.”

You turn toward his chest, too, and look up into his eyes, not backing down. “You told me you once crossed a line with a client but never said it was her. She wasn't even mentioned on your resume, Rafe. Why was that?” You ask breathily, letting your defiance and disgust bleed through.

“That shit doesn't change the fact that that was a bad decision, princess,” he returns your same tone, that term of endearment he loves to use coming out as anything but endearing.

“Let’s talk about good decisions, Rafe. Her? I'm questioning you and your fuckin’ taste level. Bella is a cunt. It would have been nice to know this before sharing the stage with her so I could have been prepared for her bullshit instead of being blindsided and ruining that moment for myself.”

“Ruining your moment? What the hell are you talking about?” He asks in disbelief. “Your performance was perfect.”

“The fuck it was, Rafe,” you scoff as you step out of the elevator without him. “Your performance was perfect,” you mock him. “Bella’s performance was perfect, Rafe… And tomorrow, when there’s a review on Rolling Stone, maybe you’ll get it through your thick fuckin’ head.”

Rafe runs his fingers through his hair; frustration etched into every line on his handsome face. “Baby,” he mumbles as he softens his tone and closes the space between you and him. “I screwed up by not tellin’ you before tonight. M’sorry. But you can’t keep runnin’ off when you’re mad. I’m your bodyguard; I have to protect you whether you like me or not.”

You wave your keycard in front of the door handle, rolling your eyes at his apology, if you could even call it that. “Well, Rafe… Maybe you should be better at protecting your secrets,” you grumble, going to shut the door behind you, but Rafe clutches it tight, pushing against you with minimal effort, making you growl in frustration. You toss your clutch onto the sofa, kick off your heels in protest, and rip off your earrings for dramatic effect.

"You lied by omission, Rafe. You said you 'made a mistake' once with a client but never told me it was Bella. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out?”

He sighs as he strips himself of his jacket, tossing it off before loosening his tie. “Jesus Christ, baby. I was gonna tell you. Just not right before you had to perform with her."

"How considerate,” you breathe, your sarcasm palpable, making his cheeks flush with anger.

“Bella is toxic-”

“No shit,” you laugh.

“She'll do anythin’ to get under your skin-” he starts.

“Jesus, Rafe! Tell me something I don’t fuckin’ know!”

“I screwed up with her, yes… But do you know how long ago that was? That was at the start of my career. I was still tryin’ to figure shit out. I was young-”

“So, is this a serial thing for you, Cameron? Or am I an exception?” You ask, with a lifted brow as you pop open a bottle of De Venoge Louis, eyes shifting over to him. “Just another one of your favorite pop stars?”

“Enough,” he groans tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as he paces the room. “You know that's not how I see you… You gotta stop.”

“And how do you see me?” You ask. “I know how I see you…” You mutter, foregoing the glasses altogether, lifting the bottle to your lips instead.

“Not gonna tell you how I feel right now.”

“What the hell does that mean,” you laugh, dribbling champagne on your chin as you look up at him, fluttering your lashes in confusion.

“Because you’re actin’ irrational. This is not the time.”

“Stop telling me that it’s not the time, Rafe. Oh my god,” you whine, voice brimming with frustration.

“I get that you’re upset,” he scolds. “But runnin’ off into the city alone after a show and putting yourself at risk like that over Bella Dean was fuckin’ stupid, regardless, and you know that. Come back here… And lose your shit. Hell, you’re yellin’ at me right fuckin’ now. Only difference is you’re safe.”

“Sorry for makin’ you do your job, Rafe.”

He nods his head, a look in his eyes like he’s going absolutely insane. He crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps flexed, looking like it could tear the fabric apart. “N’to be clear. Chasin’ you is my job?”

“Dunno. Wasn’t at the job interview… Not quite sure what your scope of work was, but I assume the details of your job didn’t include sleepin’ with me either-”

“You’re begging for trouble, you know that?” He shouts, his loud voice hitting your chest hard, making the hair on the back of your neck stand straight.

“M’Terrified,” you giggle, trying to hide your nervousness as your heart rate starts to climb. His eyes narrow on yours–a mix of anger and something darker.

He walks over, looking down at you perched on the velvet lounge chair. You gasp as his hand comes around your throat, his grip tightening and tightening. He lifts you to your feet, pulling you chest to chest. “Keep talkin’ back and see what the fuck happens.”

You look at him with dead eyes, seemingly unimpressed by his threats, letting your eyes roll in the back of your head. Rafe tightens his grip a little more, making you sputter out a breath.

“Keep rollin’ those eyes at me, too, while we’re at it,” he growls. “You think I won’t give you a lesson?”

Adam's apple bobs in his throat, lip snarling as you refuse to submit. Rafe yanks you forward, crushing his lips against yours in a deep, desperate kiss. You go to shove him away, but his fingers find your hair, twisting into the strands, tugging you closer, forcing you in place. The air leaves your lungs as he shoves you into the wall, never breaking your kiss.

When he finally tears his lips away, you’re both breathless, chests heaving, longing for more.

“You’re fuckin’ impossible,” he rasps, blue eyes blazing with lust, his rasp voice taut and hoarse. “Run off, you don’t fuckin’ listen, and then you come back here and pick stupid fuckin’ fights, spoutin’ off shit we both know ain’t true.”

“Maybe you deserve it, Rafe. Did you ever think about that-” Rafe silences you with another kiss–more longing and possessive than the last. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him into your lips.

Rafe breaks away again, leaving you chasing his lips. He rests his forehead against yours, the two of you panting into each other, desperate for more.

“I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he whispers, voice vibrating with tension. “Next time you try this shit, just know I’ll chase you down. Next time you roll your fuckin’ eyes at me, I’ll pin you where you stand. You can’t keep doin’ this shit without consequences.”

Your heart pounds in your ears, pussy pulsing as you listen to all of his threats– his words honestly having the opposite effect. Looks like he’s the one begging for trouble.

“Fuckin’ do it, Rafe,” you dare him, smiling against his lips, “you think I'm scared of you?"

“Think you're braver than you should be, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, Rafey? You gonna punish me?” You ask.

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do,” he says, firm and cold, making goosebumps spread across your body. He leans in, pinning you against the wall, pressing his big body into you. Rafe kisses along your neck, teeth scraping your ear. “Don’t even think we have a safe word. Do you?” He asks, and you can hear that crooked smile in his voice.

“N-No,” you whisper, trying to recall, but you honestly don’t think you could at this moment, the way his body surrounds you, his rich cologne clouding your senses completely.

“Shit, baby… Guess you’re outta luck.” You gasp as he picks you up off your feet, slinging your body over his shoulder. “Maybe if you start behaving-” Crack! He slaps your upper thigh harshly, making you scream. “Maybe we can think of one together, hmm?”

Rafe throws you down on the bed, making the last bit of air in your lungs escape. He strips himself out of his button-down shirt, quickly working himself out of his pants before tossing his belt and gun onto the bed.

“Wh-What are you gonna do with those?” You ask, hearing your voice tremble.

Rafe clears the space between you, lowering his hands on the mattress as you look wide-eyed at him.

“Aww, princess… You know me. I love leavin’ out little details,” he smiles wickedly.

Rafe grabs the front of your bodysuit, tearing the delicate material open effortlessly, sending rhinestones and beads flying onto the bed and the hardwood floor as he tears away the custom piece without batting an eye. He pulls the material down your thighs, tossing it to the floor before grabbing your hips, manhandling you to your belly on the bed, your ass in the air, and your feet on the floor.

“FUCK!” You scream as his big hand comes down, slapping your bare ass, leaving behind a tingling sensation. Before you can even react, he does it a second time, then a third, making tears pool in your eyes and wetting the mattress. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“The fuck was that, tough girl?” He asks through a breathless laugh.

“I-I… Fuck you,” you whimper, trying to stand strong. Rafe grabs a fistful of hair, yanking you back, his head lowered to match your eyes.

“Fuck me? You told me to do this shit, baby girl… You’re the boss. I’m just doin’ my job.” Rafe uses his hold on your hair to push your face into the mattress, pushing two thick fingers into your soaked core. “Listen up, princess,” Rafe huffs. “You deserve this. I’m not gonna put up with this shit, aight? You’re lucky I’m even fuckin’ touchin’ you.” Rafe pumps his fingers in your pussy, finger-fucking you mercilessly as you try your best to wiggle away. “Stop squirmin’,” he chides. “Hands behind your fuckin’ back.”

The second you do, Rafe grips the against your lower back, the palm of his hand clapping against your ass as he fingers stroke your G-spot. Your thighs start to tremble, pussy tightening around his big fingers. “Fuck, Rafe,” you moan.

“Yeah? You wanna cum?” He taunts.

“Please,” you whisper.

“Think it’ll fix that little attitude of yours?”

“Yes, fuck!” You cry.

“I’m not sure it will…” Rafe sighs sadly. “I’ll let you cum tonight. But I swear if this shit happens again. M’not… Not until you’re at my hotel door beggin’ and cryin’ for my dick like a whore.” Rafe pulls his hands out of your soaked cunt, slapping your pussy fast and tough, making you cum hard, sobbing as your pussy flutters around nothing, your hands still pinned tightly against your back. Rafe fucks his fingers into your cunt, darting them inside you at an insane pace, and seconds later, you’re coming again, pussy gushing around his hand, landing on the floor with a little splash.

And even then, he doesn’t stop, his fingers just sopping through the mess as you fight against him, crying in overstimulation and pleasure. “Rafe, please. Please. Please.”

“What?” He spits.

“I-I… Mphff… Safe… Safeword,” you hiccup.

He booms out a laugh. Drawing both his hands back in surrender. Completely mocking you and the mess he made of his favorite girl. “You’re kiddin’ me?” He teases as he rests his hands on the bed, lowering himself to your ear, his chest brushing against your bare back. “Safeword?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you pant. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Jeopardizing my job, your life, our fuckin’ relationship over a bitch then means nothin’ to me. That’s the least you should be,” Rafe scolds as he grabs your hips, rolling you to your back.

You look between your thighs, eyes following Rafe as he reaches for his gun. He lifts it, making a show of it, eyeing the weapon in his hand. Your eyes fall down his body, watching his muscular chest rise and fall with his rapid breathing, his gold chain glinting in the dim. The ridges of his abs deepen with every level breath, his hard cock tenting out the fabric of his white Calvins, leaving you craving him even more.

He clicks on the safety, lifting the gun, pointing it at your pussy, slapping the piece against your inner thighs. “Spread your shit,” he mumbles. You widen your thighs on the mattress, your glossy cunt dripping with your arousal. Rafe presses the cool muzzle against your pulsing clit, making your muscles jump and your thighs drawn in. “I said ‘spread your shit,’” he shouts, making you flinch. “What’s it gonna take for you to listen? Huh?”

“I’m sorry, baby. I-”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Daddy,” he mocks your fucked-out voice again. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” Rafe repeats your words from the fight as he starts to rub little figure eights on your clit. Your body trembles with adrenaline as he continues to work you over with his handgun. The knot in your stomach starts to tighten as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your peak. “You gonna cum… off a gun? You that big of a slut, princess? You don’t even need a dick?” Rafe mumbles, and right when you’re about to fall apart below him, he pulls it away, leaving you whimpering and fussing for more, your bottom lip wobbling as you look up into your boyfriend’s beautiful, cruel eyes.

“Rafe, you’re being mean…” You whisper, your voice barely above a hush. “I said, ‘I was sorry’.”

“And, I told you not to run away again… N’look what happened. Get on your knees.”

You climb off the bed, stumbling slightly from your weak knees. You land on the floor, crawling the rest of the way to Rafe, glassy-eyed and pouty-lipped. You kneel before him, watching as Rafe lifts the gun slightly, mirroring his dick, the tip of it coated with your slick.

“Suck it.”

Your heart starts to race as you look down the barrel of the gun. You look up at Rafe as you wrap your lips around the end of it, feeling your heart bang in your chest.

You take the cold metal to the back of your throat, taking as much as you can get, gagging around his weapon, sucking it clean, bobbing back and forth with your eyes on him. Rafe looks down at you hungrily, desperately wanting your lips on him and giving him the same service.

“Take ‘em off,” Rafe mumbles, and you slide your wet lips off the gun, racing to pull down his boxers fast. And without warning, he shoves himself in your mouth, pushing as far as his dick would go making you sputter and gag. You reach out, grabbing his tights, squeezing tightly, losing all vision as your eyes fill with tears.

You blink your tears away as he slides in and out of your swollen lips, grunting and moaning, using your mouth like a toy. The sounds around you were downright pornographic, making your pussy weep down your thighs. Your mouth leaked as well, saliva and precum dripping out of the seam.

Rafe finally pulls you off his cock, leaving you gasping for a breath. Before he can give you a command, you wrap your lips around him again in a desperate attempt for mercy, swirling and sucking him off just like he loves. You cradle his heavy balls in your hand, and he throats his hand back to the ceiling, a broad smile spreading on his perfect lips. “Atta girl… Fuck, that’s my good girl,” he praises.

You bob your head back and forth, stroking where your mouth won’t reach, trying desperately to please him. You can feel his cock throb and swell on your tongue, his breathing quickening by the second.

“Better swallow it all, princess, or we’re gonna be back at square one,” he mumbles, only half-kidding. He looks down at you, watching you throat him with all you have, his plump bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Rafe pulls out of your mouth, jerking his cock in your face as you lay out your tongue. His warm cum shoots out of his tip, coating your lips and tongue. Your eyes flutter open as you swallow it all, licking your lips to clean up the rest of the mess as you look up at him.

He clicks his tongue, letting his gaze fall, eyeing a few loose pearls of cum decorating the floor. You rest your hands on the hardwood, lowering yourself to lick it up.

“Fuck, princess,” he moans as he looks down at you in lust and adoration. Rafe reaches for you, pulling you off the floor and into his strong arms. You wrap yourself in his, dressing your arms around his neck as his lips press against yours for a tender kiss.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you whisper.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he soothes. “No more punishments. Alright? You took that shit like a good girl. Let me take care of you, yeah?” He mumbles against your lips.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Thank you…”

“Don’t thank me… This right here—this is what I’ve been wantin’ to do all night.”

“Yeah?” You ask breathily, pecking at his lips.

“You kiddin’ me?” He chuckles as he lays you down on the bed, burying himself in his neck before kissing his way up to your ear. “Just wanted to take care of you. Make you feel good. Hard to think about much else when I see you up there. Can barely focus on keepin’ you safe when I’m just thinkin’ about fuckin’ this perfect pussy,” he mumbles as he slaps his tip against your clit.

Rafe slides his cock between your drenched folds, swirling his head around your hole before sinking in deep, bottoming you out with his long, thick dick. You grab two fistfuls of sheets as he grabs your hips in his big ringed hands, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back in.

“So good, baby… Fuck. Damn, you look so good takin’ my cock,” he moans as he starts rutting in and out. You couldn’t even get a word out with the way his dick was slamming in and out of your pussy.

Your eyes roll back in your head, boobs bouncing with each thrust of his hips as you go absolutely dumb on his dick. Rafe speeds up the pace, making your body tremble uncontrollably. Tears of pleasure stream down your cheeks, wetting the pillow below. Rafe reaches down, brushing them away with his thumbs, slipping one between your lips to let you suck yourself numb as he drills into you.

“Come on, princess,” Rafe hums as he feels your body start to tighten around him. “Cream all over my cock. Show me what a good girl does, huh? Let me fill you up. Been so good for me,” he groans as he reaches down, rubbing circles on your throbbing clit as the coil in your belly gets tighter and tighter.

You scream his name, cumming all over his big cock as he fucks you through your orgasm. Rafe gives you a few more rough thrusts, emptying his load deep inside as his hungry lips devour yours, swallowing your whimpers and cries.

“You okay, baby?” He asks sweetly against your lips.

“M’perfect, Rafe,” you coo.

“You are,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. “You mad at me still?” Rafe asks as he presses a gentle kiss on your lips.

“No,” you whisper. “Can’t stay mad at you, baby.”

“Mhmm… I know the feelin’,” he laughs. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. You snag your phone out of your nightstand, pulling out your phone, seeing back-to-back messages from your manager.

Claire Baby: Rafe said you were ok. Stop running away. Thnx.

Claire Baby: Rafe mentioned that there was a history between him and Bella

Claire Baby: I told him to save it til after the show so it didn’t fuck with your chemistry

Claire Baby: I had no idea she was such a bitch. I’m sorry. Pls Forgive me.

“Rafe Cameron,” you sigh.

“Mhmm…” He asks as he pulls out of your pussy nice and slow, watching his warm cum leak out of your puffy hole, swirling his fingers around before stuffing it back inside.

“Rafe…”

“What?” He asks as he tilts his head slightly, lifting his fingers for you to suck them clean. You wrap your lips around his fingers, looking in his beautiful blue eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you tried to say something?” You ask softly as you look back up at him.

“‘Cause I deserved it… Shoulda told you from the start,” he answers. “No more secrets…”

“No more running,” you whisper.

You roll your head to the side, catching the time on the clock. 11:58 PM… Rafe kisses your cheek lovingly, wrapping his big body in yours. “How do you see me, Rafe,” you ask softly, pulling his focus back to your eyes. He brushes your hair off your face, cupping your cheek in his hand.

“Well, when I see you, I see the future. I see my dream girl. I see the only thing I want to see.”

You bite your lips, fluttering your lashes, the night's emotions getting the better of you.

“I see the woman that I love, princess.”

“You love me?” You whisper, voice laced with tears.

Rafe pulls you into his lips as the world outside the window roars with the new year, the clock striking midnight as your lips meet, your bodies tangled in sheets.

“Of course I love you, baby,” he mumbles.

“I love you too.”

[windvexer]

tips for adhd witches!

[[before you expand: LONG text post!!]]

I got diagnosed only a couple months ago, but I have been practicing witchcraft for a little bit now. So in retrospect, here is stuff that I realized I have been doing to cope the whole time, and some new things I'm tinkering with :) Please feel free to leave your own tips or thoughts!

At all costs, avoid promising gods and spirits that YOU WILL uphold a rigid routine.

Just do not promise to give daily offerings! JUST DON'T DO IT. If you struggle with upholding a regular routine, do not promise gods or spirits you will uphold a routine for them. You should only promise things you are confident you can deliver. ((If you identify as a beginner witch it's my personal belief that you should not be promising anyone anything.))

Delete from your mindset that all witches are supposed to uphold rigid routines.

Give yourself breathing room: if you want to give scheduled offerings, maybe do one on the full moon. Or, plan it to coincide with other activities that interest you, and that you're likely to show up for.

Unless you have a few hours a week to devote to your practice, you should probably not be dedicating yourself to doing daily anything.

Rigid routine is not the only way to get regular experience with magic, build relationships with gods or spirits, or improve in your craft! You simply do not have to promise yourself or anyone else that you will do X actions at Y times.

Instead of having "do X for Y minutes on Z days" routines, try developing a streamlined ritual you can fit in anywhere for the really important stuff.

Maybe there are some really important things in your practice that you want to do on a regular basis. Maybe these are things like:

Quick personal shielding

Acknowledging and honoring spirits

General offering

Prayer for guidance

Instead of saying "I'll do shielding for 5 minutes every day after breakfast, then of course my offering ritual-", you can put a streamlined (short, easy) ritual together where you do all four of these things at once.

Deep breaths, acknowledge and honor the spirits, ask for assistance in raising a shield, offering excess raised energy to them, and praying for guidance in the upcoming task.

It should take maybe like, 2 minutes tops.

Then, slot this streamlined ritual in before most practice activities. Like:

Before other energy work

Before divination

Before spellwork

Or, use it as a sort of 'generic' access point of connection and perform this ritual:

When you shower, to calm down from the day

When you're on transit to prepare for the upcoming day

When you're feeling grateful and want to share the moment with the spirits

When you're feeling sad and need support

Instead of forcing important actions into routines that may be hard to follow, find a way to carry these actions around with you in an accessible ritual, like carrying snacks around in a bag. This way you can use other exciting activities, or other life events, as a reminder to practice your ritual of important things :)

Build a clear system of omens for yourself. Omens can intrude on your daily life and get your attention.

Maybe you have alarm blindness, forget to do divination, forget to check in with spells - so asking for omens can be a huge help. They are spontaneous messages that catch your eye. Helpful!

Research cultural omens

Research omens in your magical tradition

Journal and brainstorm personal omens

Write out, for yourself, a short list of personal omens.

Solid black pigeons mean a spirit wants attention. Seeing your favorite tree species means a spell was successful. Three gray dots means a spell failed. The scent of cinnamon buns means fortune is headed your way.

Perform a ritual announcing your chosen omens to the Powers That Be. Invite those Powers, Yourself, Life, the Universe, and Everything to send you true, accurate, and helpful messages through these omens.

Working with omens in this way is a skill that evolves over time. Your personal omen system will evolve over time if you use it. Think of it as another form of divination!

(Tip: Combine symbols with colors for an advanced system that's easy to remember. Oak trees are prosperity, but black means slow movement, red means powerful, and white means failure. After a spell you see a plumbing truck with a red oak tree logo; powerful prosperity. Etc.)

Build all your spells, rituals, and everything with the foresight that you are probably going to forget about it or not return to it for a long time.

Employ foresight and:

Encode retirement/shutdown functions into your spells!! Do you want the spell to burn out completely and leave the vessel hollow so you don't have to deal with the vessel later on? Specify that! Do you want the spell to go to 'power saver mode' and hibernate so you can save the vessel and recharge it later? Specify!

ENCODE OMENS INTO SPELLS TO REMIND YOU TO TAKE ACTIONS! "This spell brings me financial benefit, and when it runs low, I will see my omen of slow growth - a solid black tree."

Assume that you are going to completely forget that you're able to take care of this problem, so encode the spells assuming you will never remember to deal with this again:

Spell for people that will remember they want to deal with Monica (they will also be working with wards, divination, and subtle cunning): "Stop Monica at the front desk from assaulting me with her dark energies, or else limit how much of her energy can reach me."

Spell for people that are going to completely forget this is an issue they can take care of and won't do another spell on it for maybe 18 months: "Stop Monica from assaulting me with her dark energies, or reveal to everyone in the office her dark nature, but if neither of these things is possible, change something in the office so that we never interact again."

Assume you will forget about individual spells, that you will accumulate way to many spells than you can individually attend to, and that you may never take final steps like cleansing and deconstructing old spell vessels.

Build a spellcasting altar, or a spell recharging altar, where you store up all your vessels. Recharge them all at once, as often as you remember to.

Poor plan: "And when this vessel runs down I will recharge it with the waxing moon as I stand under the orange tree-" More tenable plan: "And when this vessel runs down let it drink energy from my altar; let it take up any energy that suits it; let it feed on what is available to it, according to its needs."

Focus on learning how to tie spells to external energy sources so they will stay charged for way longer.

For easy deconstruction, set blanket conditions for every vessel that it be undone and the magic erased if you take a simple action. This is called a kill code. You bake it into spells and it makes deconstruction way easier.

Try developing a barbarous word of undoing and using it every time you want to undo a vessel or a spell; this word will gain power and can become very helpful in other ways.

Once again, plan spells with the foresight that it will be difficult/unlikely for you to re-engage for formal deconstruction procedures. So, anticipate your future needs during spellcasting: "And if I ever open this jar and take out the things inside it, let this spell be released and return to the earth, let it fade away without trouble and nourish anything around it as fallen logs nourish the forest floor." This way, you know that if you accidentally forget about a spell or just take it apart, the magic already has instructions to safely dissipate and you don't have to worry.

Develop a visual language to remind you of what collected objects and spell vessels are.

This folds in real nice with a personal omen system!!

Use a combination of colors, established symbols (planetary, alchemical), and personal symbols to develop a visual conlang that helps you keep track of what things are.

If applicable, decorate or modify spell vessels so you can tell at a glance what the spell is for (violet symbol of Venus next to a paw: a spell to improve relationships with the spirits that help you with psychism)

Build a system that makes intuitive sense to you, perhaps folding in with your color correspondence associations, magical headcannon, or any other mnemonic device:

All the spells in jars are protective

Everything that's tied into a witch's ladder is about prosperity

If it has a red X on it, that's a hex

If it has a 7-pointed star, it involves your dragon guide

If you store it in a bag that has blue on it (blue print, blue button, blue tie-string) then that object is related to cleansing

Your personal visual language will gain its own power over time if used regularly, in the way that egrigores or sigils can gain power if used consistently over time :) It can become a real magical tool, not just a mnemonic device!

During spirit work, just clearly communicate that your sporadic presence has nothing to do with your dedication 🤷

When you conjure/talk to/pray to gods, spirits, or anything, address the fact that your communication/rituals/etc ARE going to be sporadic. Explain yourself and ask the spirits to extend understanding.

Some spirits/gods/etc are going to demand regular routine. AND IF THEY EXPECT THAT, then you guys need to get on the same page ASAP as to whether or not that's possible.

Spirits can be incredibly forgiving and understanding, but unless you tell them why you are sometimes around and sometimes not, they do not necessarily know what's going on.

Your spirit guide may have not read the DSM-5. Obelon the Fox-Man might not be up-to-date with the 2025 diagnosis criteria for ADHD, and Obelon might not recognize that you are struggling with a disorder that can mimic inattentiveness. Obelon might be asking why you appear to be so enthusiastic, and yet only call for him once every 5 weeks.

Just explain!! Explain what you are comfortable explaining. Give them reassurances and ask them to not misinterpret your ability to be present.

At all costs, avoid making your path a carrot that you dangle in front of yourself to try and force yourself to fix your brain through sheer force of will.

If the way you talk to yourself about your path sounds like someone struggling with unhealthy dieting, maybe it's time to readjust.

"I just need to do my daily offerings, on schedule, for two weeks. Then I will have earned researching tarot spells."

Maybe it's not a good idea to intentionally include witchcraft in a cycle of reward and denial that will ultimately drain joy from the process until your passion is a withered husk.

Witchcraft isn't going to force your brain to change any more than Stardew Valley was going to force your brain to change. Or that time you got super into succulents. If your time spent studying wool quality in heritage European sheep breeds didn't cure your disorder, witchcraft won't either.

Witchcraft, I think, deserves to be something that is a part of your joy - not a part of a system of stressful attempts at making yourself into someone you're not because "real witches" all do such-and-such routine (I assure you, they do not) so you must force yourself to do it too.

(Incidentally, if you have a 'streamlined ritual for the important stuff' and it becomes a barrier that prevents you from practicing, then maybe that's not a good idea for you - or maybe it's not as simple and streamlined as you need it to be)

STOP trying to build a static path. Lean into temporary hyperfixations.

There is SO MUCH to learn in witchcraft. It's never-ending. The more you learn, the more doorways open for you with more things to learn behind them.

This is not college, you do not have to declare your major. You don't have to wait to decide on your 'magic specialization' before you start learning.

This is not college, you don't have to take semesters of boring general ed classes before you're allowed to start studying what interests you.

Unless you are getting into very serious initiations, learning stuff, advancing your skills, and building your path is not going to shut doors and prevent you from getting into something else.

If something excites your interests, GET INTO IT! Don't force yourself to ignore what you're passionate about because you think serious, responsible witchcraft is supposed to be rigid, boring, and tedious. (It isn't!)

Avoid declaring your major. As in, maybe the idea of energy glamours is super exciting, so on day 1 you create a lesson plan that will realistically take you 70 weeks to complete. Based on your history, is it reasonable that you will maintain this specific interest in glamours for over a year?

Avoid making lesson plans that intentionally slow you down and make shit boring for no good reason. If energy glamours interest you, are you (*scrolls up*) using energy glamours as a carrot to force yourself to engage in a tedious magical workout routine? Is the reason the lesson plan takes 70 weeks because you decided to spend weeks slowly moving through each phase so you have time to spam energy work exercises?

You know yourself better than I know you. Maybe wanting to slow down and engage in your focuses in a new way is the goal. Of course, listen to yourself first!

But if you have a temporary burst of energy and focus to learn a new skill, and learning that skill won't require you to make unhealthy personal or financial decisions, why not just lean into it and explore it moment by moment, wherever your interests take you?

I think you'd probably learn a lot more doing and undoing 20 glamours in a week, because you're freaking out about how fucking cool it is, than if you practice 1 basic glamor exercise once a day because that's what real disciplined witches do, and then 11 days later you forget it once and never do it again and now your interest has faded because glamouring is just another boring chore.

Invest some time and energy into figuring out exactly what your bare minimum of responsibility and upkeep actually is.

How often do you need to recharge your wards to keep them functioning normally?

Once you've explained your own needs and limits, how often do your spirits actually request offerings?

Are you 100% sure the spirits you're working with expect offerings in the first place?

Are those offerings expected to be physical, or do thoughts and prayers suffice?

How often should you perform a personal cleansing to keep yourself feeling magically refreshed?

Feeling anxious or guilty over whether or not you're supposed to be taking certain actions is NO FUN.

It is much less fun if you don't actually know how often you need to do these things. Then it's just all guessing, all the time, and nothing is ever good enough.

If at all possible, avoid putting yourself into a situation where you feel that you are supposed to be doing something responsible in your practice, but you're never sure exactly what it is.

Spend some practice time, learn some skills, and make notes, to discover whether or not you do have any minimum engagement requirements in the style of practice you want. And most importantly, having clear 'deadlines' so you don't have to keep guessing at what you're forgetting about this time.

[meadowfics]

tingled limbs

cho hyun ju x f!taekwondo!reader

synopsis: what is better than one girlfriend who is amazing at taekwondo? two girlfriends who are amazing at taekwondo!

warnings: 18+ since there is one sexual fantasy, but no smut!! no SQ. graphic descriptions of fighting injuries are mentioned.

being taekwondo powerhouses, both you and hyunju are.

however, your paths to mastery are worlds apart. hyunju's skills come from the military. since she was eighteen, far before her transition, she learned taekwondo before rising up the ranks.

by the time she was a first class sergeant, her kicks were silencing a room of recruits.

you’ve been at it since you were a kid, breaking boards with tiny fists before you could even tie your colored dobok properly.

your shared apartment with your lover tells the story of your talents...hyunju’s military medals are pinned neatly on a corkboard, all precision and order, while your world championship medals spill out of a shoebox under the coffee table.

it is a chaotic pile of gold, silver, and bronze, some tangled in ribbons, others dented from being tossed in after a win.

one evening, you catch hyunju on the couch, a wine in hand, staring at that box like it’s holds the worlds secrets. she’s holding a gold medal from your barcelona win in 2017, her fingers tracing the edge.

“babe, how do you just�� leave these in a box?” she asks, her voice caught between awe and disbelief.

“this is from a world championship, and it’s just… sitting here with some loose change?”

you grin, flopping beside her and stealing a sip of her white wine.

“what am i supposed to do, frame every single one? we’d need a bigger apartment.” you nudge her shoulder, teasing, “besides, you’ve got your own shiny badges, sergeant. don’t act like you’re not a badass.”

hyunju blushes, her usual stoic vibe softening.

“mine are different. they’re… duty. yours are art.” she holds up the medal, the ribbon dangling. “you should display these. they’re you.”

you laugh, leaning into her, “if i put them all up, you’d never find the remote again. too much bling.”

you’ve been dying to go one-on-one with hyunju since you moved in together.

the thought of sparring with hyunju...both of you at your peak...sounds like pure adrenaline. maybe, its your hormones talking as well. one of your fantasies is having your girlfriend pin you as she drills into you.

anyways....you can already see it. the gym, the mats, the two of you circling, kicks flying like a dance.

unfortunately, hyunju shuts it down every time, her face getting all flustered like you’ve asked her to do something embarrassing.

one morning, you’re stretching in the living room, your black dobok a bit wrinkled from the laundry basket, and you try again.

“come on, hyunju,” you say, doing a dramatic high kick that nearly tips you over.

“one round. you and me. let’s see if a sergeant can keep up with a world-class spinner.”

she’s at the kitchen counter, sipping coffee, and nearly chokes.

“absolutely not,” hyunju says, eyes dodging yours, “i’m not fighting you, y/n.”

“it’s not fighting, it’s sparring,” you correct, catching yourself before you fall.

“come on, babe. scared i’ll win?” she rolls her eyes, but a smile tugs at her lips.

“you’re ridiculous. and no, i’m not scared. i just…” she pauses, setting her mug down, “i don’t want to hurt you.”

you burst out laughing, doubling over.

“hurt me? hyunju, i’ve been kicked in the ribs by girls twice my size in tokyo and had my teeth knocked in by others in moscow. i think i can handle you.” she crosses her arms, leaning against the counter, her expression stubborn but soft.

“it’s different, okay? you’re not some random opponent. you’re… you. i’d feel weird.”

you pout, dropping onto the couch with an exaggerated sigh.

“fineeee,” you drawl, “you’re no fun, sergeant. i bet i’d have you on the mat in ten seconds flat.”

hyunju raises an eyebrow, grinning.

“ten seconds? you’re dreaming, champ.” she walks over, ruffling your hair, “keep talking big, and i might just change my mind.”

even if she won’t spar, hyunju’s admiration for you is obvious. you catch her watching old videos of your matches on her phone, eyes glued to the screen as you land a perfect roundhouse kick.

one night, you come home from practice, sweaty and beat, to find her on the couch with her laptop open, rewatching your 2022 world championship final.

“are you… studying me?” you tease, kicking off your shoes and flopping beside her. she doesn’t flinch, still focused on the screen where you’re dodging a strike with inhuman grace.

“you’re insane,” she mutters.

“the way you move… it’s like you’re dancing with your opponent and not fighting.” your cheeks heat up, caught off guard.

“says the woman who could probably take down an entire platoon with one kick.”

she looks at you, her expression soft.

“i’m serious, y/n. you’re incredible. i’ve seen a lot of fighters, but you’re something else.”

you don’t know what to say, so you kiss her cheek, quick and playful.

“you’re just saying that ‘cause you’re stuck with me.”

“maybe,” she teases, pulling you closer, her arm around your lower waist as her nose pokes yours, “but i’m not complaining.”

since hyunju won’t spar, you find other ways to share your mutual bond.

you start “technique tuesdays,” taking turns teaching each other your favorite moves in the living room, coffee table pushed aside and you make sure that your two cats are in another room.

one tuesday, you’re showing her a flashy spinning heel kick you perfected years ago.

“okay, your turn,” you say, hands on hips, panting.

“show me that military precision you’re always bragging about.” hyunju smirks, stepping into the center of the room. her stance is sharp, controlled, and she nails a double knife-hand block followed by a low kick so precise it could’ve been measured with a ruler.

you whistle, impressed.

(a/n: upstair neighbor activites LMAOO)

“damn, babe,” you say while clapping, “you’re so sexy and its making me look bad.”

“please,” she scoffs, brushing hair from her face, “I think you’d eat me alive in a real match.”

you grin, stepping closer until you’re inches apart.

“then let’s find out. one round. no holding back.” you mumble against hyunju's soft lips. you nearly kiss them but hyunju groans.

the woman's grain turns into laughter, pushing you away gently.

“you’re relentless, y/n.” “and you love it,” you shoot back, winking.

she doesn’t deny it, just pulls you into a hug, her chin on your head.

“maybe i do,” she murmurs, “but i’m still not fighting you.”

“whateverrrrr. fine,” you mumble into her shoulder, smiling.

you’ll get her on the mat someday.

for now, having her gentle warmth is satisfying enough.

masterlist

[mmegwrld]

𖤓.ೃ࿔* WARM + jeon jungkook

you and jungkook are college roommates, but sometimes you two hook up. all the time, actually. he continuously pushes you away.. and you stay.

word count : 3.8k

genre : super angsty, some smut some fluff… a little bit of everything. MDNI!

warnings : HEAVILY INSPIRED BY WARM BY ARIANA GRANDE !! guys i’m sorry it’s so angsty, hurt.. comfort, situationship jk, you’re too patient with him.. crying, slow build up? a little bit of smut - praises, oral (m receiving), JK IS AN ASSHOLE IN SOME PARTS

a/n : this is my first time doing anything like this so pleaseee give me grace!! ��💐✨🐬🌞 and THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD!!

masterlist

the first time you met jeon jungkook was when you first went into your shared dorm room. it was an apartment sized dorm, with a kitchen, bathroom and two rooms. you didn’t expect much with college. a dorm, hard classes and an awkward roommate is what you thought about. you knew you were going to get some random person, but you didn’t expect him, jungkook. your first impression was great, some random hot guy i have to live with for the next four years.

his surfer cut, full tattooed sleeve, toned body. he barely glances at you, he doesn’t even say a word until you do. you wonder how long he was here for. you set down your bags and look at him, “so you’re jungkook?” you finally speak up. you’re met with an “mhm.” what? mhm? that’s it? no questions about you as if he already knew what you looked like. whatever. rude, cool, whatever. you roll your eyes with a huff, “can’t wait to be friends with my cool roommate,” you mutter. jungkook finally takes a real glance at you, “good luck with that,” he smirks softly. oh.. ohhh, he’s that type of quiet, you thought. quiet, cocky, an asshole. fine, i don’t need to be friends with him anyways.

sadly, that’s not how roommates work. you have to speak. nights in your shared dorm meant soft brushes past each other. it means accidentally catching him laughing quietly at something on his phone when he thinks you aren’t looking. it also meant studying silently together, glancing at each other. it made you want to know him. he was interesting… an asshole, but interesting.

jungkook when he first met you. he knew you were going to be a handful. you went to a nice college, your luggages were expensive. you had the newest phone. nice clothes. everything. you two have been coexisting with each other for months now. you tease him sometimes for being so silent but he acted like he didn’t care. doesn’t matter.

it happened so casually, he almost didn’t even notice. one night, he saw you. not just on a regular thing, he really sees you. it was a late night for the both of you. he went out with jimin and taehyung to some all night ramen restaurant. he entered the dorm, seeing you in the living room. you sit on the floor with your back to the couch, half asleep while reading some crime textbook. your laptop screen glows softly, highlighting your puffy cheeks… the way your lashes flutter when you’re fighting sleep.

jungkook felt something shift because he’s seen you a hundred times before, but never like this. not this soft, so vulnerable. not in a way that makes his chest tighten. he sets down his keys and walks over to you. he watches you exhale, your head tipping back slightly. his fingers twitch softly. he’s aware… he’s suddenly aware of how close you two have become over the months. he notices the little things he’s remembered. the way you hum softly while you think or the way you shiver whenever you’re super nervous. that’s it, he thinks to himself. i’m fucked. he quickly realizes you’re not just his roommate. you’re her… and he doesn’t know what to do with that.

he gathers your stuff and puts them on your desk in your room. he plugs up your phone and laptop before heading back to you. he thinks for a second. should he pick you up and take you to your bed, leave you there or wake you up and make you walk. he sighs and picks you up slowly, bridal style. you groan softly, “wha—“ “it’s me..” jungkook says softly as he puts you onto your bed. you flutter your eyes open, “jungkook?” you barely whisper. he doesn’t reply as he leaves the room. you furrow your brows and quickly fall back asleep.

jungkook never spoke about his feelings— to anybody. but when he realized he wasn’t just feeling nothing towards you, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. so he does the only thing a guy would do, call his friends. jimin and taehyung meet him at some cafe in the downtown area. jungkook sits across from them, stirring his iced coffee like it personally offended him. jimin raises his left brow, “so what’s wrong?” he asks. jungkook groans, “ugh.. it’s— it’s my fucking roommate,” he finally admits. taehyung bucks his head back, “your roommate?” he questions. jungkook looks at them, “yes.”

“the hot one?” taehyung adds. jungkook shakes his head, “she’s— that’s not the point,” he sighs. jimin and taehyung exchange a look as jimin speaks up, “ohh… you like her.” “i don’t— i— i think i do.” silence was met with the three before the two start laughing. jimin slaps jungkook’s shoulder, “bro.. we’ve been called this months ago! as soon as we seen her!” “you live with her and it took you this long to realize?” taehyung adds. jungkook glares at them, “you guys are no help,” he shakes his head again and leans back. taehyung tilts his head as he stops laughing, “so, whats the problem? you like her… she kind of likes you sometimes— what’s the matter?”

jungkook hesitates before replying, “what if i mess it up?” his voice is more quiet now, more vulnerable. jimin and taehyung knew how jungkook was with girls. he didn’t like to date. he didn’t like talking to them. he was by far the worst guy to date in their grade. taehyung sighs, “you already like her. you’re already in the deep. what’s worse— messing up or never trying?” he asks. jungkook hates how he’s right. but jungkook knew he would mess it up. he always does. with everything. maybe this time could be different.

the first time you two hooked up was after some frat party. the night felt electric. you and jungkook have been dancing around each other for weeks now. making each other laugh, teasing, not admitting you both want the same thing. you sat in between his legs as he throws his head back. he shivers at the warmth of your mouth. his tattooed hand makes its way into your hair, “just like that..” he moans. you bob your head up and down on his shaft. jungkook… he was big. a big muscle guy and a big dick guy. you jerk the rest you couldn’t fit in your mouth. he looks down at you, “you’re so beautiful, (name). i like seeing you everyday. i fuckin love your cooking.”

you furrow your brows at his confession as you lick his tip, “you do?” you ask softly. he nods, “i like you, (name). i really do. i want to be with you,” he soon cums in your mouth. it was about 15 minutes after. you brush your teeth as he walks in, “did you mean it?” you ask and glance to him in the mirror. he looks at you, “mean what?” “you like seeing me everyday, you love my cooking. you like me.” it was silence, “i dunno what you’re talking about.” what? what the fuck does he even mean— he was fucking cumming when he said that. is that what he does? he gets all sappy and vulnerable right before his burst? fuck that.

somehow, you get sick. like really sick. stuffy nose, groggy voice, wrapped in five covers. jungkook checks in on you, “you good?” he asks. you smile, “yeah. totally.” he says nothing back and leaves. an hour later, he walks into your room with medicine, some warm soup— what the hell? a stuffed bunny? you give him a knowing look as he places the medicine and soup on your bed side table. he takes out the three water bottles from his pockets. he looks back at you and puts the bunny next to you, “don’t make it weird. it was on sale.” you blink up at him, “a stuffed bunny?” your voice hoarse. he huffs and gives you two pills and a open water bottle, “shut up and take the medicine.” you laugh, quickly coughing. you clear your throat, “it looks like you.” he furrows his eyebrows and leaves the room. later on that night, he checks on you again. you’re fast asleep, tightly hugging the bunny. he brushes a hair from your forehead, “i got you.” he whispers.

you guys have hooked up a bunch more times at this point. it’s the summer and there’s parties every night. you two stumble into the dorm after a party. it’s near 2am… you think. you stopped keeping time after your first shot. jungkook holds your heels as his jacket drape over your shoulders. you sigh and plop onto the couch. he sits next to you, throwing your legs onto his lap. “you okay?” he asks softly, massaging your swollen feet. you nod and sigh, “all good.” he stares at you with a unreadable expression, “k.” he kisses your ankle softly, “so beautiful.” you knew what he wanted. just like how you thought, he gets all romantic when he’s needy. you look at him, “can we just lay here?” you ask. he looks at you, “course. give me a kiss,” he helps you up. you kiss his pierced lip, laughing between the kisses. he rubs your butt slowly, “all mine,” he whispers, biting your bottom lip. his tongue slides into your mouth as he spanks you softly. you yelp and pull away, “you’re bad.”

he never took you on a date. but he takes a whole other girl on a date?! oh. hell. no. your friend sent you a picture of them at your fucking restaurant. you scoff and reply fucking asshole. he walks back in as you sat on the couch, like everything is normal. but you felt like you just got tossed out. you wait until he says hi. once he does, you scoff. “you’re a real piece of shit,” you looks at him. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow, “what?” “you took a girl on a date.” “i’ve been doing that.” it hits you. the whole time… the whole time he was hooking up with you at night, he was taking that bitch out during the day. “what about it?” he adds. you scoff once more, “what about it— you been having sex with me for months and taking out a whole different girl.”

he doesn’t even flinch. his eyes flicker to yours for a second than back out the window, “we’re not dating. you knew this was just.. whatever.” the words hit you like a slap in the face. the truth of it. the reality that you’ve been pretending this whole time, pretending it was something it wasn’t. you shake your head, tearing your gaze away from his figure, “i don’t want to be your whatever.” “that’s not my problem,” he replies, cold. you hate how calm he is. how unaffected. it only fuels the fire inside of you. you want to scream. you want to make him feel something. but instead, you just walk past him, your voice shakes. “fine. don’t worry about it. i won’t either.” you slam the door to your room, the sound echoing in the silence. jungkook stands there for a moment, his jaw tight. but he says nothing.

you sit in your room, tapping on your journal. you stare up at the ceiling. you cannot shake off the feeling. that very familiar anger bubbling up. you don’t even understand why you’re so bothered. you guys aren’t talking… dating. nothing. just roommates. strictly roommates. the next few days are tense. jungkook doesn’t act any differently—still distant, still the same nonchalant attitude—but the air between you guys is thick. everytime your paths cross in the dorm, there’s this silent battle happening, neither of you acknowledging the real issue. you, on the other hand, can’t shake it. you try to act normal—just like you always do—but every time you see him, everytime your mind wanders back to that night, you reminded of how cold he was. how little he seemed to care.

it was another summer night for you guys. you sat with some random guy, trying to fulfill the feeling that jungkook gave you. he stares at you tensely. hobi and jimin walk up to him, “earth to kookie!” hobi waves his hand in his face. jungkook looks at the two, “what?” jimin looks back to you and the guy, “ohhh… you messed it up. just wait til taehyung hears about this. he owes me $150.” jungkook smacks his lips, “shut up. i just.. i don’t owe her anything.” hobi knew about their situation.. probably the most considering he’s friends with you and jungkook. hobi hums, “you owe her an explanation.”

jungkook spots you walking away, “i don’t.” “yes… you do. she’s given herself to you. communicated with you. what have you done besides give her mixed signals and rub in her face that you don’t like her when you do?” hobi shrugs as he tells jungkook the truth. jungkook sighs as he stares at you, by yourself. “go talk to her,” jimin says. jungkook shakes his head, “she hadn’t talked to me in weeks.” “(name) is a patient person, just go,” hobi pushes him. you sit by the bonfire by yourself, with a random beer in your lap. you feel a sudden presence next to you. you look away from the fire and see.. oh. him. you look away as he stares at you, “can we talk?” he says softly, like he’s scared.

you stay silent as you stare into the fire. jungkook watches the way the fire lights up your face, your features. your eyes looks hurt. he looks at his lap, “i fucked up,” he says, his tone low. you look at him, your lips pressed into a thin line. he runs a hand through his hair, “i never meant to hurt you, (name). i— i never felt this way about somebody and i don’t know how to handle it.” your eyes narrow out of anger, confusion and mostly hurt. you didn’t know if you wanted to forgive him, but you wanted to hear him out. he sighs, “i know i’ve been really cold to you. i know i pushed you away and told you i don’t care. but i do, i care so much about you.”

you finally speak up, “then why did you take her out? why did you tell me i was a whatever thing to you. i have to see you everyday. i wake up and i see you, you’re the last thing i see when i sleep.” your voice quiet. he swallows hard, “i didn’t think you would get hurt that much.” you stay quiet for longer, your gaze hardening. you were angry, but hurt lingered like a shadow, “you can’t just keep pretending everything’s nothing, jungkook. i don’t work that way.” his hand touches yours, it’s a small gesture but he’s trying. “this doesn’t just go away, jungkook. you have to prove yourself. stand on your words,” you say. he nods, “i’ll prove it to you.”

you were so fucking wrong. he was literally a piece of shit. he treated you like a booty call. you’ve had enough. enough of his mixed signals, enough of pretending you’re okay with something you’re not. you guys were laid in his room. you sat on the end as he laid down, “i can’t do this anymore.” you shake your head. your voice wavers as you hold his gaze, “i need more,” you say barely whispering. he stares at you, jaw clenched. you finally think you’re gonna hear what you’ve been wanting to— thinking he’s going to stop you. “i get it.” that’s it. no fights. no pleading, just.. stupid fucking understanding. as if he always knew you’d leave before him. so you do, you left the dorm for a couple of days.

it’s been weeks since you stopped trying. since you stopped waiting for him. and jungkook? he hates it. he sees you laughing with some guy outside their dorm, sees the way you don’t hesitate before answering his texts. that used to be him. that night, when you come home, jungkook is already there, sitting on your bed like he belongs there, “he’s not me.” his voice is quiet but firm. you stare blankly at him, “and?” it starts with a fight. it always does. jungkook’s distant again. canceling plans, avoiding you, acting like what you guys have isn’t the one thing keeping them both sane. and you’re done pretending like you don’t care, “if you don’t want this anymore, just say it,” you finally snap, standing in the middle of your dorm, arms crossed to keep yourself from shaking. jungkook exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, “it’s not that simple.”

“it is,” you argue. “either you want me, or you don’t. but i can’t keep doing this—this… half-assed love story where im the only one who actually gives a damn.” that hits. you see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his fists tighten like he’s holding back something big. “you think i don’t care?” his voice is quiet. dangerous. you scoff, “you don’t.” silence. and then— “i care too much.” you stare at him. he steps closer, eyes dark, voice rough. “you want the truth? fine. i’m scared, okay? i don’t know how to do this. i don’t know how to love you the way you deserve. and it’d be so much easier if i didn’t care—but i do. i fucking do.” your breath catches,“then let me in.” jungkook stares at you, and for the first time, you see it—the fear, the way his whole life he’s been taught to guard his heart like it’s a war zone. but then, slowly, carefully, he reaches for you and when you don’t pull away—when you actually lean in—he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years. “okay.” his voice is barely above a whisper. “i’ll try.” and that’s all you need. because for jungkook? that’s everything.

the first morning after the talk, everything feels… different. jungkook wakes up first, lying beside you in bed, staring at the ceiling like the weight of actually trying is sinking in. you stir, blinking up at him, voice still groggy. “you look like you regret everything.” he scoffs, but his fingers tighten slightly on the blanket. “no. just… thinking.” you hum, stretching. “about?” jungkook hesitates. then, finally—“how not to mess this up.” your heart clenches, because that? that’s growth. instead of pushing her away, he’s trying. so you smile, soft and teasing,“well, step one? maybe kiss me good morning.” he rolls his eyes but leans in anyway, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering. “better?” he murmurs. you grin, “much.”

you guys were bound to slip up. you are used to being his exception—the only one he lets in. but now that you guys are together, you want more. you want the soft parts of him, the ones he keeps hidden even from himself. and jungkook? he still doesn’t know how to give that. “you don’t talk to me,” you snap one night. “you keep shutting me out like you’re still scared of this—of us.” jungkook clenches his jaw, eyes flashing. “i don’t shut you out—” “yes, you do!” you throw your hands up. “and i get it, okay? you’re not used to this. but if you don’t let me in, then what’s the point?” he’s quiet. too quiet. and for a moment, you think he’ll walk away. but then— “i don’t want to lose you.” it’s barely a whisper, but it hits you like a confession. like a breaking point. your face softens, “than let me stay.” jungkook exhales sharply—then, slowly, nods. it’s a start.

you guys walking home late one night, hands brushing but not quite holding. you frown, shoving your hands in your pockets. “you still don’t like PDA, huh?” you tease, but there’s something real in your voice. jungkook glances at you—then, suddenly, he reaches for your hand, threading your fingers together. you stop in your tracks, staring at him, “kook?” he shrugs, playing it off, “i can try, right?” your heart melts. “yeah,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “you can.” and as you guys keep walking, you swear he holds on just a little tighter.

[fckmebarnes]

˗ˏˋ ★ silly little prank ★ ˎˊ˗

bucky barnes x reader

you play a prank on bucky by carving your initials into his dagger…

+18 MEN AND MINORS DNI. semi-hate sex! knife play. oral (bucky receiving) lmk if i missed any!!

You and Bucky had a quarrel, one that was going on for, quiet a bit. You weren’t sure why the two of you hated each other so much, but you both couldnt deny the sexual tension that was between you both.

Sam swore that everytime you both were in the gym, he could cut the sexual tension with a knife. You both shrugged it off though with “I hate her” and “I can’t stand him”.

But both of you couldn’t deny the sneaky touches the two of you shared, the way that Bucky stood close to you in briefings when there were plenty of chairs around the room.

The two of you knew there was something there, but didn’t want to admit it.

That was, until you heard his heavy footsteps down the hall, heading straight to you room. You heard Sam yell “Wacth where you’re going asshole!” As Bucky bumped into him on his way to your room.

You jumped in your spot as he thre the door open, his eyes full of rage as he stood in the doorway. You paused from reading your book and looked up to see his standing figure, as he walked closer to your bed and shut the door behind you.

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” You were confused, not sure what he was talking about until he held up his favorite dagger by the blade, showing you the mahogany handle.

You blinked, suddenly remembering what you had done. It was a dare by Sam one late Friday evening, the two of you were so drunk you could barely form coherent sentences.

“I dare you to carve your initials in Barne’s favorite dagger.” You shook your head as you dipped your wine, knowing that that would be a huge mistake.

“No way. He would have my head.” Sam laughed and shrugged knowing there was absolutely no way a Bucky would harm a single hair on you.

“Hey, it would be helping you. It would finally give him a reason to fuck you.” You almost choked on your wine as Sam spoke.

“He does not like me like that.” You tried to deny it, but you knew deep down it was true. That the two of you had feelings for each other.

And here you were, sitting on your bed watching Bucky hold his dagger in his metal hand, your initials showing. You put your book down slowly, closing it and setting it to the side. You crawled to the end of you bed, sitting on your knees and looking up at him.

“It was a dare, Sam dared me to do it-“ you paused as you felt a cool point on your cheek, slowly trailing down to your jaw.

“You think it’s funny, don’t you?” Bucky’s tone was dark, deep, a turn on. You looked up at him, his pupils blown out, and you could see an outline of his hard on in his jeans.

“I-“ you gulped as his face got closer to yours, feeling his breath against your mouth as he was inches from yours. You resisted the urge to kiss him, but felt a damp spot on your panties at the thought of his dagger against your cheek.

“Silly girl. You should know better than to mess with me. On your knees on the groun, now.” You blinked and crawled down without a second thought, looking up to Bucky through your lashes as he kept the point of the dagger underneath your chin to look up at you.

He licked his lips, slowly biting his bottom lip. You shifted on your knees, trying to create some friction between your thighs but to no avail.

“You’re going to do what I say, got it? Don’t speak unless spoken to.” You nodded your head, hands on your knees as he smirked. He motioned down to his zipper, and you knew exactly what he wanted you to do.

“Take it out, doll. I want to feel that mouth of yours.” You shifted as your hands fumbled with the button, popping it open and pulled the zipper down. You took out his dick, and it felt heavy in your hand.

The tip was red and angry, pre-cum on the very edge. You stroked his shaft, the soft velvety skin against your palm made you wetter. He dragged the blade of his dagger on your skin, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to make you take his cock in his mouth.

You licked around the tip slowly, feeling his thighs flex as you rested your hands on his legs, a soft moan coming from his lips as you swirled your tongue. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, and slowly thrusted into your mouth, moaning as he felt your hot, wet mouth around him.

“Fuck, this mouth feels so good. Didn’t know you could suck cock so well.” He thrusted his hips into your mouth at a slow pace, grunted as he got deeper and deeper, feeling his tip hitting the back of your throat.

You felt the small damp spot in your panties grow, shuffling your thighs together as he stopped inside your mouth.

“Don’t move. This is what you get for putting your initials on my dagger. Be my dirty whore.” He picked up his pace, feeling spit on the corner of your mouth and falling onto your thighs. You grunted as he thrusted deeper, moans falling from his lips and head tilting back.

“Gonna come in this pretty mouth of yours. You’re gonna take it.” He fucked your throat hard, spit covering his entire dick, spilling from your mouth. The sounds of you gagging filled the room and fueled his thrusts, making him curse under his breath.

His dick throbbed in your mouth as you felt him come, hitting the back of your throat as you swallowed obediently. He took a few more slow thrusts in your mouth as he milked his cock

He pulled out and put his dick away, looking down at you with tears in your eyes and spit all over your mouth. He knelt down and took your head in his fingers, making you look at him.

“Lesson learned?” You nodded your head as you licked your lips. He nodded and stood up, holding out his hand for you to take. You took his hand and stood up, Bucky guiding you to your bathroom.

“Gonna take care of you, doll. We have a lot to talk about.” He pressed a kiss against your forehead as he started your bath. He set his dagger on the countertop and looked at you.

Maybe you should do dares more often.

[bejeweledinterludes]

who ya gonna call?

OR dean’s a ghost. he’s haunting you (but you are not complaining).

my masterlist

「 pairing 」 : ghost ! dean x established fem ! reader

「 word count 」 : 1.7 k.

「 content / warnings 」 : smut— again, more to come in the next few weeks too so BUCKLE UP, dean is a ghost, reader is very much aware. can’t tell if i love or hate this one tbh.

you have new messages from the author ! ↓

with the great @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth (aka god)’s permission, i let my freak flag fly here (but when do i not, let’s be real). think spn s2 ep1 ; in my time of dying for this one. and if any of you say “well actually ☝️🤓 this wouldn’t make sense becuase of xyz” just know i am a horny woman and tumblr is my outlet. but inspo is from @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth’s the swayze method of course. thank you very much for letting me run with this!

this is also my gift for 500 (+40 !;$3:!33&?!?!2?2(3&3&) followers, along with all the love on my touch starved ! dean fic thank you all so so so very much! part 2 for that should be out at some point <3

𖤐 ─────────────────────────

even though he hunted them, dean had to admit— being a ghost had its perks.

of course, dean had been one before— multiple times, actually. first when he got in that car crash with sammy and his dad, another when he busted out a bunch of locked up spirits in some old-ass house, and the other being more recently.

as in, now.

dean needed to stop doing stupid shit like this— but honestly? sometimes, being there, yet not being seen was pretty damn awesome.

dean had stalked you and sam all day— not that he thought you knew he was there, but you could almost… sense it. while digging through spellbooks, you’d looked at the spot he was (invisibly) standing in once or twice, furrowing your brows like you actually saw him. but you shrugged it off, thinking it was your mind playing tricks on you when the motel curtains blew a little like there’d been a small gust of wind. nothing was there, right?

no.

dean was there.

he was here now, too.

dean had been here for a while now— as soon as you and sam gave up for the second night in a row of not finding a single thing to help his… not-living dilemma, you’d gone back to what was yours and dean’s shared motel room (sam had gotten his own on the other side of the motel. and any guesses as to why?).

maybe it might’ve been seen as creepy, but dean enjoyed just watching you. didn’t matter what, or when. you’d pretended not to notice more often than not, but now dean could watch without any fear of you realizing.

well.

yet.

dean was now currently following you out of the steam-filled bathroom, your socked feet padding on the motel room’s carpet while in one of his shirts. you wore them frequently, but that didn’t stop the way a little pang of possession shot through his chest every time he saw you.

you slipped under the covers of your own comfortable blanket (because pro hunter tip: bring your own bedding to shitty motels), letting out an exhale you didn’t know you were holding in.

dean just sits and watches you for a little, perching himself on the side of the bed. damn, even with that worried, concerned look on your face, you were still gorgeous.

and you were worried. loving dean winchester had its perks, but fuck if it didn’t hurt every time he ‘died’. this was worse, too, because you knew he was a ghost— and the thought of him out there somewhere alone somewhere made your chest ache.

“wish you were here,” you whisper half into your pillow without even thinking about it, eyes on the window next to the bed.

dean’s heart broke a little at that. because he was here.

so even though he knew you wouldn’t be able to hear him, feel him— he shifts fully on the bed and scoots right up next to you, spooning you like he always did most nights.

suddenly, you were much colder than you’d been before. you squint at the window. it was only cracked a little bit for air. and for a second, you thought you felt something, weight surrounding you as if dean was really, truly actually there—

“‘m right here,” he whispers your name in your ear, his own chest hurting with the longing to just comfort you. “hell, you really think dyin’ would get you ridda me?”

then you gasp, and dean can feel the way your body tenses. but why in chuck’s name did you—

wait.

did you hear that?

you’re both silent for a moment, until you finally find the words to speak— surprisingly, the only thing that comes out of your mouth is:

“dean?”

dean mentally smacks himself upside the head.

ghosts’ emotions made them more powerful— so much so that humans could notice.

turns out, you had that effect on him.

big surprise, right?

“yeah, it’s me,” he whispers again, settling more next to you, afraid that if he spoke any louder, the bridge he’d somehow fostered might dissipate.

“jesus christ,” you breathe out a sigh of relief, still in your position on the bed while you can almost feel his breath on your ear. “have you— you’ve been here the whole time?”

“‘course i have,” dean almost sounds offended when he answers back, voice still low as his arm snakes around your waist. “where else would i be?”

you don’t answer. because now that you though about it, it did make sense. you almost wanted to ask why he didn’t say anything earlier—but instead, you whisper back:

“how are you doing that?”

dean’s brows furrow a little— until it clicks.

you felt his arm around you.

which meant you could feel him.

damn.

like he said.

this ghost thing had its perks.

“dunno,” dean honestly replies before pressing a kiss onto your cheek— and the way your eyes fluttered shut told him you felt that, too. “but i’m damn glad i can.”

“i’m dreaming,” you whisper more to yourself than anything as dean’s other hand trails down the curve of your waist through his shirt— and if you kept your eyes shut, it was like he was actually there.

but hell, he was.

“nuh uh,” you feel the warmth of dean’s breath on your ear again and his hand lingering on your hip when he presses himself completely against your back. you dared not to open your eyes, in fear of seeing nothing but darkness and empty sheets— because with you not looking, it was all the more real. “ya feel that? ‘s all me. ‘cause ‘a you.”

“fuckin’ hell,” you whisper again, pressing yourself right back into him as if—

no.

he was there.

you can feel the familiar roughness of dean’s hand slipping under the band of your underwear like he’s done a million times before— well, actually, this was a little new. because his hands were cold, not hot. but whatever.

“missed ya like crazy,” dean whispers again, fingers gently dragging across your already wet folds— because when were you not wet for dean winchester. “guess you did, too, huh?”

“always miss you,” your voice comes out breathier than you wanted it to, but that’s the effect dean had on you, too. he always made you cum like a horny teenager— too soon and too loud. but then again, you did the same for him. “always need you.”

god, what the hell were you saying? you’re a grown-ass woman—telling a man what, exactly?

well, you don’t know, because your thoughts are interrupted when dean’s skilled— albeit now ghostly fingers start rubbing. you tip your head back involuntarily, letting out a rougher exhale, because if this was a dream, you were gonna enjoy every second of it.

“dean,” his name rolls off your tongue before something between a whimper and moan escapes your throat as his fingers go a little faster. a tiny, annoying voice in your mind tells you that this really isn’t the best idea, but you don’t really care.

because dean kinda made you forget about everything else.

especially when his hands were involved.

“shhh,” dean’s not really shushing you though, because his tone is coaxing. the kind that says “i got you.”

but he still says that out loud, anyway.

so you relax more into dean— or rather, nothing behind you. you don’t think, because dean’s got you. he always does, even in the afterlife. and because if you thought about it too hard, you were afraid the tension building in your tummy would go away. you were afraid the oh-so familiar feeling of his fingers rubbing your clit would cease to exist.

you feel something cold on your neck, too— and it sends a jolt down your spine, adding to the bouts of pleasure only dean could seem to orchestrate for you.

you can’t moan as loud as you want to— because the old lady in the room next door had already given you a look when she saw the six-pack in your hands the other day. but then again, that’s when dean was in his meat suit. still, you didn’t need another look.

“oh, de,” you bury half your face into your pillow again, choking out a breath of dean’s name, eyes still shut and letting out a broken noise as the burning in your lower torso was getting more intense.

dean was enjoying this way too much, he thought. but then again, he always liked seeing you like this— even more so when it was because of him. when he actually died, he’d definitely turn down the sorry-ass reaper or death, or whoever was taking him to wherever he’ll be ending up just to make you cum, over and over.

that seemed like a good way to spend eternity.

and he wished at that moment that he could properly fuck you— but that was for when he was back in his body. so he could feel you, too.

you wished you could touch him— feel him more than what you were now, but your brain was starting to become fuzzy, your legs and what seemed to be every nerve in your body tingling.

dean felt it, too. he didn’t really know how, but it was something he’d learned over time. your pretty face scrunched up even more, and the sounds you let out were sounds you only made when you were close. you tried to talk— but all that came out was his name.

“dean— baby, please—”

he never had to ask you to beg for him. never had to ask to say his name, or for you to tell him that you’re his.

you always just did it.

“‘s okay, ‘s okay,” dean whispers your name in your ear, feeling you shiver against him. because right now? who was he to deny you? the woman who gave him anything and everything he needed— wanted. yeah, no way. “just go ahead.”

with that, he increased the pace of his fingers further while letting your hips continue buck on his hand— and the sounds you let out when you finally let yourself tip over the edge was almost enough to make dean lose it right then and there, too.

maybe there were a couple downsides to this though— because dean couldn’t lick his fingers clean of you right now. and he was hard. was that even a thing?

he could barely focus on his own thoughts right now, though— because your eyes were still shut, mouth parted and legs twitching as he lay pressed up against you.

but the first thing you said?

“just you wait ‘till you get back in your body, cowboy.”

───────────────────────── 𖤐

you have one ( 1 ) new message from the author ! ↓

felt wrong to post this on easter (yesterday) SORRY LMFAO i’m not even christian or anything like that but! faith now beating the monday scaries one smut fic at a time 🙂‍↕️🙏

my master taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @bittersweetfig @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlesoulshine @starzify @velvetparkerx @eggggggggggggggggggggsblog @fuckedupfate @liiiilsss @angelblqde @vmiina @mahi-wayy @viarasvogue @tinas111 @0ccvltism @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @lunaleah @saintfaux + if i missed anyone OR if you want to be added / taken off, please let me know! <3

[ivysangel]

surprise post bc my blogs fixed woo hoo!! i initially sent this as an ask to @hanasnx as my contribution to his baby daddy!jason au, but i also wanted to share it here for u guys as a little treat :p

Baby Daddy!Jason, who you co-parent with, in a very civilized way. No joke, the picture of camaraderie between exes. He takes your daughter on the days he's supposed to (which isn't that often, given his occupation) and brings her back on time, always with a little gift for you as well. Flowers, chocolates, a little knick-knack reminiscent of when you were together. It's not because he's in love with you or anything; it's just the principle of the matter. "Happy wife, happy life," not that you were married or even dating, but he figures the mother of his child should get love sometimes.

Baby Daddy!Jason, who, the next time he sees you, it's to drop off something your daughter forgot with him, and as he's handing you the bag, he casually asks why you haven't been asking him to take her more often. You had been for a while when you were going on dates weekly, but for some reason, the relationships never went anywhere, so you just gave up. "Oh, you know, it just wasn't working out." you say off-handedly, "Kept getting ghosted." you sound only marginally disappointed, moreso annoyed. "What a shame, they're really missing out," he says, getting real close to you and taking up your entire field of vision.

Baby Daddy!Jason, who's got your entire calendar memorized and knows that his daughter's not home tonight and that you've got no plans other than watching movies in solitude. He knows you're too stubborn to call him over for company even though you've been giving him fuck me eyes in passing for the past few months, so he figures he just has to take matters into his own hands and corner you until you give in like he knows you want to.

Baby Daddy!Jason, who fucks you on damn near every surface in the house, telling you he's just christening the place like he would've already done if you lived together. Whispers apologies in your ears about scaring off all of your dates while he's splitting you open, bullying his cock into you while your eyes roll to the back of your head because you haven't been fucked this good in years, not since the last time you'd been with him. You're face is deep in some pillows when you realize the memories you had of his dick pale in comparison to the real thing, and you aren't sure you could go back to using your imagination to get off after tonight.

Baby Daddy!Jason, who keeps you up all night until your pussy's red and puffy from how many times it'd come in contact with his hips while he was fucking you. Fat tip kissing your cervix until you were clawing at his biceps, begging him to give you some reprieve, tears in your eyes while you babbled incoherently, too lost in the feeling of him to make any sense. He admits in the midst of sex that he tried to get over you; he really did, but he just couldn't; he just couldn't picture you with another man in any capacity. The thought of someone else touching you, fucking you, loving you, made his stomach turn, filling him with rage and an overwhelming need to claim you as his.

Baby Daddy!Jason, who's a level-headed, non-fragile ego'd man until it comes to his family, which, contrary to what some would say, did not only consist of his daughter but you too, and any guy who tried to get with you was a threat. he didn't know the intentions of other men, but he knew his own, which was to keep his little family happy as long as he was alive. If that meant putting a gun to the head of anyone who made a move on you and consoling you by stretching you out the way he knew you liked until you just said "fuck it" and let him put another baby in you, then so be it.

[revelboo]

Am I self indulging 😀

Nah, they need love

Personal Space

Steve, Vehicons x Reader

• That’s not your bed. Staring at the metal frame that’s taking up most of your bedroom floor so you can’t get into the bottom drawers of your dresser and the two queen sized mattresses wedged into it, you have no words. The thing is piled with blankets, throws, and pillows. None of which are yours. Staring at it in dismay, you know the Vehicons had to have done this while you were at work. You just have no idea why and after a double shift, you aren’t motivated to go back downstairs and ask your alien squatters about it. Changing out of your uniform and pulling on a pair of shorts and tank top, you sprawl in your new bed. It’s plush at least, the mattress nicer than your old one.

• Moving carefully up the stairs mass shifted, his head tips slightly as he nudges your door open. And you’re sprawled on your belly in your new berth. Crawling in beside you, he eases down on his side facing you. Watching you rest. Your other berth too narrow to share. Head turning, he vents when one of his brothers steps over him and lays down on your other side. Hears another of his brothers joining them.

• Stretching, your toes brush something warm and you sleepily sit up. Staring at the Vehicons lying on either side of you, both recharging facing you on your new bed. Well. That explains the bed. Standing up, you awkwardly step over Steve. And over another of his brothers getting down from the mattress. There’s another sleeping propped up near your door. Two lying in the hall. Are they all sleeping in your house now?

• Picking your way through the house to get a glass of water, you stop counting them at some point. They’re everywhere recharging wherever. Lying in the floor, sitting against walls. One of them lifts his head and reaches, the backs of his servos brushing your ankle in passing as his head turns to track you. “Hi,” you murmur and a second one stirs, watching you. They’re always watching your every move.

• Venting, his hand reaches and finds only empty space where you should be and Steve lifts his head. Waiting until you return, picking your way over his brothers to return to him. And your eyes flick to him as you ease back down where you were. So close he can reach out and touch you. Wants to, but doesn’t want to spook you. You’re on your side facing him and it’s almost intimate. Can scent you, swears he can almost feel your breath on him. Wonders how soft you’d be against him.

• “There’s a lot more of you than I thought,” you whisper, trying to be quiet since his brothers are everywhere recharging and you don’t want to wake them. ‘Does it bother you?’ He asks studying your face as you wiggle to get more comfortable before you shake your head. Wondering if they’re here hiding or if they’re watching over you. “I like you guys.”

• Reaching out a hand, his servos stop just shy of touching your cheek. Unsure what he’s allowed. “We, I, like you,” he says and you smile faintly. Freezing when you reach and hook a finger with one of his servos. So close and not nearly close enough. Whispering softly to each other until you fall asleep and it’s over far too soon. Your soft finger still hooked with his servo.

[anbaisai]

Eeeh, I didn’t know today was also NRC Founding Day! What a coincidence. It must be fate or something!

Happy birthday to Mayu! 🎉🎉It just so happens to fall on the same day as Twst JP's anniversary, so let's have a big celebration today! ✨ (Voice lines under the cut!)

Credit to @/twstinginthewind for the blank Ramshackle card edit!

When Summoned: I didn’t think I’d get to celebrate my birthday in another world. I’m grateful that I’ve found friends in Twisted Wonderland to share this with.

Home: Wah, my hair’s sticking up everywhere!

Swap Looks: Time to get ready for the day.

Home Transition 1: Gotta make my bed before I go! Yup, everything’s neat and tidy.

Home Transition 2: I’m always so hungry first thing when I wake up. Alright, let’s see if there’s any leftovers from last night I can munch on!

Home Transition 3: I look like I have a sprout on my head? Well, we’ve gotta go out there and make sure it gets its sunshine then!

Home Transition - Login: I’m not expecting any gifts, but it would be nice to get some practical things like cleaning supplies. It’s hard keeping Ramshackle spic and span on the headmaster’s meager allowance…

Groovification: [LOCKED]

Home Transition - Groovy: [LOCKED]

Home Tap 1: Jamil-senpai wished me happy birthday and handed me a homemade bento. He really is just like a diligent housewife…

Home Tap 2: The Ramshackle Ghosts surprised me this morning. They woke me up by singing happy birthday. It was really thoughtful of them, so I’ll cherish this memory ‘til I’m a ghost, too!

Home Tap 3: I don’t do anything special to my hair or makeup. I just kinda do what feels natural! Although everyone here seems to know a lot about makeup, maybe I should try asking for tips some time...

Home Tap 4: Ace can’t be nice to me even on my birthday! He just gave me a noogie and said he’d bump me a few times, one for each year. Can you believe him?

Home Tap 5: I really didn't expect to be able to celebrate my birthday with so many people around this year. Nothing beats getting to share all this food with my friends- h-hey Grimmy! That's my share!

Home Tap - Groovy: [LOCKED]