#They fight but it is an excuse to grope each other

[blueprxde]

Perry's POV

[mafiadad5]

Perv!bestfriend! jisung who…

Perv!bestfriend! jisung x fem!reader

mdni!!! 18+

warnings- make out, groping, choking, dry humping, panties, jerking off, explicit depictions of oral sex.

W/c- 1.7k

a/n- hope you guys enjoy, I surely enjoyed writing lol.

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Perv!bestfriend!jisung who acts completely normal when you're out with friends, but behind closed doors, he becomes a bit more touchy. Whether it's accidentally brushing his hand against your chest, groping your waist during your "play fights", or placing his hand uncomfortably close to your inner thigh, you notice the shift. 

"Ji, what are you doing?" you ask, glancing at him as you both sit on the couch. 

"Hmm?" he replies, pouting his lips innocently as if he has no idea what you're talking about. 

You simply shake your head, turning your attention away from him.

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Perv!bestfriend!jisung who had to excuse himself to the restroom after you compared your hand size to his, calling his hands big and manly. 

It turned him on so much, he couldn't help it. He could make you feel so good with them if you let him.

He couldn't help but to imagine how his hands could explore every inch of your body— how they could make you tremble under his touch. Feeling up your body, touching you in the most sensual way. He pictured the way you'd gasp as his fingers teased and toyed with you, hitting all the right spots, you clenching around his fingers as you begged for more. The thought of it drove him wild, he needed it so bad. 

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Perv!best friend!jisung who invites you to sleep in his bed because 'he doesn't want you to sleep on the couch when his roommate is home.'

"Oh... you're sleeping in here with me?" You say, looking at him with curious eyes. 

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" He asked, giving you that innocent look that always drove you a little crazy. You nodded in agreement. He's right... why wouldn't he? That's your best friend after all. In his mind, he was excited that you agreed. Why would he pass the chance to lay next to your beautiful body, especially in those skimpy clothes you always wore to sleep. He patiently waited for your breathing to slow, biting his lip nervously as he carefully pulled down his pants. 

You were so beautiful, he couldn't help himself, he was so hard it hurt. He threw his head back, trying to hold in his moans. He wanted it to be you so bad, wanted you to be the one to make him feel good. Fuck, you turned him on so much.

His long fingers grazed the side of your body, his cock twitching at the feeling of your soft skin. "Fuck" he sighed out, careful not to wake you up. His stomach tightened, his hand moving to his mouth, biting down, trying to hold in the sounds that desperately wanted to be let out. His eyes rolled back as ropes of his cum spread on his t-shirt. Look at what you do to him, he was a wreck. 

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Perv!bestfriend!jisung who brought up that he had a date that night when you both were sitting on his couch. Your face lit up as you giggled."I'm so excited for you Ji! I hope it goes well."  Instead of the grin you expected, he frowned, sucking in his teeth. "Yeah... I don't think it will" 

You tilted your head. "Why not?" 

He hesitated before answering, his voice softer. "I don't think I'm... good at kissing." 

"Well, that's something she could help you with."

"Or, you could?" He said, turning his head to look at you. 

"Jisung...don't you think that's a little much?" He leaned closer. "No, come on. We're best friends, right? We're supposed to help each other out with stuff like this." He replied. You paused, searching his face for a sign that this was some sort of joke, but he looked like he genuinely believed what he was saying. "Please?" he added softly.

How could you say no to that, best friends are supposed to be there for each other. 

"Ok, fine." You sighed, trying to convince yourself this was just one of those weird best friend moments that you could laugh at in the future. 

He smiled in return, leaning in slowly. You closed your eyes, and your lips finally met—soft at first, then growing hungrier as his hands cupped your face. His tongue brushed against yours, sending a shiver through you as he deepened the kiss. Before you knew it, he was shifting, leaning over you, his kisses growing needy.

His lips traveled down your jawline, before moving to your neck. Your fingers found their way into his hair, tugging lightly as warmth spread through you. His hands slid down your sides, exploring every inch, until his fingers skimmed the waistband of your pants.

Your eyes flew open as realization hit you. "Ok! I think you'll be fine." You blurted out, quickly sitting up and breaking the moment.

Jisung leaned back, his breathing unsteady, but a smirk on his lips as he met your wide eyes. His voice was low, teasing. "So, did I pass? Was it nice?"

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. "Yeah, no, that was... great. She'll love it."

His smirk grew, his hooded eyes still locked on you. "Good to know." He murmured. 

The next day you decided to call Jisung to see how the date went.

"What date?" he asked, his tone genuinely confused.

You blinked. "Are you joking? The date you had last night? The one you needed 'practice' for?"

"Oh..." There was a pause, and you could almost hear the gears turning in his head. "That date. Yeah, I remember now. She canceled, so I just... uh, chilled in bed." He said, suspiciously.

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Perv!bestfriend!jisung who suggested you move in with him after his old roommate moved out. The idea of living with your best friend sounded perfect, so you agreed without hesitation. At first everything was great—easy, comfortable, like hanging out 24/7.

But then, you started noticing something strange. Your dirty underwear would go missing anytime before you did laundry.

"Hey Ji," you asked one evening, "not to sound weird or anything, but have you seen any of my underwear? A few pairs seem to disappear."

Jisung glanced up from his phone, his expression nonchalant. "Nope, haven't seen them." He said with a shrug, his face giving nothing away, but every time you brought it up, the missing pieces would mysteriously reappear in your laundry basket, as if they'd never been gone. It was strange—so strange—but you didn't think on it for too long. Maybe it was just one of those weird coincidences... that's what you wanted to believe.

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Perv!bestfriend!jisung who lingers in the hallway with just a towel draped around his waist, waiting for you to notice.

"Oh, oh my gosh!" You gasped, nearly choking on your water when you saw him on the way back to his room. "What?" He replied while glancing at you, shaking his damp hair, inching closer to you. "Nothing..." you mumbled, still processing the sight in front of you. You slowly walked closer, your eyes scanning him from head to toe. "I've just never seen you like this before."

"Do you like it?" he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he stepped closer to you, his towel hanging low on his v-line.

"Do I like it?" You blinked, your gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Jisung's grin widened as you took in the view. Instead of responding you just giggled, shaking your head as you walked past him, brushing your shoulder lightly against his, leaving him standing there in the hallway alone, and now with a boner.

He wanted you on your knees in front of him so bad, making him feel good. Want those delicate lips wrapped around his tip. Tears brimmed in your eyes as you took him deeply in your mouth, his large hands tangled in your hair.

He wants to fuck that pretty face so bad, wants to paint it with his cum. It was a sight he had to see.

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Perv!bestfriend!jisung who invited you to play a game in his room, insisting you'd have more fun sitting on his lap.

He played the first round before passing you the controller, his hand slickly resting on your thigh. As you adjusted yourself, you would find yourself accidentally grinding against him. He didn’t say anything, but you felt something pressed against your ass. It was a normal reaction, you thought. 

"Y/n."  He groaned softly, his voice low and strained. 

"Hm?" You hummed out, focused on the game.

"You still owe me, right?" He asked, his fingers inching higher up your thigh. "Can you do something for me now?"

"What do you want me to do?" You asked hesitantly, gasping when one of his hands gripped your thigh, the other wrapping lightly around your throat.

"You make me feel so good." He murmured against your neck, his voice sending shivers down your spine. His hands guided you, moving you slowly back and forth on his lap. You set the controller down on the desk, gripping his knees for balance. "Ji..." you moaned softly, your voice barely audible.

"You sound so pretty." He gasped, his pace quickening as he moved against you. "Oh my god... I'm not gonna last." His hand slid between your thighs, his fingers teasing you desperately as his grip tightened around your waist. "Fuck, gonna cum." he whimpered, his movements growing frantic before he released, holding you tightly.

He let go of your throat, his hand falling limp against your thigh as he leaned back to catch his breath. He grabbed the controller from the desk and resumed the game like nothing had happened. 

"Um Ji... I'm gonna go shower." You stuttered, standing up on shaky legs. As you turned to look at him, your eyes caught the cum stain on his gray sweatpants.

"Ok, have a good night.” He said with a smile, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"You too..." you mumbled, closing the door behind you, still a tad bit shaken up.

Later that night, as you passed by his room, you froze at the sound of him moaning your name, his voice filled of desperation.

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[rotthepoet]

Bsf!theo casually being your secret hookup friend and makes it really obvious but also denies it too anyone who asks 🤡

MWAH‼️ (thats me kissing your clever brain because i love it)

I think it would begin as an actual genuine friendship. You two just get along so well, studying together, sitting by each other in the great hall, gossiping and giggling as one does. Theo just adores you, you’re the light of his life tbh

But i mean. You have needs. He has needs. It happens for the first time after a late night smoke sesh. You’re laughing and joking around and you’re play fighting. Start shoving each other around, all fun and games. You end up on your back, Theo on top of you. And like. It’s all silent for a minute. Just a minute. Then just… you both feel the energy shift and you’re making out on the floor. Its messy and he’s groping you, feeling everything he can, kissing down your neck, and really one thing leads to another and you’re in his bed taking it doggy style.

And yeah, It was really just supposed to be a one time thing. Nothing should change. You were just high and horny at the same time, it’s not weird unless you make it weird.

But then… it just… keeps happening.

And neither of you are in any rush to stop it.

Lets take a pause, just one moment please and thank you. I just want to say I think Theodore has a very high sex drive. Gets his mind off things, considers it a workout, and it just feels good. He is a gorgeous man, so its not hard to find willing partners but something just hits harder here. Maybe its the thrill of sneaking around. The knowledge that he’s fucking his friend on the regular and then pretending it never happened.

He stops seeing as many people- obvs not cutting everyone off because hes a bit of a man whore(he doesn’t want you to get sick of him)- and he doesnt even realize it. He just… likes you more than all his other hoes🙏

Anyways! Its kinda obvious that Theo and you have something going on. Prolonged glances at each other, biting your lip at him, him grazing his hands over your hips while he whispers something in your ear that makes you blush. Man goes out of his way to “subtly” slap your ass.

Its Draco and his big mouth that say anything first. Their whole crew is sitting in the Common Room, just idly chatting and playing cards. When conversation eventually gets stale, Draco sits back and looks Theodore dead in the eyes. “Nott, are you dating that… “friend” of yours?”

And he means it in a cheeky teasing way. Because how can Theodore Nott, local playboy, be settling down?

And Draco expected a solid “yes, and what of it?”

He didn’t expect the most casual “nah” anyone could muster.

And heads turn, Blaise raising a brow because he was certain you and Theo were an official item. Questions begin rising, and Theo just shrugs them all off like its all rumors.

“So you aren’t hooking up with them?”

Nope

“Youre really just that touchy? It came out of no where.”

Dunno, mate, shit happens and people change.

And he’s biting back a smirk because his mind is on you again and suddenly he’s faking a yawn and excusing himself to many protests. He misses your body(he misses you he misses you so bad its genuinely such a distressing feeling in his chest when he cant see you all day)

He swallows all those feelings though. Youre just a friend.. with benefits? Just a friend with benefits. Nothing more. He doesn’t even like tear up a little bit when you play with his hair after he finishes. Like. Its not that deep.(it is that deep. Its so deep. Its miles deep. Hes so down bad.)

And its not like hes ever going to admit it. Hes just gonna keep hooking up with you and pushing those feelings away.

Swallowing those feelings won’t stop him from punching some dude for dancing a little too close to you at a party, though.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Ok so I know you said you have been unmotivated with smut lately, but you don't have to write this if you don't want to. But basically it's Scott summers x male reader where they are best friends, maybe they have some secret feelings that they have never confessed too. So male reader decided so bite the bullet and confess with out confessing, and is like " you know a few bounces on it never hurt a friendship", ( lol like the meme) and smut ensues.

Scott Summers x Mutant male reader

Headcanons

Readers got electrokinetic and magnetic powers, because I couldn’t think of anything original, and ice powers are already yoinked up by Bobby. So, ice cold head is gonna be saved for another day.

I feel like my Scott obsession shines through in this… enjoy some longer work

Feedback wasn’t the most original or coolest sounding name, but hey, it had been Scott’s idea, and you had a soft spot for him from the very beginning. So, Feedback it was. Seeing how Scott puffs up a little when you explain he came up with the name almost makes up for Logan picking on you for it.

Being great friends with Scott, makes most people assume you are a hardass like him. And yeah, you have your moments. You see how much Scott stressed about keeping everyone safe, as well as dealing with the US government and the likes, so yes, you take it seriously.

Your lightning powers lead you to also bond with Ororo, though you are not completely at her level. You cant control the weather, but you sure as hell can use electricity and lightning, and you’ve learned how useful it can be.

It took a lot of training, but who else can paralyze a person without it being lethal as easily as you can? Or fry most electronics or vehicles, even guns and other weapons? You are at least a little proud of your powers.

And maybe it has to do with the fact that Scott always seemed to preen, at least a little, with pride whenever you show how far you’ve come. You are the exact same with him, and your “broship” is kind of a thing in the X-men

To the point where the entire mansion, or island if its on Krakoa, get tense and start tiptoeing around when you two are fighting or arguing. Seeing you two not talking and avoiding each other is as uncomfortable as seeing Deadpool around, except its worse.

It always leads to some of the others, typically the younger mutants, trying to set up some kind of heist you get you two to get along again. Most of the times it fails, but the failure is what brings you together again, in a sense.

You also typically give Scott small zaps with your powers, to get his mind off whatever he’s too focused on. or the times where he lets you run light electricity through his muscles when they bunch up. Him groaning and huffing in relief is only an extra on top of the cake, since you already get to fondle his back.

Your feelings for Scott aren’t as much of a secret as you wish they were. Charles knew almost the very moment he met you. Apparently, you used to project your thoughts quite a lot, and he was growing tired of seeing your fantasies.

After that you got better at hiding. You especially worked hard to suppress and hide it when Scott got together with Jean. Yeah, it hurt your heart, but you never really thought you two would be more than bros.

But to show Jean some respect, you get less touchy and grabby with Scott. In the past you might have smacked his ass after training, or groped his pecs and arms, making some excuse about his gains. But with Scott in a relationship, it didn’t feel right.

Scott did the same thing with you, but… it was only because you did it first, right? So, its not like hed notice. Obviously, he does, Scott being so vigilant about the people around him means it takes him less than a month to be completely sure you’re avoiding him.

That doesn’t mean he says anything. Instead, he just kinda lets it stew. The relationship between you grows… tense in a way. Its not like you two are arguing, but you are trying to pull away enough to wash away whatever feelings you have, and Scott is sure you hate him for some reason, and he doesn’t know why.

In the end its actually Jean that confronts you about it, much to your embarrassment. She’s surprisingly kind about it, or you guessed it wasn’t surprising. Jeans an amazing woman, which was why it was no shock she swooped in and caught Scott’s heart.

Jean knows all about your feelings, but also Scotts. Scott loves her, very much so. But he loves you just as much, he just hasn’t realized it yet. Scott easily just pushes those feelings aside as platonic, or some deep loyalty to his best friend.

So, what if he sometimes has dreams about you holding him down and fucking him so hard he needs his visor, since his shades would be sent flying. Or his regular dream of you using small sparks of electricity to play with him.

But somehow Jean saves the situation. Being able to read minds is great, since it makes her feel safe and secure in her relationship, enough to know that you are both good men, and that you’d never act on your feelings with her in the picture.

This is how it continues for a while. Scotts with Jean, and you have some flings of your own. Over the years you kind of have a thing with Logan, then Warren, and a kind of “ill scratch your itch if you scratch mine” with Remy when he and Anne Marie have their moments.

And yeah, maybe there’s a couple of others on that list that you don’t speak too much about it. Its not your fault Deadpool can be weirdly charming and handsome sometimes. And that one time with Magneto is not something you’ll ever mention, to anybody. You get a feeling Charles knows about it though. You have a feeling Magneto told him.

All in all, you never end up with a long lasting “official” relationship. Its kind of hard to give your heart to someone else when Scott still has his name printed across it in big letters. You’re not like Scott, whose heart is big enough to fit multiple people

What you have with other people is always just casual and never means anything. Well, you do get closer to Logan. Its… a weird situation. He still has a thing for Jean, and you have a thing for Scott, and you help each other out when times get tough.

You thought Scott was gonna kill you when he caught you chewing on a cigar. It’s not like you were gonna smoke it, but seeing him huffing and puffing about you chewing on one of Logans cigars made your pants a bit too tight for comfort.

It really doesn’t help that Scott bulks up over the years. Logan may still call him slim, but there’s nothing slim about him. So, there might be more grope to the smacks you give his ass sometimes, how can you not, it’s so… grabble.

And you are always too distracted by his just… soft and big he is back there, hes even got butt dimples man. It means you never notice how Scott might just arch his hips back a little, or the way his thighs twitch when the excess electricity runs from your fingers into his skin.

Sure, him for thinking about those fingers inside him, its normal. He thinks. Its not his fault you have really nice hands, and the way electricity crinkles around your fingers is way too hot sometimes.

You once licked the electricity off your fingers, the sparks jumping from your fingers to your tongue. Scott knows its just for fun, or be a dick, but god does his front and back twitch think about it.

How you confess can happy in many ways. But the main factor is that Scott and Jean are no more. Maybe shes died, like she does in some comics. Or maybe they just broke up since they grew apart.

But one way or another you just confess. Maybe its after one of your rolls in the hay with Logan, and Scott finally doesn’t have Jean to redirect his attention too and his jealousy boils over. It leads to an argument, with you just spilling that you slept about because you couldn’t have him.

It hurts, after the confession leaves you. You’ve kept it tight inside you for years at this point, and seeing Scott just freeze up makes you feel even worse. You just get your keys into your hands with a flick of magnetic energy, before Scotts upon you.

The floors really uncomfortable, and the air is knocked out of your chest, especially as he places his bulk on top of you, Scotts hands on either side of your head.

Even with the visor giving off its usual red glow, Scott couldn’t get more handsome. The quiver in his lip and how he keeps nipping at its insides. “Scott…” you breath out, hands twitching at your sides, wanting nothing more than to settle on his nice, plush with muscle, hips.

Kissing Scott was everything you had ever imagined, and more. He tasted like the coffee hed been drinking, the brand you always hated but still bought because it was Scott’s favorite. The one he would always brew too strong, and never add any sugar or creamer too.

And yet, as his tongue rolled against your own, you couldn’t think of anything more delicious. It felt more like you two were trying to eat each other, to see who could devour the other one first after being starved for so long.

Any other time you might have been embarrassed about how wet and slick your kissing was, and just how loud it was. It seemed to ring through the empty room, Scotts hands already pulling at your shirt as you allow yourself to truly grope and feel that plump ass of his.

Youd touched Scott many times before. Hell, you’d even touched him naked here and there. But those times had been for medical reasons, or that one time to keep hypothermia at bay. This felt so much more intimate, so much… more.

The lamps in the room flickered as Scott pushed himself up to get fully undressed, your irises lighting up as you finally got to just stare. He was so hard, and with him standing above you he felt like a god, in his own way. You must have said this out loud, since Scott blushed and dragged you up.

It felt like being a virgin again, tumbling into bed and kicking off what clothes you had left on, hands groping and exploring. When it came to men, you had a lot more experience. You honestly only had experience with men.

That didn’t mean you almost didn’t bust on the spot when Scott sat himself down in your lap again, nothing between him and your cock. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel how his ass just draped around you, the smirk on Scotts lips so cocky you almost wanted to smack him.

With that thought, your body seemed to respond. Youd never really shot electricity from your crotch before, but the loud high-pitched yelp from Scott told you just that had happened.

You immediately wanted to apologize, fearing you had ruined the mood. A violent shudder ran through Scotts body, a deeper more guttural groan leaving his body as he rocked against you, precum spilling from him like a faucet. That had felt better than hed ever imagined.

The world felt like it was shrinking more and more until all you could think of was Scott Summers, and how felt against you. How he felt around your fingers as you stretch him open, and the loud wails of want he lets out, when you let the smallest flickers of electricity zap from your fingers to his prostate.

Youd always had a code of sorts, that your partner at least had to finish once, preferably twice, before you would enter them, or let them enter you. And with Scott it was so easy to wring them out of him. You almost wanted to just keep milking him for all he was worth.

Recognizing the look in your eyes, at least somewhat, had Scott tapping his foot against your tip, which was enough to remind you of how hard you really were, and how sensitive.

It gave Scott enough time to flip you onto your back, and with a recklessness you wouldn’t see from him every day, he just sank down on you.

All that working out made it easy for Scott to ride you, his thighs and hips working in harmony, his fingers digging into your pecs as you both groan and huff, letting out noises neither of you had ever let out before.

Kissing Scott as he rode you was a pretty name for it. in reality it was more just your open mouths pressed together as you both panted and drooled, tongues just rubbing together every now and then.

Having edged yourself until now meant you didn’t last long. As Scott shoved you over the edge your vision went white, and you had a feeling the popping noises you heard were the lightbulbs around the room.

It felt like Scott was draining your very soul of your body through your dick, his behind was diabolical. Part of you wanted to joke about him doing some other kind of training without telling you, but your teeth still felt like they were made of static, so all you could do was groan and gasp.

The high-pitched noises from Scotts mouth still registered to your fuzzy hearing, and the splatters of white against your torso made something inside you settle, knowing he had finished too.

The air was knocked out of your chest again as Scott slumped against you like a puppet getting its strings cut. The only noise in the room was the sound of your shared panting and wheezing, as well as the faint buzz of the ruined lightbulbs.

“you’re paying for that…” Scott finally mumbles breathlessly against the side of your neck. A snort leaves you, head still feeling like a thunderstorm and tv-static as you work your arms shakily around him. “Fine… but I’m picking the brand” you reply, voice slurred and tongue floppy in ways you hadn’t experienced in years.

Scott clearly wanted to laugh at your state, but he wasn’t much better himself. He couldn’t feel his legs, and it wasn’t completely because of the zap of electricity you’d sent through his entire body, as much as it was just how good it had felt.

You both needed to cool down, and maybe a nap. And then a good, long, cold shower. Scott lazily mentally noted down that he needed new sheets and lightbulbs, but not much else happened. For once his head felt blissfully silent, in the way only you could make it.

[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

⌗︙・ sneaking off with caelus for quickies ♡⸝⸝

Caelus is sometimes too horny for his own good, golden eyes filled with nothing but debaucherous visions as he undresses you with his eyes. When he wasn't fighting alongside you or running around completing missions left and right, he'd come up with some half-assed excuse regarding the Antimatter Legion before dragging you off to some unoccupied corner and fulfilling his lewd fantasies. He was a pure menace, groping your ass from behind just out of view from the others, frustrating you to no end when he refused to touch you any further. Not at least until you found an opportunity to sneak off.

But you were no saint, not with how you sloppily drooled all over his cock as he fucked your throat, or how eagerly you'd grind down onto his pelvis as you rode him in the privacy of your room. But who could blame you for acting in such a desperate way? Caelus' cock was just so good, fat head and length pressing against your walls in all the right ways that had you cumming rather embarrassingly quickly. He'd always cum in thick, creamy globs that painted your insides white and left your belly feeling warm and heavy. He was a fast learner, learning each of your weak spots with a scarily quick eagerness that left you breathless.

So it wasn't really too much of a surprise with how often you snuck away on missions just to fuck in some unlit alleyway.

"They're probably looking for us... I bet they're worried since we've been gone for a while. We should.. we should really hurry up. " You huff, raising your head to look at Caelus, his face mere inches from yours. He takes a gulp of air before nodding in agreement, no doubt having the same concern as you.

"Yeah... March is probably dragging Dan Heng by the ear.." His brow furrows, looking simultaneously troubled and amused at the thought of the former dragging around the stoic male as if he were some sort of rag doll.

Even if the two of you are sharing the same concern, it was clearly juxtaposed by neither one of you making the effort to wrap up your little activity as quickly as possible. Although, little activity was a bit of a damn understatement when you had Caelus' cock sheathed inside your hole, back against the dingy wall of the alleyway as he moves his hips against yours over and over. Your arms and legs are locked around his body, doing your best to keep from falling and sliding down the wall. But Caelus has a good grip on your ass—he's a lot stronger than he looks—and his hips sure aren't going to be slowing down anytime soon.

"Fuuuck, s'so deep, so fucking good.." You whine into his neck, biting back a moan as his balls smack noisily against your skin. He's got so much vigor in each of his thrusts, pelvis pressed as close as possible to yours in such a confined position. You don't know how long the two of you have been at this, but you know it's long enough to have his cum leaking out, staining the ground below in gooey droplets. "Fuck me—ooh!—right there, right there, fuck me harder—oh god!"

Caelus chokes out a moan—you were so fucking tight—sucking in a shaky breath as he continues to pound into you. "Didn't you just tell me to hurry up? What changed your mind? Do you like my dick that much?" You can hear the smirk in his voice, though it wavers with each flutter and pulsing of your walls around his length. God he was such a little shit.

"Just shut up already.." You slam your lips against his without warning, moaning in a mix of relief and ecstasy. He makes a slight noise of surprise, but, given how often you'd dodge his postcoital affections, you don't blame him. But right now, you could care less if he happens to get to the wrong idea about you kissing him—or perhaps, a small part of you deep down wants Caelus to get the wrong idea.

The two of you melt into the kiss, teeth gnashing noisily and tongues entangling and rubbing up against one another as you both cling onto each other. Soon, drool begins to streak across your lips and chin—fuck, kissing Caelus felt so damn good, why didn't you do it before?—as warm pressure builds up in your lower stomach. His plush tip keeps pushing up against your oversensitive walls, the pulsing veins on the side of his cock stimulating you further and further.

But soon the lack of oxygen proves to be too much, and the messy kiss is broken apart. Strings of saliva stick to your tongue, but a bolt of pleasure shoots through you and you rest your head against the wall of the alley. With your neck exposed to him, you whine his name repeatedly like a chant, his entire being overwhelming you in waves.

"Caelus, Caelus, Caelus, Caelus...!"

Caelus' hips give a final thrust, the veins on his fat cock twitching and pulsing as he spills himself inside of your walls until even more droplets begin to ooze out. Reflexively, he immediately starts kissing your neck, mouth sloppily fitting against your rapid pulse, but this time you don't stop him. It feels ticklish, but surprisingly helping in lowering you from your high. He doesn't pull out until he's pumped out every last drop, although the way your walls clamp around him ends up squeezing out a few more drops anyways. You both shudder, the sudden emptiness in you and the lack of warmth around him a bit too much.

As if on cue, the cum that hadn't been oozing from your hole thanks to Caelus plugging you up nice and tight, now trickles out. A part of you is disappointed to not have it stay deep inside, but you're too out of it to do anything about it.

Your legs begin to slip, but Caelus seems to notice and aids in lowering you down. As soon as your feet touch the ground, you nearly double over but he catches you, choosing to lean you against him for support. With your head against his chest, you can feel the warmth of his body, each inhale and exhale he takes, and the beating of his heart.

The alleyway is filled with soft pants, concealed from any prying eyes. Like your own little world, just the two of you. It's... rather nice in a way.

"We're... we're gonna continue this when we get back to the Express, got it?" Of course you will. The two of you are as horny as rabbits, and quickies would only keep you both temporarily satisfied. But you could bet that if he found the opportunity, he'd sneak into your room. Again. "My back's killing me, I think you just scraped off my damn skin... I'd like my back to remain injury-free while getting dicked down thank you very much."

"Fine by me. I'd prefer to fuck you on your bed anyway." He snorts in amusement, a sliver of a smirk on his lips as he playfully squeezes your ass. You squeak and flinch at the ticklish sensation, to which he chuckles. "Not that I've got anything against doing this in an alleyway. It's actually kinda hot."

"Shut up and help me put my underwear back on."

© latimeriafellfromheaven

[alcoholfreenayeon]

Can u do like Nayeon make up sex like pairing: sensitive fem reader and Nayeon forgot like their anniversary ? It's okay if not?

Heaven

A/N: I’m sorry it took me so long to do this anon😭❤️ it’s slightly rushed because I won’t have time rest of the day. Hope you like it.

CW: fluff, smut, nsfw

Nayeon got on the bed, quickly getting under the blanket, shuddering and smiling as the warmth begins to spread. She takes a cold breath and shifts closer to you.

You try to ignore her, continuing to read your book, not wanting to complain before you are sure Nayeon hasn’t got any last minute surprises.

“Leave your book for a moment baby, I want to cuddle you and warm myself up”, Nayeon asks, leaning into you.

“I see…”, you turn to the next page, not even looking at her.

“Huh..? That’s it? You aren’t even looking at me…”, Nayeon sounds a bit hurt, “is something wrong?”

You feel a bit bad for being cold but you felt hurt too. This wasn’t any day. Today was your one year anniversary with her. An important day for you and for her. Your lives were changed on this day and Nayeon seemed to have absolutely no clue of it right now.

“…..not really.”, you say plainly.

Now Nayeon becomes quite sure that you are mad at her. “Wait, did I mess up?”, she thinks carefully, her memory going back to this morning when you gave her some flowers, a bracelet and some chocolate. “Oh….its our anniversary…”, Nayeon looks panicky, knowing it means a lot to you. She immediately pulls you closer, hugging you tight. “Wait I’m so sorry, I really forgot.”, she kisses your cheeks a couple times.

You keep quiet, taking a heavy breath, not hugging her back.

“Mmmm…baby, please. Don’t be mad, I’m really very sorry. I won’t make excuses but it wasn’t on purpose.”, Nayeon continues to plead.

You glance at her, probably a mistake because now seeing her like this made you feel guilty now and before you realized, you moved your hands around her lightly.

That’s all Nayeon needed. She gasps and hugs you tighter, smiling mischievously knowing your resolve is breaking. “Oh thank you for forgiving me love.”, she says dramatically, “I’ll make it up to you.”

“N-no….wait, I didn’t…”, you try to protest and sigh, annoyed at yourself for doing that.

Nayeon pulls away, grinning at you. She then kisses you and you kiss her back. What was the point in being annoyed at her anyway, she didn’t actually mean to hurt you and besides you both know you can’t stay mad at her for long.

After a few seconds you begin to pull away but Nayeon grabs your face and begins to kiss you harder and you can’t help but moan into the kiss. Immediately you feel your face turn red. But you try and pretend nothing happened, trying your best to keep kissing her back without losing your mind.

After a minute Nayeon pulls away, leaving you both panting. She was smirking mischievously at you, biting a finger. “You know y/n, it’s still only 10…I think I can give you a last minute gift.

It’s takes a moment for you to catch her drift. Your face flushes again as she leans in again, “W-wait, that’s-”.

She shuts you up by kissing you again and you don’t put up any fight. After what seems like eternity she finally pulls back, you are panting and breathing hard. But you can’t deny you are starting to feel hot.

“You know”, Nayeon whispers in your ear, “you are looking really delicious right now…”.

You stay quiet, biting your lip and trying not to moan as Nayeon starts to kiss your neck. She keeps leaving marks as she moves lower and lower. You don’t even protest, what she was making you feel right now was…primal…indescribable.

Nayeon gropes and plays with your tits for a few moments, kissing and licking to her fill before moving down again. You can’t seem to remain calm, each breath is labored, like it takes so much effort to do anything else other than focus on what Nayeon was making you feel.

She undresses you and looks up at you from between your legs, smirking as she teases by making a finger touch you so lightly. You can barely feel it yet it feels so…intense. You swallow, take a shaky breath, “N-nayeon please”.

She giggles, “so eager for me….cute.” She then proceeds to rub your pussy and you gasp. She feels you are already slick and flashes you another naughty look. “You really are so excited for this…don’t worry, I’ll make it really good.”

You don’t say anything, you can only moan as she suddenly pushes two fingers in you. It feels amazing. It feels right.

Nayeon begins to work her magic and within a few moments you are writhing in pleasure under her. She uses her other hand to touch you all over, your tits, stomach, thighs, everywhere.

As she keeps her fingers in you, hitting all the right spots, you feel your release rapidly approaching. You moan out her name trying to warn her but it only makes her add another finger and you almost instantly cum from that. You are barely able to hold on. And just when you accept your incoming release and when it feels like it can’t and won’t get better than this, Nayeon moves her head down and begins to suck on your clit.

You cum immediately and scream. Or you scream and cum. You can’t even tell. You thrash around in pleasure, screaming and locking your legs around Nayeon’s head as you feel pleasure fill your whole body. Moments pass and it only seems to get more intense, you can’t even breathe anymore. You feel your hips rise as you hold Nayeon’s head tightly with your hands. You still keep cumming. It keeps feeling more and more intense until you let out another scream and begin to squirt hard.

You can’t even see anymore, everything feels so bright. Your whole body is shaking and Nayeon finally pulls away, her face drenched as she has a proud smile on her face. You keep panting, keeping your eyes closed as you need more time to recover. A minute passes and you finally clear your head a little. You take another heavy breath and redden as you look at Nayeon who’s staring at you with a grin.

“Now look…you made such a mess, I guess I’ll clean it up…”, Nayeon says with a smile as she sucks her finger clean.

You blush…keeping quiet. You weren’t sure there was anything to say. What Nayeon did to you right now was unbelievable. You weren’t sure there were words to describe it.

You gasp again as you feel Nayeon lick your pussy again a few times before coming back next to you, giggling as she wipes her mouth.

“You really went crazy there”, she says suppressing a smile, “I guess you liked my present after all”.

“Shut up”, you say, feeling hot and embarrassed, “this won’t happen every time you forget an important day.”

Nayeon giggles again, “Well I wasn’t planning on forgetting but maybe I should, I don’t know any present that can make you squ-”.

You shut her up by kissing her. She laughs and cuddles you. Teasing you and poking you until you both end up falling asleep in each other’s arms.

[meguwumibear]

Purged Without Exception

A quick trip to the store gets you into some trouble. Suo is there to bail you out.

thank you @/acidbeats for commissioning this piece for the @ficsforgaza collaboration.

cw: attempted sexual assault and minor injury

You’re not supposed to be out this late. You know this. You know better. The streets of Makochi are unsafe for a lone woman like you, for a woman without any sort of fighting prowess. They used to be, anyway, before the Bofurin boys took it upon themselves to bloody their knuckles to keep the place clean.

The initiative has been going on for quite a few years now, and crime has been on a steady decline ever since. The students have made it their mission to protect your humble little town from all sorts of illicit activity, violent or otherwise. Whether they’re responding to petty theft or physical assault, the Bofurin boys handle each and every job with a violent sort of grace. It’s been some time since a random street thug could stand a chance against the gang of delinquents.

Perhaps that’s why you felt so comfortable running to the store at this hour. The odds of any sort of crime of late are slim to none. Violent crimes in particular are less popular than ever. Who’d risk provoking the ire of any of the current Bofurin students, let alone the alumn? An idiot maybe, or someone suicidal.

You didn’t think to grab anything other than your phone and wallet for the outing. All you needed was to restock on toilet paper, and the market is only a few blocks from your shithole apartment. Four years ago, you would never have ventured out without some sort of self defense aid on you. The protection of the Bofurin boys has made everyone so careless.

That’s why you aren’t prepared to fight off the first pair of hands that wrap themselves around your wrist and yank you into a dank, dark alleyway. There are three men in total hiding out in the shadows, and soon there are hands wrapped around your forearm, your neck, your waist. The attack is uncoordinated; the men trip over themselves trying to grope at you. You do what little you can to fend them off.

Untrained. Defenseless. Your head throbs and it connects with warm brick. Skin splits at the contact, cleaved open by the abrasive clay. There’s a strong grip on the nape of your neck preventing you from moving. Cold, calloused hands hold your face flat against the wall.  

Despite your earlier lapse in judgment, you are not in fact stupid. You know what kind of attack this is. You understand its purpose and goals of the hands that bind you.

It’s hard to hear much over the roaring in your ears, but you’re just lucid enough to pick out an eerily calm voice.

“Excuse me,” the man asks almost cheerfully. “Have I interrupted something?”

The hands attempting to undress you stall.

“Fuck off, eyepatch. Four’s a crowd.”

The grip on you loosens a smidge, and you turn your head to survey the scene.

The guy with the eyepatch is standing with his hands held in mock surrender, a coy smile on his face. There’s something familiar about him. You’ve seen him around town before. He pals around with a few of the Bofurin graduates. Which means…

“Easy,” he says, “I just want to escort the lady home.”

“You deaf?” one of your attackers asks. “We said fuck off.”

The man moves so fast your brain hardly registers it. One moment he’s standing at the edge of the alley, the next he’s flipped the man pinning you to the wall over his shoulder. The dude lands with a harsh thud on his back. From the way he’s flopping around, you venture the impact punched the air from his lungs.

The fingers of the remaining two clench into fists, but they seem hesitant to assist their friend. They sway unsteadily back and forth on the balls of their feet, looking at you, their friend, and finally at your rescuer.

“Run along, now,” your savior smiles. The corners of his mouth are pulled tight, sharp like a knife. “I just had this shirt pressed and I’d hate to sully it.”

The two still on their feet exchange a final glance at one another and decide to cut their losses. They back out of the alley quickly, clearly afraid your rescuer may change his mind about dirtying his freshly pressed shirt. The third staggers after them, limping along, wheezing for breath.

Once he’s certain you’re alone, the man bends over to pick something off the ground: the toilet paper that started the whole ordeal. He approaches you slowly, like he’s nervous one wrong move will scare you off. When he’s close enough, he offers the roll to you.

“I hate guys like that,” the man offers conversationally. The smile he flashes you now is warm and inviting. “Some people just never grow up. A bunch of petulant kids. It’s hard for them to imagine themselves in your position. I enjoy helping them broaden their minds.”

The hand that reaches for the toilet paper is shaky. The palm is red with blood. His eyes don’t miss the tiny droplets that spill onto the plastic packaging.

“That looks like it hurts,” he says, features schooled into a calm grin. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He leads you back to the convenience store. The lady at the front recognizes him immediately—even calls him by his name—which isn’t unusual; the Bofurin boys are a bit like celebrities around these parts.

Suo exchanges pleasantries with the worker and attempts to purchase some first aid supplies, but the woman insists he takes what he needs, on the house. There are perks, it would seem, to purging the town of those who would cause it harm.

The bathroom of the shop is small and poorly lit. A lone, fluorescent light flickers above you as Suo gently dabs an antiseptic wipe along your palms. The disinfectant bites. The wounds sting despite Suo’s tenderness. You fight your instinct to flinch and fail.

“The cut isn’t deep,” Suo notes once he’s certain the lesions have been properly sterilized. He drops your palm to brush a tendril of loose hair out of your face. “I’m more worried about this.”

You wince as he touches a fresh antibacterial wipe to your forehead. Fresh tears pool in the corners of your eyes. You try to blink them away, but they insist on falling. They slide down the slope of your cheek bones and pool underneath your chin.

“I can walk you to the nearest clinic,” he offers. “Just as an extra precaution.”

You shake your head and immediately regret it. The motion aggravates the injury, and your vision blurs from the pain.

“Can’t afford it,” you tell him.

He frowns as he continues to see to the wound. His movements are slow, precise, like he’s used to treating these types of injuries. You watch his face as he tends to you. His features are knit in quiet contemplation.

“It looks like you hit your head pretty hard. I’m no doctor, but I’m worried they may have given you a concussion.”

You shrug as he pulls his hand away. “I’m tougher than I look. My friends always say I have a thick skull.”

He hands you an ice pack from the pile of first aid supplies he’s brought. “For the swelling,” he says. Then, once you’ve pressed the cold pack against the growing bump, “You should take better care of yourself. If not for you then for your friends. I’m sure they’d hate if something were to happen to you.”

You let out a long, slow breath. Suo isn’t wrong. Your friends would be devastated if you got yourself into some sort of trouble.

“Bofurin boys are good for more than just fighting,” you say, pondering his advice and admiring his first aid.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he smirks, lips full of promise. “You have no idea.”

[sweettofuki]

You were making out with Hoshina when he wants to take it further. 18+ Hoshina x f!reader mature content ahead! Slight jealousy

Hands were everywhere, a frenzy of movement as you couldn’t decide where to place them. All you knew was that you needed to get closer, deeper into your Vice-Captain’s mouth.

Everyone knew that you and Hoshina were dating, so it wasn’t unusual to see you wandering down the corridor to his room late at night.

Before you knew it, simple conversations about our day turned into cuddling, and cuddling led to you on top of him, making out passionately.

“This outfit is driving me insane. Did you really have to wear it? What if other guys caught you walking to my room in it?” Hoshina said, his voice frantic.

“Baby, don’t make it sound like I was dressed like a hooker. It’s just a tank top and sweatpants. Relax.” you replied, rolled your eyes playfully.

“Don’t tell me to relax when you basically are?? Do you know how sexy you look right now? Your pants are at your waist, your top is so low-cut that your boobs are spilling out, and oh yeah. You’re not wearing a bra?” he exclaimed.

“Why? Don’t you like them without a bra?” you pout at him, looking up with doe eyes.

“Well, yeah but—” Hoshina’s words were abruptly cut off by a groan.

A sudden jolt of pleasure coursed through him as he looked down, watching you grind your hips against his crotch. Seizing the moment, you pressed your lips back onto his.

“Mmm…” he moaned against your soft lips, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Ya lips taste like heaven...”

He gently brushes the hair away from your face and tucks the strands behind your ears

What started as pecks on his lips soon evolved into soft kisses, growing more passionate as each kiss lingered longer and longer.

The harder he kisses you, the tighter his grip on your hips, as if squeezing your waist could keep him grounded. Slowly, his hands trail from your hips to the hem of your pants, slipping them off you until you’re left in your black thongs.

His fingers slide under the delicate fabric. You felt a shiver tingled down your spine as you felt a brush of his fingers on your asshole. He played off groping your ass as if the perfectly placed finger was an accident. Curse his slender, long fingers! (not)

With a firmer grip, he pulls the thin fabric on either side of your waist, the friction of your skimpy excuse of an underwear against your folds made your nipples harden, which he felt through your tank top.

“Fuck baby, I take it all back. You should definitely wear this more often when you come to see me. I can fight,” Hoshina said.

You let out a small giggle as his face lit up with a smile. He’s so sick in love with you that your light laughter sounded like melodies to his ear. He pulled you back into a passionate kiss, the intensity of it making your heart race.

The heat of the passionate kiss clouded his mind, and before he knew it, he was rolling his hips into you. The feeling of his hard cock pressing against your sensitive clit through the thin material earned a loud moan out of you. He groaned deeply, finally releasing some of the pent-up pressure in him, pre-cum leaking out of his tip. Any longer, and he would have come in his pants.

“I’m sorry doll. I can’t take it any longer. I need to be inside ya,” he whined, he could barely keep it together.

He spreads your leg by the knees from below. He took off his military cargo pants with an obvious tent at his groin. His erection springs out, standing with precum oozing out. He taps his flushed tip at your entrance, before pushing it in slowly. Your eyes roll up as he stretches you out. When his cock was pushed to the hilt, his hips started to move.

[’’’]

In the next moment, both of your clothes found purchased next to each other on the floor.

You rolled your hips as you rode his length, eyes trained onto the sight of his girth desperately swallowed into your greedy tight cunt. It must have been three… five orgasms? You couldn’t keep track, but you were still going at it. Your eyelids drooped like curtains, hands pressing against his chest as you lifted yourself, back arching while you bounced on his cock. Teeth sank into his bottom lip as both you and Hoshina panted heavily, his groans sound sinful to listen to.

His hair was disheveled, eyes closed in concentration as he tried not to come inside you again. He desperately fought to hold himself back, but the way your warm pussy walls hugged his dick and his overly sensitive tip nudged your cervix relentlessly made it impossible. He couldn’t help but feel that knot twisting itself loose in his stomach.

“I’m…fuck….I’m sorry baby. I’m gonna move you, okay?” he groaned

Too fucked out to fully comprehend his words, you felt his strong grip on the flesh of your ass. His feet dug into the bed as he lifted his hips.

For a split second, you welcomed the well-needed rest, letting your upper body fall onto his chest, your palms laid flat on his pecs.

It didn’t last long. He began rutting into you wildly, his hips pounding against you and hitting all your sweet spots with vigorous precision. His biceps bulged as he held you up.

“A-AH, mmm…fuck,” you whined. “Slow down, Hoshina, please!”

“Hah…I know you can take it. Mmmph…Just hold onto me, yeah? Let me do all the work, you just relax. You’re doing so well for me baby,” he cooed.

His cock rammed into your swollen cervix vigorously, continuously, and consecutively…

You couldn’t think of any other words to describe how hard and fast he was pounding into you at that moment.

“Good girl. You’re hah holding up well— mmmph Wanna feel you come around me,” he grunted.

Your breath came out in shaky gasps. He could tell you were close just by the way your walls clenched tight around him. Your breath hitched with his every brutal thrust, and you creamed around the base of his shaft, mixing in with previous fluids. His heavy balls, coated in a mix of saliva, his and your cum, slapped loudly and vulgarly against your ass.

“Shit….! No matter how many times I watch—fuck— you cum on my cock, you look so fucking hot every time,” he smirked up at you in a teasing manner, barely holding it in himself as well.

A deep groan rumbled in his chest, resonating through you.

“I-I’m close too.” he muttered into your hair.

With a few more powerful thrusts, fucking through his own orgasm, staining your walls with his cum.

With his softening cock still inside you, he collapsed, his arms instinctively wrapping around you.

“Are you okay, baby? Was I too rough?” He whispered, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“My abdomen hurts, Soshiro,” you groaned, burying your head into his shoulder.

Upon hearing that, he began to tenderly rub your lower abdomen as his eyes filled with worry.

“I’m so sorry, baby. You just felt so good that I lost control,” he said, rubbing his hand over your back in comfort. “I promise I will be gentler next time,”

“It’s okay, baby. You felt incredible too. I just won’t be getting up in a while.” you reassured him.

“Damn, I was that good huh?” he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face.

You slapped his cheek lightly, causing him to laugh.

“Careful, sweetheart. Any harder and you’re gonna make me hard again,” he smirked at you through his tousled bangs.

[dariaslookalike]

Building Houses and Burning Bridges Pt 12: Hidden Fucks and Hidden Girlfriends

Summary:

It seems, oddly enough, that Gregory House lives to annoy you. He takes 'arseholish boss' to the next level. Wake up in the morning, ready to have breakfast, and drive to the hospital where you both work? Nope, you're getting a text that says you're late to his impromptu 4:30 AM meeting where he's had the 'breakthrough of the century' on the team's latest case. Get your hair cut and walk into work, for once feeling confident? Nope, he's saying that he would have done a better job blinded, hands tied and going through Vicodin withdrawals. Finally, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, prove him wrong and attempt to wipe the cockiness off his face? Nope, you're simply slow because you didn't get to your diagnosis quicker and weak-willed because you didn't fight him for it in the beginning. Everything House does infuriates you, and it seems everything you do infuriates him. No wonder you end up pinned to the wall of your apartment and groping him like your life depends on. And knowing House, it very may well.

Warnings: Adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagonist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Current Status: Ongoing

A/N: two updates in one day because i'm nice like that

Masterlist: Building Houses and Burning Bridges

Next Chapter:

Word Count: 7.8k

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

It’s odd, House driving you to work after everything. He doesn’t object when you rifle through his small binder of CDs and slip one into the stereo. Instead, he smiles slightly, lips tugging up.

You’re in your own clothes for the first time in what feels like forever.

Yes, you wanted to tear out your hair because your apartment was currently undergoing a preliminary investigation for violating a dozen health codes. Yes, you wanted to rip out House’s hair because he had reported it.

But at least Pops, seeing the flyer taped to the building and the cautionary tape across the small path leading to it, had gotten your belongings. Or what could be saved, at least. House was right, there was mould growing on the backside of your paintings, your cabinet, and even your beloved Ikea desk. But still, Pops had packed up what little things you had managed to unpack since moving in, and drove them back to House’s apartment; the alternative was emergency housing provided by the state, which you think would have worse health violations that your apartment and Chernobyl combined.

Pop had come bearing gifts too. When House had opened and nearly flung the door shut in his face, Pop had shoved a pot plant into his hands and told him to be grateful it wasn’t another fist. House, for once, had simply shut his mouth and stepped aside to let you greet Pop in a big hug.

Now, your boxes took up a corner of House’s living room. You didn’t want to ask what it meant- now that you were finished with the medication and officially lost your excuse for being House’s unofficial roommate. You didn’t want to ask what it meant that you were still living in his house. In his space with him. Sleeping in his bed with him. Asking would mean you drew his attention to it, which might make him realise you were in fact still living with him, and might make him reconsider that fact. Asking would mean that the past few days that you had spent, fucking each other, making each other cum again and again, might not have happened. So, you simply left your boxes taped up and sitting in the corner.

Maybe you should draw up a tenancy contract and make him sign it, so that way you had some stability. That is what the smart, logical voice in your head tells you, while it also screams at you to find your own apartment- never depend on a man, it tells you, much less House. You tell it to shut up, to let you enjoy this for however long it lasts, and simply reach a hand across the space between you two to rub along House’s thigh while he drives.

He doesn’t ask you to stop, but he pulls into a secluded part of the hospital car park when you arrive instead of his reserved spot, and kisses you until you’re breathless and having to drag yourself away from him to make sure you’re on time.

“You’re sure we can’t go in together?” He asks, eyes trained on you and his thumb smoothing along your cheekbone.

You shrug. “Hell, why don’t I wear a sign that says “House’s little lapdog” and you can walk me to Cuddy’s office where we admit to inappropriate workplace relationships?

“Sounds good to me. I think you’d look great in a collar.”

You shoot him a glare and he leans in quickly before you can pull away in annoyance to place a kiss against your lips. It eases the furrow in your brow, but you still shake your head.

“I go in alone.” You say sternly, and with as much professionalism as you can when you’re conspiring to hide the fact that you’re fucking your boss. “You can wait for fifteen minutes and then join us, all but annoyed to see my healthy return to work.”

He scowls. “Fifteen minutes? Babies in cars die in less time.”

“Good thing you’re not a baby then, and it’s also 40 degrees today. Plus, I’m sure you can occupy yourself for fifteen minutes.”

You tilt your gaze down to his pants, straining against him after your morning make-out session, and his gaze follows. In the brief distraction, you open the car door and slip out, whispering a quick “Bye!” to him.

You’re nearly tackled when you walk into the office.

Cameron clings to you like a koala to a tree, a stream of words rushing out of her mouth.

“I thought you were dead! Or that you hated us all after the ball or had thrown yourself under a car or thrown House under a car but then Chase said he ran into you and I couldn’t believe it and you were sick oh my god and this whole time I was worried you hated us when you were just ill and I’m a doctor how did I not see-”

“Cameron!” You hold her biceps, pinning her to the spot. “I’m okay, and yes it’s great to see you too.”

She just hugs you tightly before finally detaching herself, stepping back. “So you’re not dead? And you don’t hate us?”

“No. And no. Although helping Cuddy was pretty stupid, it’s whatever.”

She gives you a remorseful look, and you feel as if you just kicked a puppy. She doesn’t grovel more like you thought you might, instead flicking her head back to the kitchenette. “I got you a coffee. And a donut. Or maybe three.”

You smile, nodding. “Apology accepted.”

Behind her, Forearm and Chase are already sitting at the table. Foreman offers you a smile and a nod, but he never seemed one for apologies, and instead remains sitting and sipping his own coffee. Chase however, stands up and walks over to you, wrapping his arms tightly around you. Again, you’re struck with the thought you had at the fruit market, of how tall and warm he was.

Cameron is the one to clear her throat, and Chase steps back, a bashful smile across his face. He scans over you as if looking for any signs of illness, any signs that you’re not alright, but he finds none.

“Glad to see you back.” He says softly, and it holds a warmth to it that has the back of your neck heating up.

“Thanks. Glad to be back.”

Foreman snorts. “You sure? House is still here, lurking somewhere.”

Cameron winces, probably hesitant to discuss House with you after you had such a blowout with him at the ball. Instead, you try your best to not blush fully, thinking of his hands and his shoulders and his sheets around you and his legs wrapped around yours and-

Your brain automatically forces you to laugh just before your silence gets awkward. “No, no it’ll be fine. We… talked it out.”

You hope that your words don’t hold any obvious innuendo for the ducklings, but to your horror, Chase nods.

“Yeah, Wilson told us.”

“W-what?” You try to swallow the saliva in your mouth and instead your throat is dry and cracking.

Chase grins. “He said you slapped House, quit and House still asked for you to come back.”

Your heart stops beating out of your chest, and you chuckle softly, trying to feign calm. “Oh, yeah.”

“If Chase did the first part, House would have castrated him.” Foreman points out.

“If Chase so much as thought about slapping him, House would have castrated him.” Cameron adds, leaving the both of them, but not a sulking Chase, to chuckle.

You laugh, and slip over to the kitchenette, biting into one of the donuts Cameron had gotten you. You smile, both happy to have sugary goodness, but happy to see the three of them, squabbling and fighting like nothing had happened, even if your world had been flipped on its head recently.

You’re about to take a second bite when someone calls your name, and you quickly place the donut back to the plate as if it burned you.

Cuddy smiles at you from the glass doorway. It’s no flashy, toothy smile, but one that holds a serious note.

“I think we should talk.” Her voice isn’t domineering but still, authority clings to her tone.

Something curdles in your stomach, the same feeling when a teacher scolds you after perfecting your behaviour.

You will yourself to not succumb to it, to not bend under the shame of potential wrongdoing, to not break under Cuddy’s gaze.

You square your shoulders. “Yeah, I think we should.”

She gives the smallest tilt of her head, but simply smiles again and turns on her heel. She leads you through the hospital to her office, and you fight against the jittery nerves building up in you.

She sits at her desk, and you sit in front her, the perfect schoolgirl sitting on leather office chairs, prepared to be ripped by the principal. You count to six, breathing in, and count to six again, breathing out. Everything in you tells you that you should be apologising or diminutively shrinking, hiding from her gaze and whatever onslaught she has prepared.

Cuddy breathes in sharply, and it whistles through her nose slightly. “I’m glad to see you’re back. But, what happened the other week was-”

“I’d like to talk first. I have something I need to say.”

Cuddy blinks in surprise at your interruption, and you feel shocked too. But she is quick to close her slack jaw.

“Of course. Go ahead.”

You steady yourself, nodding. “What happened the other week was unacceptable.” Cuddy nods her head in agreement until your gaze turns sharp. “What you did was unacceptable. It’s one thing to put me in mandatory counselling, but another to bribe my boss to take me to a work event and lie to me about it.”

Her lips are in a thin line, but she doesn’t object so you continue. “To get everyone wrapped up in the charade was humiliating and embarrassing. My personal life is none of your concern, and you shouldn’t be meddling in anything but my work. I should have expected it from House- but I didn’t expect something like that from you.”

You huff, your small tirade finished and a silence falls over the two of you. For a beat, you think you’ve just ruined your career with one speech and you should be grovelling for her to pretend she was deaf, but then she nods. Her black hair sways with the motion, and she does it again, raising weary eyes to yours.

“You’re right. What I did was inappropriate, and a mistake. I’m sorry, even if it was coming from a place of concern.”

You let out a breath stuck in your lungs. “Thank you.”

Her lips tug up. “I’ll pretend there’s no security footage of you slapping House, and we’ll call it even?”

You laugh, giddy with surprise that she had discovered that. “Email the footage to me, and we’ll call it even.”

She sticks out a hand, smiling. “Deal.”

You shake her hand, lips tilting up.

She sits back in her chair and tilts her head, observing you with no shame. Her lips draw out into a line as she contemplates and she heaves a sigh before speaking again.

“It was a place of concern. You’re a fantastic doctor, and I know House has been hard on you. But you also…remind me a lot of myself.”

Now you blink in surprise. You, reminding Cuddy of herself? You, in all your crinkled slacks and frizzled hair?

“I was young, and I didn’t believe I deserved what I had- my job, my respect, my…love. Even if he hides it, I know House well enough to see that you bring out something better in him.” Her blue eyes pin you to your chair. “And I think you’re blocking yourself from that kind of happiness, because that’s what we’ve been told as intelligent women. That we can’t have it all. That we are intimidating to men and as such, the only focus we should have is on our careers. I just wanted to push you in the right direction.”

She must think you’re about to spit fire at her, mistaking your confusion for ire, because she quickly raises her manicured hands in an apologetic defence.

“That’s the last I will be speaking of it. It’s your personal life, and you are your own person.”

You smile robotically, thinking that must be the right response in this scenario, but your head races. Does she look at you now, and see herself years ago, following her footsteps that have led her to this very office? The actions that had led her to power, but ultimately solitude?

You smile again because you can’t think of what else to do, and rise out your chair, heading out of her office.

Cuddy lets out a shaky breath, and you startle with the thought that this might be as nerve racking for her as it is for you.

You think of her words the whole walk back to the diagnostic office, and the hours pass by in a flurry. House simply doesn’t show up for the morning meeting, and it eats away at you. Forearm quickly steps into his position, updating you on the case they were working on, and directing you to do a biopsy of the patient’s liver.

Hours later, you’re covered in what would make a petri dish scream, tired, and aching. All this time off being sick, and work was the hardest part of it all.

You’re content to fling yourself into an armchair in the break room, and rot for thirty minutes, but as you walk by a closet, your elbow is quickly pinned and you’re wretched inside.

You yell out but a hand slaps over your mouth as the door swings closed. Your knee is halfway through the air, about to inflict damage to this person’s grandkids, when you register who is holding you. House grins and lets go of your mouth.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You hiss, looking around. It’s a supply closet, with a shabby desk-turned-storage unit in one corner, and mops and buckets adorning the other. A bulb flickers overhead. He slides his cane under the door handle.

“It’s a crime to miss you, now?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s a crime to shove people into janitor’s closets, yeah.”

He grins, leaning in closer. “Different bylaws here. The case wouldn’t even make it to court.”

“What’s actually going on?” You look in his eyes, looking for something off, something that tells you there’s a red laser beaming at his back and this is all being surveyed by a blackmailing sniper.

“I missed you.” He reaches up, cupping your face. His thumb rubs circles along your cheekbone.

“Yeah?” You blush, looking up at him.

“Yeah.”

“How much?”

He smirks, leaning in and placing his lips to yours. It’s sweet and soft, and your hand reaches up to wrap around his shoulders. His hand smooths over your cheek, stroking the skin and you lean into his touch. When you tug at his hair softly, the kiss shifts from this domestic, easy, slow joining of your lips, and turns rabid. He nips at your lip, and you press yourself against him, chest to his. His tongue swipes against your teeth and you open yourself up to him. You’re both panting, and his hands shift to push at the small of your back, keeping you pressed to him.

You pull back, and his lips a soft, swollen red. You run your hand along his jaw, smooth from where he shaved this morning.

“How much did you miss me?” He asks, lips tugging up at the corner.

You grin at him, pushing his shoulders until he steps back, pressed against the wall. You lean closer, hands running along his shoulder and the joining of his neck. You place a soft kiss to his neck, trailing up and down, and he leans his head back, sighing in agreement. When he scoffs, mockingly saying this wasn’t much, you nip at him, and suck a mark onto his neck.

“Hey!” He hisses, looking down at you.

“What’s wrong?” You bat your lashes at him, doe-eyed.

“You don’t want us walking in together, but you’ll do that?” He scowls, but there’s no real ire. “What’s next, you’ll leave some lingerie in my pocket?”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you roll your eyes. “No, I’m not doing that.”

He looks like he’s about to pout, so you lean up, placing a chaste kiss to his lips. He smiles like he’s drunk, and his hands rub a smooth line down your back.

“Just a bra?” He smirks. “You had such a pretty one this morning.”

He slips his hand under the collar of your shirt, toying with the strap of your bra.

“House…” You warn.

“What?”

“We’re at work.” You say softly, and his lips tug up like a wolf smiling at a little bunny.

“Tell that to my poor neck.”

You smile, eyes darting down to the red mark. “Say you tripped and fell on your cane. Something believable like that.”

“I have impeccable coordination.” He smirks down at you. “It’d be more likely that Wilson attacked me.”

“That works too.”

His fingers snap your bra strap, and you hiss. He mouths Sorry but a glint in his eyes tells you its payback. His other hand reaches up, and unbuttons the top of your blouse.

“House.” You hiss. “I mean it, we’re at work.”

“So? I’ll wait five minutes after you leave, and I won’t make a peep.” At your silence, his gaze snaps to yours.

“Who’s gonna get you in trouble sweetheart?” He looks at you mockingly. “Your boss?”

“HR.” You bite. “Cuddy. Any single person that respects me.”

“Aw,” He tsks, and unbuttons the next button of your blouse. You glare at him, but you don’t reach down to stop him, and he knows. “Afraid they’re gonna think you’re sleeping to the top?”

You blush, and even though he had been joking, he grins wolfishly. He leans in, eyes dark. “If they know you reached this high up, you’re doing something very right.” You scoff, looking away, but he reaches up, pulling your chin to make you look at him. “I mean it. C’mon, show me how good you are at it. How good you are for me.”

Your eyes flick back to his, and your tongue darts over your lip. “You could have just said you want a quickie in the closet.”

He clicks his tongue. “Would that have worked?”

“Yes.” You say, throwing your arms around him and kissing him again. He leans back with the force of you, but is quick to readjust, his hand reaching between the two of you to unbutton your shirt completely while he kisses you back. You moan softly against him when your shirt falls to the floor, and his hands grope over the lace of your bra.

He steps you back, and together you do an awkward shuffle. You pull back, laughing, and he smiles at you, walking you back until he leans against the desk. He turns, swiping his hand over the discarded junk, and clearing a spot.

He sits on the desk, and you step between his thighs, kissing him again. His hand fumbles at your pants.

“Fuck.” He hisses. “You couldn’t have worn one of those tortuous skirts today?”

You smile, nipping at his mouth and reach down, unbuttoning and unzipping your pants. “I only wear those when I have clinic.”

His hand reaches down, palming at his crotch and he groans, closing his eyes. “Damn, you’re making me miss the clinic. How is that possible?”

You squeeze your legs together at the sight of his, palming himself to the thought of you. He opens his eyes, and tugs at your pants. “Come on, Newbie. Prove that you’ve got what it takes. Might be a promotion in it for you too.”

You swat at his shoulder. “That is so not funny.”

He smiles. “You’re right. We’ll start small, and I’ll make you my second in command.”

You roll your eyes, but reach down, sliding your pants down your legs and stepping out of them, kicking your flats off in the process. He watches you hungrily, and he pats his thigh, settling back until he leans against the wall.

You raise your eyebrow at him, and he scoffs. “What, you want the cripple to climb onto your lap? Didn’t take you for such an ableist, but if the shoe fits.”

You’re tempted to throw your shoe at his head, but instead you kick a crate closer, using it to step up in front of him. It’s awkward and he chuckles beneath you as you clamber atop him, until finally you sit, straddling him (after you’ve elbowed him once accidentally, and twice on purpose in the process).

His hands settle at your hips, gripping the soft flesh. You glance down between the both of you.

“This isn’t fair. I’m practically naked.”

He shrugs. “Well, I don’t look so good without a shirt on.”

You’re about to protest and call his bluff, when he leans forward, mouth sucking onto the cleavage that spills over the cup of your lacy bra. Your hand rest on his shoulders for support, and you arch your back, pressing your breasts into him. He groans beneath you, hips rutting up into you. Just the sound of him has you grinding down onto his lap, and his hands tighten at your hips, digging into them. He can mark you anywhere he likes below the collar.

He realises it too, because he sucks a dark spot onto your breast before trailing up and stopping at your collarbone, nipping and biting and sucking at your exposed skin.

You roll your hips against him, panting. “Thought this was supposed to be a quickie?”

He drags his gaze from your covered breasts back to your eyes, painstakingly so. “Mm, but these are so much fun.”

“Yeah,” You grind down against him, feeling him harden in his pants. “But I’ve got twenty minutes tops until someone comes looking for me. You’ve trained your lackeys too well.”

“I hate when I do that.” He sighs, looking up at you with faux sadness. “Well, since you’re really twisting my arm here.”

One of his hands retreats from your hip to instead pull down his zipper. You smirk, brushing his hand aside and reach between the two of you to tug his cock out of his slacks. You pump him in your hand, and he groans, tightening his grip against you.

“Fuck.” He hisses when you pool your saliva and spit into your hand, returning to pump him up and down. He bucks into your hand, but it’s a bit awkward, pressed so close and trying to jerk him off.

That’s the excuse you use when you pull your panties to the side and line him up between your folds. You roll your hips, coating him in slick and he shudders in a breath.

“Already so wet.” He groans, low in the back of his throat. “All that for me, Newbie?”

“Let me do this for another minute and see how long you last, House.” You snip, and he looks up at you pleading.

You take pity on him, and raise yourself up slightly. You grasp the base of his cock, now hard, slick and weeping at the top and angle him to your entrance. You notch him there for a moment as you reposition, letting your arms fall back to his shoulders. His hands find the dip of your waist and he looks up at you, mouth open slightly.

You smirk, torturing him by drawing the moment out longer and not moving an inch. He realises what you’re doing and scoffs, opening his mouth to spout some expletives, when you lower yourself down over his cock.

It stretches, and burns, and you gasp atop him. Still, you push yourself down slowly, and he looks up at you, soaking in every reaction you give him. When you feel the fabric of his pants against your arse, and that snug, tight feeling of all of him pressed into you, you sigh contently.

“C’mon pretty girl.” He drawls, fingers pressing into your side. “Prove it.”

You grin at him, raising yourself up, dragging yourself against his cock until only the head is in you. You slam yourself back down, easier this time and he groans, eyes closing for a moment.

“Be quiet.” You chirp, leaning in to whisper at his ear. “Don’t want anyone hearing us.”

You raise yourself up, bouncing down on his cock just to make him groan again, louder this time. You bite against his neck softly, and bounce yourself on him. He stretches you with each movement, and when the initial pure bliss ebbs a bit, he focuses again, hands urging you up and down, up and down, as you ride him.

Your knees dig into the desk, and your thighs strain, but the burn, the pain, the tremor starting in your legs is delicious, and you keep bouncing yourself on him.

“‘T’s so fucking good, House.”

You bite your lips in a moan, and he takes it upon himself to draw it out of you.

“Yeah? C’mon show me how good it is.”

You’re not so much bouncing on him anymore as much as he’s fucking into you, thrusting his hips up and guiding you back down over his cock again and again.

He wins and you let out a whine, feeling the slick wetness dripping between the two of you, and likely staining his pants. He eases back, and you groan, shifting to bear more weight onto his shoulders as you pull yourself up and down, up and down, each time the head of his cock dragging at your gummy walls, notching slightly against that spongey spot in you.

“See? You’re doing fantastic.” He growls, rutting up into you. “Riding this dick like you were fucking made to.”

You clench at his words, and he lets out a low groan. “You like that? You like being told you were made to ride me? You do it so fucking well sweetheart. Such a good slut for me.”

You ride him harder, moaning into the crook of his shoulder. His hands smooth over your back, arching you against him. “There you go baby. Fuck, maybe after we’re done I’ll show Wilson how good you are, hmm?”

You murmur against him, and he grasps your hips, rolling you back onto him in a harsher movement. “That’s what good little sluts do- you said you’re sleeping your way to the top, huh? Wilson’s next. See who else wants a fucking piece of you.”

He angles himself harsher, his dick pressing right against that spot inside you, and you moan out. He does it again, and again, a wicked grin on his face, and you moan against him. One of his hands slips between you both, reaching down to circle at that bud of nerves.

“Fuck, House.” You moan, arching into his touch.

“C’mon baby, tell me how much you want it.”

“Please,” You whine, grinding down onto him, feeling him slide in and out, in and out, each time dragging against you, settling you onto the base of his cock and slamming you back down. “Please, House, make me cum.”

He coos at you. “So polite when you want to cum on my cock. Need to sit you on it all the time, no more of that bratty attitude.”

He rubs circles onto your slick clit, messy and loose. “I’ll have you sit on me in meetings, skirt up to your fucking waist. Let everyone see how nice you can be when you’re not desperate for dick.”

You moan against him, and your movements shudder. He fucks up into you, groaning and rubbing at your clit with more purpose. You moan, muffling your sounds against his shoulder, and he lets out a shuddering breath.

“Go on sweetheart. Cum on my cock, go on, baby. Take what you need, sweetheart.”

Sweet and fucked out of your brain, you do as you’re told, moaning against him as your orgasm washes over you in jolts of electricity. He bounces you on him the whole time, fingers not leaving your clit.

“There you go baby, good fucking girl.”

When the bliss subsides and you come back to earth, he’s still making you ride him, moving your hips up and down over his cock. The drag is fucking beautiful, and feels so much more after your orgasm.

“Fuck.” He groans, and you bounce yourself up and down him, invigorated as you chase his high.

“I’m nearly there, baby.”

“Yeah?” You sigh, leaning forward to kiss him. You reach a hand up, cupping his face. “C’mon House. For me, please.”

His breath is shuddering, and you keep a constant, brutal pace atop him. His lip grazes yours, both of you breathing onto each other.

“Where? Baby, fuck, where?”

You kiss him again, pressing closer to him, drawing his body against yours, slamming your hips against his. He doesn’t need an answer, his hands at your waist, dragging you up and down as he meets your movements with his own.

You want to hear him, want to have that sound carved into your brain, but the little part of logic remaining in you forces you to kiss him like your life depends on it, muffle the long, deep groan he lets out as his hips stammer, stilling. You keep moving even when you feel him pulse in you, even when his muffled sounds become more drawn out to a whine, even when his hands grip at your waist to slow you. You take him for every last drop he offers you, drawing it out.

When you do slow, you sit on his lap, breathing heavily, face pressed to his.

“Did I prove it?”

“Fuck.” His voice is wrecked, and he lets his head fall forward to your shoulder.

You laugh, feeling the sweat on your skin cool in the air. “Did I make you speechless, House?”

He just wraps his hands around your clammy back, not flinching, instead drawing you closer until you wrap your arms around him too.

“Did fucking amazing, baby.” He looks up at you, blue eyes electric. “I think I died and came back.”

You grin, chuckling. “I think you must have knocked your head.”

He shakes his head, leaning up to kiss you. When he pulls back, his lips tug up. “Fuck a promotion- do that again and I’ll make sure you get Cuddy’s job.”

You roll your eyes, unwrapping your arms from his. You take one of his arms in your own, angling his wrist to glance at his watch. You look back at him, smiling. “That’s time.”

He scowls. “This hospital depends on me- they can give us ten more minutes.”

You pull yourself off of him, his softening dick falling back to his stomach. The peak of your thighs is slick and you gingerly pull your panties back over it while he tucks himself into his pants.

“Help me down.” You look at him, pouting.

He rolls his eyes, but he offers his hands to you as you clamber off him, setting your feet to the floor.

You blush deeply looking at the mess on his lap. He follows your gaze and shrugs. “Whatever.”

“Whatever?” You swat at him, reaching down to grab your blouse and button it back up. You shoot him a look. “What are people gonna say seeing that?”

He shrugs. “That you’re sleeping to the top.” You glare at him, and he raises his hands in defence. “We are in a literal supply closet. I think I can find something to clean myself with.”

You grab a packet of body wipes off one of the shelves, and throw it towards him. He catches it perfectly, raising his brows in a cocky smile. You walk over to him, standing between his legs again.

“Do you need some help, House? ‘Made such a mess on you.” You take the packet from his hand, grabbing one out, and reaching forward.You look up with wide, innocent eyes.

His eyes are dark and his throat bobs. “Yeah.”

“Yes, what?”

His nostrils flare, but his eyes dip down to you, pantless and with your blouse clinging to you. Looking fucked out of your mind.

You expect to hear yes, please, but instead he groans, pushing off the desk. He wobbles on his leg for a moment, but his arms are steady as he spins you around, sitting you on the desk now. You give him a confused look, and he simply bends down, eyes on yours the whole time, gripping your hips to shift you closer to the edge. His hands grip your knees, spreading you wide. He pulls your slick panties back to the side, and you hiss as his tongue swipes broadly across your centre, hot and heavy.

He’s not desperate, or punishing. He simply licks against you, groaning softly each time you let out a soft whimper. His hands grip at your legs, keeping you spready. Your hands wring through his hair, tugging at his scalp. He just keeps lapping at you, cleaning you of everything you gave him and everything he gave you. You muffle your moans against your hand, and your orgasm shakes over you. You buck against his mouth, but he doesn’t budge, licking you through your orgasm, and then lapping up that wetness.

When he does pull back, you’re trembling. His mouth is slick with you, his hair pulled at. He takes the gentle cleaning wipe from your hand, that you somehow had clenched in your palm the whole time, and finishes the job, cleaning up any residue between your thighs. He tugs your panties back into place, and grins at you.

“Thank you, what?”

You roll your eyes, but you still mumble out, cheeks beet red with embarrassment. “Thank you, House.”

He cups your face, and you lean into his touch, his hand melding to your skin. He leans in, kissing you gently, and you taste yourself against him. When he pulls back, he presses his forehead to yours, gazing down at you, tenderly.

You push him back gently, sliding off the table and tugging your pants back up your legs. You smirk at him as you slip your shoes back on, smoothing your hands over your hair.

You grab the cane from the door and pass it back to him. His fingers linger against yours, and your eyes dip down to his stained pants.

“Wait five minutes, right? Good luck with that, House.”

You spin on your heel and slip out of the closet, laughing softly to yourself at his scoff you cut off with the closing of the door. You straighten your blouse, and try your best to pretend you weren’t still riding the high he had given you, and get back to work.

——————

When you arrive to work early the next day, adamant that you should catch the bus by yourself and not risk any suspicion, you’re so preoccupied in shaking out your jacket, wet from the light rain, that you don’t even register a person standing right beside the glass office until you bump into their back.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” You blurt out, even before they turn around to look at you.

A beautiful woman smiles at you, and there’s a familiar tilt to her lips that reminds you of someone.

She looks a bit out of place here, her black pantsuit too smooth to be a ruffled family representative of a patient, but too the buttons undone at the top a step too close to revealing to be hospital management.

She brushes back her dark hair, and huffs out a chuckle.

“No harm done, sweetheart.”

You blink at the term, looking down at yourself to double check that you were in fact wearing your Doctor’s coat, and not appearing like some teen that had wandered off from their parents.

You remind yourself to nod politely, and you move to step around her. She clears her throat however, and it stops your movement, and you look towards her expectantly.

She offers a bashful smile. “Do you know if Greg is around at all? Or is he off, hiding somewhere?”

You must look as confused as you feel at her words because she speaks again, eyes dipping down to scan you like as a specimen as she does so. “I mean House. Is House here today? Or hell, even Wilson? It seems that the two of them are avoiding me.”

You blink, shifting on your feet. “House should be here today.” You cast a glance into the office, where House’s desk sits empty, and the three ducklings are trying obviously to not look towards the both of you. “If I see him, did you want me to let him know you stopped by, Miss…”

“Stacy Warner.” She says, smiling and offering her hand out with a point of professionalism.

You shake her hand, trying to match the firmness of her grip.

“And yes. If you see House, let him know that I need to talk to him. And that I won’t slap him, this time.” Stacy says, her voice laced with mirth that tells you she’s familiar with House and his antics.

“Sure thing, Miss Warner.”

You both smile to each other, but you can feel her gaze follow you as you step into the conference room. By the time you turn and look at the glass divider, she’s striding down the hallway.

Cameron looks at you with wild eyes, and you nearly step back. In response to her conspiratory whisper, you sit in your chair at the table and lean closer to her.

“What did she say!?”

You shrug, confused. “That she wanted to see House. Why?”

“Fife!” Chase sputters, and you turn your gaze to him. He continues chewing one of your donuts and you reach out to give him a light slap to his wrist.

Foreman rolls his eyes, sipping his coffee. “What Mr Greedy over here is trying to say, is that was House’s ex-wife. Fiancee. Girlfriend. Something.” He says, ominously.

Your stomach sinks and you try to stop yourself from blanching. “Oh?”

Cameron nods, whispering as if House had everything wired- it was a possibility. “Yeah, she’s come around a few times. Wilson told us they were together for a few years and then she left him.”

Chase, finally having managed to swallow your food, speaks. “Yeah, and that he’s still in love with her. No wonder you couldn’t get freaky with him like you wanted.” Chase wriggles his brows at Cameron, and despite her flaming face she reaches over smacking him with full force. “Ouch!”

Foreman’s lips tug up and he shakes his head. “Do it harder next time.”

Chase sputters, aghast at Foreman’s betrayal. “What!?”

Once again it descends into fighting, and Cameron even lands another slap to Chase’s arm.

You try not to sound too desperate for information, or nauseous like you feel when you speak up. “So, what, are they getting back together?”

Cameron huffs, seemingly exhausted from the energy it takes to put Chase in his place. She scrunches up her nose though, as if the thought of House in a romantic context disturbs her now. “She’s married now but…I doubt it would stop either of them.”

Foreman tuts at her. “Wow, that’s a lot coming from the person who wouldn’t have stopped from HR.”

Your stomach sinks, a cement block tugging down all your organs with it. Cameron however laughs off his words, rolling her eyes. “I just mean that from what Wilson says, they were both mad for each other. And House is still obsessed with her.”

You’re going to vomit. You feel every part of you that House has touched light up in shame and embarrassment.

Foreman’s eyes flick to yours. “You alright? You don’t look too good.”

A laugh bubbles out from your nervously. “Yeah no, yeah I’m fine.”

Chase pats you on the shoulder. “It’s alright, we all get disgusted thinking of House ever having a girlfriend- the torture that poor woman went through.”

You laugh, this time trying to seep in more confidence to the noise. Cameron chuckles with you, but Foreman still watches you from the corner of his eye, unconvinced.

You don’t see House all day, and not even Wilson. Only when it’s three hours past your lunch break, and you have found a chance to slip away and scoff down a sandwich you had packed yourself do you see House for the first time.

You drag your eyes from your sandwich in the glass meeting room, back to him, sitting at his desk and in serious thought, judging by the harsh draw of his brow. Sandwich. House. Sandwich. House.

You curse yourself a little bit, walking over, and pushing open his office door.

“Not now, Wilson.” He doesn’t look up, scowling.

“I’m about to- Oh.” His lips tug up, and he sits back in his chair, easing into the fabric. “Newbie.”

“Hey.” You smile, your cheeks dusted with pink.

“Hey.” He echoes back, smirking.

You step forward. “I didn’t see you today.”

“Really?” He looks perplexed. “If I recall correctly, before you caught the bus we were about five minutes away from testing the suspension of my car by having you ride me til-”

You clear your throat, shooting him a look, and tilting your head to the glass office that was putting everything you did on display. This wasn’t some dingy supply closet, this was like a zoo display that invited all sort of observers.

He rolls his eyes. “It’s 4PM. No one’s at a hospital at 4PM.”

“Really?” You laugh. “Everyone’s at a hospital at 4PM.”

He stands up, limping closer to you. “Well, Cuddy’s not. She had a conference at 2.”

“So?”

“So,” He says, reaching you and grinning as his arm slips to your waist. “We can test the suspension of my desk.”

He tugs you closer, and you tell yourself to resist, but instead your feet follow his. He sits against his desk and draws you between his knees, hands splayed across your waist.

You want it to stay like this. For him to keep looking up at you with that drunk look, for you to keep throwing caution to the wind, for only the mingling of your breaths to be heard in the office.

Instead you blurt out. “I ran into Stacy today.”

“Oh.” His hands stop their movement against your waist. “Well I hope you knocked her over too.”

The last half doesn’t ease the tension as he tried to, and instead it feels like a weak attempt for him to sway away any thought of serious discussion.

Your breath is shaky. “Everyone was saying you were still in love with her.”

He swallows heavily, and looks away from you. You take a step back, and his hands drop from you to grip the desk.

“Is it true?”

His gaze flicks back to yours, but there’s an iciness held within it that wasn’t there a minute before. “What, do you believe everything people say? Chase told everyone that ducks were actually small geese. Do you believe in that avian ‘fact’ too?”

You frown, seeing through his diversion. “Answer the question, House.”

He pushes off the desk, grabbing his cane and standing now to face you. “What does it matter? Why do you care?”

“Don’t do that. Not after everything.” You scoff, shaking your head.

“‘Everything’? We’re sleeping together, Newbie, not discovering the meaning of existence.”

He barks out a bitter laugh. You bite your lip and his eyes zero in on the movement. “We’re only sleeping together. What does it matter if I love her or not?”

You’re unattached to your body, and instead all you are is your aching heart. “Because House, you might be proficient in prostitution culture, but for some of us ‘only sleeping together’ actually means something.”

He throws his hand up, like he was scolding an insulant child. “I told you at the start, that this was just sex.”

You stammer. “Well, yeah but-”

“I didn’t know it was that good to make you fall in love.” He sneers, and you know with the venom in his tone he’s expecting you to cry, to lash out at him, to storm off.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, House.” You spit.

He steps forward, scoffing and looming over you with a scowl etched onto his face. “Can’t help it- you were the one humping me to Timbuktu.”

“Yeah, and what did you have to do in your car by yourself this morning?” You glare at him, speaking to him with a tone you would use on a horny, uncontrollable teenage version of House.

He should be scoffing again at your, and replying with some witty retort. But instead, you see his eyes drop down to your lips, back to your eyes, and down to your lips again. And then he’s leaning forward, wrapping an arm tightly around you and dragging you into him as he latches onto your mouth. It’s a mess of his tongue and yours and gnashing teeth and none of it is smooth or perfect but it’s angry and brash, a clashing of mouths in a heated argument where each of you tells the other to piss off with a swipe of your tongue. You wrap an arm around his shoulder and the other goes to the back of his head, pressing him into you and scratching against his scalp.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath fanning across your face. You feel flushed and near lightheaded with how little you were breathing.

You want it to stay like this. Instead you speak.

“When we kiss, do you think of her?”

It’s your words that tumble out of your mouth, but the sound of them out in the open hits you like a tonne of bricks.

He looks at you disgusted, and it stabs you in your chest. “We’re not fucking married. It doesn’t matter if either of us want someone else. We’re not exclusive.”

You unwrap your hands from him, letting them rest limply against his chest in between the two of you. “It doesn’t?”

“No.” He snaps. “It doesn’t.”

You take a step back, and this time he doesn’t breach the distance. He just watches you, annoyance etched into his face, as if he was in disbelief you could think anything different.

“Good to know.”

Your voice doesn’t wobble or waver. You were no longer going to let yourself break because of the man in front of you. You just smile at him, tipping your head to him like you were just another employee thanking their boss.

He seems like he’s contemplating replying, but you turn on your heel and walk out of his office.

[alyswritings]

High School Fight

JJ Maybank x daughter!reader

Summary: Y/N gets into a fight at school.

Warnings: mentions of fighting, mentions of groping

a/n: got this from a comment on this post. so it's kind of a part 2, but not really. loved the idea, thank you to the commenter! hope y'all enjoy!

(gif not mine)

JJ is working on his car, just doing a routine check up. John B is over with his 5 year old son, the boy playing in the yard with whatever he can find while the two adults talk.

JJ's sentence is cut off as his phone rings. He quickly wipes the grease off his hands on a bandana and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He frowns at the number, answering it.

"Hello?" He asks.

"Mr. Maybank?" A woman asks.

"Yeah." He says.

"Hi. This is Alexandra Harrington. I'm the secretary at Y/N's school." She explains, though JJ already knows. "We need you to come down to the school and pick up Y/N."

"Why? Is she okay?" JJ immediately grows concerned.

"That would depend on the definition of okay." Alexandra remarks, only worrying JJ more. "She got into a fight and is facing suspension."

"What?" JJ scoffs.

"Please, just come down to the school." Alexandra tells.

"I-- yeah. Yeah, I'll be right there." JJ says before hanging up.

"Everything good?" John B asks.

"I don't know. Y/N got in a fight at school." JJ informs.

"Ooh. Mini Maybank strikes again." John B grins.

"Shut up." JJ rolls his eyes. "I'll see you guys later."

"Later." John B bids, the two doing the pogue handshake. "Come on, buddy!" He calls out to his son.

---

JJ walks into the school, having quickly changed into clean clothes so he wasn't covered in grease. He finds Y/N sitting outside the office, slouched in her seat, her arms crossed over her chest.

There's a boy and girl on the bench next to her, both quietly talking to each other. He notices the bruises and scratch marks on their faces.

"Hey." JJ calls making Y/N sigh. She doesn't respond, which slightly annoys JJ. "Y/N." He sternly calls, putting his hand on top of her head and forcing her head back. He freezes at her black eye, split lip, and the cut on her cheek. "What the fuck?" His tone immediately changes to anger as he cups her chin, moving her head to inspect the injuries better.

"Dad, I'm fi--"

"What the fuck happened?" He questions.

"The principal will explain it." Y/N rolls her eyes. "Stupid bitch." She grumbles under her breath.

"I want your side." JJ says before he goes into the office.

"Mr. Maybank. Wish I was seeing you under better circumstances." The principal says.

"Right. What the hell happened?" JJ questions.

"Your daughter's a little psycho." The mother of the girl sneers.

"Excuse you?" JJ glares at her. "You better watch it, lady, or you're gonna match your kid out there." He threatens. The woman's jaw drops in offense, giving the principal a look.

"Mr. Maybank, relax. Physical violence is not the answer." The principal quickly intervenes.

"Your kid is the one going around and beating up innocents." The father of the boy says.

"No. No, I know my daughter, she's always got a reason. So your kids are the fucking problem." JJ argues.

The other two quickly retaliate, throwing insults about Y/N, the three adults getting into an argument.

"Enough!" The principal shouts, effectively shutting the three up. "Now... we have two stories. Y/N's story and then Jason and Ashley's story."

"Y/N's a little liar." Ashley's mother states.

"You really don't wanna piss me off, lady." JJ seethes, his hand clenching into a fist.

"We don't have any evidence of which story is true, only our beliefs." The principal says. "Jason and Ashley's story is they were trying to talk to Y/N, make plans, and she just lost it and starting hitting them."

JJ scoffs, his eyes rolling into the back of his head out of disbelief.

"And these idiots believe that shit?" JJ asks, pointing to the two parents.

"Excuse you?" The woman glares.

"You wanna say that to my face, pal?" The man sneers.

"Didn't I just do it?" JJ retorts.

The three teens listen from the outside, Y/N's lips quirking up at her father's remarks.

"Calm down." The principal orders. "Now, Y/N's story is Jason was hitting on her and wouldn't leave her alone even after she told him no. She says she didn't throw the first punch until he grabbed her bottom."

"He what?" JJ fumes, using all of his strength to not go beat up the little boy himself.

"She says Ashley was there with him and taunting her, calling her a bitch and insulting her home life along with constantly tripping her and tugging on her hair." The principal explains.

"I'm gonna--" JJ seethes, his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth could break.

"You won't be doing anything, Mr. Maybank. Unless you'd like to go to jail." The principal warns. JJ takes a deep breath, burying his anger.

"So what? She gets in trouble for defending herself?" JJ asks. "That's fucking stupid."

"Defending herself from what?" Jason's dad scoffs. "Jason didn't do anything wrong."

"He disrespected her boundaries. He touched her ass, that's pretty fucking wrong, you dumb fuck!" JJ's voice raises near the end.

"He was being persistent. She was playing hard to get." The guy argues.

"She didn't want him in any way, whatsoever! No means no." JJ states.

"Ashley did no wrong." Her mom insists.

"Aside from being a fucking brat." JJ scoffs making the woman give him an appalled look. "She should also be old enough to know that she should keep her hands to herself. Plus, that golden rule parents are always so insistent about. Nothing nice to say, shut the fuck up. She should learn that rule."

"You do not talk about my daughter that way." The woman sneers.

"She hurt my daughter. I'm not gonna stand for that." JJ says. "Or for your son being a little prick."

"He was just trying to get her attention." The man protests. "Little ass grab never hurt anybody, especially if the girl's a hottie."

Ashley's mother screams when JJ's fist connects with Jason's dad's cheek. The three teens jump at the noise, turning back to see the chaos.

"Mr. Maybank!" The principal yells, rushing over. "Enough! That is enough!" She gets between the two men before they can start a brawl.

"All three children are suspended for two weeks for violating the rules. And unless you want them expelled, I suggest you three take them home and try your best to avoid each other for the rest of your lives. Or at least until these kids graduate."

"If they all graduate." Ashley's mother rolls her eyes.

JJ starts to charge for her, but the principal holds him back.

"I especially advise you to leave, Maybank. For you and your daughter's own good." The principal says.

"No. No, I'm leaving for their own good." JJ points to the other two parents. "Cause if I don't, they're going six feet under a little younger than they anticipate."

The principal sighs as the other two parents start to complain about the threat.

JJ leaves the office, rolling his eyes out of frustration and anger.

"C'mon." He motions for his daughter to get up. He grabs her backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. Y/N gets up, JJ placing his hand on her back to lead her out.

"You're a little bitch, Jason." JJ calls back before the two exit the school.

They get outside and JJ manages to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

"You okay?" Y/N asks, looking up at her dad, not sure if she should be amused or concerned or both.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." JJ runs his hand over his head, messing his hair up. "I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't jeopardize your school like that."

"Not jeopardizing it anymore than I am." Y/N chuckles. "Plus, school system sucks anyway. Don't give too many shits."

"Are you okay?" JJ asks, his concerned father side overtaking him as he observes the injuries on her face. He brushes her hair back to get a better look at them, thumb lightly grazing over the black eye.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's fine. They look worse." Y/N grins.

"Yes, they do." JJ proudly laughs.

"So, am I grounded?" Y/N asks.

"No. No, you're never grounded for standing up for yourself." JJ reassures. "Ice cream?"

"Rocky road." Y/N immediately lights up making JJ softly smile at her.

"Rocky road it is, princess." JJ promises, kissing her on the head.

He opens the passenger door for her and she climbs in, JJ shutting it after she's in. He throws her backpack into the bed of the truck, going over to the other side and getting in, starting the engine.

Taglist: @glxwingrxse @venomsvl @wildieflower @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @mrvlxgrl @star-wars-lover @champomiel @ironmaiden1313

[loaksbitch]

“need to ruin you for me” — neteyam sully (⨳)

imagine being newly parent and neteyam missing your body so much, so he asks you to see him in the hut you to share to end up fucking his pent up frustration in you? that’s right. — i’m back at it ᐢ..ᐢ

pairing : baby daddy!neteyam x fem!reader

warnings : dad!neteyam needs his own warning, frustration-fucking, orgasm denial, teasing, one mention of spanking if you squint, quickie but it’s not (?), just neteyam starving and missing being close with you. ( wc – 1.7k)

“what are you doing?” impatient neteyam stood behind you, looking over the bead you’re knotting.

you peeled behind your shoulder, holding one bead to your finger and sliding it down the thin rope for your newborn. the urge in your mate’s voice didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“songcord for our baby.” you shrugged.

“oh, songcord?” neteyam nodded, heading to your direction. “but he’s asleep right now.”

“i know baby, i just wan–“

“uh-huh, that’s so nice,” he was quick to interrupt, “can i see you in our hut in a minute?” neteyam didn’t wait for your answer and you giggled hearing his steps fade away.

you put the almost complete beads carefully down and stride behind him, nearly stumbling against your own feet. excitement was starting to course inside you, gut twisting with adrenaline.

and the moment you both were inside your hut, neteyam pushed you into your bedroom and slid the curtain of the hut fully which only caused your skin to prickle with goosebumps at his serious face.

neteyam was craving for you just like you were, especially with you both not being around each other after you welcomed your baby to pandora because you were just simply supposed to heal fully.

and as if he was reading your mind, both of your bodies collided with equal force, the kiss becoming sloppy and messy real quick. neteyam’s eager moans and laboured breathing filled the room.

he was groping on what he was able to, missing how your skin felt against his. “fuck.” he hissed between the kiss.

“you infuriate me, y’know.” he was pulling on your loincloth roughly, tugging it out from your chest and exposing the swell of your tits. “why? what did i do?’” you purposely keened, hand sought to his braids.

neteyam groaned when you slightly pulled on his hair, his cock twitching under his fabric. “you’ve been prancing back and forth in front of me for six weeks when you know i can’t do anything i want to you?”

you love how he’s so desperate and in need of you.

“and you dare to pull that fucking stunt saying you’re beading our son’s songcord– fuck.” he spun you around and the sound of him pulling you to his chest and pressing your back firm to his almost making you fall apart.

“i was tryin…” neteyam had no desire in hearing your excuses. “get up there.” he motions and you noise out eagerly.

thrills ran up and down the length of your spine when a sting was felt upon your perked ass. “moving too slow, princess.” your mate roars at you with a grin on his face. “i’m starting to think you’re doing that on purpose, hm?”

you begin to inch back to the hammock, breath chopped when the bed sinks as neteyam joins you and moves closer towards you.

“no i don’t.” you try to fight back, a knowing coy smile tinted on your soft lips. “you don’t?” neteyam’s tone told you believed not a flying fuck that’s coming out of your mouth.

you open your mouth to speak but large hands pulling you under him by your ankle made you gasp loud. neteyam grasped on your thighs, pulling you to him and spreading your legs wider to get comfortable between them.

your blue skin was slightly darker, blood rushing to them. neteyam’s hand smoothed down your heat, lightly pressing on your soaked loincloth. you whimper when he rubs on the aching spot, rough skin of his fingers grinding over your covered clit.

the urge to vanish under his touch felt extremely intense, yet gradually you felt nearing your edge just with the slight friction he was giving you.

you really missed having him.

neteyam knew you like the back of his hand and your thighs starting to close against his body told him you’re just close and being brought to your limit. he watches you attentively on how your back arches, hand trailing down to wrap on his wrist.

“‘teyam.” you pant, throat closing with a moan— until your mate suddenly stopped.

your eyes, which you don’t remember closing, shoot wide open. and on neteyam’s face there was a knowing grin spread that makes you whine. “how does it feel to be frustrated?” he asks. your pussy pulsed around nothing and it pissed you off.

“neteyam.” you warningly whine.

“you don't like having to wait, do you?” you were quick to shake your head causing him to click his tongue. “this is how i felt for eight fucking weeks.” he grunts, the restrain against his tent making it hard to stay covered anymore.

“i was stopping myself from destroying you inside out.” he says and your breath catches in your throat.

“nete’ please?” you only plead, wanting him inside you, filling you up to the brim. “please what, baby?” neteyam was leaning to you, hovering over your body which makes you whimper excitedly.

you brought your hands to his neck, pulling him for a kiss and caressing his cheek softly, making sure you got his attention before whispering softly: “i want to feel you inside me.”

you bite your lips when neteyam’s lips parted, his amber eyes blown wide with your words and nose flaring to your unexpected admission. neteyam swore he almost came right there, throbbing under the so-tight loincloth.

your mate was fast to abandon his teasing, hurriedly submitting to your ask. barriers got discarded in a speed of light, neteyam pulling off everything cloth that was covering you away from him before he did the same for himself.

right the moment he had you comfortable and made sure it’s all good to go, neteyam moaned as he worked every inch of himself inside you. “i missed you.” he breathes against your lips, “so fucking much.” your skin shivered.

“missed you too, nete’” you gasp onto his mouth.

once he was fully bottomed out in you, he made sure his chest was pressed against your tits. feeling your heartbeat and wanting to be closer than that. you feel his left hand glide up to you right and lace your fingers with his before pinning it to the side of your head.

and the other went to your hips, stopping you from squirming at the heavy feeling between your thighs.

neteyam retracted his hips back only to thrust roughly, knocking your breath out. “mhm,” he breathed, eyes closed and smiling foolishly when your free hand brushed on his cheek.

both of your grunts and mewls mixed, filling the room with the warmth of your love making. neteyam took advantage of two of you being alone, no babies or family members interrupting you.

“c’mon, let me hear you.” he wanted to hear your soft moans when he fucked you slow, he wanted to hear the voice he missed, he wanted you to scratch his back and let him know how he was making you feel good.

“feels so g-good,” you stutter every time he worked himself in you.

neteyam grazed on his lips, then his hand that was pinning your hips down trailing to your breast and fondle with your nipple. “you feel so good.” he tells you.

your eyes were barely open but you managed to see neteyam, leaning and pressing his forehead to yours. the finger that was lacing with yours tightened its hold and he picked his pace up, fucking you to the mattress.

you knew he was trying to make you finish before him, and neteyam was losing his rhythm with his hips. the thrust getting sloppier and messier with very hits. “i’m so close.” he whines, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath.

you have lost the ability to speak the moment he got himself inside you, brain shutdown when he filled your gummy walls with his girth.

“i love you.” you hear him whisper to your ear.

you coming undone under him was what always made him fall in love all over again. “love…too, i love– too you.” your words are broken, tongue tied with pleasure. neteyam chuckled and gave your wet lips a soft peck. his forehead resting against yours for the second time.

“look at me.” he says and you oblige immediately.

neteyam stares into your eyes deeply, knowing he’s there, he starts to pound into you and chases his release. “let go for me.” your voice was enough to push him to the edge and his movements slowed down.

neteyam’s breathing stopped as he drove into you, pelvis pressing against each other. you moaned when he unintentionally grind against your sensitive bud.

you felt his swollen tip kissing the opening to your cervix before the man above you was grunting and choking on his own moan that came from his chest. you just allow him to finish inside you, biting your lips when he keeps whimpering and whining before covering himself by the crook of your neck.

it doesn’t take long for neteyam to get to his senses, blinking and bringing himself back to pandora.

“hey,” you tease and giggle for neteyam to follow. “hi, pretty.” he says and places a soft kiss between your brows. “i missed you so much.” he says again, wanting you to know he means what he was wording out, smiling at while he watched you bite on your lips, “i did too, really.”

you’re about to tap on his shoulder for him to move but neteyam has other plans. he draws himself that he slips out of you almost but thrusts back. “neteyam,” you start but your husband nudges you back to the bed.

“what are you—“ you shriek when you’re rolled over and neteyam is under you. the position only makes him sink into you deeper and you curse slightly silently.

“one more,” he traces the stripes of your skin on your hip. “give me one more and i’ll let you go.” he jerks his hips upward.

“teyam!” the only choice you’re left with was to gasp.

just rose from the dead and came back with another neteyam smut for now, i missed all of you!

like + reblog & feedback are very appreciated — i love each and every one of you sm! mwah **

[bsdawgz]

「 ✦ I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship… ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Port Mafia: Michizō Tachihara

a/n: tachihara smut as promised (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ part2 of THIS post!

~if you read a lot of my work, you know that i usually dance around words like pussy but i actually use it in this one cuz my headcanon is that tachihara is a dirty, hard n fast type lover ahhh ><

genre: nasty

content: f!reader. MDNI! cunnilingus, rough sex, brief drug (marijuana) reference at the end. tachihara has a big dick. ♡

summary: looks like it's gonna be hard to stay "just friends" after this...

"Oy, what the hell–?"

Tachihara is just about to fight you when you yank the blankets off his half-naked body, but once his vision focuses on you and he realizes he's not in any danger, he relaxes back into the bed. "Fucking shit, it's just you," he mutters, rubbing his eyes.

It's nearly 10PM when you impulsively decide to barge into his apartment and confront him after a week of no contact after the incident. But much to your annoyance, you find Tachihara still fast asleep in his bed, lying face-down with a pillow over his head.

"Just me?"

You scoff at his words, climbing into his bed and beating him over the head with his pillow. His face turns bright red as you situate yourself beside him, and he instinctively pulls the covers over his boxers, shifting uncomfortably as you move closer to him.

"Where the fuck have you been this whole time?" you press, clearly pissed off. You spent this whole week worrying about how your friendship might have been affected by what happened between you – after you and Tachihara went from smoking a joint and laughing to full-on making out and groping each other on your couch – but it doesn't look like Tachihara had thought about it at all.

You sigh, relenting.

"Look, Michi. Let's just move past it already," you decide to say after the silence between you two has gone on for too long to be comfortable. "You regret it, right? Let's just forget about it, then."

This time, it's Tachihara who sighs, rolling his eyes at you. "Listen," he says, tossing the pillow back at you. "I've just been busy," he insists. You only knew about his affiliation with Port. Explaining that he was infiltrating the mafia as a member of the Hunting Dogs was too complicated and would only endanger you.

"Besides," he starts, leaning back into his bed with a smug smirk. "Who said I regret anything?"

You're bunching up your fists at him for making excuses, then it hits you – the implication of what he's just laid out so plainly. He said it so off-handedly that it takes you a while to process, but once you realize exactly what he means, a faint blush creeps on your face.

When he's certain you understand him, he leans in closer... closer... – and the situation feels all too familiar.

"Look," he murmurs, then the back of his fingers are brushing gently against your cheek. You can see your reflection in his amber eyes as they flicker to your lips, and as you watch him, you can faintly remember the feeling of his kiss from a few nights before... How it felt to taste him in your mouth. "I just didn't wanna fuck up our friendship..." His voice is a low whisper, but there's a glowing fire in his eyes.

"Do you...?"

You didn't think it would come to this again, but here you are. You swear you can hear your heart beating in your chest as you stare into his eyes –

If you kiss now, there's nothing and no one to blame but yourselves...

But the answer is all too clear by the way your face flushes and the way your hands tremble as you wrap your arms around his neck. Who closes the gap, you don't know. You feel him cup your cheek in his palm, then his lips are pressing against yours. Those same soft, sweet lips that you can't get enough of...

He gets on top of you, laying you down on the mattress. It's that same springy mattress that you've played videogames on, taken naps together on, and shared joints on, never with any sexual implication. Now, though, he's pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it recklessly on the floor. "I'm not gonna stop this time," he says bluntly, and the straightforwardness with which he says it makes you feel embarrassed. "Unless you really want me to."

You've never seen Tachihara like this. He's your best friend, for God's sake. You've always been the demanding one in your friendship, bossing him around, and he's always followed you around and put up with your antics. Pinned beneath him like this, the roles are completely reversed. You wonder if Tachihara has always been this way, if this is how he normally is in bed. Is this what he's like with girls? Does he usually get on top of them like this and boss them around? Your face turns bright pink at the thought.

"I don't want you to stop this time," you tell him, trying to match his boldness as you undress yourself for him. He grins toothily at your response, pulling you in for another kiss by your chin. This time around, he’s rougher with his hands, gripping your hips and dragging you by your waist to the edge of the bed, where you're on your hands and knees for him.

His calloused hands squeeze your ass, fingertips digging into the fat. Then, he eases your legs apart, pressing chaste kisses up your inner thigh until he's kissing the soft spot, that place you want him most. You feel his fingers peeling your panties down your legs until you're bare for him, and you gasp as you feel the cold air hit you.

He drags his fingers along your slick, spreading your folds open, exposing you... and you can just sense him smirking behind you at your every reaction.

– You're wet for him. For him, Tachihara. Michizō. Michi. Your best friend. And it feels so damn good to him, knowing he's the one making you this horny.

Then, he leans in, tasting your sweetness on his eager lips. You writhe under the softness of his tongue as he teases you, as he collects your arousal on the tip, as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive spot. "Michi..." you stutter out, followed by a broken, "Fuck, Michi, oh God –..." as he eats you from the back like he's a starved man, pulling you flush against his mouth and moaning against your pussy, lapping up all you have to offer like a dog.

"Turn around and come here," he tells you suddenly, and you do as he says, watching as he gets up and strokes himself at the sight of your nakedness, at your glistening folds that are wet with his spit and your slick. When he's fully hard, he shuffles through his drawers for a condom, then wraps your legs tight around him from the edge of the bed.

He's barely eased the blunt head past your folds when you wince at his size. He's big, just as you imagined, but still bigger than you expected. You bite back a whimper as you take him inch by inch, his girth stretching you out so painfully well. Grabbing onto his forearm, you rake your nails against his flesh, your liquid eyes staring up at him in concern as your pussy squeezes around him erratically. "Michi, nnh – it's big..." you stammer out, struggling to adjust to him.

"Yeah?" he pants out, swiping his tongue over his lips seductively. He’s cocky from your words, half a grin on his face. His voice is strained from how tightly you're gripping him. You feel his hands smooth down your sides, making your body tingle from his hot touch, then he reaches down to caress your trembling lips with the underside of his thumb, stroking your cheekbone reassuring with his fingers. "You can take it," he whispers heatedly, "Take a deep breath for me." You nod up at him willingly, then do as he says. Then, you feel him finally bottom out on your exhale with a shaky sigh.

His strokes are slow and shallow at first. He gazes down at you with amber eyes that are hazy with lust, and he bats his lashes at you as he watches you watch him fuck you nice and slow... and his hands are everywhere – they wander down your body, making you shiver as he grasps your waist, as they travel down the sides of your hips, as they curve over your breasts. You arch your back as he rolls your hips toward him, chasing after the feeling of him. Then, you feel him get rougher.

You feel him pull the entirety of himself out of your warmed-up body, then cram himself back into your pulsing walls with a muffled groan, and you clench around him as he does it again and again, the sound of your skin against his filling the air as his pace quickens, as he shoves his hips against yours more recklessly.

Then, his fingers dig into you bruisingly as he grabs you fast and hard. You moan out for him shamelessly, burying your face into the crux of your elbow. He grins in satisfaction from the way your lips form the syllables of his name, then you feel his fingers wrap delicately around your neck before he tosses your leg over his shoulder. "Don't hide," he pants out, and he tips your chin up to peer into your desperate eyes, so that you're staring into his darkened gaze and that wicked smirk on his face.

– “I wanna see your face while I fuck you."

And you gasp at how greedy he is. So, so greedy, getting high on the feeling of you taking him so well, now that you're soaking wet for him. You glance down to where he's buried deep inside you, where he's making such a mess of you. You can see everything from this angle – how easily he's sliding in and out of you, how you're falling apart on him. How you’re swallowing him up so perfectly.

"God, you feel fucking good," he groans, throwing his head back in pleasure.

– Fucking your best friend like this, feels so fucking good.

You feel his thumb on your clit... His other hand reaching for your breast as he thrusts into you ruthlessly... as he fills your vision, as your body gives into him completely... and as you feel yourself approaching your high, as you unravel beneath him, as you cry out for more and beg for him to fuck you harder and harder, and you're thinking to yourself –

This is so wrong, right? Wrong, wrong, wrong. You shouldn't be doing this with your best friend, right?

But it's so good. So, so good – it makes you wonder why you hadn't done it sooner.

It makes you wanna do it again and again.

When all's done, you're on his bed, lighting another joint, passing it back and forth like it's nothing. It feels almost normal, hanging out like this. But not quite.

He rests his head on your lap, staring up at the ceiling as he blows a puff of smoke in the air. You run your fingers through his soft hair, reveling in the afterglow of your orgasm. Then, one of you breaks the silence.

"So, we're still best friends, right?"

author ps: there may be another part. we'll see.

taglist: @shxlxnn @possiblydeceased @vyeisamazing @pe4rl-diver thank u thank u thank u for supporting me and my fics <3 ily and i appreciate every single one of u

© BSDAWGZ 2024. Do not steal or repost ANY of my works! That’s plagiarism, and it’s mean. :(( Beautiful dividers by @ v6que~!

[queserasora]

JEAN KIRSCHTEIN X FEM READER | NSFW WORD COUNT: 4.5k CONTENT WARNING: profanity because Jean has a tiny bit of a potty mouth, lots and lots of groping, dry humping, alcohol consumption (would it be a fic I wrote if they weren't drinking to some degree??? i think not), nipple play, lots of teasing, jealous possessive jean likes to do a lot of biting and marking, even if frankly he has no right to be jealous, he is a HYPOCRITE, that should be a warning, also jean does whatever he wants then acts like he did nothing, so another warning, he throws dishes in sinks and breaks them, another warning, the man breaks every domestic law and rule, i will fight him A SUMMARY: Jean and Y/N are in a marriage of convenience, and have been for several months. There is no reason for feelings to be involved, but when someone decides to hit on Y/N at the gym--Jean has to come to terms with emotions he has no power to control.

An arrangement of convenience should always remain that: a convenience.

Four months had passed since you first walked through his door, carrying very little in your arms. When he had asked you about the rest of your possessions you had smiled—tight lipped, abashedly, almost secretive. I didn't have much to begin with, you had said. I'll just consider this a fresh start. It had always been this way. He had met you in college, as you walked down the corridor with your head in the clouds, carrying photocopies from course books you couldn't afford.

His chest was solid when you ran into him, papers scattering into the air like tinted flower petals reminding you—one by one—that you didn't belong at that school, no matter how hard you tried. He still remembers the hole on your slip on shoes, and the way the peek of the purple sock teased him. He still remembers the flush on your cheeks, the watery pathetic look in your eyes as if you had been holding back from crying all day long. He still remembers the way they laughed at your patched up backpack, and how you held your head high.

And he remembers the way it filled him with fiery rage, how it consumed him and prodded him to want to burn the whole establishment down—just like now. He watches quietly as he sits upright on the bench. His fingers curled into fists, gripping so tightly his clipped fingernails threaten to piece skin. There's a man next to you, smiling down at you with a lecherous sheen to his eyes. Jean does his best to sit still, to stretch his arms above his head and not picture himself ripping his eyeballs out. His hand touches your elbow, and Jean stands up, reasoning yelling in the back of his mind to grab his attention.

The contract flashes through his mind's eyes, taking precedence over his anger.

An arrangement of convenience should remain a convenience. Your lives were meant to be lived in privacy, without the meddling interference from each other. Those were rules strictly discussed and agreed upon. Jean's mouth twists into a scowl at the memory of his signature, neatly scribbled at the end of the paper—the same one that he kept a copy of in the drawer of his nightstand.

You had every right to entertain that idiot if you liked—even if Jean thought he looked like he couldn't count past ten. You had every right to smile back, the way you did, and laugh at whatever joke he had just said. You had every right to live a life away from him, as long as you came back home every night, to sleep in your own bed, in your own room.

He grabs a towel, and sprays sanitizer on the bench, finding cleaning his own sweat infinitesimally more productive than to focus on the bitter jealousy gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Jean knows he has no leg to stand on, no right to stride up to you and swat his hand away. He has no right to feel cheated, or uneasy—to feel like you're being tugged away from his fingers.

But he does, so he spins in place and walks towards you, feet slamming down on the gym mats—muffling his anger. He tries to think of excuses to give, something or anything that would make him sound less pathetic than he felt. He is within earshot when he hears you.

“No, I won't go with you,” you say flatly, your gaze is pointed as you blink. “I'm married,” you tell the man. Jean is surprised when he feels your hands on his bicep. The way your fingernails softly dig into his flesh remind him that this moment is real. It's not just another fantasy that plagued him at night while he laid in bed skin slick with his own sweat. This was you, standing your ground. This was you, holding on to him.

At the moment it didn't matter whether he was just an excuse for you to push away unwanted attention. Jean stares the man down who looks appropriately abashed before his mouth twists in anger. Jean feels his own mouth water. The words are cocked on his tongue but you're pulling away, leading him towards the exit and down the stairs. They fizzle and die out in smoke with every step taken.

He had hoped the heat of the shower would wash it all way. His hair sticks to his forehead under the shower head. Eyes closed, water running over his skin, he tilts his face to the ceiling in hopes that thoughts of you would evaporate from his mind and follow the steam away from his body. Instead, you envelop him in your heated cloudiness. He sees the band of your sports bra digging into the soft flesh of your torso. He can picture, in annoyingly perfect detail, the sweat that clung to the small of your back, the way drops drifted lower until they disappeared into your spandex. The same spandex that had made him uncomfortably tight in his gym shorts when he saw you bend at the knees for a squat.

Jean stays in the shower long enough for his fingers to prune. He stays until thoughts of you turn hazy, less significant. When he makes it out of the shower with wet hair, a towel around his shoulders he sees you coming out of your room, and into the kitchen. His eyes track your movements, a predatory hunger prowling inside him like a caged animal. Jean coughs into a closed fist; a sad attempt at composure. Your curls are wet, soft ringlets sticking closer to your skull than he is used to. He is used to seeing them wild, and bouncy, swaying with every move you make—but this sight isn't unappealing either.

Your pajama shorts are, frankly, a bit too short for polite company. Jean tilts his head in barely restrained admiration as you move towards the fridge and bend over to reach for something in the back. Ass cheeks taunt him as they peek out from under the legs' hemline. Your white t shirt is snug over your chest, and see through enough he can almost picture every detail on your bra.

Jean swallows thickly and drops himself on the couch—the same spot he always occupies as you cook.

It's where he can watch you the best. It's usually innocent, almost pure but tonight Jean feels filthy as he takes in your silhouette. He can't stand the sight of your hair, the way you keep brushing it away from your face with an impassive hand. He can smell your shampoo—imagine it. He had smelled it enough times when you got too close; the scent of coconut and vanilla. He is irritated at how accurately his mind can recall it, how he can recall the back of your neck and how badly he had wanted to kiss it then. Jean licks his lips.

He wanted to kiss it still. Badly.

Jean is still irate when he sits down for dinner. His body is tense from the constant clenching of muscle. His jaw hurts, but he chews anyway, not wanting to appear ungrateful. Your mouth; however, is treacherous. A sinful siren leading him to murky waters. You wrap it around each morsel, and around your fork, as if he was made of wet paper; wafer thin. Jean swallows his desires with a swig of wine. He did not often drink, much less wine, but you had insisted; another month in faux marital bliss.

You had a strange sense of humor he couldn't help but entertain. It pissed him off to no end.

The wine is sweet on his tongue, and he wonders if it's the same for you as you throw your head back, determined to get every last drop in your glass. Your tongue dips around the rim of it, throat exposed for his devious eyes to take in. Jean shakes his head, pretending his brown hair is in the way of his eyes. In reality, he's trying to shake your hold off his mind. He's trying to dislodge the imagery of that man at the gym running his tongue up the column of your throat. Jean blinks, a heat over his eyes as he finds the hollow of your neck, and fights the urge that blooms inside of him.

He wants to kiss you there, on the soft flesh that connects your shoulder and neck. He wants to follow up the trail to just under your ear, and he wants to mark you time and time again; a signature left on skin drawn with blood and teeth.

Jean bites down on his last morsel of dinner and barely misses his tongue. He is nauseated by his own desires. He thinks there might be something innately wrong with him and the way he wants to pull you up to the table and rip your clothes off, so he can fuck you before the desire kills him first.

He thinks he hears your voice saying his name in ecstasy in his ear, loud and clear, so he slaps his hand on the table in an attempt to make a louder sound. His blood rushing to his ears, beating against the walls of his sanity, threaten to drown out your voice.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, brows drawn together in confusion. Jean shakes his head, and smiles—soft laughter following his gesture.

“There was a mosquito,” he lies with ease, wiping an already clean hand with a napkin. He sees your eyes narrow, and sees doubt peek from behind the brown in them but he ignores it. Jean had bigger, bolder things to worry about—like the sudden erection in his pants. He moves his hips in the seat, trying his best to adjust himself under the table without using his hands. It doesn't work. It especially doesn't work once you have decided you're done with entree of the night and move on to dessert.

Strawberries had never seemed like a poisoned fruit before but Jean starts to question reality when your white teeth bite down on the bright red flesh of one. Juice spills over your bottom lip, a faint red that trails down your chin. You hurriedly bring up a hand, collecting the drips on the crook of your palm. Jean breathes out noisily through his nostrils, a rogue hand going to his crotch where he palms his erection. To adjust, he lies to himself, to push it down in a way that would not pain him, but the stroke of his hand only reminds him of what he is missing.

Your fingers—the ones that grasp another berry and another berry. Your lips—the ones that suck the whip cream right off the red tip of another strawberry.

His breathing is barely controlled, and he feels heat slide up his neck and face; lust filled fingers seeking to gauge his eyes out. The same eyes that refuse to let you go. They follow you as you move to carry dishes to the sink. He doesn't know when he does it, but he stands up nonetheless, as if he is tethered to you by an invisible string. He follows you into the kitchen, his own empty dishes in his hands.

“You know,” you start, placing the dishes in the sink. You're full, and content, but it wouldn't be right to finish dinner without at least bickering once with Jean before bedtime. Also, it helped to ease the tension that flooded your body at the feel of his presence. He was standing closely behind you. Too close.Enough to make your heart race. “Since I cooked dinner yet again, the least you can do is do the dishes.”

You turn around, determined to laugh your way out of this situation. Jean's arms are around you, plates clattering in the sink as he drops them in haphazardly. The noise is sharp and it fills your ears as Jean's mouth clashes against yours. There's a gasp in the back of your throat, one you swallow promptly when he pushes against your lips. The kiss is tight lipped, forceful. His hand is searing against your skin where he grips the back of your neck, thick strong fingers digging into your flesh. His free arm curls around your waist, and he pulls you in close, crushing you against his wide chest. A flush blankets you when you feel his hard on press against the softness of your belly.

Jean thinks he might suffocate. His shoulders stiffen as he keeps his mouth on yours, trying to weigh your reaction. He thinks he should wait for a sign from you, anything that will grant him access to the inside of your mouth to find the tongue that teased him time and time again earlier. He thinks he should practice patience but the scent of your breath heavy with the sweetness from the white whine threatens to intoxicate him; to strip him from whatever meager remains of inhibitions populated his mind and body.

Your eyes flutter open and close. There is heat at the pit of your belly. You're aware of this feeling making you tremble. You're aware of the embarrassing throb between your legs, the tell tale sign of rushing blood in a state of arousal. Your body wants his, and it only makes his erection all the more evident. You're not sure if you should return his kiss, but you find yourself pressing tighter against him, eager to see what would happen if you wiggle in his embrace; tease him just a tiny bit.

As you slip your hands over his chest, your lips break away. Jean slots his mouth against yours, his tongue slipping in between your sweetened lips. In a rare moment of tenderness, Jean brushes his tongue against yours, urging goosebumps to run their course over your brown skin. You gasp in his embrace, and it was all the incentive he needed. He didn't have to think anymore. He could just take.

So he claims your tongue as his—sucks on it with greed he tried to hide with pretenses and lies. His hands go rogue, they act recklessly as they smooth down your back and grasp fistfuls of the tender flesh of your ass. Jean sucks on your bottom lip, groaning as his hands keep moving. They slide over your hips, and over your belly until they find your breasts. He is nipping at the corners of your mouth, mumbling things you don't catch while he kneads your tits. You are too preoccupied by the building wetness between your legs to care about the words he's trying to say. From experience, you know it's nothing important. Jean had the innate ability to talk the most crap when you needed him to the least.

You don't respond, and it upsets him. So he pushes you against the sink. You cry out as the edge digs into your backside. Jean picks you up by the waist and places you back down on top of the edge of the sink. You mumble something about the faucet and Jean reaches around you, blindly as he is sucking on your tongue, to move the faucet around—anything so you'd stop complaining, so you'd stop interrupting him. Your taste floods his mouth; strawberries and wine, a combination he knows he'll never be able to recover from now. Your tongue marks him everywhere it touches, tattoos of memories digging into the skin of his jaw, down the column of his throat.

His fingers are tangled in your curls. Jean grunts when you bite down on his neck, tugging at sensitive skin. He pulls you close, tightly, as if that would help ease you under his skin. Your mouth is unforgiving, and Jean lets you go as you suck on the hollow of his neck, feeling his grip on you becoming elusive. He can't contain you or this heat slowly building in the kitchen. You are an arsonist and he is an abandoned building, too tempting, too lonesome and swallowed by darkness for you not to set on fire, to not stand back and watch as the flames eviscerate its foundations into dust.

So you dig your teeth into his skin, time and time again in your path for revenge. You leave a mark for every smart quip he threw your way, for every time he laughed sarcastically at something you said. His hand slams on the door of the cupboard above you. You look up, startled, eyes clouded with lust. His dark lashes obscure the flame behind his eyes, but you see the glistening saliva on his bottom lip, and the flush of his cheeks. You see his chest rising and falling, hear the rattling of his breath and in that moment you know that Jean Kirschtein is a beast barely contained.

He is a hunter seeking to be reformed but salivating at the chance of one more kill.

His body is trembling, fighting the urge. You look so decadent underneath him, trapped between him and the kitchen sink. Your neck is marred by angry teeth, and a hungry mouth. His mouth stretches into a lazy lopsided grin. That had been his doing, and he should feel no satisfaction. He had no right and no reason except that he just wanted to. Just like he just wanted to pull your shorts down, and push your panties to the side and fuck you right there and then, on the sink, with the dirty dishes behind your ass.

A newfound breath in his lungs he goes back to your mouth, a stupid moth to a burning flame. In his mind, somewhere small and dark, he knows he should stop kissing you. He knows he should end things here before they become more complicated, before you hate him in the morning. He knows this, but his body no longer belongs to him. He thinks, in agony and in lust, that maybe it belonged to you now as you slip your hands under his shirt and run your nails down his back. He hisses into your mouth, a small groan reminding him of his hardened cock. Jean thinks of pulling away but the moment his lips are not on yours, he sees that man again—that fucking ugly face smiling down at you. If your tongue is not in his mouth he thinks about him, kissing you. If his tongue is not pressed flush against the pulse of your neck, if he's not feeling your erratic heartbeat reminding him of the throbbing of his cock—he thinks of that bastard, running his hands all over your body, pulling moan after moan from you.

He groans again as he kisses you, too much teeth and tongue, too much passion to the point you cry out when he bites down too hard; he tastes blood as he licks your bottom lip in apology. He must have lost his mind, he thinks, as he licks it again and again until he can't taste copper anymore, until you grow softer, more pliable in his embrace.

His hands are under your shirt, fingers slipping under your bra. You cry out as he pinches hardened nipples. His tongue is back on your neck, and he kisses over the marks already left, and sucks where he thinks it is too light; not stark enough. He signs over them, again and again, as he twists his fingers, causing you to moan.

“Jean” you breathe out, your trembling hands going to his wrists. You hold on to them loosely, as he continues to tease your breasts. You bite down on a whimper, and almost lose your resolve when he looks down at you through his dark and thick lashes. “Why are you like this?” Suddenly, she wanted to add, but Jean's hands are relentless. His gaze is unwavering as he watches you squirm under his touch. In all honesty, he wanted to tell you. He wanted to confess the times he had thought about you this way, responding to his touch so eagerly that he'd wake up in a sweat, aroused by the ghost of your scent in his sweatshirt.

Still, he couldn't tell you. Not now. Maybe never.

“Service,” he pants out, brushing his thumbs against your nipples. You arch your back at his touch, a soft lewd song humming in the back of your mouth. “Consider it a service for you making dinner.”

He pushes his hips against yours as he curls his fingers around your throat. His hold on you is tight, almost suffocating. You gasp both at the feel of his erection, mercilessly rubbing against your heated cunt, and at the pressure he builds with his fingers. Your eyes flutter close, another soft moan filling your mouth. Jean thinks he's at his limit, but he ignores it. He pushes past it with every thrust of his hips, seeking out every sound you can give him; every moan, sigh, and whimper he can collect. He stores them in the back of his mind for later, for when his bed feels cold and empty.

A heat swirls at the pit of your stomach. It goes around in circles, tighter and tighter each time. You're familiar with the sensation, enough that it makes your toes curl in anticipation. You gasp and shout, holding on to Jean with one clammy hand. Your other shoots out behind you as you shout in surprise when one particular thrust rubs against your sensitive nub just right.

“I'm gonna cum!” you yelp as his face comes towards you. He's chuckling in your ear, and your hand moves again without you realizing it—your body's own way of trying to ground itself from the flight of ecstasy. Your fingers graze metal, and you hear the running water. Your breathing is harsh against your own ears. Jean is laughing again as you feel him reach around you. You feel something wet and cold splash against your back and you jump in his arms.

Jean pushes against you, one hand clamped tightly around one hip. “Easy, you'll fall off,” he says against your temple, a small smile stretching his swollen lips. You dig your nails into his shoulders, wanting to bring him back to the more pressing matter. You had been so close and he had slowed the speed of his hips, causing small jittery motions of your body every time your oversensitive clit received friction.

“Why did you stop?” you ask him, but his eyes are unfocused. His jaw is set, and he looks everywhere but at your eyes. You feel his gaze on your mouth, and your neck. You feel him staring at your chest. He is reaching around you, holding his hands under the running water. He brings them towards you, and slides them over your chest over and over until it soaks through your t shirt. Your bottom lip is trapped between your teeth as you watch him. He is laser focused. The sight of white teeth pushing down on a berry colored bottom lip shouldn't be so arousing. You consider suing or at the very least writing a strongly worded letter, affronted at how wet it made you; wetter even.

It was starting to become embarrassing how much you craved him at that moment. You whimper when he wets his hands again, and slides them under your shirt. They're cold against your overheated back, fingers unclasping the bra. You narrow your eyes as he expertly reaches through your sleeves, pulls down the straps with your help, and tugs the bra off from the front—as if he's done this before, many many times.

You don't want to think about it. In fact, you hate that you are, even as your nipples are erect. You bite your tongue in hopes of staving off petty jealous things you want to ask and say. You don't get to expend too much energy in that endeavor. Jean never ceases to surprise you, and he commands your attention by grasping your breasts over your t shirt.

His mouth hangs open as he watches, amazed at the sight of the brown areola peeking through the wet fabric; translucent and teasing. You feel you should say something now, while you still can but the words never make it out. His mouth is back on you, on your breasts as he sucks on the nipples through your shirt. His kisses are gentle at first, testing, exploratory His curiosity becomes hungrier, slightly feral. Jean feels himself go blind as he sucks on your nipples, teeth grazing the t shirt until his own skin prickles from the sensation.

You egg him on, thrashing in place, seeking out his hips time and time again with yours. He feels your wetness through your underwear and straight through your shorts. He groans as he sucks loudly, his hands finding your ass. He brings you closer to his hips, moves them against you, feeling sickeningly satisfied with himself. It is him that's making you unravel, and it is him that has you here in disarray, shirt soaked through with a mixture of water and his saliva.

And it is his hair, your fingers tangle up in, and it is his name you call out when you cum, time and time again.

When you come down from your high, when your hips stop moving so viciously against his throbbing cock, Jean finds the will to pull away. He stands away from you, a small amount of drool oozing down his chin. He wipes at it casually with the back of one hand. His gaze is heavy, and his face is flushed in a way that makes you self conscious of your own.

“I'm gonna rest for a bit,” he tells you as he takes another step backwards. Your eyes flit from his face, to his abused bottom lip. You can't help when it drifts lower, to the obvious bump in his sweatpants. Jean turns away from you, and starts walking away from the kitchen and down the corridor towards his bedroom.“I'll do the dishes later, so don't fucking touch them,” he says as he pauses midway to twist his torso. His finger is pointing at you. You're enthralled by the way he frowns at you, at how casually he has changed the subject, as if he wasn't desperately rubbing his cock against you seconds ago. “That's my job, okay?”

He leaves you on the sink, the water running behind you. You startle and jump to turn it off, a shaking hand grasping the metal knob tightly. You try to ignore the slick sensation between your legs, how cold the shirt felt against your hot skin. You try to ignore the sick feeling taking over your chest, and how uneasy you felt now that Jean was gone. Now that his mouth and his hands weren't goading you into orgasm, your mind felt slightly clearer.

You shouldn't have done that.

An arrangement of convenience should remain that: a convenience. Entertaining this, whatever it was, would only make this complicated; a messy inconvenience. You set your jaw, and your convictions and decide that tomorrow morning, when your mind wasn't clouded by the phantom kisses Jean had dropped on your skin, you'll have a serious talk with him.

Lines needed to be drawn clearly in the dirt, in blood, or whatever it took.

[thedevilspearl]

author’s note ʚɞ i’m testing the waters with this one so please be kind about it. please also excuse the pet name sugar tits, i think it’s hot don’t judge me >_<

tags ʚɞ 5.6k words, dark content, mammon x female reader, bully!mammon, dubcon (forced consent), non–consensual photo taking, semi–public sex, (public) groping, blowjob, degradation, name calling, praise, pet names, humiliation kink, breeding kink, dacryphillia. minors do not interact!

ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴀᴍᴍᴏɴ and his antics. it’s beyond ridiculous at this point. never did you imagine becoming his target but when you think about it long enough, you realise your whole existence in the devildom was set up to be a laughing stock from the beginning.

back when you had just arrived, he acted as your tour guide but then forced you to cover his dinner duties at home. he helped you with your homework since you were new to the subjects but demanded you pay him back with all of your saved grimm. he even lent you some of his friends to help curb your homesickness only to have them report back every little detail so he could blackmail you later on.

and those kind of things happen when he’s being nice; unfortunately for you, mammon is very rarely nice. not a day goes by where he doesn’t find a way to make your life hell.

mammon, the avatar of greed, the second eldest of the powerful demon brothers, and as he likes to call himself, your first man, rarely shows kindness towards you unless he can gain something from it.

even if he gets nothing in return, he will go out of his way. from tripping you up in hallways to stealing your possessions, and forcing you to complete his homework to treating you like his lackey. anything and everything he does is in some way or another intended to bring you misery.

you’ve grown accustomed to being pushed around and laughed at for the sake of some demon’s entertainment, but there’s something else you’ve also grown used to.

the fact is, mammon gives you more attention than he gives anyone, even himself. and it’s a delusional way to think but it helps you cope with your sorrowful life in the devildom.

you’ve considered confiding in someone; surely the bullying would cease if diavolo found out mammon was harming the student exchange programme like this. but at the end of the day, mammon held more power over you than diavolo himself.

each and every decision you make, reluctantly or otherwise, gives him more power as the days go by. because you have no other choice but to go along with it; and if you don’t want to, he’ll simply blackmail you.

a while ago, you became incredibly close to knocking on lucifer’s door and confessing everything after mammon snapped pictures of you showering and threatened to post them if you didn’t do what he said. lamentably, you gave up on the effort.

if lucifer found out, he would have punished mammon. and after that, you have no doubt mammon would come after you with those big threats again. and you’ve never been in a position strong enough to fight back against him.

the pathetic little human, the bane of his life. yet, he can’t seem to stay away from you. demons are inherently evil creatures, that is a known fact. but after coming to the devildom, you learned demons are, in fact, not all monster.

they have bodies that look human and thoughts and feelings which may be questionable at time but still similar enough to the people in your own world to make you think wait a minute, they’re not all bad.

but that was before mammon revealed his irrational hatred for you. it has nothing to do with him hating humans or those weaker than him and everything to do with his dark, twisted infatuation with you. he’s the definition of cruel and demonic and you feel his animosity deep in your bones, now more than ever.

you don’t know how he did it, but staring at an empty locker where your rad uniform should be sitting boils your blood.

filled with fury, you storm out of the changing rooms in search of the demon.

mammon had already shrunk your sports kit by turning up the temperature when they were getting washed so your usually loose–fitting shorts cling to your thighs and butt. and after getting caught in the rain five minutes ago, you rushed inside to change your sodden white shirt.

but you were foolish to think things would go your way and now you’re storming through rad’s hallways with shorts riding up your ass and your bra fully visible under the wet shirt clinging to you. you’re overflowing with so much rage that you don’t care about the demons eyeing you in the tight clothes or licking their lips as you rush past them.

you spot your nemesis at the end of the hallway and for a moment, your heart stops beating. inhaling deeply, you build the courage to storm up to the white–haired demon.

he’s surrounded by his cronies, laughing at some sleazy joke that came out of his mouth and he refuses to look at you despite you standing in front of him. you know he knows you’re there. but in mammon fashion, he publicly humiliates you once again by completely ignoring you.

meanwhile, a small crowd of hungry demons gathers around you and your heart patters, shying under their interested eyes. but now is not a time to show weakness. now is the time to finally put mammon in his place, which is rather ironic since his place is among the strongest beings in all three realms and you are but a measly human.

“hey!” you shout and he rolls his eyes before finally turning to look at you.

just the sight of him infuriates you, but you’re not sure if the heat growing in your core is rooted from fury or from the way his eyes rake up and down your body. he blue orbs fall to your feet and slowly rise, taking in every detail of your frame.

little do you know, the shape of your body has him salivating. his eyes linger at your thighs, so thick and plush; your hips, so curvaceous and delicious; your tits, so tempting with your perky nipples poking through and your lacey bra visible under the wet shirt.

the tip of his tongue runs under his fangs before wetting his lips as they inch up one side of his face. as attractive as his smirk is, you want to slap it right off his face.

“what’s up, sugar tits?” he quirks his brows, nodding his head to notion the attention he has for the state of your chest, hence the nickname.

you follow his gaze downwards, fully grasping how much of your breasts were on display. you gasp, covering them but it does nothing to hide your entire ass also being showcased.

damn, mammon thinks. you might as well not be wearing any underwear with how tightly your shorts are pressed against your pussy. he can see everything.

“i knew ya were a desperate little thing,” mammon taunts. “but i didn’t think you’d be so dumb to come beg for me in front of everyone.”

“i didn’t come to beg!” you yell, cowering as the crowd fills with laughs and jeers.

“then what did ya come for?” mammon rolls his eyes.

“i came here to…”

“….to what?” mammon steps closer. his scent is intoxicating as it surrounds you. “ya came here to yell at me, the great mammon?”

“n-no….” you mutter, suddenly afraid of his close proximity. with ever step forward he makes, you take one back which ends with your back against the wall and his big frame caging you against it.

he creates a little cave between your bodies that holds barely enough air for you to breathe. just like always, he controls you in any situation. if he doesn’t want you to breathe, he will simply steal all the air you could possibly breathe. and that means locking you tightly between his body and the wall will suffocate you as much as he wants it to, regardless of your pleas for forgiveness.

“i’m sorry....i–i shouldn’t have yelled at you....i didn’t mean to.”

whatever flattery you have in your tone fails to do the job as he closes in, the space between you negligent while you try to figure out a way to escape.

but as your body heats up from mammon forcing proximity, his hands begin to roam your body and you lose the ability to think straight.

“aww, the little human’s blushing. ya like me being this close?” you whimper against him, but he leans in to your ear and whispers, “want me to touch you?”

a quiet but still audible gasp drifts to his ears and he reigns in the delicacy of the sound. such a sweet, pretty sound. he simply needs to hear it again.

“you do, don’t you?” he chuckles lowly. “just say the words and i’ll do it.”

despite every cell in your brain rooting against you, you quietly whisper back to him, “please.... please touch me.”

a rumble sounds in his chest, growling from the pleasure of you inviting him to touch you. the heat radiates from your body, your desperation oozing from your pores. and there’s something else coming from your body, something you’re so ashamed to admit.

mammon’s teasing alone is enough to create wetness between your legs and succumbing to his dominance has your pussy producing more arousal with each throb of your lips.

“ah!” you gasp as a large hand cups your breast. you push his arm away but it only tightens his grip on it. “mammon....”

“these are some sweet tits, mc. shame ya hid ’m from me for so long.”

you have no chance to protest as he moves onto the next, grabbing both your breasts and squeazing hard. you cry out, hoping it would signal for help but it comes out as a moan instead, arousing the audience further.

every demon wants a piece of you, but mammon lays his claim on your body by roaming every inch of it, grabbing every bit of flesh as if it’s the only thing keeping him sane, which might well be true.

with the way he kneads your ass between his rough fingers, you’re just about ready to submit to him completely, to sacrifice your entire body to him so he can have his way and be satisfied.

“fuck,” mammon grumbles as his hands slide lower; you moan and whimper, embarrassed by your helpless position. there’s no way you can come back from this, not when mammon’s hand cups your pussy, rubbing up and down to bring you the relief you so desperately needed. and to his surprise, he finds more than what he expected. “look at that! she soaked through her panties and her shorts.”

“it’s your fault they’re so tight on me....”

“but it’s your fault that you’re this fucking wet,” he reminds you, and you back down with a heavy blush. “you’re the one getting turned on by this, sicko.”

he continues groping you, fondling your tits and squeezing your ass before his hand moves to your front and cups your tight pussy over and over again. you find what energy you have in you to hide your moans but it’s a failed attempt. as quiet as they are, he still hears them.

“fuck,” he groans into your ear, and whispers so no one else can hear his filthy voice. “wanna fuck this pussy so bad.”

“d-don’t….” you whimper, but your resistance earns a harsh grip on your ass. his fingers dig deep into your flesh, sure to leave behind bruises. “stop....”

“hah? you’re telling me, the great mammon, no? darlin’, ya already know how that’s gonna turn out.”

your gaze is blurred by tears — from embarrassment, from shame, from arousal. you can barely understand the plethora of sensations in your body but you do know that mammon touching you is so wrong even if it feels so right.

it confuses you so much that you can’t stop your hand from rising and colliding with his face. at least your gut instincts are still working. you push him away in the moment he is stunned and your palm stings from the slap.

the entire right side of his face burns red as he holds it.

“the fuck?!” he growls, bearing his fangs at you. “you fucking hit me?”

the crowd gasps and mutters as he dives towards you with his fists raised. you brace for impact, ready to be slammed into the wall. he’s never hurt you so badly before, but today just happens to be the day where all lines are crossed.

you gasp, holding up your hands to protect your face but as if time has frozen, you don’t feel the impact coming. when you finally breathe and look up, mammon looks down at you with raging eyes and a contorted face — as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was about to do.

before you can even think to question why he stopped himself, the two demons you least expect to see appear, parting the crowd as they arrive: lucifer, with diavolo trailing behind him.

“what is the meaning of this?” diavolo bellows, his eyes draping down your form.

lucifer’s cheeks burn, not from blushing but rather, anger, embarrassment, humiliation. “what on earth are you wearing?”

regret floods you as you remember your position in their household. and you’ve brought shame onto the brothers for flaunting yourself around rad dressed in what might as well be underwear.

diavolo’s voice is a bit more kind towards you, but he’s definitely pissed. “i’m going to assume you aren’t aware of the dress code within these walls, mc. might i remind you that dressing inappropriately will result in punishment. as will attacking another student. you will both receive detention effective immediately.”

“it was mammon—”

“stop your sputtering,” lucifer snaps. “go change this instant.”

“but….my uniform was stolen.”

“by who?”

you glance slyly to the white–haired demon beside you and your heart hammers. you could tell lucifer now, tell him everything that mammon has ever done to you. but mammon’s death glare scares you. not because of what he might do to you if you snitch, but how you’ll feel if he is ordered to never interact with you again.

you’re sure diavolo would put a stop to the bullying straight away, maybe even move you out of the house of lamentation. but that means you’ll see less of mammon and despite how much you hate him, you’ll feel lonely without his constant unwarranted attention.

“never mind,” you mutter. “i’ll find it.”

you arrived to detention on time, not wanting to anger lucifer any further. thankfully, the eldest had figured out it was mammon who stole your uniform and had him return it. the classroom is empty save for your sorrowful soul.

you hope mammon doesn’t come. he skips detentions just like he skips classes so you’re happy to have some time alone to calm down before heading home.

but as your luck would have it, the demon struts in, spotting you in your seat before striding over to sit beside you.

“you can sit anywhere in the room but you choose to sit next to me?” you scoff. “i thought you were supposed to hate me.”

“i do.”

“then why are you sitting next to me?”

mammon won’t allow that, though. he’s in control. whatever fantasies you have of him being soft and affectionate with you are over the seconds he decides them to be and right now, he puts an end to them by slipping his hand under your blazer and cupping your breast.

“so i can do this.” mammon raises his hand, slowly but it’s still concerning. his fingers brush your hair away from your face and your mind spins from the action. his thumb creeps closer, brushing the soft, sensitive skin of your lips.

you’re afraid to look at him, to see the gentleness hidden beneath his mean facade knowing that you’d fall for it in an instant.

you were beginning to feel the phantom of his touches from earlier, which is nothing if not the biggest red flag. but having his hand places on them again, fondling them eagerly is infinitely better than the memories of his corroding touch.

every second which passes with his hands on you, another part of you is corrupted by him and those few sacred, untouched parts rebel against all odds and finally give you some self–restraint and control.

“don’t touch me!” you whack his arm away and scoot over to the next chair, embarrassed that you almost fell for him again. every single time he teases you with niceties and gentle gestures that border flirtation, you find yourself hoping that it might be real.

but he’s just playing with you like he always has. he wants nothing more than to make you feel like a fool under his charms. your humiliation is food to him.

“come on, you said it was fine earlier. let me do it again.”

“no,” you say firmly. “i don’t want you to touch me anymore.”

mammon huffs. “suit yourself.”

hopefully with a seat between you, he’ll put an end to his interest in you and ignore you just like you’re ignoring him.

but choosing to ignore him would be your biggest mistake because when you glance over, in the corner of your eye you see on his ddd a photo of you naked in the shower. your body jolts at the sight of it.

“what the hell, mammon?!” you scream. “what are you doing?”

“gonna post it on devilgram, duh.”

“wait, mammon! don’t!” you try grabbing for his phone but he yanks your arm away from it and pushes you away.

“come on,” he whistles. “show me your tits.”

“what....”

he threatens you by holding his thumb over the post button. “didn’t want me to touch you, well now you gotta do what i say or i’ll post ’em”

“please, mammon. don’t do this.”

“nuh-uh. you should be on your knees begging me if you want me to stop.”

an inhumane noise releases from your throat. you’re not quite sure what it was — a growl of frustration, a beg for help? you’ll bever know because you’re too busy sinking to your knees pleading for mercy.

“not yet,” mammon stops you before your knees graze the ground. “get your tits out first.”

“what?”

“fuck, how many times do i need to say it?” he stares at you, demanding your obedience and you slowly rise, shamefully removing your blazer. “that’s better.”

his demonic blue–gold eyes cut through your skin and you unbutton your shirt one button at a time, shrugging it off so it falls down your shoulders but still hooked on your elbows. mammon salivates at the sight of your pretty chest.

he’s been waiting to see them since he saw you earlier, but fuck. this is the real deal. your breasts sit nicely in their lacey cups and just like a few hours ago, your slutty nipples poke through.

his hand immediately goes to his crotch and palms himself. you feel sick, disgusted but the way his hand moves against himself and his reddening cheeks turns you on. you try to look away from him, but you simply cannot do so.

“c’mere,” mammon mutters and with the phone in his hand ready to post your nude pictures, you do as he says. “get on your knees.”

when they touch the ground, your body shudders and you settle in front of him. there are no words to describe the way he looks down at you. you almost feel like it’s a blessing to be looked at by him at all.

“take my dick outta my pants.”

“what?”

“are ya dumb or something? take my fucking dick out of my pants.”

you can tell his patience is running thin and you don’t dare to test him further when he waves his ddd in front of your face. you reach up with shaky hands to unzip his pants but he stops you again.

“do it with your mouth.”

what kind of fantasies must he be having to order you to do such a thing? well, they’re the fantasies you play a part in and you’ll play them out exactly as he desires for your own wellbeing, lest the entire devildom see pictures of you naked.

taking the metal zip between your teeth, you pull it down. the button is more difficult to undo but you get there in the end despite mammon cackling at your struggle. next, you bite the fabric before dragging it down his thighs.

the sheer size of his cock amazes you and the ghost of it fills you up just by looking at it. your body is begging for him to be inside you, and you pray he’ll never find out. he ushers you to keep going and in the same way, you pull down his boxers, looking him dead in the eyes as you drag them down with your teeth.

he hisses as his cock is freed, letting it bounce as it twitches to life. cum oozes from his tip and you mindlessly lick your lips.

“suck it.” he says and reluctantly, you inch forward, taking his tip between your lips. your tongue swipes over it, tasting his cum that you can only describe as the only substance you’ll need to survive on from now on.

“fuck,” he groans. “your slutty mouth feels so fucking good.”

your pussy throbs each and every time he calls you a slut no matter how much you hate it and he inspires you to take him deeper in your mouth in hopes of him calling you it again. his fat cock fills your cheeks and you move back and forth, tongue running along his shaft.

he’s thick and hard, too big to fit in your mouth and you can only imagine the size of it tearing your pussy walls apart when he finally finds his home in there.

“ya looked so fucking hot in those shorts,” he grunts. “bet ya loved every minute of it, strutting around like a slut.”

“i’m not,” you mumble around his cock. “i’m not a slut.”

mammon scoffs, somehow able to understand your muffled words while his cock sits heavy in your mouth. he tuts as you pull back, drenching his cock in your saliva. “don’t lie to me, sweetheart. i know what a dirty little slut ya.”

“no…”

“every demon in that hallway was looking at ya and all i could smell was your sweet pussy leaking for me. bet they could all smell it too. bet they wanted ya as bad as i do.”

mammon….wants you?

now, that’s not something you ever thought of being a possibility. but as the words slip from his lips, your lower body heats up even more. there is so much desperation growing between your legs and you can’t hold back.

your nimble fingers find their way between your legs and mammon uses his foot to lift up your skirt and peek at the dirty things you do to yourself underneath it. god, your eyes are just so needy for him as he watches your fingers push in and out of your pussy.

the only thing blocking his view are the panties you pulled to the side and he orders you to take them off. it pains you to obey him again but the ache in your belly hurts so much more. if you listen to him well enough, maybe he’ll fill you up and finally put your body at ease.

after all that’s happened, the only thing you want right now is his fat cock stuffing you to the hilt instead of your amateur fingers which do not dare to match the level of pleasure mammon’s cock can give you.

swallowing bitterly, you gently place your soaked panties in the hand he holds out, feeling your arousal drip down your thighs already.

“you’re such a naughty girl, getting wet like this,” he teases, rubbing his thumb over the soggy patch on your panties. “so fucking bad.”

“i’m not!” you move away from him completely and plead on your knees. “i’m good, i’ve been nothing but good to you and you treat me so horribly!”

mammon supposes he should feel bad seeing you cry, but your cute little sniffles and the way your teary eyes look up at him through sodden lashes, well, it does make him feel bad….for what he’s about to do to you.

“aww, baby,” his hand snakes his hand under your chin. your skin burns from the way his fingers feel so right around your neck. his touch is gentle, guiding you up onto your feet and your knees are so weak that you begrudgingly lean on him for support. “i didn’t mean to make ya cry.”

his voice is soft as he feigns a pout while spouting such a lie. making you cry is a reward for mammon. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was getting off on this.

“what did i do to deserve this?” you whimper.

“oh darlin’” he kisses your cheek, nuzzling into your neck. the softness in his voice is foreign, and the gentle graze of his lips teasing your skin is addicting. “do you want me to stop?”

“huh?”

“want me to stop being mean to ya?”

freeing himself from the intoxicating scent of your pulse, he holds his face close to you with a hand on either side of yours, thumbs stroking your hot cheeks and wiping away tears. a sick feeling builds in your stomach, but a desperate, needy ache grows faster and stronger.

and as loud as they both are, you can only listen to one bodily instinct at a time.

nodding slowly, you don’t tear your eyes away from his hoping he will see how pathetic and miserable and desperate you are. you’d do anything if it means he’ll stop harassing you.

mammon’s wide smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and he leans in, surprising you when his lips touch yours. your eyes grow to an abstractly large size and you don’t dare to move as he glides his lips against yours.

one arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him and his cock presses into your tummy while the other snakes around your shoulders, grabbing your scalp and holding your head in place. despite your best efforts to push him away, you remain with your lips locked onto his.

they’re both hot and cold at the same time, both gentle and destructive. all of your walls break down as he pries your sorry lips apart, swiping his tongue along them before devouring your mouth whole.

you moan and gasp against him, beating his chest with your fists but he refuses to let you go and to your dismay — or delight, you can’t quite tell — his hips begin moving. he grinds into your body, rubbing his bare cock along your tummy and leaving cum stains on your clothes.

every alarm in your body rings loudly and you lose the ability to breathe. your mind fogs up from the lack of air but you’re sure he’s doing this on purpose, not allowing you a single ounce of it and if one manages to slip past your lips, he steals it right away.

you know how he works. what mammon wants, mammon gets and while he deprives you of oxygen, he’s waiting for you to give in.

he forces his tongue deep in your mouth but the feel of it is new and draws out a deeper beast within you, greed and excitement growing in your core. while his cock ruts against you, your hands find it and you slowly stroke him, spreading his pre–cum along his length.

“that’s it. keep doing that,” he groans, lips only inches apart. “good girl.”

a whimper escapes you as the words roll of his tongue and your pussy erupts in sparks.

“what’s that, huh? you like it when i call you good girl?” biting your lip, you nod eagerly, earning another proud smile from him. “hm, maybe i should keep calling ya it. but then again, you’re nothing but a worthless slut.”

mammon grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes you to the cold, hard ground. before you can wiggle away, he has you locked in place with your arms pinned down at the sides and your legs stretched on either side of his hips.

“mammon!” you yelp. “please, no….”

“dontcha ya want me to stop being mean to ya?” he questions, eyes filled with madness as he yanks down your bra and gropes your breasts. holding you in place as you writhe against him, mammon leans down and takes your nipple between his lips. “i’ll stop if you let me fuck your sweet little pussy. it’s a good deal, ain’t it?”

it’s the most horrific deal you’ve ever heard but you’re beyond reasoning at this point. the two things you desire most — for him to fuck you dumb on his cock and for him to stop bullying you — he can give to you right now. there’s no harm in killing two birds with one stone, right? if he’s going to be mean about it, you’ve no choice but to take it given it’s the only chance you’ll ever have to free yourself from him.

“fuck, your tits are so sweet.” he can’t stop playing with them, squeezing them, slapping them and marvelling at the way they jiggle, then pinching your nipples and pulling them taught before releasing them and taking them in his mouth again.

“ah!” you moan. “mammon, don’t…” but the warmth of his lips is welcomed by your body and you arch into him.

burying his face into your breasts, he sucks and bites for what feels like hours, covering your mounds with bruises and when he rises with a gasp, his lips are covered in his saliva. his mini–makeout session with your breasts makes every hair on your body stand tall, all the while, your pussy leaks onto the ground beneath you.

mammon grabs both of your breasts, blessing each of his hands with their softness and rubs his cock head over your puffy lips.

“fucking sugar tits, alright,” he jokes. “ya like it when i call ya that?”

you shake your head violently but the truth is, you haven’t stopped thinking about it since he called you it earlier. it’s such a ridiculous name, so degrading and obscene. yet, your hole clenches over nothing when he calls you it.

“that’s right, sugar tits. i can feel your pussy throbbing against me.” mammon warns. “you’re gonna cum while i call ya sugar tits, ain’t ya?”

shaking your head again, you cry no’s and stop’s but each of them fly past his ears. but a guttural feeling deep down knows you’re glad he won’t listen. your pussy aches for his cock to fill you up, for your name to roll off his lips while he fucks his cum far into your pussy.

“you want this, don’t ya?”

“no,” you sob.

“don’t lie to me, bitch. you know you want it.”

“i don’t!”

oh, but you do.

you want this more than anything but you’d rather him not know because it would only give him more fuel to ruin you with.

“yes, you fucking do,” he forces the answer for you. his grabs his cock and prods it against your hole. it’s so wet and slippery that he almost falls deep inside but he’s using the last remainders of his control to hear you say the words he’s wanted to hear for so long. “you fucking want this. tell me you want this.”

you whine. struggling against him but he pushes you down with his ungodly strength.

“say it or i’ll post the fucking pictures.”

“i want it!” you yelp, the words blurting out against your will. “please, mammon. i want it!”

“that’s what i fucking thought.”

and with that, mammon pushes himself past your hole, his leaking tip digging its way into your pussy. your legs fly in the air as you feel him stretch your walls unbelievably wide.

“fuck! mammon!”

“your pussy’s sucking me in, baby,” he grunts with each thrust. “i knew ya wanted my cock this bad.”

with each rock of his hips, your body drags against the ground and he pins you down in place again, arms at your side and body spread wide for him. his eyes latch onto your tits bouncing with every thrust.

they mesmerise him, the way they knock up and down with each hard thrust acting as hypnosis for the demon and he grows desperate for release.

“fuck, sugar tits,” you clench at the pet name. it’s so humiliating but it feels so fucking good, as good as his cock battering your insides. “such a fucking slut enjoying my cock like this.”

he spits insult after insult, mocking you for your weakness against him. “nothin’ but a dirty little human desperate for some demon cock, huh? bet that’s why ya let me fuck around with ya for so long, because ya wanted this to happen, wanted me to fill your tiny little hole with my cum. isn’t that right?”

“no,” you shake your head, but you’re quickly met with his hands gripping your face harshly. “i mean, yes! yes i wanted this!”

“keep going….” he ruts harder, knocking your insides in the right way.

“i wanted this for so long, mammon!” you cry. “wanted your cock so bad i let you treat me like dirt all this time!”

“that’s right,” mammon groans. “i’m always fucking right about ya. nothin’ but a slutty little hole for me. gonna fucking breed ya with all of my cum, and no one’s ever gonna touch ya but me.”

“oh!” you moan, relishing in the words spilling from his lips. you know he doesn’t mean anything special by it, but you’re so blissed out from his cock that for a moment, it feels real. you’re his and his only in the empty classroom and you feel….special. “mammon, it’s so good!”

“yeah? my cock’s making ya feel good?”

“yes!”

“fucking hell, sugar tits loves my cock,” he yells for the whole school to hear, laughing at your the way your pussy tightens when he says it. “go on, you say it too.”

“huh?” you whine.

“fucking say it, scream it. need the whole fucking devildom to here ya being a slut for me.”

“but—”

“say it, angel. or ya don’t get to cum,” he grins seeing the desperation in your eyes, so obedient to him just for an orgasm. how much more pathetic can you get? “go on, be a good girl and say it.”

“i….i love mammon’s cock….”

“louder.”

“i love mammon’s cock,” you repeat but he still isn’t satisfied. he thrusts into you particularly harshly, a yelp escaping your lips and you hear his message loud and clear, screaming, “i love the great mammon’s cock!”

“that’s right, sugar tits,” he leans down. “ya gonna cum now?”

you nod fervently, desperate for release. his cock drags along your clenching walls, awakening the hidden sweet spots as your nectar leaks around him. “wanna cum! please!”

“go ahead, baby,” he ruts with a deep groan, coming close to the edge himself. “i’m gonna finish inside your filthy little pussy.”

“hhm,” you moan. “you shouldn’t!”

“but i’m gonna anyway.”

all it takes as one more thrust to feel ropes of mammon’s hot cum spurting out into your pussy. his thumb finds your clit and pinches it, pulls it, then circles it roughly while pushing his cum deeper inside you with his cock. seconds later, ecstasy washes over you and your body loses control, spasming against his cock as you arch deeper into it. your walls are painted white with his cum and his cocks remains sheathed in your pussy as you writhe through your prolonged orgasm.

“fuck!” you squeal. “it feels so fucking good!”

“holy shit,” mammon groans, hissing when he finally pulls out from your hot mess of a pussy. “that was fucking amazing, huh?”

he falls back, watching your body twitch and tremble and his cum pours out from between your legs, giving him the perfect idea. he reaches for his ddd and opens the camera, facing it towards your blissed the fuck out body.

“hey, sugar tits,” you look at him, haunted by the sick grin on his face. “smile for the camera.”

“wait, mammon—”

“shaddup,” he mumbles and seconds later, several snaps of his camera sound. you yelp, covering your chest and closing your legs in a weak attempt. but mammon’s strength is far to superior to yours and he yanks your legs back open. “i gotcha now, angel.”

“what…?”

he snaps several more pictures and even a short film of his cum gushing out of your pussy. “fuck, i could sell these for some real grimm.”

the way his eyes light up terrifies you and you want nothing more than to curl up into a ball and cease to exist. if he did, your life in the devildom would truly be over. you’d have no dignity remaining from what little of it was left anyway.

“you said you’s stop!” you cry. “you promised you wouldn’t mess with me anymore if i let you fuck me!”

“ya didn’t actually believe that, did ya?”

the world comes crashing down on your heavy, aching body and you’re overcome with violent sobbing. all hope is lost; there’s nothing good left for you now. mammon has made sure of that.

“why? why are you doing this to me?”

“because you’re nothing but a worthless slut. but you’re fun to play with, i’ll give ya that.”

every nerve on your body aches with humiliation. and what’s worse is knowing mammon gets off to it every single time.

how could you ever think you would mean something to him? you know your place full and well yet you still strived to be something more to him, when in reality, all you are is a toy for him to play with, a pathetic human designed for him to ruin in every way.

“p-please….” you sob. “please don’t tell anyone.

“that’s right, angel. you better do everything i say from now on, or else the entire fucking devildom is gonna know how much of a greedy slut ya are. fuck, ya were so fucking desperate for me to breed ya.”

your heart collapses into your stomach; you were a fool to ever believe him. his words and his touches twisted their way into your core and you gave into your sickly attraction to him. but what’s done is done and the best you can do now is some damage control.

“y–you won’t show the pictures to anyone….right?”

mammon scoffs with his devilish grin refusing to leave his face. your skin tingles as he glares at you. despite his terrible attention span and low grades, mammon is smart when he wants to be and smart he is by hacking away at all of your strength, leaving you with nothing but weakness and in the position he’s been wanting you in since the beginning.

“i won’t….for a price,” he grins. “what are ya willing to do to stop me from showing ‘em?”

with one question spilling from his lips, your mind shatters upon the realisation that your existence is now in his hands. you swallow, giving up on all of your pride and courage and hoping desperation will help you. and you really hope it will because that’s all you have left.

“anything. i’ll do anything.”

“good,” his eyes are dark like deep water as he leans over you again, engulfing your pitiful body in his scent. your heart races, tears soaking your eyes as you officially sign away your life to him. “because from now on, you’re the great mammon’s personal slut.”

[spiderlot]

i've been thinking about lottie shoving taissa literally all day i need her to roughhouse with me so fucking bad.... like lowkey i'd be purposely agitating her just so she'll raise her voice at me.. idc if it makes me tear up ima be hard as fuck 🤣

like.. pulling her away from travis or whoever she's drugging today and kinda just wrestling with her until we're away from the crime scene, shoving her against a tree and kissing her until she's forgotten why she's even fighting back 😭 letting her get out all her energy and aggression out on you... while also using it as an excuse to get out some of your Own built up emotion 🤔 constantly fighting for who's on top😭 one second she's pounding into you and the next you're riding her like your life depends on it... we gonna be muddy as fuck after man 🤣🤣

-🍊

no yeah like ive been thinking about it too....i had a dream after the episode about her shoving you too hard and accidentally breaking your wrist that i wanted to do a lil thing on but idkosdfs. her automatic response being to shove whoever's in her way....🤤🤤🤤🤤

in the new trailer she was already on her way to travis like GIRL -__- its a mix of jealousy and genuine concern especially for travis because you know lottie's making things worse even if she doesn't think she is :/ being with them whenever they lottie decides to channel the wilderness again and you're basically travis's trip sitter cos lottie ain't doing shit 🤣 telling her you think that's enough for today and she's so disappointed and kinda glares at you on the walk back... tiny arguments in her hut about letting her do her thing with travis and she wont listen to your side and u always get annoyed

trying to stop it when travis starts crying but she just kinda huffs at you and pushes your hand off when you grab her shoulder to pull her back. but ur also weirdly turned on at her screaming along with his cries 😭 just shoving each other once she gets up @__@ pushing a little too hard because of ur jealousy and she just pushes back even harder...Need. wrestling with her all the way until you're alone, pushing her up against a tree and asking what the fuck her problem is. she's all breathless as she yells at you and tries to explain what she was doing, and she's all up in your face 🤤 getting her to shut up by kissing her and she bites your lip... mumbling "fuck you" under her breath while kissing because it's such a good distraction and she's angry that it worked...

constantly flipping each other over and shoving the other against the tree as you makeout until she just pushes you down on the ground @__@ rough groping....lottie putting her hand around your throat as she unzips her pants and takes out her cock, she already knows you're soaked from this and starts inchig her way into your hole...getting her to break just a little when you ride her and loving it 😇 but also soft kisses after you both get everything out :(

[theside-b]

I cannot stress enough how homoerotic Red Blue is:

The story revolves around MMA fighting, which, much like wrestling, is just an excuse for straight men to grope each other.

The cast is a sausage fest - seriously, take a look at the cast sheet, there is NO woman in sight.

Main character's motivation is that a guy was consistently nice to him and that made him feel a certain way and he didn't like it. If this isn't an extreme case of internalized homophobia, I don't know what it is.

Much like a lot of shonen stories out there, most of the conflict presented could have been resolved if the two dudes just fucked it out of their systems.

I also want to point out the absurdity of these late 20s/almost 30 year old actors playing teenagers, and not late teens either, Makoto Hasegawa is 16 in this lmao.