#and i was . you know. dr*nk

[lusalemaart]

dump of doodles. naturally. i hardly draw anymore.

[cozydiiary]

Pilates Diet / Workout Plan

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ

Diet Plan

Day 1: 800 c4ls

Day 2: OMAD

Day 3: 600 c4ls

Day 4: 800 c4ls

Day 5: 600 c4ls

Day 6: OMAD

Day 7: 800 c4ls

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ

M€al Ideas:

~ oatmeal w/ fruit

~ grilled chicken or tofu w/ green beans

~ yogurt bowl w/ fruit & granola

~ boiled egg & avocado salad

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ

Sn4ck / Dr!nk Ideas:

~ banana or other fruit

~ cottage cheese

~ rice cake w/ hummus & cucumbers

~ green smoothie

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ

W0rk0ut Plan

Day 1: Full Body

Day 2: Flat Stomach

Day 3: Rest Day

Day 4: Full Body

Day 5: Thighs / Legs

Day 6: Rest Day

Day 7: Arms / Back

Remember to stretch before and after exercising each day, and take your rest days seriously!! You need them.

This is my first time making a d!et / w0rk0ut plan so if this doesn’t make sense or isn’t good, please let me know! This is what I plan to follow soon.

[aajjks]

Love Fuckin’ (m)

synopsis. You love feeling him so deep inside you after a nightmare.

rating: 18+ (explicit smut)

warning: expl-cit sex, k—ssing, unpr-tect-d sex, r-ugh sex, m-ssionary, posess-veness, borderline y-ndere gojo, f-ngering, he’s dr-nk, manga sp-ilers, nightm-res, drúnk gôjô.

note. This is for all the Gojo fuckers out here. I love him and I need him and I fucking hate sukuna and GEGE. fuck u both please share your feedback. I love you guys. Enjoy. Also this contains manga spoilers. Reposted.

You wake up in cold sweat.

Gojo was cut in half.

When you look around he’s not by your side, the sweat on your forehead falls down, what if dream is your upcoming reality?

It’s midnight,, there’s thunderstorm, and you’re so fucking lonely and scared— no you’re terrified.

Where is he? “Satoru…”

you curl yourself in bed, your paranoia slowly creeping up, your dream felt so vivid, so real.

Your boyfriend died in the nightmare.

As you think about your vivid dream, you can’t help but cry softly to yourself, you love him so much, he loves you so much.

Gojo’s love makes you feel so alive. You need him. You need him so badly right now. you want to touch him to make sure that he’s OK

God please…

You pray for his safety, goodness you need your boyfriend with you right now. You know he’s the strongest, he can protect himself but you’ll only calm down once he’s in your arms.

“Baby…” your eyes widen in surprise as the door of your bedroom opens and there’s him, a little sloppy with his steps as he comes in.

“Sa-Satoru…” you fall out, taking your blanket off as you see his soaked body. He stares at you with a weird gaze, “ynnnn..” he slurs out.

He’s drunk.

“You are drunk!” You glare at him, your tears now dry, sense of relief washes over you when you see him in his glory. He is okay and that dream of yours was just a stupid nightmare.

Gojo doesn’t reply but he walks over to you, his hair wet, the outline of his muscles showing through his soaked shirt and you feel his strong arms wrap around your body.

“My pretty baby…” he looks at you with his vibrant blue eyes, you glare at him. “Oh you horny fucker no.” You cuss at him.

He’s got that Look in his eyes, you know him like the back of your hand, despite him not saying anything about getting intimate with you yet you can tell he wants you.

Gojo pouts before you watch him kick his pants off, you don’t stop him, soon he’s taking off his clothing.

Getting completely bare.

“you stupid bastard why are you getting naked?”

You tease him acting, angry,

He pushes you towards him, your chest hitting his, and before you say anything else he pulls you into a bruising hot kiss.

His lips meet yours feverishly as he shoves his tongue in your mouth, demanding entrance and you grab his face kissing him back.

Satoru moans into your mouth, grinding his hard erected dick against your clothed thigh. That sends shivers down your spine. “Yn baby let me fuck youuu I need you.” He whines against your mouth.

You know he’s asking for consent, so you nod, and that’s all he needs before he pushes you onto your shared bed

You wait for his next move and he climbs on top of you, and soon he sticks his two large fingers inside you after taking your panties off which were hidden by your night dress.

“o-oh fuck.” You shiver, arching your back. His fingers make you feel so full and the way you clench around them makes Saturo grunt.

“where the fuck were you? I had a nightmare…” you try to surpass the noise that threaten to escape your throat when you tell him about your nightmare, but he’s just so mercilessly fucking you with his fingers.

“Aw baby you had a nightmare?” He asks, his face closer to yours as he buries his head in your neck and starts to kiss your neck, all over.

You moan again, “y-yeah.. I had a dream that you died… you were cut in half..” a tear escapes your eye because of the intensity of the pleasure of his fingers inside you or maybe because of the pain due to the nightmare you had.

but then you hear him laugh as he takes out his fingers right as you cum on them, as you chase your orgasm you’re confused as to why he’s laughing at your misery.

“Baby you taste so amazing… fuck.” He runs his tongue on your arousal on his fingers, licking them clean.

He’s so nasty and so lewd.

“Why the hell are you laughing? I love you and I thought I lost you.” You whine.

He doesn’t say anything, but he kisses you again, hungrily shoving his tongue inside your mouth.

“No one can kill Gojo Saturo… he always be alive baby. Don’t you see me right in front of you?” He peppers, your face in kisses, leaving you breathless with his former kiss.

You’re not sure if he’s being ignorant or.. sympathetic.

Or maybe he’s just telling you the truth.

Gojo looks at you loving his eyes full of love for you, “come on, let me make you feel just how alive I am as I fuck you senseless on my cock.”

And without a warning, he thrusts inside you violently.

And suddenly all the coldness from this rainy night disappears, the heat of his body making your night incredibly hot.

[shuksstuff-blog]

Menjubo Madam

Hubungan aku dengan Madam ni mcm pasangan bercinta juga, kadang dia punya moody, letih juga nk melayan pe'el org tua ni, Ada sekali tu terkantoi, aku bawak awek office lunch, dijadikan cerita, naik kereta Audi yg dia belikan utk aku, memang ribut melandalah jawabnya. Aku igtkan dia dh fly ke KK, follow up dgn master payment disana, jadi aku curi2 la ngejas awek office bangunan sebelah, dua tiga kali mcm ada respond, jd bermodalkan Audi, manatau dapat merasa pepek muda. Belum smpat lunch, What App masuk, "I' ll Kill You", 'I know what you do!" dpt msg dr Madam, Ahh sudah, bisik hati aku, apahal pulak org tua ni,.   Selang beberapa minit, call in masuk,. aku swipe reject, nk makan kot. Dia call lg, aku swipe reject lg.

Selesai lunch, plan aku nk memantat dgn awek ni, tak jadi hari ni, kene lah postpone, jd aku trus drive blk office, hantar juga awek office sebelah. Aku melangkah masuk office aku je, Madam berdiri didepan meja aku, smbil tgnnya memeluk tubuhnya yg menampakkan tetek selambak dia tu. "Shut the door!" dgn nada yg tinggi, aku perasan staff2 lain terkejut dgn nada madam, sblm ni dia sorg yg peramah, jarang nk tggikan suara. Aku berjalan ke arah kerusi aku, dan duduk. "What wrong hunny?", nadaku yg rendah niat memujuk madam. "Dont you even 'hunny hunny' with me!, where are you going with that Bitch?!" aku agak terkedu bila madam berbahasakan begitu. Aku pun respond dgn baik, "I dont get it? who is the Bitch? i dont understand madam?". "Well the Bitch you taking to lunch just now!". "I see, are you jealouse with the "bitch" madam? and didnt you know who is the bitch rite now?"

Pertengkaran kami agak lama, cumanya lain staff tak la dgr sgt apa yg kami bertengkar. "I give you everything, anything, then you did this to me?" smbil mengalir airmatanya, suara yg menengkin td, kini dh redha. Aku memegang bahu madam, aku urut2kan supaya lebih tenang. "I know you love me rite?", smbil madam menggangguk tunduk, mukanya masih malu melihat aku. Aku mengaku yg aku ada keluar lunch dgn ex girlfriend aku dlu, walhal bukan pun, awek tu baru aku nk mencuba nasib. "Then what is she so special to you?" balas madam "you already touch all of me rite?". "Dont get mad when im telling you the truth, can you?" tnya aku kepada madam, dia hanya menggangguk saja. "Okay, she gave me all her hole, not only pussy". "Then let me give it to you also!, you want it now?" mencelah madam. Hatiku makin riang apabila umpan utk anal madam berjaya. "If that thing are special, why on earth you want to give rite now?, dont you want to take trip, only with me?" smbil memeluk madam, dia kini mendongan memandang aku, melebarkan senyumannya, dan kiss bibir aku, "i'll booked flight ticket now, we heading tmw". Oh senangnya bisik hati aku

Entah apa si madam ni discuss dgn boss aku, boss aku call, "Tmr, assist madam to Langkawi, this week im still at Bangkok, see you next Monday". belum smpat aku kata okay, dia letak fon. Sesampai saja kami di Airport Langkawi, ada kereta pick up kami terus ke Datai Hotel, dh macam honeymoon dgn madam kali ni di Langkawi, selesai check in, kami berangkat ke Cable Car, melayan la si madam berpimpin tgn, sebelah malamnya pulak, aku hanya bwk madam ke Rasta Hut Chenang, sesambil madam meneguk whiskey, aku dapatkan Weed, sebalut dua di bar, madam pun kian mabuk, aku ajak madam blk bilik.

Sesampai di bilik, madam terlalu horny, dlm lift pun dh meraba btg aku. Dilondehnya seluar aku, madam mencari btg nikmatnya utk diisap. Weed yg aku kena ni boleh tahan dengungnya, btg aku makin mencanak bila diisap rakus oleh madam, madam yg tanpa seurat benang masih hot dan bergetah, aku baringkan madam di katil, lidah aku laju mencari pussy, sesmbil aku memasukkan jari ke lubang jubur madam, masih dara, boss aku mesti tak reti anal. "Ahh, ahh ahh, plss fuck me babe" rayu madam bila pussynya terlalu becak dan stim. Batangku merodok pussy madam, menyentak2 madam dikerjakan aku, madam yg terkulai membiarkan saja aku meratah tubuhnya, seakan akan menurut nafsukunmenghambakan dirinya. Aku meminta madam menonggeng utk doggy, Clup clup clup, pussy madam menerima tujahan dr batang aku, terkemut2 pussy madam, dan akhirnya, aku melumurkan air pussy madam di lubang juburnya, batangku menekan kedalam jubur madam, madam tersentak "ahh, sakit". keluh madam, kian lama sakitnya hilang, rengekkan madam kini lain dari rengek bila pussy nya di tujah, kali ini lebih ganas bunyinya. "Arhg arghh arhgh, it fit baby, arhhh arhhh" moaning dr madam membuatkan aku hilang keruan. Sentakan demi sentakan btg aku, jubur madam semakin longlai, madam hanya akur dia diliwat ganas oleh staffnya, aku memancutkan benihku ke dlm lubang jubur madam, madam terdampar, dan aku menindihnya, batang masih lg dikemut2 oleh jubur madam.. kami berdua tertidur.

Sesedarnya aku, madam masih tidur, mungkin kepenatan, aku mencari stok weed smlm, smbil balut dibalcony, madam dgn shower robe, memeluk aku dr belakang, terasa panas tetek madam dibelakang aku. Madam mencium leher aku, meraba2 badan aku, bila aku pusing mengadap dia, btg aku dh terpacak. "Woaaa, always hard yaa, wait ya i need to take shower first". smbil mencuit btg aku. Madam meluru ke bathroom, punggungnya melentok2 semasa jalan, geram je aku tgk, tak padan dgn berumur, nafsu makcik cina ni masih berdarah muda, mungkin boss aku tak pernah melayan mcm aku, pancut je tido, pancut je tido.. Madam hanya berendam di dlm bathtub, aku berdiri disebelahnya, dicapai btg aku, terus masuk mulut dan hisap. Aksi kami di bathroom berlarutan, btgku hanya mensasar lubang jubur madam, akan tetapi, pussy madam aku rodok dgn jari hingga berlendir, barulah aku mula menujah jubur madam. Nafas madam semakin liar, juburnya tidak lagi mampu menahan tusukan btgku, dn akhirnya madam climax, pussynya memancut2 air dn meleleh di pehanya d keaddan madam berdiri dan menonggeng menahan di basin toilet, kaki madam longlai kesedapan, aku menahan dr madam jatuh, aku smbung fick jubur madam, "Arghh, arghh, arghh, baby cum in me baby" rakus rengekan madam. Aku menghaburkan mani aku lagi ditempat yg bukan sepatuynya.. Madam tak berhenti kemut kesedapan, badan madam berpeluh2 akibat pertarungan kami berdua.

To be continue..

[thesakuragarnet]

Carnal Addictions (Dabi X Fem! Reader)

Summary: After a rough day at work, you come home to find your wanted lover lying in wait.

[Part two of my Yandere Dabi X Support Course Graduate Fem!Reader mini series] Sequel to Crimes Of Passion

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! S3XUAL TAGS WILL BE HIDDEN BELOW THE KEEP READING BUTTON!

Non-Spicy Tags: swearing, smut, Yandere-ish Dabi, drinking, childhood friends, Support Course Graduate Fem!Reader, Second Person POV, established relationship, possessive/obsessive Dabi, making out, questionable relationship (Toxic but also non-toxic...like edible playdough), Dabi has that tongue from that one Horikoshi drawin where he's in the suit (the stans know the one), cuddling, b!nge dr!nking (just a wee bit)

Word Count: 2,101 words

AO3 link

Spicy Tags: explicit s3xual content, 0ral fixation, ma$turbat!on, drunk s3xy times (Dabi is just h0rny and drunk basically), finger sucking, rough 0ral s3x, overst!mulation, d!rty talk, slight choking, bl0wj0bs, cunn!lingus, 69, n!ppleplay/licking, face-f*cking, vag!nal f!ngering, v0cal during s3xy times, neck kissing, c0me swallowing, praise k!nk

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It'd been a week since your encounter with Dabi...and, truthfully, you still didn't know what to make of it. He was obsessed with you to a point where it was crucially concerning...and yet, you weren't exactly complaining. You loved the attention. He was comfortingly familiar; your best friend and guardian angel brought back to life in the form of an animalistic villain who would burn the world for you. It was certainly the most thrilling part of your life...and the most exciting that it had been in years. Dabi was very adamant that you remain at your apartment rather than bring you to the League of Villains' base. He wanted to keep you safe...away from anyone who may seek to use you as leverage or bait. Still...it was apparent that you two were...something of a couple at the very least. Dabi was staying over every chance he could, and the feeling of someone watching over you was now sickeningly stronger than ever. You would look over your shoulder as you worked, expecting to see his silhouette, but he was always out of sight. 

...

You'd finally finished the prototype for the temperature controller, and, rather than hand it off to your client, you'd decided to bring it home for Touya to try out. You carry the briefcase in one hand and your apartment keys in the other as you shove them into the lock of your apartment. The second you turn the keys, you're blasted with the scent of alcohol and smoke.

"Finally home, princess?" Dabi's gravelly voice echoes off the walls as you slip inside the darkness, closing the door behind you. As your eyes adjust, you can make out the familiar blazing cerulean flame that casts shadows across the walls, gently dancing from a candlewick. He's sitting down on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table with a tall bottle of booze in his hand. He lifts the bottle to his lips, his eyes trained on yours intently as he gulps the alcohol, draining half the bottle without taking a breath. The collection of empty bottles sprawled on the floor tells you that he's been rooting through your stash that was meant to just be for parties and special events. 

"How long have you been here?" You scoff, your cheeks tinting pink when you realize his eyes are starting to drag across your body...borderline analyzing you. Dabi chuckles darkly when he puts the bottle down, visibly very drunk; he simply shrugs, snickering to himself as he leans back, putting his hands behind his head and staring at you lustfully. 

"Long enough. You shouldn't have kept me waiting," He mutters snidely, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Y'know...you're looking-hic-looking pretty good tonight."

"I'm in my work clothes," You reply flatly, walking toward him and setting the briefcase on the table, "I brought you something to try."

Dabi clicks his tongue, and he reaches out, grabbing your wrist. "There's something else I wanna try," He grins, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes. 

"Touya, I really think you need to see this-" You start, only for Dabi to forcefully jerk you onto the couch, where you land with a grunt on the cushions beside him. He roughly grabs you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him before he sloppily presses his lips against yours. He reeks of alcohol and ash, and you can taste the liquor on his long, warm tongue as it prods against your own. He practically sticks it down your throat, and you can feel the healed stitches in the back of it as you tentatively tease back. You raise your hands, trying to push him away when he wraps his arms around your body, pulling you even closer as he groans lowly into the kiss. Your eyelids flutter shut, coating your vision in darkness. 

"Mmmmm, I missed youuuu," He pants as he briefly pulls away before his lips smash against yours once again. "You taste so good, baby," He groans, the alcohol clearly filling his brain with nothing but lewd ideas. His words send a chill down your spine, making you shudder. You have to admit, Dabi's possessive obsession with you is exhilarating. His upper lip is soft while his scarred, bottom lip is rough, and the contrasting sensations in his kiss always make your heart skip a beat. Dabi's tongue traces the roof of your mouth, and one hand roughly grips your shoulder while the other one disappears. The faint sound of rustling fabric reaches your ears, followed by more intense groans from Touya...borderline moaning between each hasty kiss. You open one of your eyes, squinting through the darkness as you continue to kiss the villain. You can see Dabi's arm moving, and it doesn't take you long to realize he's palming himself through his jeans, hips slowly grinding his clothed erection against his hand. 

"Touya!" You gasp as you pull away, eyes trained on the straining fabric; the unmarred flesh between Dabi's scars on his face glows red. 

"Couldn't help it, princess. I'm so-hic-so...I want you so bad," He slurs, his other hand coming up to caress your cheek before he gently pulls down your bottom lip with his thumb. You freeze, unsure of what to do before he slowly presses his thumb into your mouth and onto your tongue. 

"Suck," He commands under his breath, and, as if in a trance, you comply, completely hypnotized. Dabi's eyelids flutter, and he leans forward to softly sink his teeth into the side of your neck. He pulls you into his lap, and you gasp when you feel his hard cock pressing against you through both of your clothes. Dabi pulls his thumb out of your mouth and thrusts his middle and pointer finger in its place, almost making you gag with how far he sticks them inside. You cough, and Dabi chuckles under his breath, dragging them across your tongue as you attempt to suck on them. 

"Good girl," He practically growls, reaching up under your pleated skirt and pulling your panties to the side. Roughly, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth...and promptly slips them into your dripping cunt. You cry out in surprise, and Dabi shuts you up with another deep kiss that makes you relax. 

"So wet for me, baby," He hushes, biting his bottom lip as he pulls away from the kiss. He unbuttons your blouse with his free hand while his fingers pump inside you. He's being a little rougher than usual because he's drunk, but he's certainly more vocal and reactive. 

"My beautiful princess," Dabi slurs out in a breathy whisper as he pushes your bra up above your breasts, not bothering to unclasp it before he wraps his lips around one of your nipples. Your moans pitch higher and louder at the combined stimulation, and you look down to see his ocean-blue eyes boring into you. "Mine," He whispers around your tit, attempting to force the whole thing in his mouth as if his life depends on it. He squeezes your other breast, his warm, calloused thumb ghosting over one nipple as his tongue teases the other. 

"Oh Touya~," You whimper, and he groans at the mention of his real name. He curls his fingers in just the right spot, and you cry out even louder. 

"Fuck, I need more of you," Touya rasps, and, hastily, he pulls his fingers out. Before you can protest, he takes hold of your shoulders and flips you over. You frantically put your hands on his legs to brace yourself from falling, and you feel Dabi grab your thighs, jerking your pussy toward his face as he lies down. You slide up his body until your face is just above his clothed erection. 

WHOOSH!

In one swift motion, he tears off your skirt and panties, leaving you bare, and without a word, he shoves his face between your legs. His enchantingly warm tongue traces up and down your slit, and he sighs at the taste, muttering soft words of drunken praise. It feels so fucking good. The moment his tongue touches your clit, you flinch, only for him to pull you closer, forcing you to let him pleasure you. Your name is on his lips, and, in the heat of the moment, you start unzipping his pants, pulling out his throbbing cock. Dabi gasps as you wrap a hand around his dick, slowly leaning forward to place your lips around the tip. 

"Fuck," He moans before slipping his tongue inside your slit, gently lapping against your insides, making you squirm. He digs his sharp, serrated nails into your thighs as he tongue-fucks you, moving your hips. 

"Touya," You whimper with your mouth full of his cock as you feel pleasure building up in your lower back. You bob your head up and down, sucking like your life depends on it. Effortlessly, Dabi pulls his tongue out and lifts you up higher to suckle your clit, and you deepthroat in response, taking him all the way in until your eyes are watering and your nose touches his balls. 

"Ohhhh, damn princess," Dabi growls, swirling his tongue around and around in just the right spot, making your heartbeat race as pleasure stirs deep within. You pull back, a string of spit connecting his tip with your lips as you dissolve in pure ecstasy. 

"Touya-Touya-I'm-" You gasp breathlessly between wanton moans as Touya holds you up, eating you out with an intense hunger. 

"Come for me...Come for me princess...I want it...I want it so bad," Dabi snarls desperately, and your voice pitches higher and higher until your orgasm comes crashing down through your entire body. Even after you've came, Dabi still doesn't stop. 

"Fuck, you taste so good," Dabi moans like a porn star as he continues to devour you, despite your overstimulated whimpers that spill from your lips. Frantically trying to distract yourself, you turn your attention back to Dabi's dick, which twitches the moment you press your lips to his leaking tip. Immediately, one of Dabi's hands crawls up your lower back and presses down harshly as he thrusts his hips, forcing your head down and making you gag. 

"Suck that cock, baby," He groans, finally pulling away from your overwhelmed cunt to lean back and sigh in drunken pleasure. Your eyes brim with tears as you breathe heavily through your nostrils, completely submitting to Touya as he face-fucks you. He rocks his hips, breaths coming out labored and heated as he twitches in your mouth. 

"You're doing so good, love," Touya slurs, his hand that's putting pressure on your back snaking up to gently grasp at your hair. Your heart flutters at the praise, and it only takes a few more seconds before he's spilling down your throat.

"Fuuuuuuuck," He moans loud and low, his fingernails raking down your back as you swallow it all. You take a deep breath, gently pulling back and wiping the tears from your eyes and the spit from your mouth before moving to lie on top of Dabi on the couch, resting your head gently on his chest. 

"That feels...so much better," He hums, laughing softly to himself before he yawns. 

"Rough day?" You ask, looking up at him as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. 

"Why'd ya think I've been drinkin'," Dabi sighs, looking down at you with a serene, content expression. 

"You wanna get into something more comfortable and come to bed?" You propose, your fingers tracing the bit of unmarred flesh on his pecs that's exposed by his V-neck. 

"May need help...I'm...pretty sloshed," Dabi admits with a grin.

"I can show you what I brought for you in the morning. C'mon," You sigh as you slowly get off the couch and extend your hand for him to take. Dabi looks up at you with tired eyes and a blissed-out smile from the afterglow before he grabs it. Carefully, you help guide him to the bedroom, where you both officially strip down to nothing and cuddle close under the covers. 

"I wasn't too rough tonight, was I, princess?" Dabi yawns as he spoons you, burying his face into the top of your head. 

"Never," You grin softly, bringing the back of his hand to your lips and kissing it. Dabi chuckles darkly behind you, and you can hear the alcohol-fueled grin on his face as he says:

"Don't say never...you might be giving me a challenge."

[alimaybankkk]

𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

summary: when you’re drunk, a boy helps you out and eventually ends up pairing you back up with your childhood best friend. although, your dad isn’t too happy about you sneaking back in late at night, and in the morning, there’s a lot to reflect on.

warnings: abus!e, getting dr!nk, (trying to avoid cl lol), idrk

JJ WAS NOT AN AFFECTIONATE PERSON. 

even if he was, who would he have to be affectionate to?

his friends, maybe.

pope, kiara and john b, the people who knew him best weren’t much of affectionate people either. is that why they were friends? is that why they were drawn to each other? jj would never know.

but it didn’t matter. it really didn’t. he never even thought about giving love to other people. he thought about giving people laughs.

if he wanted to give someone love, it would be as simple as a hug.

until he met her.

WHEN HE met her, she’d been drunk. she’d chugged beer after beer at a kegger at the boneyard, giving her a hazy view of the blonde that now stood in front of her. 

he’d reached out to her shoulder blades, trying to balance her after she’d stepped on a sea shell. blood was now gushing from her bare foot in the sand. 

and so there was no need to tell her she was pretty. sure, jj was a douche for constantly playing girls, but he wasn’t as bad as to sleep with someone who was under the influence.

she was pretty, though, jj had thought. he knew it killed him not to say anything. he would usually be trying to shotgun with a girl like her, but judging the way she had wobbled the entire night, it didn’t look like she needed any more beer—and that was rich coming from jj.

and so he vowed not to do so much as flirt when he had saw her. it was the first time even trying to talk to a girl he would usually want to sleep with but couldn’t. he had no way to be certain of how to go about it, so he treated her like he would his friends.

“hey,” he said, gripping her shoulders strongly. “you good?”

she flashed a grin, showing her bright white teeth. they had a bit of pizza in them which made jj giggle on the inside. but just as she opened her mouth, she leaned over and gagged.

jj almost gagged himself. he never really knew how to deal with vomit.

no vomit came out, but he knew there was only a matter of time. “hey, hey, you good?”

he immediately grabbed her arm and took her to a nearby clump of bushes, holding her hair back.

she held her stomach, reaching up to her throat and let it all out.

after a good three minutes, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked at jj through her lashes. “thank you.”

jj’s heart fluttered as he rocked in place for a second. “ ‘f course..”

“what—what’s your name?” she asked, sitting down on the ground. she rested her elbows on her knees and sat slightly forward. 

“’s jj… maybank,” he said.

she smiled, looking to her right. “i’m y/n.”

“nice to meet you,” he said. “so, you have a ride home, right?”

she didn’t answer. she just stared and bit her lip. 

“if you do, you should probably get going. you’re shitfaced.”

she sighed. “‘m gonna figure it out, okay, jj?”

“what—do you not have a ride?” 

“i said i’ll figure it out,” she smiled, giving an encouraging smile.

“listen,” he began. he sighed and ran his callused fingers through his hair. “i have a friend. he hates these things and he ‘keeps the signal clear.’ he can take you home. he always takes us home. i don’t think he’ll mind if he has to miss out on the party a little bit.”

“what’s his name?” 

“heyward. pope, heyward. his name—his name is pope,” jj spluttered.

“i know him,” she looked around. “childhood friend of mine.”

jj was shocked. he’d hardly ever met anyone who’d known his friends before. they were, including him, locals with fake identities who no one really knew of. “great. i’m sure, sure, that you’d trust him to take you home….”

“yeah,” she nodded. “can you come?”

“what?” 

“you helped me. i’d feel a lot safer if you came.”

he nodded quickly. “yeah—yeah that’s cool.”

thirty minutes later, the car was silent as pope drummed his fingers on the wheel. he sighed, turning to look at her in the eyes. “i honestly can’t believe you.”

“sorry?”

“sorry, that came out wrong,” pope mumbled awkwardly. “what i meant was, i’ve known you for so long, and i’ve never believed you would get that shitfaced.”

“i’m not even that bad.”

jj laughed from the back of the car and pope gave him a look saying, who do you think you are?

“hell yeah you are, chicky,” he laughed.

“chicky?” jj questioned.

“it’s what i used to call her,” pope explained. “her grandparents call her chickabiddy, and i just shortened the nickname.”

“cute.” jj rolled his eyes.

“i’m sorry, do you have a problem?” pope snapped.

“you guys are just like… flirting. i hate third wheeling…”

“ew,” y/n squealed, fake gagging. her drunken state was starting to come back into her actions. “pope my brother.”

“pope is not your brother…” pope laughed.

“pope like my brother.”

“pope like your brother.”

“at least explain a little bit of this to me,” jj suggested. “how do you guys know each other? why did you guys stop talking?”

“we know each other because of our parents,” pope spoke. “my mom was best friends with her mom, then our dads got close. we stopped talking because…” pope looked at her, a sad look in his eyes. 

“‘cause what?” jj asked.

“pope, no,” she begged, grabbing his arm. 

“nothing in our control,” pope simply sighed. she gave him a look, silently saying, thank you.

“what?” jj asked. “what’s going on?”

“you know what, j, just drop it.” pope ordered. “drop it.”

jj sighed, ripping his hat off his head. “whatever, man.”

y/n sighed. she couldn’t help but feel sorry for jj. she knew exactly what it was like to be left out of conversations, to be left without knowledge. but no matter what, this was not something she wanted anyone else to know about.

especially someone she hardly knew.

but, maybe i shouldn’t think about jj like that, she thought. he took care of me.

maybe it would be different in the morning, though. after all, she was drunk.

eventually, the rugged voltswagen bus pulled into y/n’s neighborhood, but she grabbed pope’s arm aggressively. “pope, i need you to pull around back. you remember the road to get there?”

he sighed, eyes projecting understanding. “yeah.”

jj was starting to get angry. he was getting tired of being left out.

once pope had pulled around the back, she’d given him a goodbye hug combined with a thank you hug and then opened her door after muttering thanks, bye, jj.

he felt upset he got less than pope. but he hardly knew her, so what did it matter? “wait, y/n!” he called.

she turned around, hair blowing in the wind. to jj, she looked like a goddess. his knees buckled even in his seat. “let me walk you in. you’re drunk, remember?”

she bit her lip. “you sure?”

“positive.”

he got out of the car, jogging to where she stood. he chuckled as he linked arms with her, suppressing a giggle from her plump lips.

man, that laugh, jj thought. he hardly knew her, but he knew for sure that he could listen to it for hours. he even wanted to record it on his phone so he could listen to it on replay for hours.

attempting to go around to the front of the house, she stopped him. “i’m over here.”

jj furrowed his brows. “you’re not going in through the front door?”

“snuck out.” 

he sighed and let her take him to the window of where she showed him her bedroom was, and jj silently thanked the lord that her house was one story. “i’ll see you.”

“bye, jj,” she whispered.

in her drunken state, she wobbled uneasily without the support of jj’s arm after he’d withdrawn them. but nevertheless, she stood on her tiptoes and leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek. he froze, cheeks staining red. she pinched his shoulder. “thanks for taking care of me.”

he nodded, that being the only thing he could do.

she climbed through the window, heart dropping at the sight.

sitting on her bed was her father, tipping a bottle of beer back and swaying on the softness of his seat.

“dad…” she mumbled, wishing it was enough to sober her up. “‘m…”

“shut the fuck up,” he whispered, throwing the bottle of beer on the ground. it shattered, the rest of the liquid that had been left splashing on the floor and onto her cheeks. she reached up to wipe it off, lip trembling at the smell.

she could already feel the hangover creeping in.

he rose from where he sat, walking quietly over to her. she looked down at her feet, hands clasped in front of her body. he tipped her chin up, looking at her face carefully. finally, he sniffled. “you’re drunk, ain’t ya?”

“dad.” she said sternly, trying to build up the courage to fight back. but as soon as he swiped one slap to the face, dragging his harsh fingers across her cheek, she just gave up. her head whipped in the same direction his hand ended in.

sobs immediately left her lips, blood following. 

her face felt hot as he backed up, sighing, seeming like he was trying to contain himself. he grabbed her by the top of her shirt, lifting her slightly into the air. “where the fuck were you?”

“dad, i was just with some friends.”

“getting shitfaced?” he laughed, not believing. “huh?”

he slapped another stinging burn to her face, shoving her against the wall. “you’re just like your mama!”

“dad, stop it!”

“huh? you hear me?” he punched her in the nose, then punched her in the eye. it was sure to make it black and blue tomorrow. “always thinking she’s better than everyone—thinking she owns herself? who the hell do you think you are?”

“please. stop. please!” she coughed blood, feeling vomit erupt in her throat.

“and you have the audacity to think you deserve to come back like this? just like your mama.”

as she choked a little bit, enough vomit spewed from her mouth to cause her father to jump back in disgust. “you fucking pig!”

more came out and he kicked her in the stomach before leaving the room.

THE NEXT MORNING she found herself laying there on the floor, not remembering how she got there at first. but as soon as she saw the vomit, felt her pounding head and body, she remembered. she remembered everything.

she whimpered as she stood, sobbing as she stepped on a broken glass. she looked down at her foot that was now bleeding and sighed, a tear falling from her eye.

grabbing her uncharged phone, she stepped into the shower and washed the vomit out of her hair and tried her best to clean the cuts.

when the water was turned off and the bathroom as now shrouded with condensation, a text from pope waited on her lock screen.

she sighed, opening her phone up to take a look.

popeeee

i know you probably will get mad at me, but i wanted to know if you got in the house and back into your room without any trouble.

she smiled. pope was truly caring.

me

well, my dad saw me, and you know… but it’s fine. just a few scratches.

popeeee

come to the chateau.

me

chateau?

popeeee

shit, forgot you haven’t heard about it before. i’ll drop a pin.

moments later, her phone buzzed with the location where pope was and she decided to go there. pope meant well and she really did think it was nice he wanted to look out for her. maybe this could build a lost friendship back up.

every event from the night before started to replay in her head and she winced, thinking of how drunk she’d gotten. to be honest, it wasn’t that bad, but it is for someone who’s used to getting straight a’s.

after sneaking out through her window, she climbed into her father’s truck and drove to the pin, wincing anytime something touched where a bruise was.

“pope!” she called, looking around.

when no one answered, she texted him, where you at?

popeeee

sit out on the porch, i’ll be right out.

she sent a thumbs up emoji before proceeding to sit down on a nearby couch. she was starting to feel her stomach throbbing and she brought her shirt up enough to see the gash that had formed. it was a mix of a bunch of different colors, practically teasing her as she stared at it.

she reached to touch it but heard a breath. she looked up and saw jj, who had stepped back. “y/n?”

pulling her shirt down, she stood. “shit…”

“what happened?”

“no, it’s fine. just fell this morning. i’m really clumsy,” she fake laughed.

“i know that’s not what happened,” jj swallowed. “i’ve seen a gash like that before, and it doesn’t come from falling.”

“what? so you’re mr. medic genius?”

he rolled his eyes. “no, but i get into fights all the time. plus, my dad can give me those gashes a lot, too.”

her heart dropped. “what?”

he didn’t seem to understand her questioning, he just continued. “so if you got into a fight, it’s okay to tell me.”

“jj…” she stood, reaching up to grab his face with her hands. not until then had jj noticed her black eye and the scratch on her face.

he simply only swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“your dad does it to you, too?” she asked.

if looks could kill, the look jj suddenly gave would be the #1 criminal in the united states. “too?”

she stepped back, hands withdrawing from his face. “‘m sorry…”

“too?” he repeated. 

“jj, i didn’t mean it. i just wasn’t thinking,” she defended. “my dad would never put his hands on me.”

jj looked like he’d gotten slapped in the face and she winced, hissing. “sorry, i didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

he shrugged. “i just want you to be honest with me… did he, or did he not do this to you?”

tears aligned themselves along her waterline, but she blinked them away. “he was just a little intoxicated last night, ’s all.”

he tore his hands from his sides to his head, breathing aggressively. when he dropped them, he yelled, “i’m gonna kill him.”

“no, jj,” she cried, grabbing his hands that had been clenched into fists. “you will do no such thing.”

shaking his head, he stepped out of her hold. “you should’ve let me walk you completely in. i would’ve beat his ass.”

“jj, the confidence is cute and all, but even if you’ve won a million fights in your life, you still wouldn’t beat my dad.” 

he sighed. “i just don’t understand how a father could do that to a daughter like that.”

her heart fluttered, suppressing a shy smile. “so, um… your dad does it to you, too?”

rolling his eyes, he sat back on the couch. “i don’t want to talk about it.”

“neither did i,” she protested and he gave her a shit, you’re right stare.

“well, he’s done it since my mom left me,” he said, eyes distant in time.

she nodded. 

“do you have a mom?”

biting her lip, she shook her head. “she died a few years ago. she wasn’t enough to stop my father from hurting me. he did it ever since i was old enough to walk.”

“damn,” he sighed. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s cool. mom would be proud of me. the heywards are the only people who know about dad being like this.”

“is that why you’re so close to pope?”

“mostly.”

he hummed, turning to the side awkwardly. “you know, if you ever need anything, i’m always here. i don’t want to be just a random guy you met at a party.”

“and you’re not,” she told him. “you took care of me. you made sure i had a ride home. hell, you even brought me back with my childhood best friend—“ she sighed, grabbing his hands. “and most of all, you listened.”

he nodded, taking a deep breath. “of course i took care of you, y/n. i like you.”

she blinked.

“i don’t want to rush anything. i usually don’t get sentimental about anyone. not even my friends. usually, i just like to, you know, sleep with someone one night and never look their way again. but, if taking it slowly is the way i have to to steal your heart, then i will wait as long as i have to.”

 a tear rolled down her face and she stood, grabbing his hand. he stood, melting into her touch. she just grabbed his face within her hands and whispered, “i like you too, jj.”

with the moment they stared into each other’s eyes—so close together, yet so far apart, jj gripped her waist and crashed their lips together. she froze in shock for a moment and a feeling of worry built up in his stomach, but it immediately disappeared when he felt her kiss him back.

it was so different than anyone he’d ever kissed. he’d usually let it be sloppy and open mouthed, quick and rough, but this time, all he wanted—no, forget wanted. all he needed was to be endlessly closer for an endless amount of time. he took his time with it, making sure to kiss every bit of her mouth. he feared that if he missed a spot, he’d never get to kiss it again, so he let his lips roam around hers for as long as they embraced each other, dragging his lips along hers. she was taken aback by the way he kissed her—so gentle but so needy. he held her like she was the most fragile thing in the world, but at the same time, was the sturdiest. he didn’t want to pull away, so he didn’t. spending minutes like that, letting himself run out of breath before taking a deep one through his nose. maybe it was for the rush, or maybe he was just getting so distracted.

she’d kissed quite a few boys before, but none of them had she ever wanted as much as jj maybank.

at last, she pulled away, lightheaded and in need of actual air. jj didn’t realize how much he need the air either until he’d been gasping for breath, still clinging onto her perfectly.

“that was…” she said, trying to find breath.

“wow,” he laughed. she thought it was the most perfect way to describe it—wow.

she laughed, too, leaning her forehead against his and placing one last final peck to his lips. he smiled, looking deeply into her eyes. “you’re the most perfect girl---”

“jj, are you kidding me?!” they heard. whipping around, she was met with pope’s awkward stance, closing his eyes and his ears. “every girl you meet, you get all drooly for.”

she frowned, realizing pope must be right.

but jj just simply scoffed, shaking his head. “it’s really different this time.”

just like the kiss was.

and she looked back into jj’s eyes, smiling, and realized, there is no way this boy could possibly be lying.

and he wasn’t.

© 2023 alimaybankkk

[heartshapedmisery]

day two! ⇢ roleplay with jonathan crane

warnings! ⇢ MINORS DNI 18+ | jonathan crane x fem!reader, fingering, quickie, doctor/patient roleplay, dacryphilia, semi-public sex, 'doctor' k!nk, creampie, unprotected p in v sex, lmk if I missed anything!

notes! ⇢ AHHHHHHHH had a lot of fun with this one 🤭 sorry if this is a little rushed, been busy lately. next post is scheduled for tomorrow!

"What if someone walks in?" you breathed, your fingers grasping at the lapel of his blazer as he laid you down on the stiff leather couch, moving to settle his hips into the space between your legs.

"Shh," he cooed, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear. His fingers were cold against your warm skin, sending chills down your spine as they moved down to tug your skirt up over your hips. "Don't worry, baby. Just missed you so much, need to feel you."

You were in his office. After hours, of course. He had stayed later than normal to file some reports, so you decided to surprise him with your presence just after he saw his last patient of the day. But, you never expected him to be this needy.

"Been thinking about you all day," he whispered as his lips attacked your neck, his hands roaming all the way down your body—making you shudder. "How your sweet little pussy would feel wrapped around my cock."

"Please, Dr. Crane," you moaned with a sly grin, grinding your hips against his to get some sort of friction. You watched his eyes as they darkened, a wild smirk cracking across his lips at the name. "Need you to help me."

"Oh, yeah? Show me what hurts, baby," he played along, his eyes trailing after your hand as it slipped down to the spot between your legs.

"Need you here," you breathed, your fingertips grazing your clothed core. His piercing blue eyes made you feel vulnerable as he drank you in, but you couldn't get enough of it.

Excitement buzzed in your chest as his hand moved between the two of you, unzipping his pants and tugging himself out of his boxers. Carefully, he moved your panties over to the side swiftly, before aligning his tip with your entrance.

"Don't worry. Gonna make you all better, sweetheart," he sank into you with one fluid thrust, his hips becoming flush with yours as strained moans ripped from your chests in unison. He felt so deep inside of you, stretching your walls so sweetly you couldn't help but clench around him.

"Fuck!" you praised, your hands climbing up his back to pull him closer to you as your head fell back against the armrest. "Please, Dr. Crane!"

His hips stuttered at your words as they developed their own rythym thrusting in and out of you, your legs interlocked around his hips to keep him from pulling too far out.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted into your neck, peppering sweet kisses along your skin in the process. "Just what I needed."

You didn't notice his hand moving between the two of you until you felt his fingers brush with your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud as he continued to fuck you. The euphoric feeling made you ecstatic, your eyes rolling back as you got lost in your own pleasure.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you?" he praised, moving faster as he brought his lips to yours to silence your wanton moans.

He was sure nobody would walk in on the two of you since there was an unwritten rule in the department of not disturbing him when his door was shut, but he didn't want to give anyone ideas of what exactly you were getting up to in his office.

"Shh, baby," he cooed in your ear, his thrusts getting harder and deeper as you soaked his cock. His free hand moved to cover your mouth, replacing his lips to silence your uncontrollable whimpers. "Can't have my whole department knowing how good I fuck you, hm? Don't know how much they'd appreciate one of their doctors fucking his patient."

You shook your head, barely able to make out his words as your arousal fogged your mind. You could hardly think straight as he pounded into you, and his fingers rubbed imperfect figure eights on your clit. It was all becoming too much, the familiar coil in your stomach tightening as you could feel him bringing you closer to your climax. But he didn't let up, if anything his pace quickened as he felt you nearing your orgasm.

"You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come on this cock?" he said through gritted teeth, pounding into you between his words for emphasis. He was making your head spin, tears beginning to well in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks.

"Yes, Fuck!" you whimpered when he finally uncupped his hand from your mouth. "Feels so good, Dr. Crane."

Your body felt limp as you writhed under him, so close to your high that you could barely speak. His brows tugged together as he noticed your tears, his lips moving to kiss them away from your cheeks. "Don't cry, baby. Just tryna help you feel better."

Your back arched off the couch and into him, your arm slinging around his neck to keep his chest close to yours. You weren't going to last much longer, and by the feeling of his hips slowing from their rapid pace, he wasn't either.

"Let go, baby," he purred, unraveling your clouded thoughts as your body listened to him, a sense of euphoria spreading throughout your body like wildfire. Your orgasm hit you hard, your legs shaking around his waist as he got in a few more deep thrusts before stilling his hips.

A strangled groan ripped from his throat as he came deep inside of you, filling your already-soaked cunt as his eyes screwed shut, his orgasm rolling over him.

"Atta girl," he praised, placing a quick kiss to your jaw once he gathered himself again. His seed was warm and dull inside of you, the feeling alone sending chills across your body as you felt him begin to pull out. His eyes fell to your entrance as he watched the head of his length fall out of you, only a few seconds passing until he saw his release ooze out of your cunt.

The look on his face was dark but devious, a small smirk evident on his lips. "Christ, baby. Never getting tired of this cunt, might need to do that again." His lips trailed up your jaw and neck before stopping right next to your ear, his voice low and sultry. "Doctor's orders."

[live-laugh-legolas]

What type of music the fellowship listens to (modern)

Aragorn:

-Country man

-Idk if he even actually listens to it, but I swear every guy on tinder has country music in their interests and I think it is just a go to answer

-“what kind of music do you like?” “Idk, country I guess”

-Likes the depressed indie artists

-✨John Mayer✨

Legolas:

-Idk if anyone is going to agree with me on this but I think he’s into metal music

-I also think he would love Eminem

-He knows every lyric

-Not the type to dance or even show that he’s listening to music, but he actually has music blasting in his ears

-Ik elves have like sensitive ears or whatever but let me have this one

-Wannabe emo kid

Boromir:

-I think he likes pop music but listens almost purely to covers

-“I knew them before they were famous” vibes

-Loves artists like Elton John, Elvis Presley, the Beatles, etc

-Also side note, this man cannot sing but absolutely goes hard at karaoke

Gimli:

-He’s a T-Swift fan

-Also Celine Dion

-I just think he likes the girl bosses

-P!nk, Halsey, and Shawn Mendez because I just thought of it so he must be a girl boss too

-Gets emotional listening to music; like totally matches the energy of the song

-Sometimes I just cry because an artist just sounds so good, and I think he would do the same

Frodo:

-The “aesthetic” music

-You know the ones that kinda go hard but also sound kinda bad if you actually listen to them?

-I was just listening to “Butch 4 Butch” by Rio Romeo and I just got the vibe that Frodo would vibe

Sam:

-I just feel like he likes rap music

-Not aggressive rap, but when songs have rap in them

-Post-Malone sort of vibes

-Also “TikTok songs” but just the part that’s played in the few seconds of the video

Merry:

-Classical music

-But like the classical music that goes hard

-Like “O Fortuna” maybe

-But he also sings JoJo Siwa and no one knows if it’s satire or genuine

-“KARMAS A BITCH!”

Pippin:

-Hozier boy

-The girls, the gays, and the Pippin ya know?

-But also K-Pop

-I don’t know anything about the genre but I have a friend who literally know every dance to every song from Black Pink and I think that’s how Pip would be

-He will have me watch him do the dances and I can just imagine Pippin doing the same thing; putting on little recitals and you just can’t say no

Gandalf:

-Joe Rogan podcasts

-Ok that’s a joke

-But definitely listens to podcasts, maybe ones about science

-Enjoys some good smooth jazz

-Gets real groovy when a saxophone starts playing

*Bonus Faramir and/or Eomer:

-I’ll be honest I don’t know these characters as well as I should

-but

-Recently my sister has had her earbuds in 24/7 and I asked her about it and she has apparently been listening to Dr Who audio dramas

-She is trying to convince me to listen too but frankly I’m too scared

-There was something about a sentient puddle?

-I just feel like one of the characters would do this and these are the two I decided on but lmk if I’m totally wrong

[mjwhisperer]

𝙳𝚛.𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔

2007

California

Word Count: 13.5k

𖧷 Fem!Reader, Age Gap, Nipple/Breast Play, Breed!ng K!nk, rough sex, Vulgar Language. 𖧷

College was a battleground, a relentless gauntlet for everyone, no matter their year. Freshmen wrestled with the overwhelming newness of everything, while sophomores and juniors fought to keep their heads above water as the workload mounted. For seniors, the pressure was almost suffocating—the looming fear of plunging into adulthood was real. Updating resumes, applying for graduate programs, chasing down letters of recommendation, and worst of all, the paralyzing anxiety of possibly not graduating at all. Every moment felt like a race against time, but oddly, there was also a sense of peace, knowing that this chaotic chapter was nearing its end.

And there you were, slumped over your desk in the middle of writing composition class, your body betraying your exhaustion. You had been studying for your upcoming final, but now, the stress and the late nights had finally caught up to you. Sleep had taken you in its heavy embrace, shutting out the world, your mind drifting far from the sterile classroom.

Your professor, Dr. Black, paced the rows between the desks, his rich baritone voice filling the room, though you were far too gone to notice. His words droned in the background, lost on you as you slept through his lecture, oblivious to the warning that would soon rattle your bones.

“Remember, class,” Dr. Black announced, his voice rumbling with authority. “Your final exam is in two weeks. I expect each of you to study hard, and remember what you’ve learned.” His footsteps neared your desk, a deliberate pause hanging in the air before his hand came down with a sharp crack against the wood. The sudden force jolted you awake, your heart racing as your eyes shot open.

“And to actually get some rest,” he continued, his tone edged with sarcasm, “instead of partying and drinking like your peers.” His footsteps carried him away, but his presence lingered, the sting of his words settling deep into your chest.

You sat up, groggy and disoriented, your hand instinctively wiping away the small trail of drool at the corner of your mouth. Your fingers brushed against your books, their pages damp from your unintended nap, and you winced in embarrassment. The room around you buzzed with the sound of students shuffling papers and zipping bags, the familiar rush to leave as the clock struck the end of class.

Dr. Black stood by his desk now, his eyes scanning the room with a mixture of disappointment and authority. “I don’t want to hear about anyone not graduating or falling behind in my class,” he said sternly. “You all have a good weekend, and study hard. Class dismissed.”

A tidal wave of movement surged as students quickly packed up, eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere. Chairs scraped across the floor, and soon the room emptied, save for you. This wasn’t anything new. You lingered, knowing all too well that your relationship with Dr. Black wasn’t just about grades. There was an understanding between you—an unspoken arrangement that allowed you to pass his class with an A. But that grade wasn’t earned in the traditional sense. No, it was given for other reasons.

As the last of the students disappeared into the hallway, Dr. Black’s voice rang out, its deep resonance cutting through the sudden silence. “We need to talk, dollface.”

The nickname hung in the air, dripping with familiarity as he moved to his desk, pulling out his chair with deliberate slowness. He sat, his presence looming over the room like a storm cloud.

You took your time, zipping up your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. With a heavy breath, you approached his desk, your nerves thrumming beneath your skin. “Yes, Dr. Black?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His brow arched, a smug smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “You know better than that.”

You swallowed, heat rising to your cheeks. “Sorry… I mean, Michael.”

He nodded, the correction earning you a brief, approving glance. “That’s better. Now, let’s talk about something important. You know you’re failing my class… again.”

The weight of his words pressed down on you, and you rubbed the back of your neck, trying to find the right excuse. “I know, I’m trying. It’s just… my other classes keep piling on more and more work. I don’t have time.”

Michael leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady as he removed his reading glasses with a casual grace. “So, failing my class is just an excuse now?” His voice held a dangerous edge, one that sent a shiver down your spine.

“No, sir,” you stammered, your throat dry as you struggled to hold his gaze.

His fist clenched atop the desk, the movement sharp and deliberate. “You know better than that,” he said, his tone a warning.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the weight of his authority wrapping around you like a chain. “I promise I’ll get it together. I’m just… struggling right now. I need rest, and—”

“Do you want to come home with me for the weekend?” His question was abrupt, cutting off your words. There was no softness in his voice, only a firm expectation that left no room for hesitation.

Your heart skipped a beat, uncertainty flooding your chest. “I—”

“It’s a yes or no answer, doll,” his voice a slow drawl as he leaned forward, the glint in his eyes like a predator closing in. His arms crossed over his chest, muscles taut beneath the fabric of his shirt, as he watched you squirm under the weight of his unspoken demand. The tension was palpable, hanging thick in the air like an impending storm. It wasn’t just an invitation—it was a challenge, one you both knew had only one answer.

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat, and for a fleeting moment, you remembered the promises you’d made to yourself, the line you swore you wouldn’t cross again. “I thought we said we’d stop doing this,” you whispered, though even as the words left your lips, the truth weighed heavy in your chest. You didn’t really want to stop. You never did.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening ever so slightly, a dangerous curve that sent shivers down your spine. “When did we say that? Because I don’t remember having that discussion.” His tone was mocking, but there was an undercurrent of dominance, a reminder of the control he had, and the control you so willingly gave him.

“I—” You sighed deeply, feeling the fight drain out of you. It was pointless to resist. You both knew how this would end. “I’ll come home with you.”

The smirk that had teased the edges of his lips blossomed into a full grin, a look of triumph. “Good,” he purred, leaning back in his chair with an air of satisfaction. “I knew you would. Now, be a good girl and stack those chairs for me while I finish some work. Then we can leave.” His voice was low, almost a growl, filled with a quiet authority that made your pulse quicken.

A heavy huff escaped your lips as you tossed your bag onto his desk, the loud clatter of metal hitting wood sending vibrations through the room. The weight of your frustration settled in your chest, but you didn’t dare push further. Not here. Not now.

Michael’s eyes flicked up from his work, his gaze hardening. “Lose the attitude,” he warned, his tone clipped, cold. “I don’t have the patience to fix it while we’re still here.”

You bit back a retort, the words dissolving in your throat as you turned away, your footsteps heavy as you walked to the first row of desks. You began stacking the chairs, one by one, the repetitive motion giving you something to focus on other than the knot tightening in your stomach.

At his desk, Michael pretended to finish grading the last few papers, but you could feel his eyes on you, sharp and calculating, like a hunter watching its prey. Every now and then, you could sense his gaze travel over you—starting at your legs, the length of them just barely exposed by the hem of your skirt. His stare lingered there, imagining what lay beneath the fabric, before moving up, mapping your body with a practiced eye. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last.

You continued stacking the chairs, feeling his gaze like a physical weight. The room was silent, save for the occasional scratch of his pen on paper, but you could sense the tension simmering between you, building with each passing second. His desire was palpable, thickening the air, and the knowledge that he was watching you—memorizing the curve of your waist, the arch of your back—sent an involuntary shiver through you.

His stare wasn’t casual—it was possessive, dark, filled with the hunger he barely tried to hide. Each glance was deliberate, like he was imprinting the image of you into his mind, knowing exactly what would happen once you left this room together. And you, despite the lingering shame, couldn’t help but feel the pull of it, the thrill of being under his control, knowing that the tension wouldn’t break until he allowed it to.

You stacked the final chair, your heart racing, skin flushed under his relentless gaze. The air between you both crackled with unspoken promises, and as you turned back to face him, you saw that his eyes hadn’t left you once.

“You’re finished already?” Michael asked, his tone low but sharp, as if testing your readiness for the next move.

“Yes, sir, I’m fin—”

His expression darkened, cutting you off mid-sentence. “What did I say about calling me that?” His grip tightened around the red pen, his fingers pale from the pressure.

“I’m sorry,” you stammered, voice soft, already feeling the familiar tension settling in. “I keep forgetting.” Your legs carried you closer to his desk, each step slower than the last, your heartbeat echoing in your ears.

Michael let out a long, slow exhale, the tension in his body relaxing ever so slightly. He placed the pen down with deliberate care, its tap against the wood unnervingly loud in the otherwise quiet room. “Come here,” he ordered, pushing his chair back and patting his lap.

With a hesitant glance, you stepped forward, easing yourself into his lap. His hands wasted no time, settling on your thighs with an almost possessive grip, his thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your skirt. The warmth of his touch burned through the thin material, making your skin tingle beneath it.

“I’ve told you about calling me that, and how I can’t deal with it. Correct?” His voice was quieter now, softer, yet no less demanding.

“Yes, Michael,” you replied, your voice just above a whisper, the tension in your chest tightening with each breath.

“Good girl,” he praised, his hand sliding further up your thigh, just beneath the edge of your skirt. “Now just sit here while I finish. I’ll be done soon, and then we can leave.” His words were a promise, but also a command, one you couldn’t ignore.

You nodded, adjusting yourself in his lap as his other hand wrapped around your waist, securing you against him. The rhythmic brush of his thumb over your skirt became hypnotic, each stroke a subtle reminder of the power dynamic between you. His focus remained on the papers scattered across his desk, grading them with precision, though every now and then his attention shifted back to you—his touch lingering, possessive.

The air between you both crackled with unspoken tension. The truth of your relationship—what had started after his divorce—was a weight neither of you could deny. His ex-wife had left him for something younger, and now, in a twisted symmetry, he’d found himself in the same cycle, seeking solace in you. The months since his divorce had been a blur of hidden moments and stolen touches, and here you were again, in the midst of a dangerous, intimate game.

Leaning forward, Michael pressed a kiss just behind your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. The scent of his cologne, Tom Ford’s Black Orchid, enveloped you—a dark, intoxicating fragrance that suited him perfectly, lingering in the space between you like a spell.

“Turn the page for me, doll,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and teasing.

With trembling fingers, you turned the next page, your heart skipping when you realized it was your paper. You swallowed hard, daring to glance up at him, meeting his piercing brown eyes. His gaze didn’t waver, holding yours as if daring you to speak.

“What’s my grade?” you asked, voice barely audible, the question heavy with anxiety.

Without saying a word, Michael reached for his pen, his eyes never leaving yours. He marked your paper with a clean, decisive “100%” and drew a small heart beside it. “Only because,” he whispered, the corner of his lips curling into a faint smile.

You let out a deep, shaky breath, your heart conflicted. “I hate that you do this,” you said, brushing your hand over his where it rested in your lap, your fingers lingering over his knuckles.

“Hate what?” His voice was low, dangerously calm.

“That you fake my grades,” you admitted, the weight of your guilt settling in. “What if someone finds out? What if they get suspicious?”

“Nobody will, doll,” he said firmly, his confidence unshaken. “I’ve told you this for months. Stop worrying.” He placed his pen in the jar, signaling the end of his work for the day. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he pressed another kiss behind your ear, sending another wave of shivers down your spine. “You know I wouldn’t let us get caught.”

“Okay,” you whispered, more to convince yourself than him.

Michael gently pushed you off his lap, his hands lingering a moment longer to squeeze your behind playfully. “Grab your things. I’ll meet you out there soon. You know the drill.”

You nodded, the routine familiar now. Gathering your bag, you moved towards the door, your steps heavier with each passing second. But just as you reached for the handle, his voice stopped you.

“Wait,” he said, waving you back with a crooked finger. He stood now, pushing his chair in with a deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving yours.

You walked back to him, your heart thudding in your chest. “Yes, Michael?” you asked, looking up at him, your eyes pleading for something you couldn’t quite define.

Without a word, he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. “Only because I haven’t had one from you in two days,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “Now go.”

Your cheeks flushed as you turned back towards the door, the lingering warmth of his kiss still burning on your lips. The classroom door clicked shut behind you, the sound echoing down the long, empty hallway. The evening air slipped through the open double doors at the end of the corridor, sending a cool breeze rushing over your flushed skin, a welcome contrast to the heat that still pulsed low in your body. Each step you took seemed to echo louder than the last as you made your way toward the parking lot, the dull thud of your heart quickening with anticipation.

You unzipped your purse with shaky hands, fishing out the extra key Michael had given you—an act of trust, of control. The sleek black Mercedes Benz sat waiting in the staff parking lot, its tinted windows glinting under the fading sunlight. The privacy the windows offered wasn’t for him—it was for you, his most prized secret. His obsession with privacy extended beyond the classroom and into every aspect of your relationship, a boundary he was determined to maintain.

With a quick press of the key fob, the car unlocked with a soft click. You slipped inside the passenger seat, closing the door behind you, the scent of leather and something distinctly him enveloping you. You tossed your gray sweatshirt into the backseat along with your bag, leaning back against the cool leather as you adjusted your white spaghetti strap top, your breasts straining against the thin fabric. The cool air sent a shiver through you, making your nipples harden, the sensation unmistakable even through the light material.

You exhaled, glancing out the windshield as you saw Michael approaching. His long, jet-black hair flowed effortlessly with the wind, each step he took deliberate and measured. His sunglasses hid the intensity of his gaze, but you knew his eyes were fixed on you, taking in every detail of how you sat waiting for him. His aura was intoxicating—strong, undeniable, and it held you captive.

Michael tossed his briefcase into the backseat without a second glance, slipping into the driver’s seat beside you with the same effortless grace. The door closed with a firm thud, and he let out a deep breath, adjusting his posture as he buckled his seatbelt. His eyes drifted over to you, lingering on the way your breasts pressed against your top, the tension in his jaw tightening as he clenched his teeth.

“What?” you asked playfully, feigning innocence as you adjusted your straps, your breasts bouncing just enough to catch his attention.

He didn’t look away this time, his eyes darkening with barely restrained frustration. “You know better,” he said, his voice low, the warning clear as he turned the key in the ignition. The engine purred to life, but his attention remained divided between you and the road ahead.

“I didn’t do anything,” you teased, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned back, letting the tension between you simmer. The car began to move, his arm casually resting behind your seat as he navigated the empty streets. There was something about the way he drove, the calm control in every motion, that made you feel undeniably safe. He had a way of making the world disappear when you were with him, and it was addictive.

“You did,” he murmured, his gaze flicking to you again, lingering on the swell of your breasts. “Sitting here with those pretty things out like that.”

You chuckled softly, the teasing banter between you only adding fuel to the fire simmering beneath the surface. Reaching out, you turned on the radio, the soft notes of Tevin Campbell’s Tell Me Where filling the quiet cabin, the smooth R&B melody creating an intimate soundtrack to the tension building between you both. His hand flexed on the steering wheel, and you couldn’t help but notice how tightly he was gripping it.

The city lights blurred past like distant stars, mere fragments of a world that seemed so far away compared to the intensity of the man beside you. Michael’s presence was magnetic, pulling you in with an irresistible force. His scent, rich and musky with hints of Tom Ford’s Black Orchid, filled the car, wrapping around you like velvet. Every breath you took was saturated with him, each inhale drawing you deeper into his orbit, where escape was neither possible nor desired.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable; it was thick with unspoken tension, the kind that made your heart race just by sitting near him. As his hand slipped from behind your seat, he placed it on your thigh with a casual possessiveness. His thumb traced slow, lazy circles over the fabric of your skirt, each brush sending a shiver up your spine. It was a small gesture, but one that had you teetering on the edge of restraint, your pulse quickening under his touch.

The hum of the engine matched the steady thrum of the music, the bassline vibrating subtly through the car’s interior. Michael, ever the music lover, kept the volume just high enough for you to feel it beneath your skin. His attention remained fixed on the road as he pulled into the familiar subdivision, the soft glow of streetlights casting long shadows against the perfectly manicured lawns of the neighborhood.

As he turned onto his street with effortless grace, the house loomed into view—his sanctuary. The wrought-iron gates parted at the press of a button, the soft whir of machinery signaling your entrance into the place that had become a world of its own. He drove inside the garage slowly, the space filled with the echoes of the car’s engine as it came to a stop. Michael’s hand lingered on the gear shift for a moment before he pulled the keys from the ignition, the silence settling between you like a held breath.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you followed his lead as both of you stepped out of the car. The cool concrete of the garage floor was a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand as he reached for yours. His grip was strong but gentle, the veins in his hand prominent beneath his smooth skin—a reminder of the power he held, and the tenderness with which he wielded it.

Without a word, he led you inside, the door closing softly behind you as you both kicked off your shoes, placing them neatly by the entryway. The familiar scent of home surrounded you, a mix of cedarwood and something uniquely Michael. Before you could take another step, he moved with surprising speed, lifting you effortlessly and tossing you over his shoulder as though you weighed nothing.

“Michael, put me down!” you protested with a playful squeal, your laughter echoing off the walls as you wriggled in his grasp.

“Huh? What was that?” he teased, his voice full of amusement as he carried you through the house, his strong arms keeping you secure.

You couldn’t help but giggle as he climbed the stairs with ease, his steps steady despite your playful resistance. When he reached the bedroom, he tossed you onto the bed, the soft mattress bouncing beneath you as you landed. The playful tension between you both only heightened, your body still buzzing from the contact and the thrill of his unexpected actions.

“Are you still mad about me calling you old?” you asked with a smirk, adjusting your top as you sat up.

Michael shot you a glance over his shoulder as he headed into the walk-in closet, his expression unreadable but the corner of his lips twitching. “Huh?” he called out again, the playful tone in his voice unmistakable.

You sighed dramatically, slipping off the bed and padding across the plush cream carpet toward the closet. The soft fibers cushioned your every step, muffling the sound of your approach. Inside, you found him already hanging up his black blazer, his movements methodical as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves. His eyes, however, were fixed on you, watching your every move with quiet intensity.

“I asked you a question,” you began, folding your arms across your chest. “Are you still upset, or—”

“Huh?” he interrupted again, his lips curling into a teasing smile.

You narrowed your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Seriously?”

He chuckled, finally breaking his playful act. “I’m teasing. But yes, I’m not old. Especially not when I have the stamina of a twenty-year-old.”

You rolled your eyes, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed your reaction to his words. As he started to unbutton his shirt, you stepped closer, brushing his hands away gently. “Let me,” you murmured, your fingers taking over the task of undoing each button with careful precision.

He watched you, his breath steady but shallow as you worked your way down the row of buttons, your touch light but deliberate. “I can’t stand you,” you said with a half-smile, though the truth was that you couldn’t resist him.

His eyes remained locked on yours, the intensity between you growing as you reached the last button, your fingers brushing against the warmth of his skin. “You’re lying,” he whispered, his voice low and full of knowing. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your cheek, the space between you shrinking with each passing second.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Not with the way his scent, his touch, and his presence enveloped you so completely. The air between you thickened, charged with an unspoken intensity. Every breath you took was laced with the faint aroma of his cologne—smoky and dark, a whisper of warmth that wrapped around your senses. His fingers traced your waist, pulling you in closer, his grip firm but full of promise.

His chest was solid beneath your hands, the heat of his skin radiating through the thin fabric of his shirt. As your palms moved lower, you felt the faint ridges of his abs, the tension in his muscles betraying the restraint he was holding onto.

“Anything you’re wanting to do?” he asked, his voice a low murmur. His hand slid beneath your chin, tilting your face upward until your eyes locked with his. The way he looked at you—his gaze deep and penetrating—made it impossible to hide the rush of desire pooling inside you.

You swallowed, the words barely a whisper. “No, not really.”

He raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You need to study, doll. Especially for my class. I’m not the one grading the final exam—it’s the state.”

Your stomach dropped, panic flashing through you as your mind scrambled to process his words. “Are you serious?” you asked, your voice tight with worry.

Michael’s expression remained serious for only a beat longer before a smirk crept onto his lips. The smirk widened, and then he was laughing—rich and deep, the sound filling the room. You scowled, smacking his chest in frustration. “You’re such a fucking ass,” you muttered, irritation flashing in your eyes.

But Michael was already pulling you in, his laughter fading as his hands cupped your face, guiding you into a kiss that was anything but playful. His lips crashed into yours with a hunger that had been building for days, the distance between you during that time making the contact all the more intense. His lips were soft, warm, and carried the faint taste of vanilla, a sweetness that contrasted with the heat building between you. He kissed you like he was starved for it, pressing you up against the wall with a force that made your breath hitch.

When he pulled away, both of you were left gasping for air, the taste of him lingering on your lips. His forehead rested against yours, his breath hot against your skin as he spoke, his voice huskier now. “I’m serious though, you need to study. Not just for my class, but every other one. This isn’t Michael talking, doll. It’s Dr. Black.”

You barely registered the words, still reeling from the kiss, but you nodded, playing along. “Yes, sir. I’ll study,” you said, your voice dripping with faux innocence, a knowing gleam in your eyes. You were pushing his buttons, and you both knew it.

The shift was immediate. His hand shot out, wrapping around your throat with a speed that made your pulse spike. His grip wasn’t tight, but it was firm enough to send a shiver of anticipation through you. His thumb pressed lightly against your skin as his eyes narrowed. “What did I say about that?” His voice was low, dangerous, a warning.

“Michael, I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, reaching up instinctively to loosen his hold. But he didn’t let go completely. His grip relaxed, his thumb brushing lightly against your neck, reminding you of his control. The tension between you crackled like electricity, your breath shallow as you stared into his eyes.

“You know better,” he growled, his voice laced with something darker now. “I taught you a lesson last time. Or did you forget?”

The memory hit you like a wave—him taking you in his office after one of his lectures, your body pressed hard against his desk, bruises marking your hips from the rough edge of the wood. You hadn’t forgotten. Not at all.

“No, Michael,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, a tremor of excitement running through you. You were playing with fire, and the heat was intoxicating.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re testing me, and I can see it. That little grin on your face… I promise, if you keep pushing, you’ll get exactly what you want by the end of the night.” His words sent a jolt of anticipation through you, and your body responded before your mind could catch up.

You wanted it. Wanted whatever he had planned for you. The thrill of his dominance, the raw power he exuded—it always left you wanting more.

With a swift motion, Michael shed his shirt, replacing it with a plain white T-shirt. The tension in the room didn’t dissipate—it lingered, thick and heavy in the air. You both stepped out of the closet, his eyes following you as you walked back toward the bed. His gaze was possessive, taking in the way your body moved, the subtle curve of your hips.

“I’m going to grab your things. Be a good girl,” he said, his tone commanding but laced with something softer—an underlying promise.

You watched him walk toward the bedroom door, the weight of his words sinking in as he disappeared down the hallway. Left alone, the room seemed to shrink, the air thick with anticipation. A wicked thought crossed your mind as you stood there, your hands moving to the waistband of your skirt. With a slow, deliberate motion, you slipped out of it, tossing the fabric aside and leaving yourself in only your panties and a thin tank top. The cool air kissed your bare legs, and you could feel the heat rising in your chest as you lay back on the bed, waiting.

Reaching over to the nightstand, you grabbed the remote, your fingers trembling slightly as you flicked through the channels aimlessly. The television illuminated the room in soft, shifting hues, but it barely registered in your mind. Your thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in the anticipation that had been building since Michael left the room. The quiet hum of the TV did little to distract you from the tension simmering beneath your skin—the unspoken desire that hung in the air like a thick fog.

You could feel it—every nerve in your body alive, tingling with the thrill of what was to come. The waiting only intensified it. You wanted to push him, to see him lose control, to make him forget the restraint he so often held onto. You wanted the real Michael, the one who unleashed himself fully only when he decided the moment was right.

The faint sound of footsteps echoed up the stairs, slow and deliberate. Your heart skipped a beat, your pulse quickening as you shifted slightly on the bed, your skin brushing against the soft sheets. And then, he appeared. Michael’s tall frame filled the doorway, his presence dominating the room before he even stepped inside. His gaze was fixed on you, dark and hungry, taking in the sight of your bare legs stretched out on the bed, the cocoa butter lingering on your skin giving it a soft sheen under the dim light.

He walked in with a casual confidence, the door clicking shut behind him as he tossed your bag onto the bed. His eyes never left you, roaming over your body with a possessive heat. He didn’t speak immediately, just watched you with a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. His every move was deliberate, slow, as if he knew exactly how to drive you wild without saying a word.

“So,” he finally said, his voice low and teasing. “You just decided to get half-naked without my permission?” His eyebrow arched slightly, the hint of a challenge in his tone.

You rolled your eyes, though your breath hitched as he sat beside you, his proximity igniting the air between you. “I’m not naked, Michael. Relax.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he murmured, his arm snaking around your waist. With ease, he grabbed your legs and placed them over his lap, his large hands firm but gentle as they settled on your smooth thighs.

His touch sent a shiver through you, and you raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought we were going to study?” you teased, though your voice came out softer than you intended, the heat in his gaze making your words falter.

Michael turned his head, his eyes locking with yours, the playfulness in his voice fading into something deeper, more intense. “I changed my mind.”

Without breaking eye contact, his hand moved with precision, pulling down the front of your shirt just enough to expose your left breast. His fingers were warm, strong, and they kneaded your skin in slow, deliberate circles. “So pretty,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire as his thumb grazed over your hardened nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

You laid back, your breathing shallow, watching him with parted lips as he pulled down the other side of your shirt, his hands now cradling both breasts. His thumbs moved in synchrony, flicking over your sensitive peaks with the kind of expertise that came from knowing exactly how to unravel you.

“You like that?” he whispered against your ear, his breath hot against your skin, his voice a low rumble that made your pulse race.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely audible, a soft whimper escaping your throat as your body responded to him in ways you couldn’t control.

Michael shifted closer, his broad chest pressed against your back, supporting you as his hands continued to work over your body. His touch was deliberate, calculated, as if savoring the moment. His lips brushed against your neck before his mouth found your breast, his tongue flicking across your nipple with the same lazy, confident rhythm as his hands.

The sensation was electric—his tongue warm and wet as it swirled around your nipple before his lips sealed around it, sucking softly. You gasped, your fingers gripping the sheets as a rush of pleasure coursed through you.

“Fuck…” you whispered, the word slipping from your lips as he teased you further, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin just enough to send another wave of heat through your body. His other hand remained steady, kneading and massaging your breast with the perfect blend of pressure and tenderness, every movement coaxing more desire from you.

He knew exactly what he was doing—knew exactly how to keep you on the edge without letting you tip over. His tongue flicked back and forth, slow and deliberate, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, but not enough to satisfy the growing ache inside you. It was a sweet torment, and you found yourself arching your back slightly, pressing yourself closer to him, needing more of the heat, more of the contact.

Michael’s breath hitched slightly as his lips left your breast, and his gaze burned into yours, filled with an intensity that made your stomach flutter. The way he whispered against your skin, his breath warm and teasing, sent a shiver down your spine that you couldn’t control. His words hung in the air, tantalizing and almost mocking.

“I could do this all night,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. The closeness of his mouth to your ear made you tremble, each syllable dripping with temptation. “But you’re not ready for that yet.”

A soft whimper escaped your lips, your body responding in ways you couldn’t suppress. The yearning within you grew fiercer, every nerve electrified by his touch, yet he pulled back, just enough to leave you aching, his hands still teasing you, but refusing to give in to what you so desperately craved.

“I am ready,” you breathed, your voice tinged with desperation. “What do you mean?”

Michael chuckled low, the sound reverberating through his chest as he leaned in and kissed your cheek. “Being in my office is different than being here with me,” he whispered against your skin, the sensation of his lips against your cheek making you shiver. “But if you claim you’re ready… alright then.”

His hands slid to your waist, his touch firm yet gentle as he effortlessly lifted you, positioning you onto his lap. The heat radiating between you was palpable, the moment charged with an unspoken promise.

“Take your top off, doll,” he said softly, his voice soothing yet commanding, sending a thrill through you.

Your fingers found the hem of your top, trembling slightly as you lifted it over your head. Michael was quick to assist, pulling it from your grasp and tossing it onto the floor without a second thought. His hands immediately returned to your breasts, as though they belonged there, kneading them in slow, deliberate circles that made you arch toward him. You moved closer, your body pressing against his as his lips latched onto your right nipple, his tongue flicking against it in slow, tantalizing strokes.

A gasp slipped from your lips as you steadied yourself, your hands gripping the headboard for support. His mouth was hot and wet, leaving your skin tingling with every flick of his tongue. He sucked your nipple with just enough pressure to send waves of pleasure through you, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before he released you with a soft pop.

His lips trailed up your chest, leaving a heated path in their wake until they met yours once more. His kiss was slow and deep, filled with the kind of hunger that left you breathless. His mouth molded against yours, intoxicating in its warmth, his tongue slipping past your lips to claim you. It was a kiss that felt like it could consume you, a kiss that reminded you just how much power Michael held over you.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark and heavy-lidded with desire. His hand caressed your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he stared into your eyes, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You want to do something for me?” he asked, his voice low and filled with promise.

You smiled back, a playful glint in your eye. “What’s that?” you asked, your hands trailing up his stomach, feeling the firm muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt.

Michael thrust his hips against you teasingly, a smirk forming on his lips. “I need you to take care of something for me,” he said, his tone laced with that same dangerous edge that always sent a thrill down your spine.

A knowing smirk spread across your face as you slid off his lap, positioning yourself between his legs. “You know I will,” you whispered, your voice sultry, filled with promise.

Your fingers moved to his belt, deftly unbuckling it with a practiced ease, the leather slipping from the loops with a soft hiss before falling to the floor with a muffled thud. You unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, the sound loud in the quiet room, each click of the zipper only heightening the anticipation building between you.

As you pulled his briefs down, the tip of his shaft was already peeking out, thick and hard, the skin taut and flushed. Your hand slid around the base, your thumb brushing over the vein that pulsed with his need. You licked your palm, letting your hand glide over his length, the thick skin peeling back to reveal the pink, swollen tip.

He was already hard—pulsing, ready, his arousal clear as the slickness of his precum coated your fingers. His breathing deepened as he watched you, his eyes half-lidded with desire, his fingers threading through your hair in a gentle but firm hold.

You leaned in, your tongue flicking out to trace the underside of his shaft, following the curve of his hardness from the base to the tip. The heat of his skin against your tongue was intoxicating, the taste of his precum salty as it hit your taste buds.

A soft groan escaped his lips as you swirled your tongue around the head of his shaft, your mouth closing around the tip as you sucked gently. The weight of him in your mouth felt heavy, but it was a sensation you welcomed, the warmth of him filling you as you took him deeper, your lips stretched around his girth.

His hand tightened in your hair as you bobbed your head slowly, your tongue tracing every vein, every ridge as you worked him with deliberate care. You could feel him throbbing in your mouth, his body reacting to every flick of your tongue, every soft suckle. His low, rumbling moans filled the room, and the sound of them made you want to push him further, to see him unravel completely beneath your touch.

“You’re so good at this,” he breathed, his voice strained as he thrust gently into your mouth. The praise sent a surge of warmth through you, making you even more eager to please him. You sucked harder, hollowing your cheeks as you took him deeper, your hand stroking the base of his shaft in time with the movements of your mouth.

The tension between you and Michael was so thick, it felt like the air itself was electrified, crackling with desire. Every touch sent waves of heat through your body, every sound, every breath amplifying the intensity of the moment. His grip on your hair tightened, fingers tangled in your locks, and you could feel his control slipping as you quickened your pace. His hips moved in sync with you, each slow, controlled thrust sending him deeper into your mouth. His breathing became more ragged, each exhale a low, primal growl that reverberated in the pit of your stomach.

You wrapped both hands around his thick shaft, your fingers barely meeting around his girth. The slick sound of your stroking and sucking filled the room, a symphony of raw, unbridled lust. Michael thrust harder now, pushing himself deeper, his hands pressing you down until your lips kissed the base of his shaft. The sound of your gags echoed through the room, your throat constricting around him, but you didn’t stop. You didn’t want to.

“Just like that, baby,” Michael groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. “You know just how to make me feel good.”

His grip on you loosened, giving you a moment to catch your breath, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you slid your mouth back up to his tip, your saliva coating his length, making every stroke smoother, more deliberate. Your tongue danced over his swollen tip, circling it slowly, teasingly, feeling the way it pulsed under your touch. He was close, you could feel it, the tension coiling in his body like a spring, but Michael wasn’t ready to give in just yet.

You arched your back, lifting your ass into the air as you continued your ministrations. The change in position drew his attention, and you could feel his eyes on you, watching you from the mirror’s reflection. His gaze traveled down the curve of your spine, lingering on the swell of your hips before settling on the wet spot in your panties, a clear indication of your own rising need.

“Keep sucking, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. His hand rested on the back of your head, guiding you gently, but letting you take control. You shifted your position, taking him into your mouth from the side, your lips sliding along the length of his shaft. The angle allowed you to feel every inch of him, the way his veins throbbed under your tongue, the way his muscles tensed as he fought to hold back.

Michael’s gaze was intense, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you. He was mesmerized by the way your lips wrapped around him, how your hand struggled to fully grasp his girth, how your eyes flicked up to meet his, silently pleading for more.

“You taste so good,” you whispered, a wicked smile playing on your lips as a trail of saliva dripped from your chin.

Michael chuckled, low and deep, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “Come here,” he whispered, his tone soft but commanding.

You pulled him from your mouth with a soft pop, crawling up his body slowly, deliberately, your every movement teasing him as much as it teased you. When your lips met his, the kiss was fierce, filled with the pent-up hunger that had been building between you. His mouth moved against yours eagerly, tasting himself on your lips, his hands roaming your body, feeling every curve, every inch of bare skin.

You sat against his hardened shaft, grinding back and forth, the fabric of your panties doing nothing to hide the heat between your legs. Each roll of your hips sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, the friction driving you closer to the edge. Michael’s breath hitched as you moved, his length trapped between you, the pressure of your grinding sending him spiraling.

He pulled away from the kiss, his hand cupping your face as he stared into your eyes, his gaze heavy with want. “Just put it inside,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours, the words almost a plea. “I know you want to.”

A smirk curled on your lips as you leaned in closer, your breath mingling with his. “I like teasing myself better,” you whispered, your voice sultry, teasing.

With that, you reached between the two of you, pulling your panties to the side. His shaft slid between your folds, the heat of him so close, yet not quite where you both needed it. You moaned softly as you moved, the slickness of your arousal coating him, each grind sending shocks of pleasure through you both.

Michael’s hands found your hips, his grip firm as he pushed you down harder, needing to feel more of you, needing you closer. “Put it in,” he whispered again, his voice more urgent now. His breath was hot against your skin as he pleaded with you, his restraint hanging by a thread. “Teasing yourself isn’t going to help anything. Put it in.”

The tension between you two was palpable, every fiber of his body taut with desire, his length throbbing against you, begging for release. You licked your fingers, slow and deliberate, each movement a tease as you slid your hand between the two of you. With a soft, deliberate touch, you guided the tip of his length against your entrance, the heat of it sending tremors up your spine. The sensation made you shudder, your body aching for the fullness you both craved, yet you held back, pushing the moment further.

“No, sir,” you whispered, your voice a sultry tease, knowing exactly how that word ignited something primal in him.

His eyes darkened instantly, that familiar spark flaring into an inferno. “What did you just say to me?” he asked, his voice a low growl, vibrating with intensity.

You bit your lip, a playful smirk curling on your lips. “I said no, sir.”

Michael’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin, a silent warning. “Quit playing with fire, baby. You know better than that.”

A thrill shot through you at his words, your body reacting to the delicious tension. “And what if I don’t want to, hmm?” you teased, grinding against him again, feeling the way his shaft twitched in response. “What if I want to feel that burn?”

His grip became almost punishing, his fingertips pressing hard into the curve of your waist as he held you in place. The heat between you two was unbearable now, the teasing had reached its boiling point. “Keep going,” he warned, his voice dripping with danger. “See what happens to you. We’re at my home. I’m not holding back tonight.”

You locked eyes with him, challenging, daring him to take control. “Yes, sir,” you said, the words laced with one final push.

That was it. His restraint snapped. A fire roared in his dark brown eyes, something wild, something unstoppable. Before you could react, he grabbed you by the ankles, yanking you from his lap and tossing you onto the bed with a force that sent a gasp from your lips. Your body barely had time to register the shift before he was on you again, dragging you to the edge of the mattress, your hips pressed into the bed, your body arching beneath him.

Without a second thought, Michael gripped the waistband of your panties, and with a sharp, ripping sound, he tore them clean off. The cool air kissed your exposed skin for a fleeting second before his hot, hard tip brushed against your slick folds, teasing you with what was to come.

And then he thrust into you—hard. The sheer force of it made you scream, but before the sound could fully escape, his large hand clamped down over your mouth, muffling the cry. His body was pressed flush against yours, his breath hot against the back of your neck as he leaned down.

“I told you to stop,” he growled, his voice low and rough, dripping with the kind of power that left no room for argument. “Now look at what you’ve done.”

His hips snapped against you again, each thrust deep and forceful, leaving no time for you to adjust. He filled you completely, the delicious stretch of him making your body tremble. Your walls clenched tight around him, but you were so slick, so wet from all the teasing, that he slid in and out of you with a primal, relentless rhythm.

You moaned against his hand, your sounds muffled but no less desperate, your body caught between the pain of the roughness and the overwhelming pleasure of him filling you, pushing you closer to the edge with every punishing thrust.

His grip on your waist was bruising, holding you in place as he took control, as he made you pay for every teasing word, every taunt. His hand moved from your mouth just enough for you to gasp for air before he pressed it down again, his pace unrelenting. Your body rocked against the mattress, the friction of it only adding to the intensity as he slammed into you, over and over, each thrust harder than the last.

“You wanted the burn?” Michael’s voice was low, guttural, vibrating through you as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. His length drove deeper into you, the angle perfect—so perfect that each thrust made your vision blur, your entire body trembling as pleasure shot through every nerve. “You got it.”

A moan escaped your lips, muffled beneath the grip of his hand still covering your mouth. You tried to pry it away, but he was too strong, his fingers pressing down with a dominance that sent a thrill through you. Each time his hips slammed into yours, the sound of skin meeting skin filled the air, sharp and rhythmic, mixing with your ragged breaths and soft whimpers. Your arousal dripped down, soaking the fabric of his black slacks and briefs, the evidence of your desire clinging to both of you.

He lifted his hand from your mouth, but there was no relief in it—just a shift of control. His fingers, rough and calloused, slipped between your lips, his middle and ring finger pushing into your mouth. “Suck on it,” he ordered, his voice a rough, seductive growl in your ear.

You obeyed, sucking on his fingers, tasting the salt of his skin as your tears welled up—tears of both pain and overwhelming pleasure. Your body was trembling, quivering beneath the intensity of it all. He thrust harder, deeper, your walls clenching tightly around him as he pushed you further toward that edge. His fingers went deeper, making you gag slightly, the sensation sending a wave of heat through you. And then, just as suddenly, he pulled them from your mouth and shoved your face down into the covers, forcing you into submission.

Both of his hands gripped your waist like a vice, holding you in place as he pounded into you with a relentless rhythm. Your body responded instinctively, your hips arching upward to meet each thrust, the tension in your core tightening, burning, desperate for release. Your slick heat pulsed around him, clenching with each stroke, the pressure building higher and higher.

A sharp, stinging smack landed on your behind, the sound cutting through the air and echoing in the room. “Always testing me,” Michael muttered, his voice rough with exertion, his control slipping. He brought his hand down again, harder this time, the recoil making your body bounce against him. “Always pushing me past my limits.” Another smack, harder still, your cries of pleasure muffled as you bit into the covers, the sensation overwhelming.

Your mind was a haze of need, pain, and pleasure, all swirling together in an intoxicating mix. Every nerve was on fire, every inch of your skin alive beneath his touch. And just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, Michael’s hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back roughly as he pulled you up against his chest, your spine arching. Your body recoiled against his hips with each thrust, your moans breaking free as you struggled to hold yourself together.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” you gasped, though the words were hollow. You weren’t sorry—not even close. You wanted this. You needed it. The ache of him, the burn of the pleasure, the intoxicating mix of pain and surrender. It was exactly what you craved.

“No, you’re not. Don’t lie,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. His voice was thick with dominance, with lust, his grip tightening in your hair as if he could read every wicked thought running through your mind.

His hand fisted tighter in your hair, and in one fluid motion, he moved you from the bed. Your body stumbled forward, but he guided you, pressing you hard against the cold, reflective surface of the mirror. The glass chilled your skin, contrasting sharply with the heat of his body pressed against yours. The sensation was overwhelming—the cold, the hardness of the glass, and the burning heat of him still buried deep inside you.

“Fuck, Michael, don’t stop,” you moaned, your breath fogging up the mirror as your cheek pressed against it. The reflection showed both of you—your body arching, his frame looming behind you, powerful and commanding.

He didn’t stop. His hips snapped harder against you, each thrust a brutal, calculated force, his pace relentless. You could feel every inch of him, sliding in and out of your slick, soaked folds, the obscene wetness coating his shaft with every movement. The sound was slick, raw, echoing in the room alongside your moans and his deep, guttural groans.

Michael’s gaze never left the mirror, eyes blazing with an intensity that could burn you alive. His reflection was the embodiment of raw power, primal and untamed, the shadow of a beast that prowled behind the guise of a man. His muscles rippled under sweat-slicked skin as he drove into you with relentless, savage precision, every thrust a punishing testament to his control. The dim light caught the gleam of his skin, highlighting the feral hunger in his eyes as he drank in the sight of you—writhing, trembling beneath him, utterly at his mercy. He looked like a predator who had finally cornered his prey, savoring each desperate gasp you made, every arch of your body as you struggled to keep up with his brutal pace.

Your body was pliant, your hips rolling back into him with helpless rhythm, driven by some desperate instinct to meet him, to take him deeper, harder, as if the force of him splitting you apart was the only thing keeping you grounded. His hands tightened on your waist, fingers digging so hard into your flesh that pain and pleasure blended into a dizzying haze. The promise of bruises lingered like a dark secret between you, marks that would serve as reminders long after he was done, and the thought made the fire raging inside you burn hotter, wilder.

His lips curled into a wicked sneer, eyes narrowing with predatory satisfaction as he watched the way your mouth hung open in a wordless cry. The sound caught in your throat, choked off by the sheer force of his next thrust, the movement so deep, so violent, that it made your vision blur and your legs shake. You were his. Completely. Irrevocably. And the dark satisfaction glittering in his gaze promised you would never forget it.

“You wanted this,” he growled, his voice a low, guttural snarl that sent a tremor straight down your spine. His words were thick with feral intensity, vibrating through your body as though they carried the weight of something dangerous, something untamable. “Now take it. Every fucking inch.”

Your breath came in ragged gasps, each one a battle as the brutal pace he set tore through your senses, leaving you overwhelmed, teetering on the edge of oblivion. “Michael,” you managed, the sound barely more than a broken gasp, fingers scrambling to reach back, to find some purchase, some way to slow him down—but he was quicker. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist with bruising force, slamming your arm against the mirror so hard the glass trembled in its frame.

“You don’t get to stop me,” he hissed, breath hot and heavy against your ear, sending shivers of heat racing down your spine. His voice was a cruel whisper, edged with the dark promise of things far more dangerous than what he’d already given you. “You wanted to be fucked like this.” His breath caught, and then he growled, low and savage, as he drove into you again, each thrust harder than the last, forcing your body to take every inch of him. “Now you’re going to take all of me.”

Your legs quaked beneath the force of him, thighs burning, every muscle trembling violently as you struggled to stay upright. But he didn’t care. The way your body trembled, the way your breath hitched, only seemed to spur him on, fueling the raw hunger driving him. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you harder against him, forcing you to take him deeper, harder. Your fingers clawed at the mirror’s edge, nails scratching desperately as your body bent to his will, every thrust pushing you closer to breaking.

Suddenly, his hand was in your hair, yanking your head back so viciously you cried out, the sharp sting rippling through your scalp. His breath was ragged now, a harsh rasp against your neck as he dragged you out of the room, your legs barely able to follow the fevered pace he set. He was possessed, driven by something dark and primal, his control slipping as his need for you took over. The hallway blurred around you, and before you could catch your breath, your body collided with the railing, the hard wood digging into your stomach as his hips slammed into you from behind.

The creak of the wood, the sharp slap of skin against skin, your breathless cries—they all melded into a symphony of lust, filling the empty space around you. Michael’s pace became brutal, his thrusts wild and unforgiving, each one sending shockwaves through your body, making the railing groan beneath the relentless pressure. Your legs trembled, barely holding you up, but you couldn’t stop the way your hips rolled back to meet him, the way your body begged for more even as it threatened to break under his assault.

“Look at yourself,” he rasped, voice thick with a mocking satisfaction that sent a fresh wave of heat surging through you. He yanked your head back again, forcing you to meet his gaze in the reflection of the hallway mirror. “So fucking desperate for me.” His words were a cruel taunt, his eyes burning with the dark thrill of watching you fall apart under him.

His hand slid up, rough fingers gripping your jaw, forcing your mouth open. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for hesitation, no room for anything but obedience. You parted your lips, but it wasn’t enough for him. His fingers pressed harder, opening your mouth wider, and then—before you could react—he spat into your mouth, the act so raw, so degrading, it made your entire body shudder with the force of your arousal.

He didn’t wait. His lips crashed down on yours, the kiss brutal and unforgiving, his tongue claiming your mouth with the same savage intensity he’d taken your body. The taste of him flooded your senses, and your nails dug into the wood of the railing, scratching, clawing as the overwhelming heat between your legs built to an unbearable crescendo. You could feel it coming—your release, teetering on the edge, just out of reach—but Michael wasn’t done with you yet.

His grip on your face was rough, unyielding, his pace growing erratic as his need became more desperate, more feral. “You’re not done,” he growled against your lips, his words barely audible over the sound of your bodies colliding, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the air. “I’m not done with you.”

Your muscles quaked, your legs barely holding you up as the tension inside you coiled tighter, hotter, threatening to tear you apart from the inside. “Michael—please,” you choked, voice breaking as your body trembled violently, every nerve on fire, the pressure in your core unbearable. “I can’t—”

“You can,” he hissed, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with the cruel satisfaction of knowing just how close you were to breaking. His fingers tightened on your hips, pulling you harder against him, deeper, as he drove into you with punishing force. “You’re going to cum for me, and then I’m going to fill you.”

The command in his voice, the sheer force of his dominance, shattered the last thread of control you had. Your body convulsed violently as your orgasm ripped through you, sending shockwaves of pleasure so intense they left you gasping for air. Every muscle clenched, your walls tightening around him as your release tore through you, and you screamed, the sound muffled against his lips as he kissed you through it.

“Fuck,” Michael groaned, his own control slipping as he felt the waves of your release milking him. His cock throbbed inside you, his core burning with the need for release, but he held back, his eyes locked on yours in the mirror, watching every shudder, every twitch of your body as you trembled beneath him.

“You want me to cum in you?” he taunted, his voice thick with lust, a dark promise lingering in his words. His eyes glittered with danger as his pace became erratic, each thrust harder than the last. “Is that what you need?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, the word barely a breath as your body quaked, still trembling from the aftershocks. “Please, Michael… I need it. I need you to fill me…”

His eyes darkened at your plea, the hunger in them growing into something feral. His fingers dug deep into the flesh of your hips, holding you in place as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go. “Shit,” he groaned, his voice rough and strained, a raw edge to his words. You could feel the moment his control shattered, the tension in his body unraveling with every wild, desperate thrust. He wasn’t holding back anymore.

Each movement became more intense, more punishing, and the air between you thickened with the heat of his desperation. Your breath hitched as his hips slammed against yours, the brutal force sending shockwaves through your body. With one final, devastating thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his release hitting you like a wave, his cock throbbing as his warmth surged into you, flooding your core. You could feel every pulse, every ounce of his claim, seeping into you, leaving you branded as his. The heat of his release filled you, hot and thick, a visceral reminder of who you belonged to.

As Michael pulled out, you gasped, your legs trembling violently, barely able to support your own weight. His eyes followed the trail of your shared essence as it dripped down your thighs, the sight sending another shiver through your already spent body. You tried to stand, but your legs gave out, and you collapsed onto the floor, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips. You had pushed him to his limits, unleashed the side of him that was raw, untamed, and it left you both breathless.

Michael stood over you for a moment, his chest heaving, eyes still dark with the remnants of lust, before disappearing back into the room. The sound of his footsteps faded, leaving you lying there, your body thrumming with exhaustion, aching in the most delicious way. Your core throbbed, every nerve alive, your limbs too weak to move. You had wanted this—you had craved the way he took control, the way he shattered all restraint, and now you were left basking in the aftermath of his desire.

When Michael returned, his shirt was gone, revealing the sculpted lines of his chest and the taut muscles still flexing from exertion. He kneeled beside you, his touch unexpectedly gentle as he scooped you into his arms. You let your head fall against his shoulder, the warmth of his skin a comforting contrast to the fire still burning inside you. He carried you with ease, his strength undeniable, and laid you down on the bed, his movements soft despite the intensity of moments before.

“Stay here,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding, though the care in his eyes was unmistakable. You barely managed a nod as he disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of water rushing filled the quiet, followed by the low hum of the shower. Moments later, Michael returned, naked now, the water already glistening on his skin as he helped you off the bed. Your legs wobbled beneath you, still weak from the aftermath, but his strong arms were there to support you as he led you into the bathroom.

The heat of the shower embraced you both as you stepped inside. You were too exhausted to stand, your body spent, so Michael guided you to the small bench inside, his touch firm but gentle. The water cascaded over both of you, soaking your skin and washing away the remnants of the wild encounter. You tilted your head back, the sensation of the water and Michael’s fingers combing through your wet hair lulling you into a peaceful haze.

“Next time, don’t push me,” Michael murmured, his voice a low, gravelly hum that seemed to melt into the steam swirling around you. The way he said it sent a deep, resonant vibration through the air, one that wrapped itself around your senses and made your pulse flutter. Kneeling before you, his body was bathed in the hot shower spray, rivulets of water cascading over the strong, sculpted lines of his broad shoulders, the droplets clinging to his bronzed skin like liquid desire. His eyes—dark, smoldering—held yours with an intensity that left you breathless, a look that promised both punishment and pleasure.

His hand reached up, sliding into your soaked hair, fingers curling through the strands with a possessive kind of gentleness. The water slid between your bodies, warm and slick, adding to the heat that seemed to pulse from him, enveloping you both in an intimate cocoon. Each deliberate tug of his fingers sent a subtle pull of tension through your scalp, his touch both tender and commanding, a perfect mixture of restraint and power. You felt your breath quicken, each inhale a little more shallow, each exhale a soft shudder of anticipation.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he tilted your head back, forcing your eyes to meet his. The steady stream of water flowed down your neck, but all you could feel was the searing weight of his gaze, like molten heat pressing into your skin. His lips were so close, his breath mingling with yours, the air between you thick with unspoken desires. You knew this look too well—the hunger simmering just beneath the surface, barely restrained by the thin thread of control he still held over himself.

A wicked smirk danced at the corners of your lips, the tension only heightening the delicious heat pooling low in your belly. Your body hummed with the memory of his hands, of the way he had dominated you earlier, and now, standing before him, the need to provoke him again was irresistible. “Yes, sir,” you purred, your voice a sultry whisper, deliberately teasing, each word laced with a playful challenge. The smile on your lips widened, daring him to take the bait.

His expression darkened instantly, the shift so subtle yet so charged with intent that it sent a thrill rushing through you. The grip on your hair tightened, just enough to make your scalp tingle, the possessive pressure sending a spark of pleasure straight through your core. His lips curled in a dangerous smile, a quiet warning flickering in his eyes, but you could see the hunger there, smoldering like embers waiting to ignite. “Didn’t I just—” he began, voice thick with promise, but you were too quick, cutting him off with a playful glint in your eyes.

“I’m playing, Michael,” you murmured, your voice dripping with mischief, the wet tendrils of your hair clinging to your face as the water slid down your body. Every drop seemed to heighten your senses, each teasing word designed to stoke the fire between you both. His gaze flicked down your body, lingering on the way the water kissed your skin, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath that came quicker, more shallow, the anticipation nearly unbearable.

The space between you crackled with tension, the heat between your bodies a palpable force. Michael’s eyes raked over you, his gaze as sharp as a caress, following the path of water trickling down your skin. He didn’t need to speak for you to feel his desire—it was in every glance, every tightening muscle in his jaw as he fought to maintain control. And then you saw it, the moment he let go.

He rose to his full height slowly, water cascading off his chiseled frame in thick rivulets, every movement deliberate, his dominance radiating from him in waves. His hand, still tangled in your hair, tugged your head back just enough to make you arch into him, the angle allowing him to loom over you with a primal, magnetic energy that left your legs trembling. The heat of his breath against your damp skin sent shivers racing down your spine, every inch of your body hypersensitive, aching for his touch.

“Didn’t I tell you not to push me?” he growled, the words a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through your chest, settling deep in your core. His voice was a dark promise, laced with a sensuality that made your entire body react—a shiver, a soft intake of breath, your thighs clenching instinctively as you felt the molten need inside you flare to life.

But you couldn’t resist. The defiant glint in your eyes returned, a slow, teasing smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him, your heart racing, your body thrumming with the delicious tension between you. “I guess I like pushing you,” you whispered, the words escaping your lips in a breathless rush, your voice barely above a whisper, every syllable a challenge.

Michael’s reaction was immediate and powerful. His grip in your hair tightened, pulling you to your feet with a swift, commanding motion that made your breath hitch. Before you could even think, his mouth was on yours, fierce and demanding, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that stole the air from your lungs. His kiss was punishing, overwhelming, his tongue invading your mouth with a sensual brutality that left you dizzy, clinging to him as your knees threatened to buckle beneath you.

His hands roamed over your body, rough and insistent, every touch igniting a fresh wave of desire that spread like wildfire through your veins. He pressed you back against the cool, slick tiles of the shower wall, the chill of the ceramic a stark contrast to the burning heat of his body against yours. You arched into him, a soft moan escaping your throat as his hands found your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh with an intensity that left you trembling, your body alive under his relentless touch.

The sensation of his length hardening against your thigh made you gasp, your body responding instantly, heat pooling low in your belly as the weight of his desire pressed into you. You could feel the raw power in every move he made, the way his control slipped further away with each passing second, leaving only the wild, unrestrained need to claim you entirely.

“Michael,” you gasped against his mouth, your hands clinging to the slick muscles of his back, nails digging into his skin as the fire between you blazed hotter, more insistent. His name left your lips like a plea, a desperate, breathless sound that only seemed to fuel him more.

He broke the kiss just long enough to press his forehead against yours, his breath ragged, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Every inch of the house became your playground, the walls and floors bearing witness to the unbridled passion that surged between you and Michael. The air was thick with heat, filled with the sound of gasps, groans, and the raw intensity of skin on skin. You felt his strength envelop you completely, as if he was everywhere at once—his hands, his mouth, his body—pushing you further, taking you deeper into the kind of pleasure that blurred the line between pain and ecstasy.

“Look at me,” Michael growled, his voice rough with desire as he pinned your wrists above your head against the wall. His eyes blazed, dark and molten, as his lips hovered just inches from yours. The warmth of his breath teased your mouth, but he didn’t kiss you—he wanted you to beg for it.

You trembled beneath him, your body a mass of overstimulated nerves, each second of denial making you ache for more. “Michael… please,” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper, the need in your tone undeniable. You tried to push against his grip, but he held you firm, his control unyielding.

“Not yet,” he whispered against your lips, a teasing edge in his voice. He pressed his body harder against yours, his length throbbing against your thigh, making you gasp. His lips brushed yours, barely a touch, just enough to leave you panting. “Tell me what you want.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, every nerve in your body screaming for release, your thighs trembling as the ache between them became almost unbearable. “I want you,” you moaned breathlessly. “I need you.”

He smiled against your skin, dark and wicked, his teeth grazing the tender curve of your neck as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat. His voice rumbled against your pulse. “I want to hear you beg for it.”

A soft, desperate moan escaped your lips, your hips arching instinctively into him. The friction sent a wave of pleasure crashing through you, but it wasn’t enough. “Please,” you breathed, your words coming out broken, needy. “I’m begging, Michael… please.”

He chuckled, low and dangerous, his hands releasing your wrists only to grab your hips, pulling you against him with a force that left you gasping. “Good girl,” he growled, his lips finally crashing down on yours with an intensity that left you dizzy. His kiss was brutal, claiming, his tongue demanding entrance as his hands roamed your body, touching, teasing, claiming every inch of you as his own.

The night became a blur of heated skin, tangled limbs, and moaned words of encouragement as he drove you to the edge over and over, his strength seemingly endless. Each thrust was deeper, harder, and you could feel the power in his body, the dominance in every movement, every breathless command whispered against your ear. His hands gripped your hips tightly, lifting you, turning you, taking you in ways that left you breathless, your body completely at his mercy.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped as his hands gripped your waist from behind, pulling you against him in a rhythm that left you quivering, toes curling in pleasure. You were on the brink again, and he knew it, his body in perfect tune with yours as he drove you higher, his control unwavering as you spiraled toward release.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against your ear, his voice a deep growl that made your stomach flutter, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere until I say.”

Hours passed, but time had ceased to exist in the haze of your passion. His body never tired, his touch never faltered. He coaxed every ounce of pleasure from you, pushing you further than you thought possible, leaving you trembling and utterly undone beneath him.

When you finally collapsed onto the bed, your limbs trembling with exhaustion, your skin glowing with the remnants of heat, you were completely spent. Your mind was a blissful haze, your body too sated to move. You could still feel the echoes of his touch, the delicious burn of your muscles, the lingering hum of pleasure that pulsed through your veins.

Lying there, panting softly, a smile curled on your lips as you felt the mattress dip beside you. Michael slipped into bed with you, his strong arms wrapping around your body, pulling you close. His skin was still warm, the heat of his body comforting against yours, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths as he held you. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head, his lips brushing your damp hair, the gentle gesture a stark contrast to the wild energy that had consumed you both moments before.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, his voice soft now, the dominant edge replaced with something more tender. His hand slid over your back, a lazy caress that soothed your still-tingling skin.

A contented sigh escaped your lips as you nestled closer to him, your head resting on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat calming the last of your ragged breaths. “You wore me out,” you whispered, your voice soft and drowsy, but a playful smile tugged at your lips. “I don’t think I can move.”

He chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound that rumbled through his chest and vibrated against your cheek. “I told you not to push me,” he teased, his fingers trailing lazy circles along your spine. “But you never listen.”

Your lips curved into a sleepy smile as you pressed a soft kiss to his chest. “I like pushing you.”

His hand stilled, and he tipped your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes softened, the dark intensity replaced with something deeper, something more profound. “I know you do,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, lingering kiss, a kiss that was filled not with passion, but with love.

As you lay there, wrapped in his arms, the wild, chaotic passion of the night gave way to a quiet, peaceful contentment. His touch was tender now, his kisses soft and soothing, and the connection between you ran deeper than anything physical. In the silence of the room, with your bodies intertwined, you knew this was more than lust, more than desire.

It was love.

Even as sleep began to tug at you, your body heavy with exhaustion, you felt the unspoken bond between you. No matter how many times you pushed him, no matter how intense the nights were, it would always come back to this—the quiet, unshakable love that held you both together.

And in that moment, with his arms around you and his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, you knew that this love was what mattered most. The passion, the chaos—it was just an expression of the deeper connection you shared, the love that would always be there, no matter what.

[filthyfluffyfantasies]

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . DL;DR - this fic is not meant for anyone under the age of 18 as it contains the following: unprotected p in v, teasing, oral sex, use of petnames for reader/you, breeding k!nk related dirty talk, semi public foreplay, marking, oral sex. writer does not give permission for her works to be reposted, with or without permission. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

prompt thirteen - creampie / breeding kink

character | fandom - rockstar!eddie munson | stranger things

reader | original character - female reader, groupie turned girlfriend & non -or vague, description.

words - roughly 4.4k

tagging -< taglist here >

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . you and Eddie have reconnected after the one night stand that brought you together years before. bonding with his daughter has made him realize just how much he wants to be a father and he can't think of anybody else he wants to have his kids.. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Hawkins, Indiana, December 1996

You smile softly to yourself as you pause in the door to Rosie’s bedroom to find Eddie seated on the floor, Rosie seated between his legs as Eddie tries -and fails, at French-braiding her hair, the landline phone cradled between his neck and shoulder.

❝ I’m doing that, Emerson. It’s not workin. Hold on..❞ he turns his attention back to Rosie’s braid and swears to himself as he shakes his head. It’s crooked again and he was trying so hard to get it just right for her. He laughs as he starts to talk to Gareth again, ❝I was trying to braid Rosie’s hair for her. Can’t get it right. Poor kid has my hair, man. It’s too fuckin thick t’ do anything with.❞ Eddie’s statement is enough to make you giggle softly as you step into the room. 

Eddie’s face lights up and he ends the call with Gareth, pulling himself off the floor to make his way over to you. Rosie is squeezing your legs, talking non-stop about how she spent the whole day with daddy and he taught her how to play some game called Dungeons and Dragons.

Eddie chuckles, scooping up the 5 year old as he gives her a peck on her freckled nose. ❝ Your ma was a nerd, sweetheart, she doesn’t know what that is.❞ -and he’s teasing, you know it. You pout a little and give his chest a light smack. Then you smirk. ❝ Since you think I’m so nerdy, Munson..❞ you dig around in the pocket of your leather jacket -his leather jacket, and find the tickets you stopped by the theater in town to pick up, ❝ Then I guess that means you don’t wanna go see Scream with me and the baby bat..❞

❝ Daaaaddy, you hafta say yes. I’ve been waitin a thousand years t’ see it. Please?❞ your daughter is looking up at Eddie, giving him those big begging eyes. Eddie pretends to think it over, both of you know damn well he’d never turn down a horror movie or your daughter’s begging.

❝ Are we sure she should see this, sweetheart?❞ Eddie’s just being a shit now, you laugh softly and Eddie rubs his chin as he continues, ❝ I mean.. This is Wes Craven. It’s gonna be a blood bath.❞

You laugh. ❝ Yeah but it’s also not real. Our daughter’s smart, she knows that.❞ you step up into Eddie a little more, your hand finding purchase in the front of his old Hellfire t-shirt. He’s distracted, staring down at your hand. You clear your throat, ❝ I bumped into Nancy earlier… Apparently, Will is taking both of Rosie’s best friends to see it.. With Mike.❞

Rosie’s really begging now.

Eddie pouts and pretends to be upset. ❝ I thought we talked about this, sweetheart. You were gonna marry daddy, remember? Now you wanna go see a movie with those dumb boys?❞ but Rosie is insisting. She pretends to gag when Eddie mentions the fact that she may or may not have just a little crush on little Johnny Byers or Argie, his best friend.

❝ Eww, daddy! I really meant it, they’re my friends. And if I don’t see it now, Argie’s a blab. He’s just gonna spoil th’ endin.. Pretty please? With cherries an’ chocolate?❞

Eddie snickers. ❝ Yeah, that tracks for him. Okay, alright.. What are we waiting on, huh? Let’s go see Scream.❞

As Rosie runs off to find her favorite jeans and change, you melt against Eddie and wrap your arms around his neck, your lips crashing against his in a long and deep kiss. His hands wander,settling on your ass.

❝ Dungeons and Dragons, babe?❞ you pout at him just a little when the kiss breaks a few seconds later. You’re honestly not upset, you’re just teasing him a little. Watching them together always makes you happy but lately.. Lately, watching him with Rosie has your biological clock ticking all over again. And earlier, when you were talking to one of the girls at work, she mentioned the fact that she thought she might be pregnant. And naturally, that got you daydreaming about another little mini Eddie running around. It made you stop and think too.

Everyone is always asking when you and Eddie will have more -and you do want another kid but honestly, you’ve been afraid to bring up the subject because things are still so new. The two of you only just reconnected. And there were definitely more than a few hiccups, - considering that you had no way to tell him about Rosie until last year, when your paths crossed again for the first time since 1988- and you’re just trying to enjoy everything the way it is.

Besides, you think to yourself as you hug against Eddie and breathe in the scent of his cologne and the faintest hint of those cheap cigarettes he still smokes, what if Eddie doesn’t want another? Am I really willing to mess up everything between the two of you? I’m in love with him and I just found him, I just got him back..

Eddie pulls away to look down at you and snickers at the dazed look on your face as he gets you looking up at him. ❝ What’s got you so spaced out, huh?❞ 

He doesn’t say it but.. He hopes that maybe it’s the same thing he’s spent a lot of time thinking about lately. At first, he thought it was regret, longing to see what he missed out on when you were carrying Rosie. But then, while you were snuggled up in the bed reading The Shining to her, as he stood in the doorway watching the two of you, it hit him like a ton of bricks.

He wants more kids. He wants you to be their mom. He wants a big family and he doesn’t want Rosie to be an only child like he grew up. He wants her to have the actual younger siblings that he formed Hellfire specifically to find for himself back in high school.

The problem is, he’s afraid that bringing it up now, that’s going to be too soon. And he’s driving himself crazy over it because the harder he tries not to bring it up, the more he almost does.

He almost blurted it out this morning over breakfast. Twice.

You’re the one laughing now, cupping his stubble lined jaw to get him looking down at you. You’re biting your lip as you stare up at him. Every cell in your body is dying to say something, to bring up the subject and see how he takes it but you’re also a little scared. 

❝ N-nothing.. I wasn’t the only one spaced out, Munson.❞ you mumble, swallowing hard as you melt into him just a little more. ❝ Where were you at just now, hm?❞ you’re turning the whole thing around on him because you know if you don’t, you will blurt it out.

He chuckles, a ringed hand caressing your face before kissing your forehead. ❝ You’re spacing me out, woman.. If we’re gonna go see this movie..❞ he drops his voice to a husky whisper, ❝ you might want t’ go get ready.. Before I change my mind and take you to bed..❞

You whimper quietly as he drags his tongue around the shell of your ear. Reluctantly, you pry yourself off of him and make your way down into the bedroom you’re both sharing to change.

Eddie takes several shaky breaths and leans against the wall. ❝ Emerson doesn’t know what he’s talkin about. It’s not like I can just blurt out the fact that I wanna knock her up, that I think she’s even more sexy when she’s pregnant and I wanna have more kids, there’s a time and place t’ say that shit..❞

Laughter from the doorway of Rosie’s bedroom has Eddie wanting to disappear into the floor. Rosie’s looking up at him, big doe eyes shining in mischief. She pushes the door closed behind her quietly.

Eddie tries to act as if she probably didn’t just hear every single word he said. ❝ You uh.. We all ready now, baby bat?❞

Rosie nods. After a little digging, she finds the pair of Vans she’s currently always wearing, red and black. She holds them out to Eddie. Eddie goes down on one knee, slipping the shoes onto her feet, pretending that they’re a glass slipper, making a fuss when the shoe fits her foot perfectly. She throws her arms around his neck and he breathes in the sweet and clean smell of his little girl. Every time he thinks he can’t possibly love her more, he’s proven wrong.

Even when she’s being every bit as hard-headed as he is.

The hug breaks and Rosie giggles. ❝ I wished for a little brother on my birthday candle… Remember when you were askin me what I wished for?❞ Rosie goes quiet. She’s fiddling with the sleeve edges on her favorite black longsleeve. It’s a Corroded Coffin shirt from the last music festival Eddie tagged you and Rosie along to before Corroded Coffin finally declared they were done, they were retiring to go out on a high note.

Eddie lightly grips his little girl’s jaw. ❝ You did, huh?❞ he asks. Rosie nods quietly. Drops her gaze and shuffles her feet against the bedroom floor. ❝ It’s just.. I’m glad you’re my daddy and I love mama but.. I don’t have anybody t’ play with when Argie and Johnny are being stupid.❞

Eddie nods. Fluffing at his daughter’s hair as he chuckles. ❝ Well, it was a birthday wish. Those do have a lotta power, baby bat.❞ 

Rosie smiles and throws her arms around him again, you step into the room just in time to watch the little moment. To have overheard the little conversation between father and daughter. Eddie’s reaction was so vague that you’re not sure whether it’s a good idea to tell him Rosie isn’t the only one who wants Rosie to have a baby brother or sister.. You study the two for a few seconds and laugh. ❝ Okay, you two conspiring against me already?❞ you joke and Eddie smirks. ❝ Maybe we were, babe.❞

❝ I’m gonna go play with my Legos in th’ living  room. Can I watch MTV?❞ Rosie asks. Both of you nod and Rosie goes into the living room to play. This leaves you both alone together in some thick tension.

At first, neither of you seems willing to shatter it. But Eddie can’t take it a second longer and this results in him, exploding in a passionate rant as he paces the bedroom until you think he’ll pace a hole right through the floor.

You choke on air when you hear him say that while he thinks you’re sexy, he thinks you’d be even sexier if he knocked you up but then he throws up his hands and swears in frustration because he didn’t mean for that to be the first thing he blurted out in regards to having another kid, wanting a small army of kids with you. You’re stunned. Jaw dropped, eyes wide as you watch him have his little rant and stay quiet because you’re still frantically trying to process.

❝ And I just… I never thought me, I.. Eddie Munson, would be sayin this shit. T’ anybody. Ever. But damn it,❞ Eddie trails off, going quiet as he takes a few deep breaths, ❝ I can’t even look at you lately without imagining you pregnant. All our kids rushing around the house, chaos every morning.. I want this and if you don’t..❞ but you cut off his words by climbing into his lap as you cup his face with both hands and kiss him until you feel his mind starting to quiet down, his hands roaming all over your body. When he squeezes your ass and rocks you right over the way he’s strained almost painfully against the faded jeans he’s wearing, you whine against the shell of his ear, ❝ You’re not playing very fair right now, Eddie..❞ and he just chuckles. You lean into his ear, melting against him as you mutter softly, ❝ I want all of that too.. You were saying you want to fuck a baby into me later, I didn’t hear you wrong.. Right?❞

He growls quietly. Groaning as you bare down against the way his cock is hard enough to push against the zipper of his jeans. He nips at your neck roughly and his hands settle on your ass, squeezing. He’s guiding you back and forth over his lap and you whine, nipping at  the way the tip of his spider tattoo just barely peeks out over the neckline of his t-shirt. ❝ That feel like a misunderstandin’, sweetheart?❞ he asks quietly as he stares up at you. You bite your lip and whine, the friction you were getting has slowed down drastically and you want it back. You’re desperate to get it back.

❝ How soon?❞ he asks a few seconds later. Your hand fists the front of his shirt and you pull him against you, your mouth just barely grazing against his as you laugh softly. ❝ Tonight. I.. I wanna start trying tonight.❞

❝Fuck.❞ he groans out as you rock yourself against the way he’s strained at his jeans all over again. His breath catches in his throat and he grabs your ass roughly just to slow you down because if he doesn’t, he’s going to make a mess of himself right here, right now. He leans into you and nips at your neck after he’s nosed some hair out of his way. ❝ It’s a date, sweetheart. Think you’ll be able t’ keep your hands off me ‘til then?❞ and the gleam in his eye tells you that this is a challenge.

That you’re in for it, Eddie is going to do everything in his power to make you cave…

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･ ｡ﾟ ───

It’s just getting to the part where Billy’s about to reveal the truth to Sidney when you feel the cool metal of Eddie’s rings against the inside of your thigh. You can feel your entire body as it heats up. You shoot him a little pout and some side-eye, but he smirks. Slips his hand off your thigh to grab himself some popcorn after he mumbles ❝The bucket is in your lap, woman.. You expect me to control myself?❞ and pouts right back.

Rosie is sitting in the row right in front of you both with her friends, their eyes glued to the screen, a hand paused midway to her mouth to take a bite of popcorn she hasn’t taken in over three minutes. 

Eddie’s hand creeps higher, a finger dragging ever-so-slowly right up your center. He chuckles when you squirm and shift around just a little in your seat. As his finger drags over you again, your legs clamp together, holding his hand between your thighs. 

Your ears feel like they’re on fire. Eddie bites his lip when the two of you lock eyes, two long fingers pushing the soaked fabric to the side as they make contact with your bare cunt. You shiver before you can stop yourself. Shoot Eddie a dirty look and nod to an usher that’s just wandered in, flashlight in hand.

Eddie leans into you, breath warm against the shell of your ear as he whispers quietly, ❝Fuck.❞ breathing heavily as he raises the fingers he just had buried in your dripping cunt to his lips, licking them clean as he holds your gaze. You bite back a whine and he leans back into you, whispering quietly, ❝I can’t fuckin wait to fill up your pretty little pussy when we get back home, babe..❞ as he grabs your wrist and guides your hand to his lap, letting you palm at the way he’s strained through his jeans. You bite back another whine, helpless.

❝Eddie.❞ you whine, helpless. Soaked through in seconds. He chuckles. Your hand ghosts over the bulge strained against black jeans and he bites his bottom lip. Both of you glance at the seat in front of you to make sure Rosie is okay. She’s arguing with Argie in a hushed tone about who the killer is, throwing her hand in his face when he insists a second time that it has to be Randy. She thinks it’s Billy, Sidney Prescott’s boyfriend.

After you’ve made sure Rosie isn’t too scared, Eddie turns his attention back to teasing you. Bucking himself up into you as you continue to clumsily palm at the bulge in his jeans. His head falls back against the seat and he bites back the urge to groan as you drag a finger over the zipper of his jeans slowly. He leans into you to whisper ❝Fuck, sweetheart.. All this teasin me is only gonna get you in real trouble.❞ against the shell of your ear. You lean into him to mumble back quietly, ❝Oh? Maybe I like the  sound of that, Eddie. Maybe that’s what I want.❞

The movie is coming to an end. Rosie’s triumphant outburst from the seat in front of you when the killers reveal themselves -and Johnny Byers arguing with Argie about her being right all along, is accompanied by snickering from Will, Mike and Jane. As the lights begin to come on, you pout a little to yourself but you pull your hand away from Eddie’s lap. You don’t even mind that you both missed huge parts of the movie, your heart is racing  as the two of you file out of your row and wait by the door leading out of the theater room for Rosie and her friends to come out so the two of you can take Rosie home.

❝Can’t wait to get you home, sweetheart.❞ Eddie laughs quietly as he scoops up Rosie when she starts to yawn and then slips his other arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side closer. You look up at him and bite your lip suggestively, squeaking just a little when Eddie’s hand wanders down, giving your ass a little squeeze.

As Rosie drifts off to sleep in the backseat of your car, Eddie takes a hand off the steering wheel and skims it right up the inside of your thighs, growling before he can stop himself when he feels just how much slicker your thighs have gotten. You slip your hand into his lap and he bucks against it as you palm at the way he’s hard enough to break through his jeans and only getting harder. You’re five minutes away from home but it might as well be five thousand years and it feels like the drive is only getting longer.

Eddie’s fingers brush past the soaked barrier of your panties and bury inside of you and you give the inside of his thigh a squeeze as you just barely gasp. ❝Almost time, sweetheart..❞ he chuckles quietly as he turns down the street you live on..

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･ ｡ﾟ ───

You’ve both just finished tucking Rosie into bed. Eddie turns on Rosie’s Scooby Doo nightlight and tucks her favorite stuffed animal into bed with her. As the two of you step out into the hallway, your back meets the closed door with a soft thud as Eddie’s restraint vanishes in a split second. His hands are all over you, finally settling on your ass as he lifts you up. You wrap your legs around him and he rocks himself into you, making you whine.

❝Ready for bed, sweetheart?❞ he asks the question in a breathy whisper as he nips his way down your neck. You whimper and rub yourself against him, needy. His mouth finds yours as he carries you down the hallway, navigating forgotten toys, a box or two from his old apartment in California and other obstacles that crowd the hallway with ease. He kicks the bedroom door open carefully and steps inside with you. Clothing that litters the top of the dresser is swept off and he sits you down in the space he’s just made, eyes gleaming as the kiss breaks, a strand of saliva between your mouths keeping you connected. You’re rocking against him and moaning out his name, shaky hands tugging the old Hellfire t-shirt up over his head as he strips off your crop top and slips his finger beneath the back of your bra, unhooking the clasps with ease and speed. 

The clothing settles in a pile on the floor and he leans into you, pushing you up against the wall behind the dresser, his mouth moving down your body. He pauses at your belly button to stare up at you, tugging down your panties. You reach out and work the jeans and boxers he’s wearing down and he steps out of them, kicking them to the side. That cute little denim mini skirt you’ve been wearing is pushed up to your hips as Eddie gets caught up in the moment and decides that he can’t wait another second, he has to taste you now. He sinks down in front of you, your legs settling over his shoulder as his mouth moves up the soft dough of your thighs, licking clean the mess he’s made. Your hands tug at his hair and grip the edge of the dresser as he pushes your legs apart a little better and buries his tongue and three fingers inside your drippy cunt. Groaning as the taste of you fills his mouth. ❝C’mon, princess.. Pull harder.❞ he moans out against your sex, fingers pumping into you as his tongue swirls. You rock yourself towards his mouth and he chuckles. ❝Thatta girl.. Gettin’ nice and wet for me..❞

You can feel your orgasm building, prepared to wreck you and you tug his hair a little harder. Eddie pauses and you pout. He stares up at the way you’re about to come completely apart for him and bites his lip, ❝You’re gonna be so fuckin cute all knocked up, princess.❞ he mutters quietly and you whine, begging for him. ❝Eddie,❞ you plead, ❝I-I.. I need you now.❞

❝Not until you give me what y’ know I want, princess.❞ Eddie’s permission to get off needs no further explanation and your orgasm rips through you, soaking his tongue and fingers as he growls quietly, the taste of you filling his mouth. He raises up again, his mouth conquering your mouth as he ruts into you while scooping you off the dresser to toss you gently onto the bed. He follows suit, your bodies tangled.

Touching. Biting. Kissing. He’s marked you up, hickies and bite marks litter your skin from neck to cunt, there are even a few sore bruises lining up the inside of your thighs. 

He lines his cock up with your throbbing cunt, dragging the head down your center. When you shiver because it feels so good, he chuckles against your ear. ❝I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. You gonna be a good girl and take it f’ me?❞ his voice is sex, gravel and velvet all in one as he asks the question. It’s so different than the sweet things he usually says that you’re whimpering, begging him to do it, to take you already. 

He thrusts into you slow. It’s an agonizing pace and you can feel every single inch, every vein that runs through his thick cock as he pushes into you. His hips beat against yours hard enough to bruise and he’s got you caged in beneath his body, his mouth all over you. You meet every one of his thrusts eagerly and when he comes to a stop, you whine about it.

❝You feel so fuckin good, sweetheart. Your pussy clenches around me so fuckin tight.❞ Eddie growls out, ❝Can’t wait t’ fill you up.❞ as he fucks into you slower. At one point, he has to reach out an arm and push the headboard against the wall so it’ll stop banging at it. But the way you squeeze him feels so good and you’re so wet that a minute or two later, he’s fucking at you faster and he’s used his grip on your hip for leverage, angling your hips upward just a little, bottoming out. You’re seeing stars as another orgasm builds, stopped at the brink every single time Eddie feels you tense and dig your nails in his back. 

❝Fuck, princess. –ah shit, I can’t..❞ he groans out against your neck, ❝I’m gonna cum, shit. You feel too good, sweetheart.❞ and you whine, begging for it. It’s so hot that Eddie’s thrusts speed up, fucking into you faster and deeper, hips stammering as his orgasm shatters through and biting at your neck as this prompts you to pull him even deeper inside by wrapping your legs around his waist. His forehead finds your own as his thrusts slow down and he presses soft little kisses against your mouth and cheeks. ❝I love you.❞ is said in unison, the two of you laughing softly in the dark about it because if there’s one thing you’re both good at it’s doing everything perfectly right BUT.. completely backwards.

Eddie’s still fucking into you, slow and steady. ❝Don’t wanna stop, princess. Your pussy feels sooo fucking good wrapped around my cock.❞

When he’s finally finished fucking the seed that leaked out back into you, he rolls the two of you so that you’re on top. You’re both yawning now, sleepy kisses are landing against each other’s skin as he removes one of his hands from your ass to cup your cheek, dragging his thumb across. ❝Wanna go t’ sleep just like this.❞

❝Me too, baby. I love the way you feel inside me.❞ you drawl, sleep making you stumble over words, making your voice all dreamy as the two of you drift off…

[silver-samurai]

Day 7 (free space): UnHoly Ritual

You wanna go to heaven, but also don't wanna die. You silly, these wishes can't coexist! Lucky you, Theresa, lucky you: I know a way. Trust me... works like a charm.

Entry for Fright Night City by @fright-night-city! The free space is dedicated to the past self of Dr. K40S, aka BL∆NK. He gradually descended into darkness, so it wouldn't surprise me if at some point he did something as grim as a "holy" ritual of some kind to ensure access to a place no one can really reach.

Happy Halloween!

[luzwastaken]

my pokemon SV self insert and intro post ig :33

UPDATED REF SHEET :DD

guess i'll write more about myself here:

⭐️i have a pinterest !!! i usually post there first !!! (@ thecoolerluz) (might change @ idk yet it's a TOH joke LMAO)

⭐️i go by Luz and i hope to make it my legal name one day :-)

⭐️i use she/her pronouns cus idk i just know im comfy with those, i am also very much a huge lesbian LMAO

⭐️i am in fact a minor

⭐️my favorite pokemon is Lucario cus them XY episodes with Korrina's in it changed my brain chemistry forever, though i love every pokemon. my fave gens are 5, 6, and 9 but i've played almost every gen except gen one. my fave seasons of the anime are XY and Horizons (I LOVE HORIZONS DUDE)

⭐️i am a yume/self shipper and my romantic f/o is Nemona, and my platonic f/o's are Arven and Penny ! people sharing my f/o's interacting is fine ! (Nemona cannon x cannon your on THIN ICE but still cool)

⭐️i age regress sometimes though i've been doing it more often as of this post and Nemona is my caregiver :3

⭐️my little age is 1-5 :)

⭐️i try to keep my blog as sfw as possible

⭐️i used to be heavily into the reality shifting community but i left it and now im just a respawner (take a wild guess as to what my DR is 💀)

⭐️i REALLY wanna learn how to skateboard LMAO

⭐️i have AuDHD and hypochondria/health anxiety and social anxiety so that's fun (and sorry if you wanna be like actual friends i get actually really uncomfortable with making friends, so it'll probably take me a while to warm up to you if i even try 💀)

⭐️my interests/fixations are: Pokemon, Splatoon, OMORI, Bluey, Subnautica (but only the first game), any music artist i like (mostly Gorillaz and Surf Curse), skateboarding, korean skincare (idk how i got into it either honestly)

dni idk basic stuff like homoph0bia and transph0bia, rac!sm, pr0ship, z!onist if you don't like age regression or see it as a k!nk or mix it with NSFW, if you don't like self shipping, if you hate Nemona beyond that idc as long as your nice and treat people with basic human respect !!!

be cringe be free~✨

(FUNKY LIL NEMONA DIVIDERS BY @ferocioustrout !!! ) (i edit this often lmao)

[heliosoll]

Jay how do you deal with certain realities that you want to shift to but have circumstance that are vastly different from this reality? for example if you were from an isolated country like NK or a war-torn country and war was all that you associated your country with but now you want to imagine that same country as a peaceful and developed one.

this question might seem weird but it's a problem that several friends of mine who have actually shifted struggle with, they would go to different realities easily but when it comes to situations like the one mentioned above they just fail to shit and mostly find themselves in different realities where the circumstances are still the same.

I have a lot of thoughts about that actually! I'm going to put them under a keep reading section since not everyone will want to see this.

TW: discussion of trauma and mental illness

People tend to identify themselves with their trauma. It makes sense, when things are traumatizing, it changes a person. It can change your personality, your fears, anxieties, how you think about life, how you act around others. It's especially damaging when people are stuck in that traumatized, survival mode for years. At that point, it feels like there's no return - like you'll never be able to get to a point where you don't feel or know that trauma.

And that's not necessarily true, but it's hard to get out of that mindset, especially if you're still living through it. Some people might call this a victim mindset but honestly I hate that, it's really a survivor's mindset. I mean, picture it this way, if someone lived through a zombie apocalypse for their entire life, it'd be odd to see them suddenly switch up and be okay even if you took them somewhere safe. Surviving has become their main goal and so much of what they do, how they think, and how they act is going to be based on survival. Expecting them to just... be okay after that is insane imo. It takes time and healing for people to accept a new, non-traumatizing lifestyle when they've known that pain for so long.

A lot of shifters struggle with this because it's hard to imagine separating yourself from the pain of normal day life in certain realities. If you live in a reality with war or murder or assault, that shapes the way you think, even if you've never personally been through it. It's hard to imagine yourself without the pain, fear, and anxiety that comes with living in these traumatizing realities. People know that they would think and act differently if they never had to deal with it, and that's why it's so hard to get away from it. You're not just shifting to a different reality, you're changing aspects of your own identity and personality.

As for how to actually deal with this, acknowledging it is the first step. After that, it really depends on the person. Some people find it helpful to just stubbornly shift to their DR without thinking about it. Others find it helpful to imagine how they might change in response to a safer, better reality. Or they might find it helpful to get excited about their DR and be relentlessly positive about these changes. And others find it more helpful to address their current trauma, fears, and anxiety before shifting. It really depends on the individual as everyone has different coping mechanisms and thoughts toward mental health.

Personally, I like to be really stubborn about shifting even when I know it'll be startling and potentially upsetting to see a reality that's so much nicer than others. It can make you feel really envious of people who were "born" in these nicer realities and it brings up thoughts of what you're getting away from. It's... not for everyone, but I know that being stubborn and just shifting regardless of how I'll feel later works for me in the end.

For your friends, I'd recommend asking them if they're thinking about the realities or themselves. For example, is it hard for them to imagine a reality that doesn't suck or is it hard to imagine themselves in a reality that doesn't suck? Are they unconsciously identifying themselves with their trauma? Do they feel like they wouldn't know who they are without their trauma? Are they overthinking what a better reality would be like to experience? Just get them to think about what could be "blocking" them so to speak. (obviously, nothing can actually block you - it's all in the mind.)

[piffany666]

Ok so i just had a conversation with my mum about the rocky horror picture show. More specifically the fact that we DO NOT NEED A REMAKE but you know what we do need?

A prequel about how Edie and Columbia met Dr Frank n ferter

So we started fan casting and i want yalls opinion

Frank n ferter: pedro pascel

I honestly dont see it this was my mums idea but lets go over some reasons/credentials

He would do it

He dose have the range for it

Hes a MASSIVE aly

The edits would be fire!

I personally think he should be played by NOW HEAR ME OUT!

Neil newborn (voice of astarion in bg3)

He SOUNDS like frank NATURALLY

Every time this man opens his mouth im expecting him to say "how'd you do ~ i see youve met my~ faithful handyman~"

Ok now for meatloaf edie: jack black

I will not be accepting criticism nor will i accept anyone other than this man to play this role

Now for Colombia: margo robbie

She could do the same voice she did as harly quinn!

It would be perfect!

Magenta: p!nk

Look i love this woman with all my heart and soul but i dont agree with my mum on this one

I personally think helen Bonham Carter is PERFECT for this role!

I dont care how old she is! Shes perfect!

Riff raff: david tenant

He'd do it

He looks enough like him

He could do it!

Tim curry could still be the narrator/dr scott as a nudge to the audience!

Thank you for coming to my tedd talk

[mrhaitch]

Hellooo Mr. Haitch!

Since you're a former literature prof., which is what I happen to be studying, I was wondering what books you like recommending to people? Genre doesn't matter, just interested in what your literary tastes are (^-^ )

What a dangerous question. I'll focus on the books that profoundly affected me and a few reasons why.

Red Shift/The Owl Service by Alan Garner

I lump these two together a lot, because they're thematically linked. The Owl Service is an easier read, being an early YA novel but there's a feeling to it that's profoundly disturbing - three young people in rural Wales forced to play out a love triangle from Welsh mythology that typically ends in betrayal and murder. Red Shift is also concerned with time but it yanks you back and forth through large stretches of history, and in each episode a young man tries desperately to be loved and understood. It's weird, sometimes challenging to follow, and overwhelmingly sad at times.

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms by NK Jemisin

Jemisin's impact on fantasy cannot be overstated, and this book is where that impact was most keenly felt. She dumps out the inherited tropes of fantasy and inspects each in turn, destroying what is no longer helpful, and cherishing those of enduring value. An, ostensibly, white powerful monarchy has enslaved the gods - leaving the world paralysed beneath their heel. Love it

The Daevabad Trilogy by SA Chakraborty

Picking up where Jemisin left off, Chakraborty's trilogy about djinn and daeva locked in a (initially) cold civil war in a holy city is fundamentally about intergenerational trauma and our place within messy historical contexts. Complex, sometimes harrowing, but endlessly brilliant.

Finders Keepers by Stephen King

I didn't get along with the rest of the Mr Mercedes trilogy, and there are better King novels out there but none that I love as much as Finders Keepers. It's a love letter to literature about the transformativel power of stories, as well as the dangers of obsession.

Slaughterhouse 5/God Bless You Dr Kevorkian by Kurt Vonnegut

I love Vonnegut's work, his voice, his outlook, and I find it hard to choose between these two. Slaughterhouse 5 is, on the one hand, a novel about WWII, but it's also about time travel, death, and looking for meaning. God Bless You Dr Kevorkian is just lovely. No other word for it - it's lovely, a hug in a book where everyone is embraced with love and humour.

Ishmael by Daniel Quinn

A lot of people wrote this book off when Oprah and her ilk praised and elevated it, but I know they missed the point - because nothing changed. Put simply it's about a jaded environmentalist receiving history lessons from an intelligent and telepathic gorilla, who teaches him an alternate history to the world - history according to gorillas. There's a lot of ruminations about the nature of stories and culture here and it is WELL WORTH YOUR TIME, although you might not be the same person once you've finished reading it.

(Non fiction now)

Capitalist Realism by Mark Fisher

Mark Fisher was brilliant, in spite of the transphobic nonsense he embraced towards the end of his life. Capitalist Realism is often the book I suggest to people when they're overwhelmed by a fundamental feeling of wrongness, that there's just something bad in the world that they can't put their finger on. Fisher hits most, if not all of the key points you might need to understand why. His The Weird and the Eerie is also fantastic.

We Need New Stories by Nesrine Malik

A book about prevailing cultural and political narratives, with a good deal of depth without getting stuck in the weeds. This helped me unpack a lot of my own thinking when I was doing my own PHD and I'd strongly recommend it.

American Holocaust by David Stannard

MASSIVE CONTENT WARNING: I recommend this whole heartedly but it is a graphic detailing of the horrors of European colonialism in the Americas. It will challenge and uproot a great many beliefs or suppositions you might have about history, but it will leave its scars. Necessary but painful.

The Human Planet by Lewis and Maslin

The anthropocene is at the heart of my work, and this is probably the definitive book in my mind that's accessible to the general reader. Persuasive and detailed but also accessible.

Zen in the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury

This book should be essential reading for every creative writing class. Read it and you'll see why.

[I'll stop there as I could go on endlessly]

[br15k]

um. intro c@rd B)

hey. i’m brisk,,

i’m just @ nerd on the interwebs th@t likes 2 dr@w

they/she/@ny, ple@se

https://briskscave.straw.page

uh,, ye@h

dni: just,, b@sic dni criteri@, you should know the b@sics

keep in mind th@t i will block people if i feel uncomfy inter@cting w/ them !

th@t’s b@sic@lly it, th@nks 4 re@ding