#I’m trying to be grateful but it’s so messy

[georgiapeach30513]

If you think spray tan is sticky…you should try cleaning a spray tan room 🫣 it’s been busy, and I haven’t had a chance. Now I’m high off cleaning supplies 🙃🙃🙃

[yzzart]

WHEN I WAS LED TO YOU... ── KENJI SATO

── summary: Kenji could get used to his routine, but, only with you by his side.

── word count: 982!

── warnings: F!reader, nothing intense, mention of Emi and Mina, Kenji being a little needy.

“Come on…” — A voice, entering the melody with softness and familiarity, passed through the player’s ears. — “…i know you’re awake.” — The statement was accompanied by a laugh.

Kenji could easily — in fact, completely — conclude that that voice belonged to an angel; even though he doesn't admit to being so religious, openly. — By having his eyes closed, in satisfied tiredness and drowsiness, he was more likely to believe in his conclusion.

Even in unpleasant, unstable situations and, insanely, worries about his life — like worrying about his stats in games, trying not to destroy the city while fighting some monster, and teaching Emi something practical and not blunt — and not wanting to hear or see nothing in front of him, Kenji had his refuge; a place to feel safe and at peace, at home.

“Ken…” — You voice pleaded, with more sweetness and, trying, to mix a little seriousness. In addition to moving between the thin, silky sheets of your body, wanting to get even closer to the boy.

In fact, he could melt into the bed, right there, just to hear your voice crying out to him like that.

Releasing a brief sigh, and pulling a breathing line, inhaling your scent, which was stuck to the pillow, Kenji tried to communicate with a mumble; which even he himself had no chance of understanding. — Perhaps, his consciousness still remained trapped in his sleep.

Because you found his action funny, your laugh, a little more hoarse, enveloped Ken's ears again; automatically forming a placid smile on his lips. — Moving his head, the young boy, with his eyes sensitive to the light, comes across your image resting on the pillow and covered, just enough, with the white sheet.

Sato was mentally grateful for the privilege of waking up every day with this vision.

"Good morning, my love." — You said, without holding back your wide smile; something that captivated and welcomed Ken's chest. — Your orbs moved, without haste or greed, across the boy's face, memorizing, for countless times, every little dot that existed in the region.

"Morning..." — He replied, followed by a yawn and another grumble; a sudden and unexpected movement was caused in the bed, obviously, it was the player's body snuggling against your. — Like he wants to fit in with you. — "What time is it please…?"

“Hm…” — Your eyes crossed the clock next to the bed. — “Soon, it will be 9:30.��� — With his head buried in your neck, Sato let out a whimper, causing a tickle.

“It’s not possible…” — He complained, almost whimpering; as a sign of caress, your hand entered your lover's soft black hair, causing affection and tenderness.

The oldest settled down, and, briefly, relieving a growl, memorizing a purr; feeling on your skin, a satisfied smile adored by the attention. — A true paradise for young Sato and he had no problem admitting it.

“I think someone forgot about the interview they promised for today, right?” — He definitely forgets; by the way his head moved from where it was, and how wide his eyes were, Ken had nowhere to run. — “Yeah, you forgot.” — You raised one of your eyebrows.

“Wasn’t it due tomorrow?” — He questioned, still not believing and with some messy black locks standing out on her forehead. — “I’m sure i had it scheduled for tomorrow.” — He rushed into words. — “Actually, i’m not so sure.”

End of the season, therefore, decisive games for the team and more efforts towards a high level of dedication; it also meant several interviews and moments of questioning about the games, his teammates and his personal life. — Sato understood that it was important, of course, it was part of being a baseball star, however, when trying to balance his life as an Ultraman, a player and, recently, the father of a giant baby lizard, it wasn't such a simple thing.

He wasn't alone, not to mention Mina, and, thankfully, he had you by his side. — Trying, as much as possible, and persisting in helping him; even when, thinking about your care and certain risks, he warned you that he didn't need it. — Evidently, the guidelines were not followed, for a pleasant reason. — And now, seeing you taking care of Emi, as if she were your child, lit up Sato's eyes.

“It really is today, Ken.” — You confirmed it and, unsurprisingly, another wave of mumbles and incomprehensible words and rolled eyes. — “At least, it will be the last one before they enter the rest period.” — Your hand moved along Sato's long, strong, bare arm, reinforcing his attention.

“At least there is a bright side.” — He murmured, shaking his head, prolonging his thoughts, at the same time, reusing the contact of your hand against his skin. — “I need to take a break.” — He said, turning towards you. — “Urgently.” — Like a somewhat defenseless creature, he returned to his comfort, now, with his head under your chin.

"I know, honey." — Your fingers stroked Kenji's hair, for the second time, while his arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you, with the need to keep you close to him. — “And you will soon.” — Subtly, and delicately, your voice soothed him. — “Don’t worry about Emi, i’ll take care of her for today.” — Kenji thanked, once again and mentally. — “And maybe we’ll make a list of what we can do during these days off and she’ll go along with us.”

Your boyfriend's familiar, radiant laugh spread throughout the room, resounding in your chest. — For a short time, Kenji had understood his relationship with Emi and achieved a paternal image; visibly, it wasn't just him. — The small, and immense, baby witnessed you as a second mother.

“Yes, yes, of course.” — He pulled away, coming face to face with you, looking into your eyes, in pure ecstasy and passion. — “You’re the best, dear.” — Bringing his lips to your forehead, Kenji gave you a long, careful kiss.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: angst, toxic traits, somewhat bullying, breakup

fem reader

You’re his first girlfriend. He’d never bothered with anything serious before—it seemed too messy to trifle with. He doesn’t know why he suddenly decided. Suppose he’d been feeling a little bored, and something within him saw you as a fool-proof opportunity.

It wasn’t because you were anything special. Actually, it was more the opposite. You didn’t seem like too big of a risk. You were just a normal, honest, nice person—a bit of a loser, too, if he was being honest. He could do a lot better and pick someone of the same caliber as him, someone with a cooler style and presence, but then he’d only get caught up in the competition.

You were more to his appetite—a dorky, blushy lil’ nerd who giggled nervously at everything he said. In other words, no competition at all. You’d never dare break his heart because you frankly couldn’t afford it. And he found solace in that imbalance—knowing he held all the cards and that you could only be grateful he’d chosen you.

At least, that had been what he’d thought. But then, here you are, holding his hands from across the table in a cute little sundae café, telling him how this just can’t work anymore.

He’s confused for a whole minute before it sinks in.

You’re breaking up with him.

He’s confused afterward, too.

You’re breaking up with him?

That can’t be right. You must be joking. He almost laughs, almost cackles, but ends up staying completely silent. Something about that pitiful look in your eye makes his throat tight, and he almost thinks he’s going to cry instead. 

You’re breaking up with him. You, with him. His foot starts to tap. Have you hit your head or something? You’re dressed in a hoodie, for crying out loud, with not an ounce of make-up on—effortless, as if his perception of you wasn’t any of your concern while you’re fucking breaking up with him.

No way. There’s just no way. You must be confused about something, is all. There’s absolutely no way you’re doing this.

“What are you talking about?” It comes angry. Louder than he’d intended, enough to make you jolt in your seat. A couple of heads even turn your way. You wait for them to turn back before answering.

“I just think we’re a bit too different. And… I don’t know…” You were trying to find ways of telling him you weren’t in love with him but ended up deciding it was unnecessary—it wasn’t exactly something he needed to hear even though you had a lot you could say.

You’re rude and arrogant and treat me like some rescue pet you’ve nurtured back to health. You act like you’re embarrassed to be with me even though you’re the one without any friends. You’re selfish and spoiled and—

“If you don’t know, then there’s nothing to talk about. Quit being silly.” He has a furrow between his brows as he picks up the pink menu between the two of you, scanning the different types of milkshakes you could share and forget all about it. After all, you weren’t breaking up with him—that would just be absurd. “Let’s get strawberry.”

“No—”

“Guess we could get mango if you want that instead—”

“I’m not sharing drinks with you—”

“What? You tryna lose weight or something? Not like anyone but me is gonna see you when all you wear are those baggy hoodies all the time. Speaking of which, you should wear mine instead, they’d suit you better—”

“Listen.” You stop his rambling. “I’m not sharing drinks, and I’m not wearing your clothes. I’m not being silly, either. I’m being serious. It’s over—”

“No, it’s not.” His fist bangs against the table—the look in his eye on edge and twitchy. “I asked you why, and you had no good reason—so it’s not, not until you convince me.”

You had wanted to avoid it, but it seems he wouldn’t allow you the grace to spare him. That being said, you hadn’t meant to be so brutally honest…

“You’re a narcissist. You don’t treat me like a girlfriend. I’m more like a charity case or some type of experiment to you. Half the time, it feels as though you’re just playing a game with everyone in your life like pawns for you to shuffle around the board as you see fit.” You’re the one with the furrowed brows now, unable to bite your tongue as you’d kept it in all this time. “I think you should seek help and get your controlling tendencies straightened out before having any type of relationship. Or don’t. In any case, I don’t think I’m the right girl for you.”

There’s a silence. The chatter of the café seems distant. You feel half inclined to apologize as you look at him and stare down the glassy tabletop as if trying to find his reflection for comfort—but then he beats you to the punch.

“You’re right…” he starts softly, mustering the words, and you’re almost proud to see him take it so well, but then there’s a viscousness to his next words. “You’re not the right girl for me.”

When he looks up again, his face is warped—callous and seemingly disgusted by the sight of you. Something about it even seems to lash out at you, seeking revenge.

“I can’t believe I thought I saw something in you,” he sighs. “Turns out you’re exactly what everyone warned me you would be—just a plane-boring old Jane. What a joke—wasting so much time on something so worthless. Forget breaking up with me, I should have broken up with you a long time ago.”

He gets up in a rush and bears over the table, both palms laid flat upon the surface.

“Charity case?” he seethes, then conjures a fake laugh and an even faker grin. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. Enjoy sitting here alone like the loser you are.”

And even though you’re the one watching him walk away while ordering a chocolate sundae for yourself, you can’t help but feel sorry for the poor guy… 

That had been the most emotion you’d ever witnessed come from him.

Obviously, he doesn’t take it very well, stumbling through the café before bursting out the door, but even he’s surprised by how disheveled it had made him. He’s hyperventilating when the fresh air hits him, almost sprinting to his car so that he can lock himself inside it.

But the car only makes it worse as he’s far from alone in there. You’re everywhere. On the hood, waiting for him with a smile. In the rearview mirror, waving at him. In the seat next to him with a pout, asking if you can stay over. In the backseat, naked with a coy twinkle in your eye.

He knows! He has some of your underwear at home—he’ll threaten to pass them around campus unless you beg him to take you back. No, what’s he thinking!? You’ll never come back to him that way. Fuck, what can he do, what’s he supposed to do!? He just called you worthless—what that fuck was he thinking?!

The tears startle him as they drip down and splash upon his whitening knuckles, where he grips the wheel for dear life even as the car stays completely still—safe and sound in the same plot.

There’s a light pink lip balm on the dash. Yours. You must have left it there—maybe on purpose? No… you don’t play games like that. You’d been honest in the café. The fact terrifies him—his heart seems to want to reject it at all costs, the way it tears in his chest.

He picks the slim pink stick up and rolls it around in his hand, which can’t seem to stop shaking. You’d sat on his lap in this very seat, laughing at something dumb he’d said while applying the very same balm on his lip—kissing his forehead while saying something sweet. He knows it wasn’t, but he imagines you’d whispered that you loved him.

When he smears the balm around his lips this time, he imagines kissing you and your soft lips and that everpresent smile he never bothered telling you was pretty.

He’s such an idiot. The birds in the parking lot take flight at the jostling of his car, but no one hears the roar.

And as he sits there in the following silence, wallowing in his own self-pity and regret, he can’t help but feel like the lead of some angsty teen romance.

And like the lead in an angsty teen romance, he swears… whatever it takes… he will win you back.

You will be his again.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks ♡ JJK – Gojo, Naoya, some young type of Sukuna, or Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ AOT – Eren

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[gtgbabie0]

-Benjicot Blackwood x smallfolk!reader

{The Realm seems to have spiralled into disarray, Benjicot makes promises of protecting you}

Short and sweet because I can’t help myself, Enjoy my lovelies 💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

The days seem much longer since the crowning of Aegon Targaryen, the Realm quickly swearing their fealty to whatever side could offer up the best deal or come across as the most threatening. Men were quick to take up swords, training all through the day and deep into the night.

Benjicot was not exempt from this, immediately following suit. Although it came naturally to him, a sword in his hand gave him a boost of confidence like you’ve never seen before and suddenly he was ready to take off into battle with an eagerness that would put anyone on edge.

It took up most of his time, unfortunately. The growing space between the pair of you was noticeable, you wouldn’t hold it against him, you couldn’t. Especially not when he visits you at the end of every day with a boyish grin and messy hair.

“Missed you today.” He breaks the silence, standing awkwardly at the doorway, watching you potter around the small kitchen.

Several moments pass and you still don’t even give him a glance, focused rather stubbornly on the task of scrubbing down the already pristine countertops. He makes a popping noise with his lips repeatedly, trying to gauge a reaction or at the very least your gaze.

With a groan he steps over to the dress you have been working tirelessly on, you have a talent for weaving threads and fabrics with your very hands, crafting the most beautiful dresses for the pretty ladies of the Vale for a rather pretty sum.

“Do not touch that with your filthy hands unless you wish to spend coin on new lace.” You tell him, turning around to meet his grin.

You have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop your lips from curling into a traitorous smile, the sight of him all dirtied and bloodied looked so out of place in the backdrop of pastel colours and the softest fabrics.

He puts his hands up in mock surrender, allowing you to tug him over to the wash basin with a chuckle that passes through his chapped lips.

His expression softens as he watches the way your gentle hands begin to wash the mud and blood from his own, so much more delicate than his, not sullied by violence and battle, no, they only knew needlework and he vows to keep it that way.

“I said I missed you today.” He repeats his earlier statement, tilting his head slightly towards yours to meet your eyes.

“I suppose I should be grateful then, Lord Blackwood.” The words leave a bad taste in your mouth, despite the fact that there was no malice behind them, but still, that doesn't stop the regret that immediately swells up inside your chest at the deflated look he gives you.

“I sense I’ve done something wrong, have I?…” he treads carefully, his eyes searching your expression as your hands carefully work to free them of muck.

You shake your head, drying off his hands as you stare down at them with a troubled look. “No… forgive me I have been rather on edge as of late.”

He hums in understanding at your words, glancing around the room, trying to think about the right thing to say, before finally looking back down at you. In truth, he has never been good at this, words, but for you, he’ll try.

“You got me and I’m better than anyone in battle, you’ve seen it yourself, I’ll protect you.” He states with so much confidence in his tone you can’t help but chuckle, it was true he became a wildly different person on the battlefield, a man possessed by the thrill.

You avert your eyes to the sword that stands, leaning up against the wall with your brows pinched together in worry. Benjicot’s hands immediately cup either side of your face with care, the feeling of his calloused hands keeps your mind from drifting off to every worst possible scenario.

“Hey, look at me.” He whispers, tipping your head up ever so gently. “If anything happens you’ll have refuge at Raventree.” He promises, his tone carrying a seriousness that he does not always have.

“You sound so sure they’ll just take me in…” You whisper, unsure if you’d be welcomed at all.

“I will demand it, and so will my Aunt, she loves you especially after you made her that riding jacket.” His words warm your heart, a soft smile gracing your lips at the memory of Alysanne, the gratefulness of her tone and the excitement in her eyes.

A warm smile spreads across your lips, his rough hands still cradling your face as if you were the most precious thing across Westeros, the pads of his thumbs caressing the space under your eye.

“Now, no more worrying, hmm?” He announces, pressing a kiss against your forehead with a smirk as you agree with a small whispered ‘Alright’

The pair of you soon find comfort in the warmth of your bed, listening to him ramble on vividly about his day, his hands moving all over the place to get his point across and for the time being everything seems to be peaceful.

[pellucid-constellations]

for a drabble literally just anything cutesy with azriel like banter or ANYTHING

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word count: ~700

Warnings: None!

a/n: I've been in a cutesy mood so I love this <3 Enjoy Azriel being a messy simp. Also this is kind of Archeron!Reader but barely.

____________________________________________

“Wonderful, my love,” Azriel smiled.

“Do you really like it?” you asked, nerves evident in the twisting of your fingers. “Because I tried something new and was positive it would taste terrible.” 

“It’s delicious.” 

Azriel leaned forward in his chair, resting his steady hand on both of yours. You bit your lip as he gave you a gentle nod, confirming his words. When you still looked troubled, Azriel reached out and gathered you onto his lap. His fingers came up to brush your hair back. He avoided the flour and sugar and what he thought was an eggshell as he went. 

“It is, y/n,” Azriel stressed. “The best muffin I’ve ever had.” 

“Okay, sure,” you deadpanned, placing your arms around his shoulders. “But you said that about the cake I made for our mating ceremony and then I tried it myself and almost gagged.” 

“That was not your cake to try.” 

“Greedy.” 

Azriel huffed out a laugh, gazing up at you as you sat on his knee. “Why are you so concerned about this, hm? You have plenty of skills outside of baking.” 

“Azriel, I’m going to be alive for a long time,” you stressed, thinking back to the finite years you were destined to before you had been thrown into the cauldron along with your sisters. “I can’t be bad at baking. That’s ridiculous.” 

“There are plenty of fae that are terrible at baking.”

“Oh no,” you groaned, shoving your face into your hands. “So it was terrible.”

Azriel shot into action, a momentary panic making his hands freeze along your back. “No. No, that is not what I said, y/n. Not at all. I was just saying that—” 

“Oh, nice. Muffins.” 

Cassian’s nonchalant tone sent even more panic down the Shadowsinger’s spine. Azirel shot up from his seat, jolting you up as he went, and slapped the muffin from his brother’s hand, the pastry just seconds from his mouth. Azriel hadn’t even heard him enter the sitting room. 

Everything went silent as the muffin tumbled from Cassian’s hand and rolled and rolled until it collided with a wall. Azriel’s hand was still raised as Cassian blinked back at him. You stood frozen, baffled, and unsure of your next move. 

“Azriel—” you began, but Cassian cut you off. “The hell was that for?” he accused, arm jutting back to the muffin still rocking on the floor. “I can’t eat a muffin in my own house?” 

Azriel opened his mouth in reply but then closed it after a beat of silence. Cassian raised his brows and flung up both hands in a plea for a response. 

Finally, Azriel formulated the words, “She is my mate. You can’t eat the food she makes.” 

Cassian scoffed, a sentiment that was mirrored in the crossing of your arms. “I thought you’d be over all this by now.” Cassian gestured around his brother’s figure. “The possessiveness and being an asshole.” 

“Yeah? Yeah, well… Well, I’m not,” Azriel affirmed. And to taunt Cassian more, he reached for another muffin and took a mighty bite.

You rolled your eyes. “This is dumb. I made a mess of the kitchen and I do not want to be part of whatever this is.” 

Azriel held eye contact with Cassian as you fled the room, his gaze narrowed and his jaw unmoving. To his credit, all Cassian did was stare back with an almost amused expression. Until the door closed behind you and Azriel made a quick movement to the table, snatching up a napkin and removing every crumb of the muffin from his mouth. 

He coughed a few times and balled the napkin up, his eyes watering as he greedily grabbed the tea you had brought with the plate. It took a few heavy gulps and a confused sound from Cassian before Azriel could explain. 

“That was the worst muffin I have ever had. I couldn’t have you trying it and telling her that. Be grateful.” 

[lupinsweater]

Teacher!James Potter x Single Mom!Reader 💌 1.3k words

thank you to @moonpascal to beta reading for me!

♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡

You hated running late to things.

It wasn’t your fault this time- Charlie’s sitter had been a few minutes late, and then he had thrown a tantrum about you going to his school without bringing him along. You tried explaining over and over that it was just a boring meeting for grown-ups- no fun, no snacks, and nothing he'd enjoy- but Charlie wasn't having it. Eventually, the sitter lured him away with the promise of cartoons, and you finally slipped out the door, already running five minutes behind. Cursing to yourself as you started your car, you did your best to avoid breaking any traffic laws as you hustled to the school. You made it there in record time, parking your car and running into the building. You weren’t sure what to expect from parent-teacher night, but Charlie has been talking about his teacher, Mr. Potter, non-stop since school started.

You were grateful for the signs as you navigated down the hall and into your son’s classroom. There was a small table outside the door with some empty name tag sticker sheets- one sticker was left, and Charlie’s name was written on it. You grabbed it and stuck it onto the front of your shirt, then nervously smoothed out your shorts, mentally slapping yourself for not putting on something a little nicer. You slipped through the cracked classroom door, trying to avoid drawing attention to yourself.

The other parents were seated at the tiny desks, chatting amongst themselves. At the front of the room, a tall, broad-shouldered man was laughing with a couple of parents. His dark curls were slightly messy, like he’d run his hands through them a few times too many. He wore a light blue shirt, the sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows in a way that showed off his surprisingly muscular arms, and he was gesturing animatedly as he talked. He must be Charlie’s teacher.

“Ah! Mrs. Y/L/N, right?”

The moment you heard his voice, your heart skipped a beat. He was looking right at you, his smile wide and genuine. You weren’t expecting to be called out like this, especially not in front of a room full of people. He made his way over to you, his eyes lighting up as if he was greeting an old friend.

“You must be Charlie’s mom!” he said, his voice full of energy. “I’ve been hoping to meet you.”

For a second, you were thrown off by his friendliness. Most teachers you’d met were polite, sure, but there was something different about him. Something warmer.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you replied, chuckling awkwardly as you offer your hand. “And it’s just Ms, actually. No other parent.”

“Oh, sorry! James Potter,” he said, shaking your hand with a firm but friendly grip. His eyes lingered on yours for just a beat longer than you’d expected. “But you probably already know that from Charlie. I swear, the kids are better at introducing me than I am. They’ve got me pegged already, bad jokes and all.”

You laughed, feeling your shoulders relax a little. “Charlie hasn’t mentioned any bad jokes yet, so I think you’re safe.”

James grinned, flashing a playful look. “Good to know. I’ve got a reputation to protect, after all.” His tone was light and teasing, but there was an easy confidence in the way he talked. “I hope he’s told you at least one good thing about me. I’ve been trying to bribe them with extra recess, so my odds should be good.”

“He’s been pretty complimentary, actually. I don’t think you need the extra recess,” you said with a small smile, putting your hands in your pockets. His eyes followed your movements slightly, but they focused back on your face quickly.

“That’s a relief,” James said softly, smiling at you like you were sharing a secret. “Though, knowing Charlie, I’m sure he’s a tough critic. He’s one of those kids who doesn’t miss a thing.”

“That sounds about right,” you replied, smiling. “He knows me better than I know myself. And he’s always asking questions.”

James grinned. “Same here. He’s a curious one—loves to figure out how everything works. I love that about him. Honestly, kids like Charlie make teaching fun. It keeps me on my toes.” You smiled as he continued. “But listen, if he ever asks me to explain quantum physics, I’m sending him right back to you. That one’s above my pay grade.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Don’t worry, I’m not even sure I could handle that one.”

“Good to know we’re on the same page.” He winked, and there was something about the way he did it that caught you off guard—like he’s flirting, but in a way that feels easy and unforced. “How are you holding up? I know kindergarten can be a big adjustment for parents, too,” James said suddenly.

You blinked, surprised by the question. You weren’t prepared for him to be asking about your wellbeing too. “I’m managing,” you said with a small smile. “Work’s been busy, so…”

“Tell me about it,” James interrupted seriously, feigning a winded look. “I swear, I’m late to my own classroom half the time. You should see me in the mornings—I’m running around like a headless chicken just trying to beat the bell.”

You laughed again, feeling more comfortable. “Really? I’d peg you as a guy who has it all put together.”

“Ha! If only,” he said, shaking his head with mock exasperation. “Trust me, it’s all smoke and mirrors. But hey, as long as I’ve had my coffee, I’m halfway there.”

The way he talked—so easy and natural—made you forget you were in a room full of other parents, some of whom were probably annoyed by your ongoing conversation. He wasn’t just making small talk; he was making you feel like you belonged there, like you weren’t just Charlie’s mother, but someone worth knowing.

“I get it,” you said with a sympathetic smile. “It’s hard enough being a single mother. I can’t imagine being in charge of that many five year olds, even if it’s only for part of the day.”

“Well, it sounds like you’re doing an amazing job,” James said, his voice softening, and suddenly, you realized how closely he was looking at you. You felt yourself blush as he said, “Charlie’s a special kid, and that’s all you.”

You weren’t used to compliments like that. Especially not from someone who was looking at you the way James was at that moment. “Thanks,” you managed, your voice a little quieter than before. “That means a lot.”

“Of course. And, hey, if you ever need an extra hand—or someone to vent to about the chaos of kindergarten life—you know where to find me,” James said with a lopsided smile. His tone was light, but there was something in his eyes that lingered, something that made you feel like he was genuinely offering more than just a teacher’s support.

You felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Was he… interested? Or were you reading too much into this?

Before you could dwell on it, James clapped his hands together and turned to address the rest of the room. “Alright, folks! Let’s get this show on the road. I promise to keep it short, but if you’ve got any good stories to share, I’m all ears. I’m a sucker for a good tangent.”

The parents chuckled, and you found a seat, still feeling the warmth from your conversation with him. James was everything you had hoped he would be—open, friendly, funny. And the way he looked at you…you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, something in your life was about to change.

[br0kenangel]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐌𝐲 𝐝♡ve 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Unhinged Aegon x Therapist Reader part 1

Summary: You never thought Aegon be like this. You though that he's probably like all the other rich kids who are only upset because daddy didn't given them money. But you couldn't have been more wrong...

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

PART 2, PART 3, PART 4

He hadn't said a word since entering the room, only slouched low in his chair, his bloodshot eyes tracing patterns in the ceiling like he was watching something she couldn’t see. His bleach-blonde hair was messy, like he hadn't bothered to run a comb through it in days, and the bags under his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept in even longer.

The silence was unnerving, and she hated it. The ticking clock in the corner of the room sounded like gunfire in the stillness. She cleared her throat and tried to start professionally. "Aegon," she began, her voice soft but steady, "how are you feeling today?"

He chuckled—a low, grating sound that didn’t reach his eyes. "How am I feeling?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Isn't that a bit cliché? Isn’t that what all therapists ask? I’m not here for small talk, sweetheart."

The way he said sweetheart made her skin crawl. It wasn’t the word itself but the way it slithered off his tongue, sharp and mocking. She shifted in her seat, trying to maintain her calm. "I’m just trying to understand where you’re at. You don't have to say anything you don’t want to."

He smirked, a twisted, unsettling expression that seemed more like a grimace. "Oh, I bet you want to understand me. You think you're gonna fix me? Is that it? Make me better, turn me into a functioning little cog in this shitty world?"

There was an edge to his voice, something dangerous beneath the surface. His eyes were unfocused, distant, as though she wasn’t even there. Y/N felt a chill settle in her chest, but she pushed forward, reminding herself that this was just another patient. A deeply troubled one, yes, but still just a man. She was trained for this.

"I’m not here to fix you, Aegon," she replied carefully. "I’m here to listen and help if I can."

His head snapped toward her so quickly she flinched. He caught it, of course, and his grin widened, predatory now. "You’re scared of me, aren’t you?" he said softly, like he was sharing a secret. "Good. You should be."

Aegon leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, staring at her with intensity that made her skin prickle. "You ever felt like nothing matters, doc? Like every fucking thing is just… pointless? No matter how much you drink, snort, or fuck, it never fills that hole inside you. It just… eats at you, every second of every day, until you can't take it anymore."

His voice was a low growl now, rough around the edges, filled with bitterness. "That's what it’s like in here." He tapped the side of his head, his gaze boring into her, daring her to look away. "Rotten. Empty. Dead. I tried to end it once, you know. Got close, too. But they wouldn’t even let me do that right. My family sent me to you instead. So now here I am, playing the part. But let’s be real—you can't fix this."

There was a rawness to his words that cut through her usual defenses. Y/N felt herself teetering on the edge of something she didn’t want to fall into. His pain was palpable, but it wasn’t the pain of someone who wanted to be saved.

"You don't have to believe in this process," she finally said, her voice tight. "But it’s important that you give it a chance."

Aegon tilted his head, studying her like she was some puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. His eyes were glassy, unfocused again, and his smile faltered, giving way to something deeper, more sinister. "You’re not like the others," he muttered, almost to himself. "Most of them are easy to read. But you… I can't quite tell if you’re really here to help or if you just like playing the part."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. There was something unnervingly perceptive about him. He wasn’t just a lost soul spiraling into self-destruction—he was calculating, watching her reactions, testing her boundaries. And it was working. She didn’t like how vulnerable she felt under his gaze.

Y/N straightened in her chair, trying to regain control of the conversation. "I’m here to help, Aegon. That’s my job."

He scoffed, leaning back again, dismissive. "Help," he repeated bitterly. "You wanna help? You can't even help yourself."

His words hit harder than she expected, striking at something deep inside her, and for a moment, she faltered. She wasn’t prepared for how sharp he was, how quickly he cut through her professional veneer. There was something primal in the way he spoke, in the way he moved, that felt less like therapy and more like a predator playing with his prey.

"You look tired," he continued, eyes narrowing. "Overworked. You got that hollow look in your eyes, too. Like me. How long before you break, huh? How long before you’re the one on the other side of this desk?"

Her breath hitched slightly, and Aegon’s smile grew wider, more triumphant. He leaned in close, his voice a low whisper that sent chills down her spine. "Maybe we’re not so different after all, doc. Maybe you’re just as fucked up as I am."

Y/N’s hand trembled, and she clenched it into a fist, trying to steady herself. She needed to end this session—now. But she couldn’t show weakness. Not to him. "Our time is almost up," she said, her voice firmer than she felt. "We’ll continue this next week."

She checked the clock. He was due in ten minutes.

Her hand brushed the edge of her desk, fingers drumming a quiet, nervous rhythm. She told herself it would be fine. She had control. This was her space, her field. But the knot in her stomach tightened with every second that passed.

A knock on the door broke the silence. Her heart leapt in her chest.

"Come in" she called, trying to keep her voice steady.

The door swung open, and there he was, leaning casually against the frame, eyes half-lidded like he couldn't be bothered to care about anything. Aegon strolled into the room with an easy arrogance, tossing himself into the chair like he owned the place. He wore the same leather jacket from last week, cigarette burns dotting its sleeve, his jeans ripped and filthy. His disheveled blonde hair caught the afternoon light, giving him an almost angelic glow, which was disturbingly ironic.

"Doc" he greeted, his voice slick and lazy. "Miss me?"

Y/N forced herself to meet his gaze. "Aegon," she said calmly, ignoring his provocations. "How are you feeling today?"

He chuckled, a low sound that rumbled through the room. "Oh, I'm fantastic. Just spent the last few hours getting plastered. Wanna guess how much vodka it takes before you stop feeling like your head is caving in?"

She hesitated. "Did you... did you drink before coming here?"

Aegon gave her a crooked smile, his eyes gleaming with something dark. "Nah, don't worry, sweetheart. I'm sober enough to remember your name. For now."

He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving hers. "But seriously, let's cut the bullshit. You're not here to ask me how I'm doing. You're here to dissect me, right? Get inside my head. See what makes the fucked-up bitch tick."

Y/N's throat tightened at the way he said bitch-dripping with disdain, self-hatred. His family, the Targaryens, were a wealthy, powerful lineage, tied up politics and scandal. She'd heard the rumors: how Aegon was the black sheep, a public embarrassment, the one they all whispered about behind closed doors. It wasn't hard to see why.

"I'm here to help," she said, trying to regain control of the session. "But that only works if you're willing to engage with the process."

His smirk widened. "You think l'm not engaging? l'm sitting right here, aren't I?" He paused, his gaze growing more intense. "Unless what you really want is for me to spill my guts to you. You want to know what makes me tick, doc? Fine. Let me tell you."

There was something unsettling about the way he shifted in his chair, like a predator getting comfortable before striking. His smile faded, replaced with a cold, hollow expression that sent a shiver down her spine.

"I hate everything," he began, his voice flat, detached. "I hate waking up. I hate breathing. I hate the sound of my own fucking voice. I hate this-" He gestured around the room, his fingers trembling slightly."一all this therapy bullshit. I hate my family. I hate the way they look at me like l'm some broken toy they can't fix."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But you know what I really hate? The fact that no matter what I do, nothing makes me feel alive. Drugs? Alcohol? Sex? It's just noise. All of it. And I'm so fucking tired of feeling empty."

His words hung in the air like smoke, choking the room. Y/N felt the urge to recoil, to put some distance between them, but she couldn't. There was something magnetic about him, a dark pull that made it hard to look away.

"You think I want to be here?" he continued, his eyes burning with intensity. "My family dragged me to this fucking place because I tried to put a bullet in my brain last month. They thought therapy would 'fix' me. But they don't get it. They never did."

He leaned back, letting out a bitter laugh. "But you know what's funny? Sitting here, looking at you, I almost want to believe it. l almost want to see if you can figure me out, doc. Maybe you'll crack the code."

His eyes bored into hers, and for a split second, Y/N swore she saw something vulnerable flicker behind the mask- something raw and desperate. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual cold sneer.

"You think you can handle that?" he asked softly. "Think you can fix someone who doesn't want to be fixed?"

Y/N's grip on her pen tightened. Her throat felt dry, her palms clammy. There was no easy answer to his question, no textbook response to the way he twisted everything around him into chaos. But she knew one thing-Aegon wasn't just here to be saved. He was here to test her, to see how far he could push before she cracked.

"l'm not here to fix you, Aegon,' she said, repeating her earlier sentiment. "But I am here to listen. To understand."

He snorted, shaking his head. "Listen to what? My sob story? Poor little rich boy, drinking and fucking his way through life, all because he's sad? You really think there's anything left to understand?"

Y/N met his gaze head-on, refusing to flinch. "I think there's more to you than what you're showing me."

Aegon went still, his smirk vanishing as his eyes locked onto hers. For a moment, it felt like the room shrank, the walls closing in, leaving just the two of them in an uncomfortable silence. He stared at her, unblinking, and she could feel the weight of his scrutiny, like he was peeling back layers she didn't even know existed.

"You really believe that?" he asked quietly, his voice soft for the first time since he walked in. "That there's something worth saving?"

Her chest tightened, but she nodded. "I do."

Aegon let out a shaky breath, his fingers curling into fists. His eyes darted to the floor, and for a split second, he looked vulnerable, lost, like a boy drowning in a sea of emotions he couldn't control.

But then the mask was back. The smirk. The mocking tone. "Well, doc" he said, standing up suddenly, towering over her. "I guess we'll see, won't we?"

He turned on his heel and strode toward the door, his movements confident and careless, as though he hadn't just let her glimpse the broken pieces hidden beneath the surface.

Just before he stepped out, he paused, glancing back at her. "I'll be seeing you again, doc. And maybe next time, we'll get to the fun stuff."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Y/N alone in the room with the heavy silence that always followed him. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, her heart pounding in her chest.

There was something deeply unsettling about Aegon一something that made her feel like she was in way over her head.

The third session was different. The air in Y/N’s office felt heavier, thicker. She could sense it the moment Aegon walked in. His eyes, normally sharp with that mocking edge, were duller today. His movements more erratic. The usual arrogant saunter was replaced by something twitchy, unstable. He slouched into his chair, tapping his leg rapidly, the rhythm almost frantic.

His fingers moved to his mouth, picking at his nails, tearing at the skin until she saw faint streaks of red. He didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

“Good morning, Aegon,” Y/N began cautiously, watching him closely. “How are you today?”

He snorted but didn’t look at her, his eyes darting around the room like he was searching for something he’d never find. “How do you think I’m feeling?” he muttered, biting down hard on the side of his nail until it cracked and blood welled up.

Y/N felt her stomach twist, but she kept her voice steady. “It seems like you’re on edge today. Do you want to talk about it?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His leg tapped faster, his jaw tight. “Does it even fucking matter?” he muttered under his breath. His hands trembled slightly as he dug his nails into his palms, leaving angry red marks. "None of this shit matters. Not you, not me. It’s all just... noise."

She stayed silent, giving him space to speak, watching his body language as the tension in the room escalated. He was unraveling, fraying at the edges, and it was becoming harder to predict where he might break.

“I keep thinking about that night,” he said suddenly, his voice hollow. “That night I almost did it.”

He didn’t need to explain further; she knew what he meant. The night he tried to take his own life.

“I was this close, you know?” he continued, holding his fingers up to show just how narrow the gap was between life and death. “But then my fucking family showed up and ruined it. Dragged me out of my misery and threw me into this shitshow. Therapy, rehab, whatever else they think will fix me. But nothing’s going to fix me. I’m not broken. I’m just done.”

Y/N swallowed, choosing her words carefully. “Aegon, I know you’re in pain. But there are other ways to cope. You don’t have to do this alone.”

He snapped his gaze to hers, a sudden wildness flashing in his eyes. “You don’t get it, do you? None of this is about pain. It’s about being fucking empty. Do you know what that feels like? To be so hollow inside that no amount of drugs, booze, or people can fill it?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice. “I don’t,” she admitted, her voice softer than she intended. “But I’m here to understand. If you’ll let me.”

Aegon’s laughter was bitter, almost manic. “Understand? You think you can understand me? No one understands. Everyone thinks I’m some tragic fucking mess just because I have money and a pretty face, but that’s why they keep coming back, isn’t it? They don’t care if I’m broken. They care because I’m rich, because I’m still good-looking enough for them to pretend for a night that I’m something more.”

He paused, his leg still bouncing, eyes narrowed and locked on hers with unsettling intensity. “Even you. You sit there, all composed and professional, pretending to care. But deep down, I know you don’t. You’re just waiting for your paycheck like the rest of them.”

Y/N frowned. “That’s not true, Aegon. I’m here because I want to help.”

He leaned forward abruptly, his eyes wild and feverish. “You don’t get it, do you? None of this matters! You can’t help me, no one can, and I’m so fucking tired of everyone pretending that you can!”

The energy in the room shifted abruptly. His voice rose, turning sharp and angry, his breathing quickening. She could see him unraveling, could feel the way his entire demeanor was changing—darker, more dangerous.

“I’m not some fucking experiment!” he screamed, his voice cracking as he stood up from his chair so suddenly that it toppled over. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you? Sitting there with your calm face, acting like you’re not fucking scared of me. But I can see it, I can feel it—”

“Aegon, calm down,” Y/N said, her heart racing, hands instinctively tightening around the arms of her chair. “I’m not trying to control you.”

But her words seemed to push him further over the edge. His face twisted with rage, and before she could react, he lunged toward her, grabbing her by the shoulders, his grip almost painful.

“You think you know me?” he shouted, his face inches from hers, tears welling in his eyes. “You think you can fix me? You think you can save me from this hell?”

His grip tightened, shaking her, but before Y/N could register her own fear, something inside her snapped—an instinct she hadn’t known she had. Instead of pulling away, instead of screaming or trying to push him off, she reached out and pulled him into an embrace.

Aegon froze.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly despite the tremor in her own hands, despite the rapid pounding of her heart. “Aegon,” she whispered, her voice steady even though she felt anything but. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

For a moment, he stood there, tense and unresponsive. His body was rigid, his breathing erratic, and she could feel the anger vibrating through him, threatening to explode again. But then, slowly, something shifted. His hands, which had been gripping her shoulders so tightly, loosened. His body sagged against hers, like all the fight had drained out of him in one overwhelming rush.

“I’m not okay,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so fucked up, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

Y/N tightened her arms around him, feeling his hot, uneven breath against her neck. “You don’t have to stop it alone.”

He let out a choked sob, his body trembling against hers as he broke down, the tears he had been holding back spilling over. He clung to her like a lifeline, his face buried in her shoulder, his breath hitching with each quiet, painful sob.

“I don’t want to be like this,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

Y/N held him, her own emotions swirling inside her, a mixture of fear, pity, and something else she couldn’t quite name. She stroked his back gently, trying to soothe the storm inside him. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you don’t.”

Aegon’s sobs quieted after a while, his grip on her softening but never letting go completely. He pressed his face into her shoulder, his breathing still uneven, but calmer now. The anger and violence had passed, leaving only the raw, vulnerable boy beneath.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours—Aegon clinging to her, and Y/N holding him as if her arms were the only thing tethering him to the world.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her. His eyes were red and swollen, his face streaked with tears, and for the first time since they met, she saw him without the mask.

Aegon was broken, but not in the way he pretended to be. Not just a reckless addict or a wealthy, self-destructive mess. He was something else, something much more fragile than she had imagined.

And that scared her more than anything.

He swallowed hard, his voice a quiet rasp. “W-why did you do that?”

Y/N met his gaze, unsure how to answer. She didn’t know why. It was instinct, something she hadn’t planned, something that felt both right and terribly dangerous at the same time.

“Because I wanted to,” she said softly.

Aegon stared at her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers like he was trying to find something—some kind of answer, some kind of reassurance that she wouldn’t leave him like everyone else had.

Finally, he nodded, and without another word, he leaned back into her embrace, resting his head on her shoulder, his breathing evening out as they sat there, together in the quiet, broken pieces of their shared moment.

And for the first time, Y/N wasn’t sure if she was the one trying to save him—or if he was dragging her into the darkness with him.

The room was eerily silent when Aegon walked in this time. The familiar twitch in his leg was absent, the nervous energy that usually radiated off him replaced with something else—something that made Y/N’s skin prickle. His eyes were still as sharp as ever, but now they were focused. Too focused. He looked at her with an intensity that felt almost suffocating.

He sat down slowly, his movements no longer erratic but deliberate. He didn’t fidget, didn’t bite at his nails. Instead, he folded his hands neatly in his lap and leaned back in the chair, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Good morning, Aegon,” she greeted him cautiously, sensing the shift in his demeanor.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice smoother than she was used to. Calm, almost unnervingly so. He looked... composed. For the first time since they started these sessions, he didn’t seem like a bomb waiting to go off. But something about that felt even more dangerous.

“How are you feeling today?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze still locked on hers. “Better,” he said softly. “Much better, actually.”

Y/N hesitated. “That’s good to hear. Do you want to talk about what’s been helping?”

Aegon smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve found a new hobby,” he said, his voice almost too casual, like he was talking about something mundane. “Something to keep me... occupied.”

A ripple of unease washed over her. “What kind of hobby?”

Aegon nodded, his eyes gleaming with an odd sort of excitement. “I found this beautiful dove. Just… sitting there, all alone. She's perfect. White feathers, soft. You ever touch a dove before?”

“No,” Y/N said slowly, her stomach beginning to churn.

Aegon’s smile widened. “You should. They’re so fragile, you know? So delicate. It’s like… like holding something that could break if you squeeze too hard.” His fingers twitched, as if mimicking the act of squeezing. “I’ve been taking care of her. Watching her.”

Y/N nodded slowly, unsure where this was going but feeling an icy tendril of dread curl around her spine. “That sounds nice. Taking care of something can be a good way to—”

“I want to rip her wings off.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the casual cruelty in his tone sending a chill down her spine. Aegon’s expression hadn’t changed; he still wore that same unsettling smile.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

His eyes were bright now, shining with an eerie intensity. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. About how beautiful she is, but how much better it would be if she couldn’t fly away. If I could keep her with me, forever. If she couldn’t go anywhere else, just… mine.”

Y/N felt the bile rising in her throat, but she swallowed it down, keeping her voice steady. “Aegon, that’s—”

“Isn’t that what love is?” he interrupted, his eyes wide, his expression so sincere, so disturbingly genuine. “You love something so much that you can’t stand the thought of it leaving. So you do whatever you have to, to make sure it stays. Even if that means taking something away. Like wings.”

“Aegon, that’s not—”

“But it makes sense, doesn’t it?” he continued, his voice rising slightly with excitement, as if he had stumbled upon some great revelation. “Why should something so beautiful get to leave? Why should she get to fly away and leave me behind? She doesn’t need wings. She just needs me.”

Y/N felt the room closing in around her, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. She had dealt with disturbed patients before, but this… this was different. Aegon wasn’t just unstable. He was dangerous. She could feel it in the air, in the way his gaze bore into her, in the way his words seemed to twist around her, suffocating her.

It had been two weeks since that conversation in her office, and Aegon had come to every session since. Something had shifted after that day—something subtle but unnerving.

The way he looked at her now, the way he lingered on her every movement, made Y/N feel more vulnerable than ever before.

“Morning, Aegon,” Y/N said, her voice steady but her pulse quickening slightly. She had grown used to reading him in subtle ways—the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers would twitch against his leg, and that obsessive stare. But today, it felt heavier.

“Morning sweetheart,” he replied smoothly, his voice quiet but deliberate.

Y/N tried to proceed with the session as usual, asking him questions, probing his thoughts, but his answers were vague, almost detached, as if he wasn’t really interested in discussing himself anymore. He wasn’t playing the part of the tragic, self-destructive mess. He was... different.

“You seem a little more composed today,” Y/N commented, keeping her tone neutral. “How are you feeling about everything? Still feeling as empty as before?”

Aegon’s lips twitched into a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Empty? No, not so much anymore.” His gaze was fixed on her in a way that made the room feel smaller. “I’ve been... paying attention to other things lately. Other people.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “Other people? What do you mean?”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes still glued to hers, but his body language more relaxed than usual. “You know, the people around me. The ones who matter. The ones who actually care.”

There was an implication in his words that sent a shiver down her spine. “And who do you think cares, Aegon?”

His smile widened, but it was the kind of smile that felt wrong, too intimate. “You do.”

Y/N blinked, trying to maintain her composure. She had to remind herself that she was the professional here, that this was her job, and she couldn’t let him get under her skin. But the way he was looking at her made it hard to breathe.

“I’m here to help you, yes,” she replied calmly. “That’s what therapy is about.”

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he were studying her. “That’s not what I mean.” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it was enough to make her pulse quicken again. “You care about me... in a different way.”

Y/N felt her skin prickle with unease. She forced herself to remain professional, to push through the growing discomfort. “Aegon, we’ve talked about this before. My role is to help you as your therapist. Nothing more.”

His smile didn’t falter. “You keep saying that, but we both know there’s more to it. I can see the way you look at me now. You’re not scared anymore. What you said. How you held me. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. You care.”

“I’m here to help,” she repeated firmly, though her voice wavered slightly.

Aegon didn’t say anything for a moment. He just watched her, his eyes tracking every movement, every flicker of emotion on her face. It was like he was dissecting her with his gaze, trying to pick her apart piece by piece.

Finally, he leaned forward slightly, his smile fading into something more serious. “You looked really good last night, by the way.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. “What?”

“In your pajamas,” he added, his voice casual, as if he were commenting on the weather. “The ones you wore when you made tea. Light blue, with the little lace trim. You really should wear those more often.”

For a moment, the world around her went silent. All she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat thundering in her ears. Aegon was staring at her, unblinking, his expression disturbingly calm, like he had just complimented her on her shoes or her hair.

Her mind raced. How did he know? There was no way he could have seen her last night. Her apartment was on the third floor, and she lived alone. She had made tea before bed, just like every night, but how could he possibly know that?

“Aegon,” she began, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady. “What... what do you mean?”

He just smiled, that same disturbing smile that never quite reached his eyes. “I just think you looked nice, that’s all.”

The room felt like it was closing in on her, her skin crawling with the weight of his words. Her mind reeled, her heart hammering in her chest. How did he know what I was wearing last night?

Her breath came in shallow gasps, the panic rising in her throat as she tried to process the implications. Had he been watching her? Was he following her outside of their sessions? The thought sent a wave of nausea through her.

“Aegon,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “What are you talking about?”

But before he could answer, the soft chime of the clock signaled the end of their session. Aegon stood up slowly, his movements deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world. He stretched, glancing at her with that same unsettling smile, and then made his way to the door.

“I guess we’ll have to pick this up next time,” he said casually, as if they had been discussing nothing more than the weather.

He paused at the door, turning back to look at her one last time, his eyes lingering on her with that same unnerving intensity. “See you soon, Y/N.”

And then he was gone, leaving Y/N alone in the room, her heart racing, her mind spinning with fear and uncertainty.

The door clicked shut behind him, and for a long moment, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The air felt thick, suffocating, as the weight of his words sank in.

He was watching me.

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[worldlxvlys]

HEAR ME OUT

PILLOW PRINCESS!READER X BF!MATT

princess

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: smut, p in v, cream pie, matt wakes reader up with sex but ALL ACTIONS THAT TAKE PLACE ARE CONSENSUAL!!

a/n: ok so i combined all three of these requests

hope you enjoyyyy :)

here’s don’t stop, go read if you want !!

waking up next to matt was perfect.

the bags under his eyes were more pronounced, his hair messy, and his voice low and raspy.

his face being the first thing i open my eyes to would never fail to make me happy.

nothing could compare to it.

well, maybe one thing.

“fuck, i need you so bad baby” i heard matt whisper into my ear.

my eyes fluttered open, immediately being met with the sight of a sleepy-looking matt.

he was rubbing his hard dick against my wetness, making me moan out.

“you ok, baby?” he asked, looking down at me with half-lidded eyes.

“fuck yes, matt” i gasped as i let my head fall forward, into the crook of his neck.

“you don’t even gotta do anything, baby. just wanna make you feel good”

he placed a kiss to my shoulder as he lined himself up, slowly pushing into me.

“fuckkkk” he groaned out.

i clenched around him at the sound.

“shit, baby. not gonna last if you do that” he said as he waited for me to adjust.

“ok, you can move” i said.

he wrapped his arms around my waist and slowly began to thrust into me.

my head flew back into the pillows, as i held onto his shoulders for stability.

“god, you look beautiful like this baby” he whispered to me.

“love being close to you like this”

i moaned in response, clenching around him repeatedly.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum” he whimpered out, seconds before he shot his load deep inside of me.

the feeling of his hot cum being fucked into me made my jaw hang open, eyes rolling back.

he softly caressed my thigh, hooking it around his waist to push himself even deeper into me.

“doing so fucking good for me, baby” he groaned.

“god, i love you so so much. can’t believe you’re mine”

his sweet words combined with his deep thrusts made my brain fuzzy.

he brought his hand to my clit, rubbing quick circles on it.

“s-shit matt” i choked out a moan.

“fuck, can’t wait to see that beautiful face you make when you cum”

“i’m gonna-“

“yes, yes give it to me baby. you got it” he said as he continued his movements.

with that, i released all over him.

he helped me ride out my high, before pulling out of me.

we both took a minute to catch our breath before speaking.

“thank you, matt. i’m beyond grateful for you” i said, giving him a kiss to the cheek.

“of course, baby. you deserve to feel loved” he left kisses across my collarbones.

“you deserve to be treated like a princess” he moved down to my boobs, leaving kisses so light they tickled.

“matt!” i giggled out.

he smiled at the sound of my laugh.

he brought his face to mine, lightly nudging his nose against mine.

“if you saw yourself the way i do, you’d be obsessed too”

“oh, so you’re obsessed with me?”

“baby. i just woke you up by grinding on you like a teenage boy. you drive me fucking insane”

“yeah, it was pretty pathetic” i said in a teasing tone.

“alright.” he said as he pulled away.

“no, matttt ! don’t be like that” i said, trying to suppress my laughter.

he glared at me, “it’s really not that funny”

i pursed my lips, trying not to laugh. “no, of course, you’re right”

the corners of his mouth slowly spread into a grin, and we both bursted out laughing.

“whatever, you suck” he said.

“hm, that’s not what you were saying a little while ago”

🌸🌸🌸🌸

hope you liked <333

masterlist

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sturnspepsi @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @soursturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @rheaakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chris @theyluv-meee @sturns-posts @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @heartz4chris @jackcscxddles

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Curb… Curb!!

Requested by the lovely @pipsqueakkitten xoxo

Blurb: Eddie tries to help you pass your driving test…

Pairing: Bestfriend!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiousness/anxiety is experienced, bad driving, fluff, kissing… that’s it!

-

Eddie’s favourite song thumps through the speakers in his van, the entire vehicle feels as if it is vibrating beneath your seat with every pulsing sound wave. Eddie’s fingers drum against the dashboard, his head banging up and down to the beat which makes his ringed hair flip wildly. Unbeknownst to Eddie, though, the music was only intensifying the anxiety ridden beast that had awoken deep inside of your stomach. You hated driving. Despised it, even, however you knew that if you wanted to ever make it out of this cursed town then you needed to get your license and quick.

“Eddie…” you whimper but your meek voice is lost beneath the music. Your hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles have turned pale- the bones straining aggressively against the skin.

After being ignored you let out a huff, your eyes nearly welling with tears as you try to stop your legs from shaking- the ‘Elvis Leg’ is what your instructor calls it. When your nervous system lights up like a Christmas tree and the muscles in your calf’s spasm outwith your control.

“Eddie!!” You manage to muster a yell, your throat is disturbingly dry in your panicked state and your palms are beginning to sweat against the leather of the steering wheel. You are oddly aware of the way your bare thighs are pressed against your seat, the stiff carpeted fabric irking the skin and suddenly how hot it is inside of the van.

“Oh c’mon, sweetheart!” Eddie flashes you a Cheshire toothy grin that you only manage to catch a second long glimpse of, “You usually love this song!” His abdomen twists toward you, his chocolate brownie eyes drinking in your tense mannerisms.

Your elbows are locked in a 45° angle and your eyes are blown to the size of saucers. You look absolutely terrified and Eddie’s heart shrinks in his chest at the sight, “Honey? hey…” His calluses covered finger tips hesitantly find the plush skin of your thigh, resting his hand there and allowing his fingertips to dance circles over your knees, “It’s okay. I’m sorry…” The music is turned all the way down with his free hand and you feel as though you can breathe again.

“I can’t do this.” Your head shakes a top your shoulders as you mind swirls with nothing but doubt and frustration. You’re never going to pass your test.

Eddie shushes you comfortingly, “Yes you can. There’s no one around, love.” He scans the parking lot that is totally deserted, you are the only two there, “You don’t have to worry so much. Just take your time. Nice n’ easy.”

Nice and easy. Take your time.

There is a sharp intake of breath as you register Eddie’s hand on your thigh. Your eyebrows raised slightly in shock on your forehead as you flick your eyes over at him, smiling nervously.

“Now, if you just focus on your steering-“ You exhale deeply, your fingers loosening slightly as you relax back onto the seat, “Aim for that trash can over there.” Eddie’s ringed finger points off into the distance and you chew on your lip- a habit you’ve gained as you concentrate.

You appreciate Eddie’s patience and how calm he is next to you. You aren’t the best driver in the world and you’re grateful that Eddie is trying his best to make this as fun as possible for you. You know driving shouldn’t stress anyone out as much as it stresses you out- but you’re an anxious person. You can’t help it.

Listening to Eddie you circle around the empty spaces in the lot, driving toward the trash can Eddie had pointed out… however a sudden outburst from the messy headed man next to you makes your heart stop in your chest.

“Curb… curb!!” He reaches for the steering wheel, pulling it toward him and swerving you both out of the way. The van screeches to a haunt and your ears are ringing with fear as you try to ground yourself.

Eddie chuckles by your side but you don’t feel like laughing, actually, your hand grabs at your chest desperate to calm your thundering heart. If you thought you were afraid before, this must be hell itself causing havoc inside of your chest.

Your vision blanks and all you can focus on is the short bursts of breath being sucked in and out of your mouth. Eddie’s voice is lost to the black cloud entrapping your mind.

“Sweetheart? Baby?” His large palms find your shoulders shortly after he had unbuckled your seatbelt, “Honey, you’re scaring me.” You still are unable to respond, tears blurring your vision completely as your body starts to tremble uncontrollably.

“I’ve got you… I’ve got you.” Eddie pulls you to his chest, holding your head there with your ear pressed flush against his pecks. You get sucked into the rhythm of his beating heart and its acts like an anchor, bringing you back to safety.

“I don’t want to drive anymore today.” Your voice is a mix of sniffles and a hoarseness and Eddie quietly nods his head, acknowledging how fearful you are.

“How about you sit on my lap as I take you home? Show you that there’s nothing to be afraid of…” In reality, Eddie just wanted to keep you as close to him as possible. He can sense that his touch is comforting to you, but it’s also comforting to him to have you so near.

There is a pause, a moment of thought before you mod your head in agreement, allowing Eddie to slot beneath you in the drivers seat, “Can you see the road?” You question, your body is still on edge.

“Yep, sure can.” He promises, pulling the seatbelt to its maximum length so it’ll fit over the both of you. Eddie has a bad habit of not wearing a seatbelt very often, but he prioritises your safety above all else.. even his ego. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” And without another word Eddie speeds off into the distance, one hand leisurely placed on the steering wheel and the other rests on the inside of your thigh, squishing and gripping the skin.

You loved spending time with Eddie, it was why he was your best friend. You both spent nearly every waking moment together- laughing, fighting over who gets the last cookie and you always managed to partake in silly things like this.

He knew how to calm your wild heart just with a simple touch, just with a look or a smile. He knew you.

As your street approached in the distance Eddie laid a few peckish kisses onto your exposed shoulder, making you giggle at the contact. He would do anything to hear you laugh- to see you happy. Even if that meant he never got to tell you how he felt… how he loved you more than just being friends.

He thanks his lucky stars every night for the both of you meeting. It started in the halls at school, you weren’t paying attention and you rammed into him- papers flew everywhere, your lips parted in utter shock and Eddie forced himself to laugh otherwise he would have been pissed. But once he got a good look at you.. part of him knew you’d be together. Friends or not.

“Here we are!” Eddie exclaims with a grin and you return a smile.

“You wanna come in?” You ask, toying with the hem of your skirt, “Everyone’s out for the night… I don’t wanna be alone.” You shrug, trying to dismiss your honesty and Eddie twists the key in the ignition, the engine coming to a roaring stop.

“Lead the way, m’lady.” Throwing open the van door you jump down from the seat, about to kiss the ground with happiness at the mere sight of it. You’ve never been more thrilled to have your feet on the ground than you are right now.

“I can stay the night, if you’d like? Can watch some cheesy movies and critique them together?” Your heart flutters.

“Deal- you just can’t say anything bad about Dirty Dancing, okay? Otherwise I’ll take a swing at you.” You were joking partly. You just loved to watch Eddie squirm with annoyance, impatiently waiting to have his pick of the next film.

He groans, throwing his head back childishly, “Fine.” He follows you into the empty house. It’s dark and there is a prick of a chill in the air.

“If I have to endure this fetish fest just because you’re madly in love with Patrick Swayze then you have to watch The Shining afterwards-“ You interrupt him with a gasp.

Offended, you say, “I am not in love with Patrick Swayze!” Your voice is a shriek and Eddie smirks.

“You so are! Gawking at his muscles. Why else would you watch it? You watch it to watch him!” Eddie can barely speak from laughing and you swat at his chest.

“I do not watch it for him! He isn’t even attractive, he doesn’t look like you!” A silence falls over the living room and you gulp all too loudly.

“What?” Eddie is no longer laughing and there is a seriousness in his voice.

“I didn’t say anything-“

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head, stepping closer to you, “What did you say about Patrick Swayze not looking like me?” You can see Eddie fighting to stop a shit eating grin from blessing his face and your cheeks heat as he repeats your own words back at you.

“He doesn’t, evidentially.” You gesture to Eddies body, your eyes shooting wide as you realise how bitchy you sound, “No- it’s a good thing! I like the way you look- I love the way you look. I don’t like him. That’s what I’m trying to say-“ As you ramble Eddie watches you closely, his eyes falling to your lips.

“God, do you ever shut up?” Your jaw falls slack and before you can even think of a reply Eddie presses his lips to yours. The warmth of him being so near envelopes you and transports you to a whole new dimension.

The kiss is sweet and tender, Eddie wants to be careful with you. He doesn’t want to ruin this. But he doesn’t know how badly you want him. How badly you have wanted this for so long.

“Patrick fucking Swayze cannot compare to all of this.” Eddie’s hands stroke down his chest, his hips swaying from side to side causing you to snort out a laugh.

“No… no he can’t.” You agree, your voice gentle as you pull Eddie back to you, going in for another kiss.

This time, you’re not letting him go.

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n

[crguang]

wasted with longing

You and Kafka have a simple, superficial relationship that benefits you both. You should have known that nothing is ever simple when she’s involved.

friends with benefits, smut, afab!reader, gp!kafka, vaginal penetration, blowjob, dom!kafka, 4.5k words

A/N: fuckboy kafka is real and we should all be running… towards her🤣 this will be a series! i’ll fine tune it when i wake up but this is for my very excited anons and mutuals <3

part two

this is the collective playlist, i’m still adding songs as i go: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4fNHJsbeJLC49Fa8ACVOwW?si=pgaCSUzVTgmXZ8OuQJWLKA&pi=u-9uwba0QiQlWH

You push open the door to your apartment with a tired sigh and step inside. Freeing your feet from the new boots you bought days before feels heavenly, you’re still breaking them in and the process is almost torturous, often leaving you sore by the evening. You put on the slippers you discarded that morning as you shrug off your jacket, placing it back into the tiny closet near the front door. The lights are off but you don’t bother turning them on, instead, you make a beeline for your bedroom and flick that switch on. It’s late, around 11 PM, and you’re itching for a shower before collapsing into bed after spending the afternoon on your feet. You open the window a crack to let the breeze in, seeing as the summer nights tend to leave you sweating. You discard some of your clothing on the way to the bathroom, holding onto them to throw them in the laundry basket next to the sink. Standing in your underwear, you turn on the shower and adjust its settings to room temperature before removing your clothes. You’re grateful for the peaceful moment when you step into the shower, simply letting the water hit your face and soak your body.

Today was particularly challenging; your boss was a jerk your whole shift, more demanding than usual, and you’d promised some friends that you would go out with them after work even though you just wanted to be home by then. Forcing yourself to socialize is mentally taxing and often leaves you with a headache at the end of the night, too. Under the refreshing water, you feel the knots of your muscles loosen slowly as if smoothed out by warm, gentle hands. Your head tilts towards the shower head. For a few minutes, you wash away the weight of the day, focusing on the pitter-patter in your ears deafening you to all but your thoughts. An impulsive one passes by, meant to be fleeting but it solidifies in your head until you can’t help but entertain the idea.

You wonder what Kafka is doing, if she’d come running if you called the way she often does once the sun sets. She’s been busy lately, you think; you haven’t heard from her in around two weeks and you’ve been too preoccupied with work to bother checking on her. You don’t know what she does for a living, only that your palms brush against new cuts across her skin every once in a while. The acknowledgment of their presence goes unsaid like many other things, locked in a messy closet to which you both hold the key yet refuse to organize. Still, she’s skilled in the ways of your body and works you out like no one else can, so you ignore a lot about her to prioritize how relaxed you feel after a couple of hours with her. Some parts of you, your heart and fingertips, twitch to understand her absences and inconsistencies. You try not to dwell on that confusing desire for too long lest you come to a conclusion you don’t like. Kafka’s enigmatic, she’s mysterious and rehearsed as to always keep the upper hand in whatever war she’s implicated in like the world is an open minefield and she can’t afford a single misstep. Every semblance of genuine conversation about her turns into a game she has to win and you’re getting tired of playing along. However… you have to admit that you could use the distraction tonight.

The thought doesn’t leave you as you finish washing yourself and step out of the shower with a clean towel around your frame. You look for your phone once in the bedroom, picking it up from where it was discarded on your dresser, then sit at the edge of your bed. It takes a bit of scrolling through your recent conversations to find Kafka’s contact. You refrain yourself from rolling your eyes at the last texts you’ve exchanged. She can’t be relied on for your impromptu needs and you wish the opposite was true as well, but you’ve learned to make yourself available whenever she seeks you out. It’s pathetic, you tell yourself, even as your thumbs hover over the screen’s keyboard. You recline on the mattress with a sigh and hold your phone above you, wondering if you should do this. It’s late, and though that’s usually when you see each other, Kafka has the habit of not replying until hours later. It’s irritating, especially when you scroll up to her last messages and notice how quickly you always answer them. You toss your phone on the bed and cover your face with your hands. You swallow a scream.

“Embarrassing, embarrassing,” you mutter to yourself, “no dignity at all.”

As you question your life choices and consider blocking Kafka’s number to make yourself feel more in control than you are, your phone buzzes with a notification. You turn on your stomach to pick it up, tapping open the screen.

You stare at the most recent text for almost a full minute before closing the device and sitting up straight. The coincidence of her messaging you while you’re debating whether you should text her first leaves you reeling for a moment. You hesitate, fiddling with the phone in your hands. You want to leave her waiting like she often does to you, but… Excitement creeps up your spine at the thought of seeing her. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Why not take what you need from her and send her on her way? This is what she’s good for, it’s how she regards you as well, so you give in to your impulses and craft the perfect text. Kafka’s reply comes almost instantly.

You can’t deny the flutter in your gut but you sure as hell can ignore it.

You make sure to be ready before Kafka comes knocking at your door. You lather yourself with your favourite lotion before pulling a tank top over your head and putting on pyjama shorts. You clean up around your apartment even if she never lingers long enough to get a good look at it, picking up dirty laundry and clearing the dishes. You don’t see the minutes tick by as you do your best to seem presentable. You check your teeth in the bathroom mirror, decide to brush them because you don’t have any mint, then tap your cheeks a couple of times, tilting your chin this way and that. You’re looking at your nails, wondering if you should clip them since they’re getting a bit long, when the doorbell rings.

You take measured steps towards the front door so as not to look too eager and shake your head at your antics. You turn the handle, revealing Kafka’s nonchalant expression on the other side of the door. She smiles at the sight of you, clad in her usual tight clothes and custom-made coat, and you have to suppress one from betraying your thoughts as you take her in. She does the same to you, gaze appreciatively raking over your figure before she even greets you. She still has makeup on, hiding the fatigue you know rests under her eyes, and she’s holding on to her pair of gloves instead of wearing them. You think she probably wrapped up whatever it is that she does and came to your apartment right afterwards.

You open the door wider and step to the side so she can come in. “You look tired.”

Kafka walks in and closes the door behind her with a foot. Her smile widens a touch, a self-assured edge to it. Her head tilts— you watch the loose strands of hair follow the movement— and her eyes drop to your chest for a deliberate second then lift to meet yours. “You look beautiful as ever.”

You don’t hide the annoyed roll of your eyes. You turn your back on her to lead her further into the apartment. She follows, slipping off her coat from her shoulders and discarding it on a sofa in the living room.

“You got rid of the painting?”

You look at where she stopped in front of the couch. She points to the far wall with her chin as she lays her gloves on top of her coat. You stand, dumbfounded. You used to have an abstract painting hung on that wall but stored it to install a TV instead. You’re mostly surprised she noticed; her lips are usually on yours instants after she’s stepped through the door.

“It’s here somewhere,” you gesture vaguely to the room.

“Mm… This coffee table’s different, too.”

“You broke the glass of the other one the last time you were here.”

Something in the way she glances at you, a cocky glint in her eyes, tells you she remembers.

“Right. What was it you said that night— ‘Don’t you dare stop?’”

You know Kafka revels in the flash of irritation that creases the bridge of your nose.

“I don’t remember that.”

“No?”

She makes her way to you, fingertips trailing on the back of the couch and amusement shining through her contacts, dusty pink swallowing the lilac at their edges, reminding you of carefully plucked calla lilies. Her slender fingers cup your jaw to tilt your chin, the nail of her index sliding across your skin, and you meet her stare with practiced ease. You hate how easily the anticipation of her touch heats the embers in your belly and you can’t stand knowing that she’s aware of her effect on you. Kafka brings you closer until all you care to see is the lustful, rosy shades of her irises. Her gaze lowers to the curves of your mouth.

“Need a reminder?” Her murmur is felt on your lips like the warm, inviting breeze wafting through the open windows.

You hook a finger under the waistband of her shorts and tug her forward. “Guess so.”

Her low chuckle is cut off by the kiss you plant on her lips. Kafka indulges your control over her, lets you back her up against the wall and pull her close with a hand around her neck. Her arm snakes around your waist, your body pressed to hers. She tastes sweet, like a sugary drink or a juicy fruit, and your tongue slips into her mouth to taste her fully. She welcomes it readily and allows it to swirl around hers before you feel her fingers curl around your throat. The pace shifts, hungry and hurried, as she effortlessly takes over the kiss, momentarily taking your breath away. You’re forced to follow her lead and exhale through your nose when she doesn’t release you. The hand on the back of her neck travels down her collarbone, pulling on the leather strap of her outfit so it slaps against her once you let go, and the hum that sounds from her throat softens your bones until you’re putty in her hands. Her shirt crumples in your grip while your fingertips tease the buttons of her shorts. Your world is reduced to the soft caress of her tongue in your mouth and the growing bulge beneath your palm.

Her hold on your neck relaxes slightly and you pull away enough to regulate your breathing. You stroke her over her clothes, drawing a sharp intake of breath from her. A pleased smile makes its way onto your face and your eyes blink open to stare at her swollen, peach lips.

“Someone’s happy to see me.”

Kafka traces the hollow of your throat with a rounded nail, smiling amusedly at your teasing tone. “Mmm.”

“Two weeks and a little kiss gets you worked up?”

“Were you counting?”

“Please. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” You unclasp the buttons of her shorts and pull them down her waist to reveal the band of her pantyhose, toying with it and sighing in faux exasperation. “I suppose I could help.”

“Yeah?”

Kafka stares at you, anticipation in the way her lips unconsciously part, and you retain her lustful gaze as you withdraw from her body to put your hair up using the hair tie on your wrist. You raise a playful eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, and her eyes narrow a touch at your cockiness. She doesn’t say a word, though, simply watches you lower yourself to your knees with that smile that says she’ll wipe that expression off your face soon enough. You start with her thigh-high boot, zipping it down to get it out of the way, then grip the edges of both her pantyhose and shorts to slide them off the rest of the way at once. Her layers annoy you on nights when your need is greater than your patience, but you enjoy teasing her like this; testing the elasticity of her boxers’ waistband, running the pads of your fingers over the thin fabric and along the thick of her bulge, pressing leisure, open-mouthed kisses on the soft flesh of her inner thighs. Kafka is a patient woman, her hand tangles in your hair but doesn’t pull. Her heavy stare makes you feel powerful despite being the one on your knees, she either doesn’t bother to hide her desire or she can’t— regardless, you’re her only way towards sweet release and she has no choice but to grant your petty wishes.

Your lips trace the outline of her length over her underwear. One hand cups her between her legs while the other kneads her plush thigh. You delight in the little hums Kafka doesn’t care to contain as you pepper kisses on her clothed cock, a thumb gently massaging her balls until you feel her twitch under your lips. Still, she doesn’t tell you to hurry along or pressure you in any way. Knowing that her cool demeanor is an act fuels the satisfaction in your gut. You pull at her boxers and free her hard cock, refraining from biting your lip at the sight of its prominent vein. You follow its pattern with your mouth and use a hand to curl around her base, eyes fluttering shut. You’ve done this so often, licked long stripes up to her tip and stroked her sensitive skin with teasing touches, that the feel of her against you is engraved in your gray matter. Your tongue swirls around her leaking tip to collect her pre-cum before taking her into your mouth. Kafka is so big you have to use your fingers to stroke what can’t fit past your lips. The weight of her cock on your tongue makes you so incredibly wet, you feel arousal trickling down your inner thigh. Her hips buck forward and her hand caresses your hair in a manner so fond you’d mistake her lust for care if you didn’t know any better. You work her up with quiet, muffled moans around her dick and she guides you down her length with one hand, unable to tear her eyes from your pretty face as you suck her off. You take as much of her as you can, feel the head brushing the back of your throat every few thrusts of her hips, and revel in the short, throaty moans spilling from Kafka’s lips.

“Mmhh… How pretty you look with your mouth full,” she manages to tease you in between low gasps, smugness dripping from her words. You give her sensitive tip a particularly harsh suck and bask in the uncontrolled jerk of her hips.

You look up at the crease between her brows and the rapid rise of her chest, her audible pants intoxicating you. With her head tilted to gaze down at you, strands of magenta hang in the air like threads of silk. You squeeze her base once to draw a longer moan from her. The taste of her bypasses your every thought, and you can only focus on her throbbing, wet cock filling your mouth. You stroke her with the same hungry pace, occasionally squeezing your thighs together to appease the heat between your legs. She’s so hard, so needy, you can’t help the indignant whine that escapes you when her fingers grip your hair and pull you away from her dick. A thin string of saliva connects her head to your tongue and breaks with the distance, falling onto your chin.

“Don’t pout, you’ll get your fill,” Kafka smiles despite her heavy breathing, urging you to stand with her hold on your head, “I’ll make sure of it.”

A tinge of irritation surges in your bloodstream at the cocky edge of her tone and the way your pussy aches for her touch. Her nose brushes yours once you’re on your feet, warm breath fanning over your lips. You hate that you want her, that your body responds to her by melting into hers as she steals the air in your lungs with a single heady kiss. You hate the way your thighs part almost immediately to allow her wandering hand better access to your cunt. You hate the amused chuckle that leaves her when she realizes you’re not wearing any underwear and rubs between your slit with a finger. And yet, you only get wetter under her ministrations, brows twisting with the pleasure she’s giving you. Her digit withdraws from your slick pussy, glimmering with your arousal, and Kafka stares at you with lidded eyes as she brings it to her lips to suck it clean. The wet sound of her mouth sends a jolt straight to your core. You need her to fuck you so badly, you can barely think before grasping the leather strap under her collarbones to pull her forward.

Your lips meet in a messy, heated kiss, her salty taste on your tongue and your slick on hers. You stumble down the hallway, losing pieces of clothing along the way, until you reach the bedroom and Kafka firmly pushes you down onto the bed with a hand on your bare chest. Her mouth is locked with yours and you feel her touch on your hips, across your waist, over your ribcage where your heart drums for her. Her thumb applies pressure on your erect nipple, drawing a needy sigh from you. You sneak around her chest to unclasp her bra and she assists you in sliding it off her arms to discard it on the floor. Her cock presses against your thigh while she teases your nipple between two fingers. You know you’re ruining the sheets beneath you but you can’t bring yourself to care; you get more desperate with every minute she’s not buried inside you, unable to contain the quiet whimpers that escape you.

“Kafka…” you breathe out in a whine, aware of how much it turns her on to hear her name out your lips. Her cock throbs on your thigh at the sound.

She plants kisses down your jaw and pinches your nipple a couple of times, the feeling delicious yet not enough. Her hum rumbles through her chest, “Mmm… Pleading already?”

Aeons, she’s infuriating. You wrap a leg around her waist and her length rests on your slit, but you bite the flesh of your cheek to keep in a breathy moan, not wanting to inflate her ego more than it already is. Kafka reaches down to rub her tip between your lower lips, almost groaning as your slick mixes with the saliva from your tongue. Your lungs stutter and you suck in a breath, nails digging into the expanse of her back. Her head grazes your aching clit, you arch further into her to repeat the action. It feels so good you forget all about who you’re dealing with until she speaks up again.

Kafka’s licks a broad stripe up your neck, then her mouth brushes the skin of your jaw on its way to your earlobe, pressing a kiss just below.

“You’re dripping…” Though her voice is close to your eardrums, you barely register the words she utters, lost in the pleasure of your clit sliding against the thick of her cock. “How much do you want this, mm?”

There’s a lick on the cartilage of your ear before she pulls away to look at you through the dull pink of her irises, eyelids heavy. The movement of her dick on your pussy comes to halt and it takes you losing that relieving friction to understand that she expects an answer.

“W-What?”

“Did you miss me this much?”

Your heel digs into her lower back to pull her closer, but her lips simply stretch into a knowing, teasing smile. She presses her tip against your twitching clit once, delighting in the flutter of her eyelashes and the beginnings of a needy moan that you refuse to let her hear.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you reply, but even you have to admit that your sentence lacks conviction or venom.

“Mm…” Kafka guides the tip of her cock to your gushing entrance and your next inhale gets caught in your throat. “Is it flattery if it’s true?”

“You w— Hah—!”

She pushes the head inside you, feeling you clench instinctively at the intrusion, and lets out a sigh of pleasure as your warm, tight cunt welcomes her cock. She watches a quiver go through your bottom lip and briefly bites her own. One hand digs into the plush of your love handle, the other sinks into the bedsheets next to your head. She slides another inch into you and your fingers tangle in her locks, tugging at the sensation of her length inside you, stretching you so well a breathless gasp spills from your mouth. Her smile is smug, pleased at your silence, and you swallow as you muster the strength to speak. Kafka leans closer, the tip of her nose against your cheek and her breath warming your skin. Slowly, she bottoms out completely and gives you a moment to adjust to the fullness. Something in the way her pants falter occasionally tells you that she needs that pause too. Her lips are on your jaw in a kiss way too soft, too gentle to be from her; her who means nothing to you aside from the pleasure she provides you.

“I missed you.”

You feel a buzzing sensation in your lower belly that has nothing to do with her cock nestled in your cunt. The words are murmured like a confession but you know they aren’t one, Kafka means to provoke you so that she can put you in your place, a game you’ve played since the day you met. You can’t explain why it’s as if your heartstrings are plucked and manipulated like those of an instrument, its melody disorganized and disharmonious. You don’t understand the sudden irritation that mixes with your arousal, sending a shiver down your spine.

You tug at her hair and her head follows the movement backwards, lips parting.

“I hate you,” you manage to utter through gritted teeth, and you’re frustrated to find that there’s no truth in what you’ve said.

Kafka’s growing grin turns mocking. “Aww. But you’re sucking me in…”

To prove her point, she withdraws from you just to thrust back in, her tip hitting that sensitive spot inside you. Her length rubs your walls with every thrust of her hips, rendering you speechless aside from the quiet whimpers that fall from your tongue, and your anger fades away, replaced by the desperate need to come. Your fingers messily swipe at your clit and your nails paint crescent moons on her back from how tightly you’re holding on to her body. Despite her own need, Kafka is determined to pull more lovely sounds from you. Her pace is tantalizingly slow but harsh in the way you prefer as she fills you to the brim. You feel her all around you, her lips on your jaw, the pads of her fingers sinking into your flesh, her cock buried deep inside your fluttering cunt. Her low moans and short groans hit your ears in sinful sounds that only make you wetter. Her breasts are flushed to yours, following the rocking of her hips.

“Fuck, fuck—“ you babble breathily, lost in the pleasure, “more…”

You don’t register Kafka manhandling you with an arm around your waist so that you’re straddling her lap instead, only that the change in position allows her to drive deeper into you. You moan brokenly as she grabs your hips and guides you down onto her cock in one go. Your thighs tremble, aching, and your orgasm is imminent. Kafka groans into your shoulder, bouncing you on her dick, the taut coil in her belly begging to snap. Your slick trickles down her length and your wet pussy swallows her cock, you clench around her like you dread she’ll pull out before you can come. She uses a palm to apply pressure on your lower stomach, feeling the faint outline of her bulge inside you, and the sensation pushes you over the edge. You cream on her cock with a cry. Your head tilts back and Kafka leans away from your shoulder to gaze at your cum drenching her girth. She knows how sensitive you get after an orgasm, can feel you twitch against her with the aftershocks, but she can’t help jerking her hips upwards to fuck your cum back into your pussy. She wants to see her own cum merge with yours until you’re so full of her that you’re gushing.

“Kafka—!” You gasp out, fingers gripping her loose ponytail, “W-Wait…”

She shushes you with an insistent kiss. She’s close, guiding your hips up and down her throbbing cock. With a particularly harsh thrust, that familiar coil in her stomach finally breaks and her cum spills into you in hot, intense spurts against your inner walls. It’s too much for you to handle even as her thrusts stutter, yet a second orgasm builds inside you, quick and desperate; your body moves on its own accord, further stimulating you and drawing a long, drawn out moan out of you. Kafka’s lips are parted and you miss the sheen in her eyes as she stares up at you unashamedly riding her until you come around her dick a second time.

You’re both coming down from your high some time later, your eyes are shut and the pace of your rising chest slows down enough for you to take deep breaths. Kafka is a comforting presence beside you on the bed, and like you do with many things, you ignore the warmth that is born from your chest and spreads across your torso. A welcomed kind of exhaustion creeps up on you, almost pulling you into a dream, but you hear Kafka move next to you so you turn your head to look at her. She’s fixing her hair, putting back locks of magenta into her ponytail. She feels your gaze on her and meets your eyes with a small smile. There’s that twitch of your heart and fingertips again at the sight of the soft glow of her sweaty skin under your bedroom lights.

“You look exhausted,” her tone lacks its usual teasing edge but you’re too tired to notice, “I’ll use the shower and lock behind me with the spare key. You should sleep. I’ll message you tomorrow.”

You don’t say anything to that. You stare at the ceiling as the shower is turned on in the background.

Kafka doesn’t text the next day.

[stars-for-circe]

Summertide

Tags / cw: headcannons, neighbour!abby, suggestive, masturbation, gymrat!abby (kinda)

A/n: this is so bad because I rushed it but be grateful I’m feeding u guys at all tbh <3

Neighbour!Abby who woke up one day to the sound of a truck backing up the driveway to the house next to her, and decides to go check out what’s happening. She walks out barefoot, in only grey sweatpants and some wifebeater loose enough that - from the side - you’d be teased ever so slightly by the sight of her bare chest.

And, as she tucks the loose hairs that fell out of her messy braid behind her ear, and shields her eyes from that hot summer sun - already much too bright for 7 in the morning - she’d realise her guess to be correct, with two trucks parked outside the next door house, and you carrying the boxes inside. And ever since then, it would only be a matter of who caught whose eyes first.

First, it would be you, watching her from the kitchen window as Abby went to get the mail, finally realising how fucking hot your new neighbour was, and realising just how many of her windows lined up with yours.

Later that night, after you’d watch the bathroom window light up and get foggy, you wait for the perfect time and oh-so-conveniently knock on her door the moment the shower stops running, only to be met by Abby in shorts and a damp shirt, towel around her neck and wet hair dripping down her neck.

She’d raise a brow, trying to remain calm with the fact that her smoking hot neighbour was at her doorstep, fled her muscles ever so slightly (which you definitely noticed), and wait for you to talk first. A very small ‘hi’ would come from your mouth, followed by a pause before she reciprocates.

“I’m uh, your new neighbour, on the right.” You’d start awkwardly, trying to somehow keep the conversation going as long as humanly possible

“I know - saw you unpacking the other day.” A cheeky grin would spread across her face, and you really couldn’t help it when you saw her think she has the upper hand here-

“Oh, so you’ve been watching me?”

That grin on her face would disappear, replaced with a sputter and surprised blink, as yours now shows the expression she had before. And as you sway and turn around to head back to your house, letting that silky summer dress float around your hips enough for a good show, it seems the message is clear. A clear challenge between you both - who could crack first?

And after a week, it feels like it may be Abby, with how you keep your windows open, summer breeze blowing the curtains softly as she gets a view of your house and everything you do in it. From doing the dishes, sitting at your vanity, from doing your skincare and even changing - you make sure she sees it.

But on a particularly hot day, when Abby decides not even the fans around her house would help cool her down, when the garage it just too stuffy- you think it may be you, instead.

The first thing that would raise your attention would be the sound of her garage door opening, which makes you raise your head from the book your reading, and sit up against your headboard to see what she’s up to. Abby doesn’t own a car - you know this. So why would she use the garage at all?

You’re quick to realise - with a sharp intake of a breath - that you were entirely wrong in the garage serving no purpose. Because as the door opens, you find Abby dead centre in the space, working out. In sweats and a black wifebeater, this time, as she benches and lifts and hip thrusts so much more than you weigh, and so effortlessly, too.

You can feel yourself getting wet, as you squirm in your cross legged position. As you watch her take deep breaths as droplets of sweat roll down her muscles and as she throws around the weights like they’re nothing. God, you’d almost get lost in the sight, and let her win, if it wasn’t for the small smirk she’d adorn on her face as she looks your way and winks. She fucking knew you were watching.

You scoff, and promptly flip her off, before closing your window and drawing your curtains. But, as a secret kept tightly to yourself, she really did win.

Because you touch yourself that night, to the memories of earlier that day. Of Abby. Leaning against your headboard again, reminiscent of how it was that hot afternoon, on top your sheets and legs spread. You thank god for the fact that you don’t have roommates anymore, as you whine and moan her name in tandem with your fingers, going in and out - a soft, wet clicking noise following each thrust.

And as you grind your clit into your palm, watching your hand disappear beneath the fabric of your sundress, you make sure to spread your legs even wider and throw your head back as you cum. Because there is one small fact about your window. During the day, no one can see in, but during the night - with your lights on - everything is visible.

So, as Abby watches you from her bedroom, hand shoved under her boxers as she writhes and gasps along with you - as she knows your putting on a good show for her to lose, but can’t even bring herself to care at this point - she only really thinks about one (two) things: fucking you blind tomorrow, and calling for a draw.

Taglist: @happysparklingshadows @irelandzo @r3starttt @iamaboringrattat @genderfluidlesbain999 @slut4mascss @rxreaqia @kylorey25 @massivepeacefemme @elliewilliamsfavborderhopper @ratdungeon @elxarw @mariasabanahabanabana @vvynia @abbyshands @littlegingerperson5 @flowersforvi

[roguelov]

OKAY BUT IMAGINE;

Becoming Morpheus's safe space or his emotional support human. Like one day you're walking through the Dreaming and you find Morpheus, who is completely overwhelmed with his feelings and is hiding from everyone. So you, who has been completely nervous and a little intimidated by him bc he's literally an Endless, go up to him and hug him without hesitation. You comfort him without asking any questions or trying to get him to talk about it. You just let him feel with no judgement.

Que to like maybe a couple weeks or months later where Morpheus just constantly seeks out your touch for comfort. Like will literally cross a whole room just to touch you no matter whoever is there or wherever you two are. He just automatically relaxs at the touch and he also like to see the light blush that appears on your face because despite how normal the touching is by now, he still makes you nervous in a butterflies in the stomach type of way.

OH MY GOD MY HEART IS MELTING AT THIS I DIDNT KNOW I NEEDED THIS UNTIL YOU SAID IT

You were in the library assisting Lucienne with reorganizing all the new books. The two of you were talking about anything and everything. It was calm, and enjoyable.

Until such a peace was interrupted.

Hasty footsteps cut through your melodic conversation. You both turned your head to find Morpheus marching through the library. His eyes determined and somewhat harsh as each of his steps were filled with a near righteous purpose. He seemed to be on some personal - and dare you say important - mission. As if, he was trying to locate something, or someone.

Morpheus’s eyes flickered over to you. Instantly, he beelined it directly towards you. Once within your grasp, he hugged you from behind.

Someone. He was trying to find someone, and that being you.

You tensed up, feeling your heart skip. His arms tightened around your waist as he pressed his forehead into your shoulder. He let out a deep long heavy exhale as some internal weight lifted off of him.

Lucienne bit back a smile. You glanced at her with wide eyes, feeling a heat rise to your cheeks. She knew of your small crush on the Endless, a secret she swore to keep. “I will finish later, there are other things I must do,” she said with a slight playfulness in her voice.

You wanted to call out to her, to tell her not to go, but all those words died on your lips. Once she disappeared from sight, you let out a small sigh. She will give you grief later.

“Apologies,” Morpheus murmured, still clinging to you. You tensed at the soft hypnotic timbre of his voice. “It has been a … difficult morning.”

With each passing second, the stress continued to melt off of him. How could one hug, one touch from you, calm him so immensely?

“It’s ok,” you tried to keep your voice steady. “Just took me a bit off guard.”

“Should I -“ he slowly removed his arms.

“No,” you blurted out. “It’s fine, really. You just looked so … so … angry earlier, I didn’t know what you were going to do.”

Morpheus sighed, returning his arms around you grateful for it. “Again, I am sorry if I alarmed you.”

“Please you don’t have to apologize. If I can bring you any kind of comfort then I’m happy to help.”

His arms gave you a small squeeze, almost as if in a silent thank you. “You truly are a wonder to behold,” he whispered.

Your heart fluttered at his touching words. “How so,” you asked with a giddy smile as you placed your hands over top of his.

“You can always calm my chaotic emotions.”

You turned your head slightly to peer at him from the corner of your eye. All you saw was his messy ruffled hair. You leaned your head towards his, and lovingly rest it against his. “Always happy to help,” you whispered softly into his hair.

Morpheus was thankful to have hid his face, for he knew if you looked at him you could see his unspoken love for you. A mortal who went from stranger to confidante. His dear mortal whose words and touch can assuage any turmoil within him. His infatuation that held his heart in a way he could not comprehend. His love who he hoped would stay by his side when he gathered the courage to ask.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

Thank you for everything.

“Of course, I’m always here for you,” you hummed.

[showstopper35]

the human form (bill cipher nsfw!)

a/n: don’t ask me why I wrote this. I’m losing all self control. may draw at least my bill design later. This could be an x reader or you could pretend it's Ford.

notes/cw: NSFW!! SMUT! oral sex, handjob, cumplay. reader is gn. unfortunately I am a subscriber to Twinkish Bill Cipher, so there’s that.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"How many holes do you have?" a familiar, grating voice asks as I am buried in a book.

"Excuse me?" I ask, peering at Bill's floating form over the top of my book.

"Holes. You." He points.

"Well, there's my mouth, ears, nose...that's five." I say slowly. "Do tear ducts count?"

"Yes. Seven, so far. But aren't there more holes down there?" He points to my lower region.

"Um..yes. Two or three, depending on the body." I say quietly. "For waste and for...um.."

"Cum?" he asks innocently.

"Yeah. That." I choke. Surprised he knows what that is, considering he refers to humans as "meat sacks".

"What's cum like? Is it yellow too?" he asks, sitting down in the air and crossing his legs.

"No...it's usually white and clear-ish. Why are you asking about...this?" I say tentatively.

"I want to experience more with my human form. You know, like, pain, but also pleasure. It'll help me understand how to manipulate you freaks better. " he muses, smirking somehow without a mouth.

"Oh. I guess that makes sense. Well, you could try...um..making that with your human form, I guess. If you wanted to." I had no idea where this conversation was going.

"How?" comes the new question, making me nearly blush. For all the weird shit he says, talking about sex was somehow weirder.

"You know where your dick is?" I ask. He nods. "You...can stroke it yourself. Or have someone stroke it for you if they want. Or they can use their mouth, or you can put it into someone else's...holes...and pump it until you cum." My voice progressively got quieter and more flustered as I explained to him all the different ways people came. He seemed to get gradually more excited as I went on.

With a flash of blue light, he transformed into his familiar human design. Gangly limbs, crooked mischievous smile, triangular eyepatch, and messy cowlicked hair. He immediately unzips his black pants.

"Woa! Woa! I'm right here!" I startle out of my seat, averting my gaze as he starts pulling on the waistband of his yellow boxers.

"I know. You're gonna help me." He states simply. He reaches over and loosely grabs my wrist. I jerk back, face flushed.

"Absolutely not! I'm not touching you." I all but scream.

"Please? Please? If you do this, I'll give you a small breakthrough in your research. I know you want it." His grip around my wrists tightens--a threat. I stall, a frown on my face.

"Fine." I say, before I can properly regret it.

"Really?" He lets go of my wrist, smiling.

"Just...just quickly. And you better keep your end of the deal."

He waves me away, already slipping into my chair. He points to the ground, and I slowly slide to my knees, my face between his thighs. He slowly pulls his length out of his boxers. His dick is relatively skinny, like the rest of him, but he definitely gave himself a generous length when designing this body.

"Are...you sure about this?" I ask, soft. He nods, watching me with intense fascination and almost greed. With that permission, I gently wrap a hand around the hilt of his length, slowly stroking up and down. He instantly flinches against my touch, and I can tell by his tension that it takes a lot for him to not pull away.

"Just tell me if you want to stop." I whisper, before kissing the top of his dick. I lick the beads of precum, a slight smile forming at my lips at its salty taste and the shiver that went up through his body. I place my whole lips around the head, sucking down and up in slow motions. I enjoy Bill's trembling, especially when he briefly closes his eyes.

I suck more, licking a thick stripe along the bottom of his cock, enjoying the soft whimper that escaped his mouth. He looked away, visibly embarrassed, but he runs a hand through my hair before tugging on it.

"Enjoying this?" I murmur, kissing the side of his dick. He just growled in response, his long, serpentine tongue flicking out between his lips. I feel his thighs twitch, shuddering. He's probably close.

I pump my hand around his cock harder, nearly choking as I try to fit more of it into my mouth with each suck. I go faster and faster, tears pricking at the edges of my vision. Finally, with a violent jerk, his hips buck into my face and he yanks on my hair so hard I whine. A nearly painful shudder runs through his thighs as hot cum spills into my mouth. I pull back, letting it drip onto my chin.

Slowly, still twitching, he reaches down to me and swipes at the cum on my chin, sticking his fingers into his mouth. "Salty." he comments, though it doesn't look like he hates it. He then wipes the rest of it onto my neck.

"Well? How was it?" I ask, touching his dick once again to cover my hand in cum. He takes my wrist and licks my palm, then presses my hand to his chest.

"I...I liked it. I see why it makes you ugly freaks go crazy." He sighs, leaning back, licking more of my fingers and ruffling my hair with his other hand.

"I'm glad. We aren't all bad, hmm?" I laugh, kissing his cock once more before standing up.

"No...not all bad."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

[arminzblackbimbo]

the girl is mine

blackfem!reader x suicide squad joker

tw: mdni, kinda dark nothing too crazy, rough treatment, slow sex, missionary, choking, reader is kinda a crybaby, biting, hair pulling, nipple play, boob slapping ??, “doll” used as pet name, reader calls him "jay", bruising, blood mentioned, blood sucking, begging, dom joker, they are both kinda masochist, grinding, and bad spelling !!

"doll stop crying" he is holding your shaking form, your head in the crease of his neck. you can hear him gruff out in your ear, he gives you all of these gifts and presents and all he gets in return is tears. no thank you's or kisses.

all you wanted was to get another necklace to add to your jewelry collection, from when he does his nightly robberies he always brings you something back. something shiny that makes you swoon over him. you’ve always wore gold jewelry but just mere minutes earlier joker gave you a silver necklace, knowing you can't stand that color.

you have tears coming down your cheeks, hyperventilating as your face comes out of hiding in his neck to look at him. you can his silver teeth grinding because he is annoyed. " jay, i-i-i’m sorry but i just don’t want that necklace " you stammered out, not getting a chance to collect yourself before he grips the sides of your neck tightly making you a little light headed. you grip his wrist, tears coming down a little faster. your eyes getting glossy while he rolls his.

your chest heaves even with your air flow constricted you let heavy breaths out. watching you as you scratch at his hand at your throat. satisfied to see you gasp out. "be grateful doll, i could snap your neck since your being so rude" he loves how pretty you look when he holds you throat. it makes him harder in his pants. he finally lets you go when he sees your eyes slightly roll back. smiling watching you cough out trying to speak again.

when you speak again your still sniffing, but your voice is now a little raspy. "i just wanted some gold" all the things he does for you and you have the nerve to pout and cry. he is sick of it, the hand that was just at your throat going to grip your hair tightly, causing "ow's" to leave your lips when he uses your hair to move you from the living room to the bedroom

he just laughs while he drags you down the hallway, doing his classic clown laugh that scares you especially when he gets like this. " your just a spoiled thing, ain't you cupcake ?" pulling your hair harder when he shuts the door of your shared bedroom. your lips pouting when you can feel your head throb as he pulls you onto the bed, laying you down next to him

loving how your whine when he presses his fingers into your scalp “jay that hurts” he dismisses your pain. covering your lips with his hand that has that smiling mouth on it. “smile more doll” laughing more at you. playing with your feelings

moving his hand to start kiss your pouting lips roughly to stop your cries. he loves to act like you annoy him when really he is happy with anything that you do. deep down he cares for you deeply and you both know that, its why you act like this. he finally lets your hair go as he lays you down flat on your back. still keeping his lips locked on you while he puts his weight heavily on top of you.

feeling your legs wrap around his waist and arms wrap around his neck tightly. the position making your body start to tingle your done crying, now your body feels hot. his length starts to throb as his tongue moves with yours and spit starts moving past your lips. he is messy with the kisses wanting them his way not slow like how you like them. "please jay" you gasp when your lips pull apart from each other.

"i shouldn't give you anything, always begging and crying" he grumbles against your lips, biting the skin to see you wince. his blue eyes burning into yours watching you intense biting harder into the soft skin of your lip to see the discomfort. he lets you go your lips swelling from the assault.

giving you one last kiss making it sloppy before he is pecking down your neck, where he begins to bite that already bruised skin from his rough hold, his teeth bruising you even more. even though it hurts so bad it feels so good. you’ve grown the love the feeling “jay, i need you please” your pulling him closer to you. holding him securely against you.

he grabs your face between his hand squeezing your checks tightly together “shut up” he mumbles out, coming to look you in the eyes, he can still see the tear marks that are etched into your face. he almost wants to roll his eyes how lovesick he really is, rolling his tongue along your face to collect your dried tears “all the whining im sick of it”

he has to pry your hands off him to help you take your shirt and pants off so he has all the access he needs to mark you up as much as he can. you can feel his silver hit your skin first before anything it makes you shiver with how cold the metal is. running your hands through his soft green hair to just touch him.

he starts his focus near your collar bone where he bites hard enough to make you draw blood, blood that he has to suction his lips around to collect. making you wince and gasp, looking down to the purple pains that are starting to spread across your skin. really when you plead and beg for him it makes him stiffen more in his pants, but he can’t let you know that.

your body wrapped around him again as you crave the attention of his body. he positions his mouth right by your ear “don’t play soft with me sweetheart, i know you like it rough” his voice raspy in your ear when he bites the shell of it while you hiss and whine. running his tongue in the ridges, lifting under you back to help take your bra off. letting it fly across the room when he starts kissing you against your chest, sucking on the skin of your breast

you slightly tug on his hair and he moans so sweetly. you feel the start of you sweating, the arousal giving you a temperature like feeling. your body starting to grind and roll up into him feeling how stiff he is, giving you so much pleasure and he not even inside you yet.

you nearly jumpstart when he suddenly bites your nipple the pain making you jump running his tongue over the pebble and suctioning his lips to soothe the pain. “feel so good” you whispers gripping his hair tighter when he switches to your other breast. sinking his teeth in harder to hear those pretty noise he loves working his hips to build a rhythm into you

letting your breast go, he lifts his head up to just admirers your naked body, reaching his hands to touch all the welts he created. your so cute it makes him aggressive for some reason. sometimes he just wants to squeeze you against him til he can’t anymore.

makes him do things like pressing your breast together roughly. your so adorable he can’t help it, you have to arch your back up for some relief. watching the flesh spill from in between his fingers. he lets them free loving how their decorations he has added to your skin, he pulls his hand back and smacks the mounds of flesh

the static feeling has you jumping, trying to run away from the unique state he has you in when he starts to twist your sore nipples between his thumb and pointer finger. holding them tightly to stretch them as far as they can go. slapping your breast again while he watches them jiggle

he’s infatuated with you, how your body reacts to him, even your crybaby ways. sliding your panties off. “you ready for me doll ?” distracting with a question so he can strip himself of his clothes, waiting for your answer. your mouth to busy watering looking at his body, it’s so sculpted and the different images on his body has you tracing them with your fingertips while you wait for him to finish undressing

your eyes locking on his bobbing thickness when he pulls himself free. “so ready for you” you can feel the wetness leaking from you just looking at him. positioning your body so that your legs are wide open your feet laying on the bed. wide open for him so he can see everything, so he can see you

joker just sees you spread out and it’s like he gets hypnotize. running his hands over your legs to comfort you preparing you. moving closer to your body adjusting to lightly tap the tip of him onto you to feel the stickiness between your folds. “i should punish you, shouldn’t fuck you at all. should make you beg all night” the cream covers him when continues with the motion, your wetness coating him “huh, since you don’t like my gifts ?” he questioned you, working his length between your puffy lips. the moisture helps him when start to roll into you not yet penetrating you. your clit being hit with his spitting head of precum

“jay im sorry” you mew he can already see those tears that he hates so much at the corners of your eyes. “you forgive me ?” you reach out to him your hand running on his flexing core. trying to seduce him to comply with your wants

he ignores you knowing your trying to get him to fall into your trap. he shoves you hand out the way voice gruff. positioning himself to poke into you slowly, you can feel your walls seperating when he moves deep, sucking him in. causing his moans to be animalistic almost sounding like he is growling. and he is still pushing his thicknesss into you.

you feel like you can’t breathe when he meets his pelvis with yours. he can’t even relax, because of your walls gripping him. your plushy walls pulsing while he is inbetween them “doll, your squeezing me so tight” he kisses your check softly. pulling his arms under you to pull you closer to him pressing your chest against his.

you crave the feeling of his soft kissing when he lays his head in your neck. kissing your neck tenderly touching the bruises and letting his tongue roll over them when he starts a gentle pace into you. “j-j-jay your so deep” your mouth right by his ear where he can hear you take ragged breaths

even though he grabs your hair hard making your head throb, makes you throat sore from him always squeezing his hand around it, from him bruising you in bites all over. but whenever he is inside of you he contradicts himself moving slowly. never being rough when he is inside your snug walls. instead he wants you to be rough with him.

his eyes rolling back when you start to grab at his back. your nails dragging on his skin and letting the burning feeling take over body. “scratch me harder baby” his voice light as he begs while he is humping you is so rhythmic the when the top of him catching in the back of your walls on that special spot which makes you grant his wishes. your nails dragging down his skin rougher

your legs have to stay open to make sure you can feel him. feel him almost reaching your cervix, blood coming from his fresh line wounds on his skin. he loves the pain it brings him pleasure, it over takes his body. he craves it from you whenever your walls consume him

he is moving slowly and steadily, making you desperate for just a little more. your fingers running through his soft strands. your fingers are doing the same thing your toes are doing, curling. pushing your fingers into his scalp grabbing tightly at his hair pulling his head back hard

you can see his lip move with each roll of his hips. he is talking to himself quietly, only speaking louder to praise you. he can’t collect himself, the burning in his scalp makes his eyes flutter and his lip come between his teeth. whimpers coming out to your ears.“harder, please fuck me harder” you beg you can feel a simmering feeling in your body

his head whips froward when you let his soft locs go “you know i can’t doll, you know…” his words jumbling together, you only catch the beginning. your legs coming to wrap around to keep him close. your back arching up when he angles his hips just right to hit the back of your walls, his groin rubbing on your clit.

he has to collect his breath when you look so eternal laid out and moaning for him. you wetness coating him so much he has use his knees so that he has proper direction and doesn’t slip into you. he can feel your legs starting shake around his waist. "come on baby you don’t wanna do your favorite part ?”

he knows you have so much love for wrapping your hands around his throat, dominating him makes you feel in charge. but really it’s his favorite part. having to use all your focus to bringing your shaky hands to cut his air supply off holding his neck, not yet adding pressure. "harder doll" his hips still stroking you slow and steady.

he can feels his blood pulse to his length when your cut his air flow off. threatening an early release from him that he has hold you tightly to not spill to quickly. he likes the pain it makes his body buzz. causing the new found piston of his hips.his hips rolling deeply into you while your body start shake more. pressing your thumbs almost makes it seems like your trying to touch the back of his throat.

noticing the whites of his eyes slowly taking over his pupils from the lack of oxygen. his pale neck turned purple with how hard he had you holding him. your hands letting him go watching him gasp and groan. legs around his waist while he strokes you so consistently. his milky skin and his tattoos make you dizzy.

the long strokes makes you start to feel the pit in your stomach, the high creeping up on you. grabbing his lower back with both hands scratching near the base of his back. “jayyy”

your consuming him, controlling him from how your plushness surrounds him, from your nail creating pleasure. the first reaction of you when you can feel the sensation reaching from the tip of your toes to you the ache in your pelvis, from how deep his hips work into yours. is to bite him like how he does you, sinking your teeth in his shoulder

“ugh cupcake, your trynna k-” he shakes on top of you. your both almost at your peak, biting him harder when you can feel the tingles all over your body while your moaning into his skin. “your trynna… trynna” he mumbles more feeling the quake in his loins. while your thighs are trembling faster

you both coming to your high at the same time, pulling him so close to your body, letting him free from your teeth. moaning more “j-jay please” your eyes rolling back when you let your body go. letting the euphoria take over. your whole body shaking while he can feel your walls taking his cum in.

he kisses you to swallow your moans, the sounds vibrating against each other. your arsoual at the same time makes your souls combine together he lets your lips go when your body stopped buzzing. seeing your eyelids flutter close when he pulls out of you

when you wake up from you sex induced nap. your meet with three gold necklaces and 6 golden bracelets gracing your wrist, making you smile dreamily

[dollarbils]

male fantasy | b.e.

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. when you encounter your ex girlfriend, an awkward moment turns into something more, and you both begin to rethink your decision to end things.

warnings. angst kinda, fluff

masterlist

cool wind fanned your face as your stride lead you through the streets of the Gloria Molina park. the faint jingle of your dog’s collar indicating which way you’d go next, as her small little being told you which direction to walk in. you weren’t focused on her, or your surroundings. instead, engrossed in the discussion you were having with your mom over text.

“fuck, i’m so sorry.” you hadn’t been looking at where you were going, and a sudden bark made you look up before you slammed into a girl with black hair. you wouldn’t have recognised her so quickly, had it not been for her dogs bark. a dog that had been all too familiar, and who’d obviously recognised you.

“shark.” it was quiet, but she’d heard it from above, observing how her dog circled your legs in excitement. your gaze lifted to her, and she gave you a weak smile, waiting for you to say something more.

“billie, wow. it’s been a while.” you said, interrupted by both dogs jumping when they’d spotted each other.

“yeah, shark’s obviously glad, he definitely missed you.” she chuckled somewhat awkwardly.

“how long has it been?” you pondered, trying to make conversation with the girl.

“since we broke up, 3 years i’d say?” a mumble followed her words as you considered how unbelievable it’d been that you hadn’t crossed paths in 3 years.

“so how are you?” when neither of you made a move to exit the awkward conversation in any way, you decided you might as well ask.

“uh, good, yeah i’ve been good. how about you?” her expression was sincere as she distracted herself with the handle of shark’s leash.

“same here.” the silence that followed was uncomfortable, as you held eye contact but didn’t speak. her features were unchanged, except slightly matured, but the familiarity was still present.

“look, this is weird ‘cause i’ve been caught off guard but we should talk more, i’ve missed you.” she was the one to break the ice, as both of you then slowly eased into each others presence.

“yeah, i’d love that.” she made a move for your phone, unlocking it due to the fact you hadn’t changed the password, and entering in her phone number.

“i also feel like we should really talk, we never got any kind of closure.” your relationship had ended in a haze of messy tears and headaches, you hadn’t talked it out mutually.

“like right now?” she laughed shaking her head, amused at your widened eyes.

“no, no. just call me. okay?” she smiled and you nodded, waving her a goodbye as she walked in the opposite direction. you watched her leave and she looked back, quickly meeting your eyes before you turned your head.

‘i got a call from a girl i used to know’

“hey, is this billie?” your voice filled her ear, confirming that your encounter had been a reality.

“yeah it’s me, i’m glad you called.” her tone was sweet, inviting. as if she’d gotten comfortable talking to you again.

“yeah?” that was still somewhat of a shock, you momentarily cursed yourself for letting her back into your life, unsure as to if this was a good idea.

“i was going to ask you if you’d want to come over for coffee or something?” your answer should be no.

“of course, i’d love that.” you found yourself speaking before having thought rationally about it.

“great! how’s friday?” she was audibly excited.

“perfect.”

‘we were inseparable years ago’

“hi, come in.” her voice eased the nerves that were upsetting your stomach, as you walked into her house. she’d moved out of her previous one, and you hadn’t been here before.

“i made you some tea, since you’ve never been a huge coffee person.” you smiled, grateful for the thought.

“thank you.” she lead you to the couch, and you both settled down, facing each other as you pulled your legs to your body.

“sorry for being so cold yesterday, i was just surprised to see you.” you sipped the tea, as you spoke.

“no worries, it was definitely a surprise for me too.” she chewed her lip as she looked at you.

“you’ve changed, you look older. in a good way.” she cracked a smile before responding.

“it’s the fact i haven’t got obnoxiously colored roots.” you laughed at her criticism of the famous hair colours.

“i loved the roots.” she raised an eyebrow.

“which colour?” she took her bottom lip underneath her tongue as she waited for a reply.

“all of them, especially green though.” that was the hair she’d had when you’d been with her, it would always be nostalgic.

“i remember bleaching my hair after we broke up, i thought it would help me get over you.” she chuckled.

“did it?” she shook her head.

“i’m sorry, billie, for the way things ended.” she frowned slightly, remembering the events of your breakup.

“i’m sorry too, you never really got an explanation.” she sighed, taking your hands in hers as she spoke honestly.

“so.. why did you break up with me?” she took a deep breath before speaking.

“i felt unloved. i know it sounds stupid. but i didn’t feel like i was your girlfriend.” you nodded, trying to understand her words as she continued.

“our love felt like a male fantasy.” she whispered.

“what do you mean?” the term had confused you in this context.

“as if you didn’t love me romantically, i felt like your friend and not your girlfriend.” her brows were furrowed, expressing her emotions.

“i’m so sorry, billie.” she stayed silent, not fully accepting the apology.

“do you still..” she trailed off, wondering if she even wanted an answer.

“i don’t know if i ever got over you, i guess i pretended i was. i really tried to hate you.” she found the comment amusing, smiling brightly.

“thank god.” she looked down, smiling to herself before returning to meet your eyes.

“hm?” you questioned.

“i still love you now.” she took your face in hers hands as you squeezed her knee.

“me too,” her smile was as bright as ever, “I’ll make sure I don’t screw up this time.” you were giggling against her lips.

‘knew we’d get along, and it was so.’

[gladiatorcunt]

oreo tiger milk tea

cw: afab reader, suggestive content (18+ mdni): strap mentions and implied cunnilingus, ooc soft!tashi (she cares about you more than tennis), don’t think too hard about this

you hum and stir the shrimp, trying to remember how long you need to cook them for. you think the recipe said 4 minutes, so you shrug and hope for the best.

the giant flatscreen tv in your living room drones on in the background, you’re just waiting for tashi’s taped interview. her match already ended, you’re still heartbroken that you couldn’t be there but you cheered her on from your brand new sectional.

“yeah, my partner has been such a huge supporter. I’m so grateful to have them, and all my fans.” she says, blowing a kiss towards the camera.

it’s a run of the mill media response, but it gives you butterflies nonetheless.

you smile down at the sizzling shrimp like an idiot, taking it out and arranging them on the two bowls of rice on the table.

your legs are still sore and it takes everything in you to make it to your chair in one piece. tashi likes to joke that fucking you with her strap is all the work out she needs, that and smothering your face with her pussy. she didn’t keep you up as late last night, knowing that she had to be back on an emergency flight soon.

“hey, babe, what are you watching?” she teases as she peeks around the corner, having changed out of her airport clothes into sweats.

you grin and tilt your head up for a kiss, “my gorgeous wife’s interview, obviously.”

she rolls her eyes fondly, giving you your kiss. it’s slow and drawn out, her trip wasn’t long enough to call for a messy fight with teeth. plus, all the “home videos” tashi keeps on her phone are the perfect solution to be away from each other and horny.

“we’re not even married yet, stupid.”

“and what if I said that I'm pregnant with your baby?”

tashi gives you the most loving ‘what the fuck are you high on’ look, “then i’d say that i’m suprised it took this long.”

“so no shotgun wedding?” you pout, trying your hardest not to burst out laughing.

“don’t act like you don’t want a big wedding, you big baby.” she grins and pecks the tip of your nose.

you beam back at her and shrug, pulling her by the wrists to come sit down at the table next to you. you’re still so awestruck by the fact that you’re living in a multi million dollar home with your superstar fiancé.

the shrimp and rice is devoured with numerous compliments to the chef. tashi takes her sweet time wiping her (and your) face clean and putting the dishes in the dishwasher. you can’t help but let your eyes fall to her ass as she walks away.

“nice ass, Tash’ ” you say as you come up behind her and wind your arms around her torso.

you take a moment to sway in the kitchen, absorbing the faint traces of shower water and left over sweat under her orange and jasmine perfume.

“yours is nicer.” she hums, grinding back against you in languid circles.

“if you say so.”

“i do say so.”

your underwear is cutting it close to getting damp, sue you for being weak for your beautiful woman. the teasing rhythm doesn’t even phase you, you slide your fingers along the soft fabric covering her hips and pull her closer. it doesn’t escalate into frenzied dry humping, the warmth and unhurried friction of her ass cheeks against your mound is intoixcating enough.

you do her a favor and close the dishwasher. she casts a look over her shoulder, challenging you to make a move. you smirk and pick her up by her thighs, pushing her to jump up on the counter.

tashi lays down with the most smug smile a person could possibly wear, “you just cleaned the counters, baby, you better not make a mess.”

you stick your tongue out, pulling her pants down and getting close enough to tear her panties off with your teeth. she spreads her legs, giving you a clear view of her pussy. you gently blow air onto her clit and she sighs, rolling her shoulders back.

“yeah yeah, tash’. i’ll get it all in my mouth this time, i swear”.

because you know if you do, she’ll be taking YOUR strap.