#and it would just be one against the other

[txttletale]

What I don't get is that other your support of AI image generation, you're SO smart and well read and concerned with ethics. I genuinely looked up to you! So, what, ethics for everyone except for artists, or what? Is animation (my industry, so maybe I care more than the average person) too juvenile and simplistic a medium for you to care about its extinction at the hands of CEOs endorsing AI? This might sound juvenile too, but I'm kinda devastated, because I genuinely thought you were cool. You're either with artists or against us imho, on an issue as large as this, when already the layoffs in the industry are insurmountable for many, despite ongoing attempts to unionize. That user called someone a fascist for pointing this out, too. I guess both of you feel that way about those of us involved in class action lawsuits against AI image generation software.

i can't speak for anyone else or the things they've said or think of anyone. that said:

1. you should not look up to people on the computer. i'm just a girl running a silly little blog.

2. i am an artist across multiple mediums. the 'no true scotsman' bit where 'artists' are people who agree with you and you can discount anyone disagrees with you as 'not an artist' and therefore fundamentally unsympathetic to artists will make it very difficult to actually engage in substantive discussion.

3. i've stated my positions on this many times but i'll do it one more: i support unionization and industrial action. i support working class artists extracting safeguards from their employers against their immiseration by the introduction of AI technology into the work flow (i just made a post about this funnily enough). i think it is Bad for studio execs or publishers or whoever to replace artists with LLMs. However,

4. this is not a unique feature of AI or a unique evil built into the technology. this is just the nature of any technological advance under capitalism, that it will be used to increase productivity, which will push people out of work and use the increased competition for jobs to leverage that precarity into lower wages and worse conditions. the solution to this is not to oppose all advances in technology forever--the solution is to change the economic system under which technologies are leveraged for profit instead of general wellbeing.

5. this all said anyone involved in a class action lawsuit over AI is an enemy of art and everything i value in the world, because these lawsuits are all founded in ridiculous copyright claims that, if legitimated in court, would be cataclysmic for all transformative art--a victory for any of these spurious boondoggles would set a precedent that the bar for '''infringement''' is met by a process that is orders of magnitude less derivative than collage, sampling, found art, cut-ups, and even simple homage and reference. whatever windmills they think they are going to defeat, these people are crusading for the biggest expansion of copyright regime since mickey mouse and anyone who cares at all about art and creativity flourishing should hope they fail.

[sunnami]

the 5 times you did (not) love each other and the 1 time you did.

summary. as the title suggests. this one was a request! i hope you enjoyed my version of this anon.

pairing/s. poly!marauders + lily / reader.

wc. 4.1k

tags. hurt/comfort, angst, peter pettigrew mention, not proofread, like seriously, fluff, happy ending.

cws: brief mention of violence and blood.

note: i am alive?? crazy. i began this fic, whilst sick, around august, nursing the worst headache ever. i wrote the middle of this fic, sick. and i think it's only fitting that i finished this fic. sick... honestly, i did not proofread any of this, i just know i lowkey love it. after the first one-thousand words, i just spiral and become delirious, so i don't even know what happened here. my first request finished! yippee! and thank you all for 2k :< i love you all so much.

i. 

SIRIUS BLACK did not love you—not even close, not even a little bit. Not even at all.

After Peter Pettigrew’s slight against his family, Sirius would never hold warmth or pity for the skittish mouse ever again. He was played for a fool. And, he did not know which betrayal had hurt more. Peter’s—or yours. (Had you known all along of your adoptive brother’s plans? Did you not think for one second that Sirius would, without a sliver of hesitation, put himself in the way of a killing curse to keep you safe? He’d have died before ever letting the fire in your eyes wither to ashes. Clearly, you did not share the same sentiment.) 

He wanted nothing to do with you. Ever. And if the rat-bastard dared to show his face, not even Death would know where to put Peter’s body to rest. Sirius would keep him alive until he begged for death—until the idea of living frightened him more than dying. And for you—beholder of his heart, captor of his soul, and co-possessor of his mind—he could only hope that you stayed far away. You had wrecked him—all of them. 

He wanted—

He did not know what he wanted. 

For when it came to you, Sirius Black was reduced to a man wandering the deserts—mistaking clouds for water, and the sands for grass blades. You had ravaged every fiber of his being; consumed his every thought and word. The most ironic part of all was that if you had been the one standing there—Sirius would have let you Avada him. Dumbledore could scold him in the afterlife—Sirius could care less. He’d have snapped his wand in half and asked someone else to fight you because Sirius had vowed from the moment he met you that he would never harm a hair on your head. He would never be the reason that tears stained your pretty cheeks. 

Well, apparently, trust and promises were not worth a damn thing nowadays. 

No, he did not love you—even as you stood on the steps of Grimmauld, your hair ruined by the downpour of rain. Your lips bruised and bitten from a nervous habit Sirius had yet to break out of you. 

“I didn’t know, Sirius,” you whispered—your voice the only sound falling on his ears amidst all the thunder and lightning. He only saw you. “Y-You have to believe me. If I knew—Gods, I would have told Dumbledore in a heartbeat. Fuck. I thought you knew me better than that.” 

He thought so, too. 

“Did you know?” Sirius began, taking a step forward and into the storm, a demeaning sneer on his lips. “That when Voldemort stood in our home, your portrait was right behind him? That was all I could look at. If I had died—you would have been the last thing I saw.” 

You had not replied. 

Sirius grit his teeth. “Go,” he said, voice hoarse. 

“Go!” he yelled, grateful for the rain as it masked his own tears as you flinched from the sound of his voice. Not the thunderclap, the lightning strike—but it was him who scared you. 

(But you had done so first.) 

When you apparated away, Sirius crumbled to the ground and pounded his fists against the asphalts where you were moments ago, screaming and cursing until he saw blood flowing with the rainwater.

It was laughable, really. The way he did not love you. 

It was not love that drove him to madness, pummeling Gideon Prewett into a bloody pulp for mentioning your name during a meeting with the Order. He had presumed you to be a Death Eater alongside your brother—Sirius instantly saw nothing but red. (He condemned Bellatrix, his own cousin, for becoming a madwoman. Yet, here he was, unraveled by the very thought of you. The very whisper of your name.) 

But whatever it was that had turned him into a fool and a hypocrite all at once, it was not love. 

ii. 

JAMES POTTER had no love for you—make no mistake about that. He loved love, and he did so fiercely and truthfully. But you and Peter had broken his trust—defiled his loyalty from the moment your brother had brought Voldemort to his doorstep. (Did you know that as he begged and screamed for Lily to hide with their son, Harry—he thought of you? For a fleeting moment, he saw your face, marked by fear and tear-rimmed eyes. And James knew straight away that he would spit on Tom Riddle’s bare feet if only to keep his family safe. If only to see you once more. Alive and well. But, you must not have thought the same—if you had conspired with Peter to sell him and Lily out to the Devil reborn.) 

The thought of you breathing was enough to keep James alive. 

But, that was not love. It was a mockery of it. 

No, he did not feel so much as a twinge of emotion for you. Not even as Mad-Eye Moody brought your limp body back to Grimmauld. It was not love that threatened the magic in his being—that simmered in his blood until the painted walls saw an indent of his fist. (“Poor thing,” McGonagall cooed as she pressed her palm over your forehead. Despite some of the members’ growing distrust for you, you still took an Unforgivable in their stead. “We can only wait. . . Four Cruciatus curses. . .”) 

What more did James need to want to rip Peter apart limb by limb? 

It was not love that rooted his feet by your side. Sitting hunched on a chair too small for his height, bags beneath his eyes, and the pale of his lips becoming noticeable to everyone who spoke to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to you lovelessly—hands desperately clutching your own. Sirius stood across the room, arms crossed over his chest, dagger-like eyes waiting for so much as a twitch of your finger. “I’m sorry.”

It was a plea this time.

He only hoped you did not ask him to love you. For James could give you the world, hand-pick the stars, and burrow his body deep beneath the ground if you had asked for it—but he could not love you. 

Everyone had told him not to hope that you would wake up. That your pretty eyes would not flutter open, and you would no longer look at him as you had before. But James was stubborn. He was selfish as he was stubborn. He did not love you—but he needed to hear the sound of your voice. And James would take it any way that he could. The soft cadence of a whisper, or a rough utterance of a single word. Molly Weasley told him to accept reality for what it was. (“You need sleep, dear,” the matriarch fussed. “There’s nothing we can do. Look at the Longbottoms. . . We can do no more for this one as we had done for them.”) 

In the still of the night, he left his reveries on the cold of your skin. “Wake up,” he demanded. 

“Wake up or else you’re the traitor everyone thinks you are,” James hissed. 

But his words held no heat—and his heart held no love for you. 

Make no mistake about that.

Then, when you finally woke up, disoriented and throat parched—a hazy recollection of the weeks before—James made sure that no more than four people could enter the room. He did not care if a hurricane, or if Voldemort himself—James had faced him once already, after all—threatened to break the door down. You were theirs to protect.

 (But not to love.) 

“We need to begin the questioning, James, you know that,” said Kingsley Shacklebolt, almost exasperatedly; weary lines written across his face. James would not allow even a toe beyond the doorway. An interrogation meant you had something to do with the attempted murder of James and his family. Whether or not you were innocent, James did not care—he just wanted you safe. 

(And a small part of him already knew that you were not your brother’s keeper. Just as they had absolved Sirius of his family’s sins. It would be unfair to not show you the same grace. But before his mind knew that, James’s heart and soul had known the truth all along.) 

He found Sirius gently tending to your every need, and already James knew that was Padfoot’s way of begging for forgiveness. The ebony-haired man hung onto your every word. He winced when you flinched, and pressed his apologies to your forehead, rasping for a kindness he did not deserve. Not after what he did. How he turned you away and cursed your name. How they betrayed you. 

James did not love you. 

But what else could he call the manacles that bound his hands and forced him to his knees when it came to you? 

Not. Love. 

iii. 

REMUS LUPIN could not bring himself to love you. But, he could not love Sirius, Lily, and James either. He was undeserving of such a privilege. But he was not allowed to love you; Remus could only hope that you saw even a shred of worth in him—to wrest each word from his lips and every breath from his lungs. But, he did not love you. No. 

Because loving you meant he was to tell you of your brother’s crimes. And Remus could not hurt you like that. 

“P-Peter?” you had asked, wearing the eyes of a fretful sibling. Remus lifted his hand to tuck a strand of hair gone astray behind your ear. Bellatrix had done a number on you—just as she had done to Alice and Frank. Remus was fairly certain that Sirius was off on a hunt for his cousin, his mind toyed with by the barbarity of war. What they could not do for the Longbottoms, they’d wring themselves dry to do for you. After the Lestranges’ attack, you suffered damage to your throat and memories. Remus could not bear to see you in such pain. 

He could not give you love, but Remus would offer up to you his every limb, and the weary skin upon his bones. 

“They. . .” Remus grimaced. How could he act as the bearer of bad news? He’d rather dive headfirst into shark-infested waters. Be anywhere else but here. In fact, Remus would rather snatch you away from the funereal walls, and hold you in his arms in the quietude of dawn, than be the one to bring anguish to your eyes. “They’re looking for him at the moment, love.” 

One question lingered in your eyes: Why? 

Luckily, Sirius was always the better one at sharpening a blunt knife. “He was a traitor,” he spat like acid. “A traitor to the Order. A traitor to us. He’s no friend of ours. Not anymore.” 

But Sirius knew—better than anyone else—how difficult it can be to truly hate little brothers, especially once they’ve gone. 

“No. . .” You trembled, almost retching as you sobbed into your palms. 

Remus held you then, the front of his shirt soaked in your tears, eyes firmly shut as you trembled and heaved in his arms. The sound of your guttural screams bounced off the four walls, and Remus had to bury his nose in your hair. You were alive. Safe. Breathing. But you felt cold as ice; an empty husk stripped bare for grief to take over. And Remus could do nothing but hold you. (He just hoped that wherever Peter Pettigrew was, Remus would not be the first one to find him. Otherwise, they would not be able to recover even a fingernail from his remains.)

“Hush, love,” Remus whispered into your ear as you cried yourself sick. Mourning the loss of your brother, reeling from the betrayal of a bond that was supposed to be stronger than blood. Remus would make him pay, he vowed as much to you. No, Remus and the wolf in him did not know how to love. But he knew how to hurt. And, that, he’d gladly do for you. His body was for you to use as a shield, his soul for you to strip bare, and his heart for you to thieve and never return. 

“Don’t cry,” said James, a shadow cast over his frames. “Not for Peter. Never. Fucking bastard will get what’s coming to him.” He laid on the vacant space of the bed, gently untangling your hands that were pressed over your heart. “I’ll make sure of it.”

They all would.

But not because they loved you. 

It was not out of love, Remus had to remind himself in the coming days, when he stayed diligently by your side as you recovered. Daily sessions with the best healer St. Mungo’s could offer—as if James would allow anything else. There were days your eyes would glaze over, your words rough and sluggish, and Remus would try his damndest to make you smile. 

It was the least he could do. 

For failing to protect you. 

But that was not love. 

(It was hope. Wretched, disastrous hope as he fell to his knees, and your name in between his teeth.)

iv. 

LILY EVANS was a fighter in all the ways that mattered. 

And from the very first moment she held Harry in her arms, eyes raking over his wrinkly, bloodied skin; all ten fingers and toes, her soft cries over his loud screaming—Lily knew she would trade her life for his in a heartbeat. Little, lovely eyes that would soon see the world in his own time. Lily adored him. Cherished every tear, snore, and giggle. She knew then, that a mother’s love was entirely different from any emotion she’d ever felt before. 

This was proven the first time Harry had gotten seriously ill. A few weeks after the attempted murder on the Potters, Harry was ceaselessly crying—screaming, even, every night—red-faced as he fussed every breakfast and dinner. Lily found herself at wit’s end. Her protectiveness had gone up a hundred measures; wouldn’t let anyone besides family or Madam Pomfrey see Harry. Yet, even with all the draughts and silly-flavoured syrups, Harry wasn’t getting better. 

“Lily dear, you cannot actually be thinking about this,” worried Molly Weasley as Lily stood in front of your door, holed away in the room where you had been recovering for the last few days. It would be the first time she saw you since the incident. More than anything she was afraid. Frightened that you would look at her differently. Whether or not that fear stemmed from love, Lily was not concerned. “We can call for another Healer from Mungo’s to have a look at Harry. . . Who knows what might. . .” 

Lily held Harry closer to her, lips firmly pressed, attempting to ignore the way his temperature was unnaturally high. “Might what, Mrs. Weasley?” She knew Molly was only talking out of concern, from a mother’s perspective at least. But she knew you better than anyone else. You would never hurt her, or Harry, that much she was certain of. And if you were the traitor everyone else was afraid of accusing you of, a sentence delivered by association to Peter—then let the guillotine fall, Lily would carry your crimes for you. 

She remembered ever-so clearly in her sixth-year, you with dreams glistening in your eyes. (“I’m going to be a Healer, Lils! Minnie said I’d be a great one. . . I want to protect those I love. . . I know I can do it. . . Oh, I can’t wait to tell Peter that I’ve gotten recommendations already to work at Mungo’s after graduation.”) 

And Lily recalled at that moment, she had felt a different kind of emotion that she had never experienced before. It was not love, of course. Tuney said she was too young and too stupid to know what real love was. But, at sixteen, what else could describe the way her heart fluttered and the way her lips threatened to break out into a smile whenever you lit up talking about your future? (It was just a crush, young Lily told herself.)

Only to be crushed and cast aside in the face of the war, where fighters took their place at the forefront of the lines, mothers and children hid; healers stretching themselves thin to be here, there, everywhere; where traitors walked in plain sight. 

“There is no one else I trust more with my life,” replied Lily. 

And that was that. 

Lily skirted around Molly and opened the door to your room, where Sirius, James, and Remus all stood at attention at the sight of her and Harry. She ignored them, and headed straight to your side. 

“Hello, love,” she greeted with all the gentleness she was made of, a smile creeping up to her eyes as Lily watched you turn your head at the sound of her voice. Truth be told, she did not know what her end-goal was in coming here. But being by your side had always made life a little more bearable, like all the illnesses in the world could not bring her down. And so, her magic had instinctively summoned her person to you. She, at least, was relieved to see colour returning to your cheeks, though the red in your eyes had dulled the hues she adored so much. 

“Is that. . .?” you croaked. 

Lily nodded. “Harry, meet—” 

One of the loves of my life, the most loyal and pure witch anyone ever has the privilege of meeting, someone I want to stay in my life forever. 

Lily’s smile wilted. “A friend.” 

Later, she would place Harry in your arms—her little hope embraced by her dream—and Lily would wonder if it was by pure magic that Harry calmed in your presence. 

For if love could hurt and destroy, could it mend and heal the broken as well?

But what a shame, for not one in that room carried an ounce of love for you.

(She would die for Harry, yes—but she would live for you.)

v. 

YOU did not love them, either. 

The very idea, thought—insinuation—was absurd. (Why, they deserved much better than you, after all.) With hands that failed to protect them, were you even allowed to hold them anymore? Did your heart have the right to breathe for them? You had failed as a sister and a friend—how much more would you have failed as their lover? Well, you’d never know. 

Because you did not love them. 

Merely wished them happiness and for the world to extend them kindness. For the sun to look brightly down on them, and for time to heal their scars and wounds. For if they were in pain, the earth would stop spinning. But such a request was not borne from love. 

Surely not. 

Because, then, that would have meant that it was love that teared you apart when Sirius cursed your name, when James turned you away, when Remus could not look you in the eyes, or when Lily—for all your history together—called you a friend. 

The whole of you was made by the parts of them. Each memory welded into the crevices of your soul. From the moment you had all found each other in the same train compartment, same common room—there was a shift in the fates that bound all five of you together. (The ties were red, but the thread was not of love.) You did not believe in Professor Trelawney’s talks of providence and destiny. 

Because if you did, then why was the universe so cruel? 

Falling—not in love—for four people who could very much do without you in their lives. Lacking severely as a sister to the point you had not noticed your brother fading and fading away into the shadows. 

Was love that unkind? That merciless? 

Then, you did not want to love at all. 

Oh, but magic or not, every creature on this earth selfish. 

You were no different. 

You wanted. 

Oh, how you yearned. 

“I LOVE YOU.” 

You barely had enough time to react before Sirius pressed his lips to the side of your head, arm covertly sneaking around your waist. The sound of the train whistling as parents yelled their goodbyes filled the station. You stood in the midst of the crowd, eyes never leaving one window in particular as you waved at Harry, now eleven-years-old and now off to Hogwarts. 

“Quite a random thing to say, husband,” you murmured, leaning into his warmth. “What for?” 

“Just because,” he replied in turn with a fiendish grin. “Well, perhaps for choosing us, for choosing me despite all my fuck-ups. For existing. For being the beautiful, wonderful, kind, precious you. I could keep on going, my darling. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” 

You wrinkled your nose, eyes rolling from fondness. “I love you too, quite unfortunately.” 

He only laughed and pulled you closer to him. “Let’s go home.” 

–

“I love you.” 

In the house built by new memories, warded by stronger protection charms, and filled with warmth and love—James said this to you each morning before he left for the Ministry, promoted after the war as Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Not one foot out of the door until he had showered you in kisses and the symphonies of his heart. James had always been loud, even in his time at Hogwarts. The war had not taken this part of him, and you figured James was too loud to let it be taken from him. He was unapologetically and unabashedly him. 

And you had loved him fiercely for that. 

“I’ll be home early tonight,” he said, a quiet intimacy washing over the both of you. The early birds of the cottage. “Wait for me?”

“Of course,” you answered without an ounce of hesitation, delicately chasing after his lips. “I love you. Be safe.” 

-

“I love you.” 

“Are you saying that to me or are you reading from the book?” you teased from where you laid on Remus’s chest, hours after James left for work, the afternoon bringing you two together in the living room. Lily was in the gardens, and Sirius was in the shed working on his motorbike. It was perfect. You felt the rise and fall of Remus’s chest beneath you, his heartbeat close to your ear. He was perfect. It was a miracle you had not fallen asleep to the tender lull of his voice. 

“Both,” he responded, hand coming up to trace the bare of your skin—a miracle you did not crumble or burn instantly from his touch. 

You hummed. “Then, I love you, too.” Then, you grinned, lifting your head to stare up at him. “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.” 

And, oh, how photographs could not capture the beauty in Remus’s smile as his eyes regarded you with such fire.

“My heart, my light, my desire,” Remus began, one finger ever-so softly tracing the curve of your cheek. “In vain I have struggled, it will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” 

–

“I love you.” 

Said Lily as she lied in your shared bed, red-nosed and her cheeks pale, sluggish. The Christmas holiday was generous enough to gift her with an unfortunate cold that had been going around the wizarding world. “But, please, go,” she commanded weakly, gesturing for you to join Harry who was stood by the door. “It’s a lovely day outside for making snowmen with carrots as noses and snow angels. Not for taking care of poor old me.” 

You rolled your eyes as you sat by her side, swiftly pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I love you, which is why I would rather much be here, taking care of the prettiest snow angel to ever exist,” you countered, bringing a spoonful of broth to her lips. “Besides, Harry here has something to tell you. He’s made friends at school. One of them is Molly’s little one.” 

“Oh, you did?” Lily cooed, before sniffling weakly. “That’s lovely, darling. Tell me all about them.” 

“That’s not all, Lily mine,” you began mischievously as Harry’s eyes narrowed at you through his glasses. “This friendship apparently formed after fighting a troll.” 

“You what?” Lily croaked, emerald eyes shimmering with concern and near-dread. 

“Did you really, Harry?” James popped his head in the doorway, clapping his son on the shoulder before ushering him inside the room. A spitting image side-by-side as they took the empty space by the foot of the bed. “Good boy. Father approves.” 

“Of course you would,” Lily shot at him weakly, melting when Sirius then entered the room and greeted her with a kiss to her cheek. “And where are you all coming from?”

“Outside,” announced Remus, tugging his tie from his neck. “Sirius and I took a quick trip to Diagon Alley to get some things that’ll make you feel better, Lily love.” 

And as the snow fell outside, lazy winds against the window, your little family gathered in one room, there was one thing you knew for certain.

You loved them. 

And they loved you. 

a/n: i wrote all 4k words while sick. crazy. but anyway, i wanted to believe in love again so here i am. thank you all so much for being patient with me. i promise to do even better in the next fics!

[shotmrmiller]

kinktober: cockwarming (john price x reader x simon in underground fighter au)

You're no fan of real-time violence.

Movies can never replicate its visceral reality— the sharp metallic tang that clings to the air, mingled with salt and the bitter stench of the swill these local colors call beer. Even worse is having to be the one to patch Simon up with trembling, blood-slick fingers and your molars sunk into the thick of your tongue to keep your lunch where it belongs.

So when Simon sends you Price's way with a firm palm on your arse and his spit still warm on your lips, you're grateful. He'll keep ya busy.

You're not counting his blood money, if that's what he was thinking.

"Course not, love," Price says, the rings on his thick fingers glinting under the dim light overhead as he opens the door to his office. It smells of worn leather, polished wood, and layered on top is the heady aroma of tobacco, rich, unmistakable. (You will not stay if he lights one of those puppies up. You like your lungs how they are.)

"Tha's wha' the bill counter is for." You can feel the warmth of his palm seeping through your clothes— a steady presence at the base of your spine, guiding you forward with a subtle push.

You'd expected him to let you pluck a book off the well-stocked shelf that's been beckoning you since you laid eyes on it and curl up on his couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders. Maybe even chat you up with small talk, ask about your week, school/job, and how you were adjusting to this new life.

Not with his broad front curling around your back, breath warming the shell of your ear, while you stare at the smooth, raised skin on his knuckles— which is less furry than the rest of him— in hopes that you don't fall apart around the thick of his cock. He's got a hand flat on the desk, small finger slanting to the side probably from where it healed wrong, and the other's signing off paperwork you couldn't even try to understand with a clear mind, much less one that's spinning from the sheer want for friction, relief.

Your arse pulses hot from where he'd reprimanded you earlier for squirming too much.

"Quite obedient. Simon's taught ya well." He hisses when you tighten up involuntarily, indignation cutting through the sluggish heat you've been burning in at his remark. Obedient. Taught. As if you're some kind of lap dog, yipping and rolling over for a treat. (Or in this case, a cock.)

"Easy, love. Jus' a joke." The hand he'd had on the desk comes to squeeze at the meat of your ribs, a small gesture, before weaving down to your cunt, fingers spreading, feeling how well split you are around his length, lips spread wide. "I'd hate f'you to turn my own guard dog against me, eh?" His apology comes in jerky little circles, smearing slick over your neglected clit, coarse hair of your mons coated milky white.

Each stroke of his fingers only bows your spine, winding it like one would a key on the back of a doll, your muscles coiling with tension, bodily response not your own after being denied release for god knows how long.

The sharp tap on the door goes completely unnoticed by you, but not Price. His pace remains steady, continuous, as Simon walks in through the door with crimson peppered on his cream wifebeater.

"John." Through bleary eyes, you see Simon settle in the chair across from you both, legs long, knuckles angry red and swollen as he palms himself over his denim. "Gaz may or may not 'ave goaded Soap into a fight."

Price's hand stops abruptly, desperation clogging your throat, the coil beneath your navel cranked so tight you might just scream. His voice rattles you from behind. "And?"

Simon's got his jeans bunched to his knees now, cock resting heavy atop his thighs, quads' ridges shifting as he gets comfortable. He might just be a tad bigger than what you've got sitting snugly against the plug of your womb.

"They're tumblin' outside, among civil folk. I doubt gettin' 'em out will be as painless this time 'round."

Price snarls and you find yourself empty, straddling Simon's hips, your inner thighs burning at the width. "Bloody fuckin'—," the sound of his belt buckle peters off soon after he walks out the door.

Your hands can feel Simon's shoulders flexing as he runs a fist up his length, eyes heavy lidded and focused on the creamy slick dampening your curls. His cock sits long on your stomach.

"'ave a seat, then." Amusement curls his lip, usual pink scar on his lip stretched silver. Your knees don't reach the cushion he's on properly, so you place your feet right above his own for leverage, legs folded tight.

His fingers dimple your waist as you lower yourself onto him, breath rushing out of your lungs as he fills you, aching, burning, a stretch you'll never really get used to, the pinch deep in your core causing discomfort to clump your lashes together until you're flush against him.

"Sit real pretty now. Gotta wait f'r Price t'give me my earnin's."

You're gonna rip his ear off with your teeth if you don't get to come soon.

"Claws in," he mutters, thumbing your pebbled nipple through your shirt. "Won't be too long."

(It was too long but worth every bloody second in the end.)

[fastandcarlos]

Best Nurse Ever : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: after a nasty crash over the weekend, lando is relying on you to help him get better again

As the door shut and you waved goodbye to Oscar, the smile on Lando’s face disappeared. Laid out on the couch, leg upright, Lando couldn’t help but stare with envy as the two of you walked through your apartment with ease, Oscar free to go outside again, whilst Lando was stuck within the same four walls. 

When he injured his leg you knew he wasn’t going to take it well, bedrest was the worst scenario Lando could’ve dreamt of, and now here he was, barely able to move himself off of the sofa without screaming in pain. 

The figure before you was one that you didn’t recognise, all his energy and enthusiasm had gone and was replaced by frustration and desperation. You were trying your best for him, doing what you could to help Lando’s recovery, but it was going to be a long way to go before he was back to his usual self. 

You walked through the apartment, sitting on the end of the sofa as you placed your hand against Lando’s foot, making sure that you were careful to not catch part of the foot that would end up causing more pain for Lando. 

“Everything good?” You asked, offering Lando a faint smile. 

His head nodded as he wore a weak smile, but you could see straight through it. Recovery was already proving to be a lot harder than Lando could have ever imagined, he was used to living life at two hundred miles an hour, and now he was barely moving at one. 

“Shall I give you some space?” You offered as Lando remained quiet. You could tell he was trying to keep it together, and with you clearly more able to move than Lando, you didn’t want to sit somewhere that you weren’t wanted. 

Lando’s head shook as he tried to encourage the smile on his face to grow, not wanting you to ever feel as if he didn’t want you around. He loved having you there, even if he hated the fact that you were having to run around after him. 

You could tell he was lost in thought still, his eyes staring down at the floor debating whatever was going on in his head to himself. “It’s going to get easier you know Lan, each day you’re already starting to make good progress.” 

“I’m not used to just sitting and doing nothing,” he sighed, snapping himself out of his thoughts. “These exercises are killing me, usually they’re like a tame warm up for a workout.” 

“I know it’s frustrating, but that’s what’s helping you heal,” you reminded him, reaching out to take a hold of your hand. “Everyone is here to help you; they care and want to see you get better.” 

“I hate it,” Lando huffed, “I’m the one supposed to be taking care of you.” 

Your head shook as Lando spoke, “we’re a team and we take care of each other. It’s far from ideal to be injured, especially with how fast paced you usually are, but we’ve just got to crack on. Sure, it’s a little bump in the road, but it doesn’t mean everything just comes to a stop.” 

“How do you manage to make even this sound positive?” 

“Because we can’t change it,” you chuckled, moving closer towards Lando. “There’s no point sitting and dwelling on something you can’t change; we’ve just got to try and be positive about what comes next.” 

“Thank you,” Lando whispered, stretching his leg out slightly to try and wake it back up again. “I know there are some pretty cool nurses at the hospital, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re the best nurse ever.” 

Your eyes rolled at Lando’s compliment, nudging your hand against his other leg. He chuckled back at you, knowing exactly how you were going to react before he even said anything, never failing to catch you out with his cheeky remarks. 

“You’re going to heal and be alright Lando,” you assured him. 

“I know, I just wish I could be alright now, not weeks down the line,” he frowned, squeezing against your hand. “I need to remember to walk before I start running though.” 

You nodded in agreement, “you need to stop being so hard on yourself, these things happen.” 

Lando knew that you were right, despite how stubborn he was. He didn’t ask to get injured, but there was very little he could do about it now. “The first race is on Saturday; do you think we could do something? I don’t feel like sitting and watching it knowing that I can’t be there to complete.” 

You immediately nodded, anticipating this from Lando. As the build-up for after the summer was starting, Lando was finding it harder to listen to the headlines and watch the videos knowing that he wasn’t able to be there and be part of it. 

“What sort of thing did you have in mind for us to do?” 

“I was thinking cuddles and pretending that only we exist.” 

“We can do that,” you laughed, watching his eyes light up. “I’m sure that Oscar would still like to know that you’re cheering for him though. The constructors is still on, and regardless you’ve been a part of getting the team there.” 

“I’ll text him,” Lando promised you, “but I can’t bring myself to watch knowing that someone else is driving my car. I only want to be involved in F1 when I can be part of it, I don’t want to watch it knowing that I’m just going to sit here feeling jealous of everyone else.” 

A sympathetic smile appeared on your face, “let’s spend that time focusing on your recovery instead and getting you back there even quicker.” 

“I’d like that,” Lando mused, watching as you stood up, moving to sit beside Lando instead, allowing your hand to brush through his messy hair in front of his face. 

“I’m proud of you for handling this so well, I can’t begin to imagine how tricky this is,” you told him. “I’m going to be right here with you getting you through the next few weeks, you’re going to be sick of the sight of me nagging you.” 

Lando’s head shook in protest, “I could never get sick of the sight of you, being at home with you is the only pro of having this stupid injury.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you chuckled, as Lando nodded, assuring you that that was how it was intended. “I can’t believe an injury is what it’s taken for me to get you all to myself.” 

“I’m always right by your side,” Lando assured you, “only now it means that I get to annoy you much more than usual.” 

“You’re right...you are pretty annoying,” you teased. 

Lando’s eyes went wide, “hey...I’m injured, you’re supposed to be being nice to me.” 

“I’m always nice to you Lan.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[hyunsvngs]

halloscream

was it jeongsung in the bedroom?

warnings 🔪: poly relationship dynamics, they’re serial killers, knifeplay, clitplay, unprotected sex, oral (m rec), bloodplay (be warned about this one, it’s not their blood), one whole line of daddy kink, mxm as well as fxm

it’s getting late. they’re late, to be more precise, but you feel as if you look at the window again it will feel like even longer. you tap away at your keyboard. it’s too quiet - the house is empty with your parents out at dinner. normally your two boyfriends would be making enough noise to drown out the everlasting silence, but again, they’re nowhere to be seen. your foot taps against the carpet impatiently underneath your desk.

a noise from your back garden catches your attention. nothing too loud, just a rustle of leaves and a few small thuds, but it has you rising from your computer chair to check it out. jisung would chastise you. “don’t you know horror movies?” he’d say, eyes round and wide, “investigating a strange noise is how you die, jagi.” still, you’re pissed that they’re late, and you also know full well that your boyfriends are the only threat to your small, isolated town. 

it started last year. jeongin came bursting through your window, clad in a halloween costume drenched in blood, and you laughed in his face thinking it was fake. it wasn’t fake. jisung followed closely behind him, a knife in his hand still messy with the efforts of their mission, and you almost had a heart attack. jeongin had to sit you down and explain, but really, there’s not a lot of explaining you can do when your girlfriend finds out you’ve been killing students from the local high school. 

they’re psychopathic, to put it lightly, but surely you are too - one toothy smile from jeongin and a comforting rub of jisung’s hand on your back was all it took. you’d accepted it all. 

now, you stand at your window, sticking your head out of the open pane of glass. the autumn air is crisp and it bites at your flushed, alarmed cheeks. when you can’t see anything through the darkness, you sigh, pulling your body back into your room. it’s not them. you turn to make your way back to the computer. maybe they’ll call before they come, just to let you know not to be scared and-

“ugh,” jeongin’s voice groans from behind you. your head whips around, shocked to see that he actually looks reasonably presentable. he’s in their signature costume, long, pitch black fabric drowning his lightly toned frame, and he carries the matching mask in his hand. “i thought you’d at least help me inside, baby. are your parents even home? i could’ve just used the front door.”

there’s other things on your mind. you’re pissed he’s late, and your arms fold over your chest. “where’s the other one?” your voice is dismissive, as if you don’t care about where jeongin’s partner-in-crime normally is. of course you care. one of your boys never comes without the other - quite literally - and you try to peek behind jeongin to see the missing boy. he crowds in through your window to block your vision, toned arms and long legs climbing through his chosen entry point. 

“he’s on his way,” jeongin says. the mask drops from his hand to the floor in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in, the fabric of his halloween costume scratching against your bare collarbones. you’re in one of jisung’s old oversized shirts, and the neckline is stretched beyond belief. your hands soften the impact by bracing themselves on his shoulders. “he got caught up with something. you understand, right?”

he feels like he’s everywhere in your room at once, an aura that only jeongin could have wrapped around you. it’s all it takes to calm you down, to forget about the fact that they didn’t even call, and then you’re focusing on the feeling of something solid pressing into your thigh. 

your hand moves down. his eyes follow the movement, narrowed, head tilting to the side as if he’s daring you to touch. you do, because you always rise to jeongin’s challenges. your fingers wrap around the object with a mischievous giggle. “is that a knife or are you just happy to see me?”

“that’s a knife,” he responds, quick as a bat. his hand wraps around your wrist and moves you a few inches to the right, positioning your hand over his actual cock and oh. it’s throbbing, and you can feel the way the shaft hardens further in your hand, even through the layers of fabric. you blink up at him, all coy through your lashes, and he raises an eyebrow. “i’m hard because i just killed someone, and that’s turning you on. do you know how fucked up that is?”

“it’s even more fucked up to be hard after killing someone,” you say, hands moving to his hips. you begin a backwards walk to your bed, pulling him along with you. jeongin’s more than happy to follow. his body slides between your legs easily, erection pressing into the middle of your sleep shorts, right above your core, and you try to catch his lips with yours. he moves away from your face with that signature cheeky grin, one that only jeongin could pull off. “why? first you’re late, and now no kiss? don’t wind me up, jeonginnie.”

“i’m gonna lick your pussy, that’s why,” his voice is low, tone steady. it makes a shiver run down your spine, but you’re nodding, letting your thighs fall apart. jeongin’s grin widens at the effect he has on you. he’s still in that stupid costume, but you watch his body slide down your bed until his face is nuzzling into your core.

you can’t help it. you’re curious, and they may say curiosity kills the cat, but well - the only thing killing anyone is rutting his nose into the covered pudge of your clit. “who did you kill?”

“what?” he scoffs, pulling your sleep shorts to the side with two long, gloved fingers. the texture of his gloves is cold against your heated mound, and you stutter out a breath, hands moving to the sheets beside you. “does it matter, jagi?”

“y-yeah, it does,” you whine when he dips down, tongue licking over your clit for the first time tonight. he’s talented with his mouth, but he’s normally better with his fingers. jisung’s forte is oral, and you let your mind wander again. where is he? you’re missing the essential third piece in your beloved psychopathic throuple.

when he speaks again, the vibrations hit your pussy. “he was a lowlife. don’t worry about it. he deserved to die.”

“you say that about e-everyone- oh my god,” he sucks your clit into his mouth as you’re speaking. it makes you surge from the bed, back arching, hand weaving into his hair to pull and tug to where you need him to be. jeongin’s malleable like that, letting you grind your pussy up into his mouth while he presses his tongue flat against the sensitive bud. “fuck. fuck, jeonginnie, innie, please, baby-“

“jesus, man. that was a ballache. y’know, would’ve been easier if maybe there were two of us like there’s meant to be, or-” your head snaps to your window. jeongin’s mouth stops moving, but he kisses your clit as an apology. 

sure, you would normally jump at the sight of someone standing in your bedroom dressed in a full halloween costume, ghostface mask and all. however, you’ve already received one of your male visitors tonight and you know that voice all too well - especially when it’s paired with a short stature and fumbling hands gripping at his mask. you see jisung’s appalled expression once the mask is gone, dropped to the floor to join jeongin’s, round eyes staring at his boyfriend’s position between your legs. “you seriously started without me?! c’mon man, don’t piss me off!”

jeongin only shrugs and nuzzles his nose against your mound to get your attention. you turn back to the boy, running your fingers through his hair comfortingly. he resumes the fat licks he’s giving your core, broad and messy and too fucking good. “iyennie’s being nice and eating my- ah- pussy, baby,” jisung’s staring at you, bouncing from one foot to the other. “you could’ve too, if you weren’t late.”

“wha-“ jisung splutters. he’s already toeing his boots off, yanking the costume over his head to reveal the baggy jeans and black tank he’s got on underneath. the sight of his honey-toned arms against the dark fabric is enough to make your mouth water, but then he drops his jeans and you can see his erection pressing against the front of his boxers. jeongin ignores him, sucking your pussy hard with a soothing hum. your labia stretches with it, and then he flicks his tongue over your clit so fast that your legs kick out. jisung catches them. “not my fault. jeonginnie made me do all the cleanup and the fucking theatrics and shit. this guy bled like a pig too, baby, so-“

“hyung,” jeongin chastises, eyes flitting over to him. when he pulls his head back, his chin is covered in drool and your arousal. you want to lick it clean. you’re barely even paying attention to what your boys are bickering about. “don’t get into the gory details.”

jisung stops in his tracks, trousers wrapped around his ankles. he looks at you. you shiver. he looks at jeongin, and jeongin raises an eyebrow, challenging again. “don’t you know?” jisung’s grin is wide, mischievous. “she likes hearing the gory details. go on, tell her.”

jeongin’s lips part in surprise. he looks at you, scrutinising. “is that so? you wanna hear how i gutted that guy and jisungie hung him from a tree?”

you can’t help it. with his words, jeongin slides two fingers inside of you, curling them so harshly it makes your eyes water. you let out a keen, trying to reach out to pull jisung onto the bed, but he’s too far. he seems to get it, knee-walking onto the mattress until he’s positioned next to you. his hand doesn’t stay out of his boxers for long, sliding beneath the tight fabric. you watch him grip his shaft and pump slowly at the sight in front of him. 

“do you wanna know who it was?” jeongin continues. his thumb slides to rub over your clit, and your thighs tremble. you’re moaning, nodding, babbling pleadings and little ‘yes’s that fall from your mouth urgently. jeongin chuckles. “your little friend from your math class. see, i wasn’t too mad about it, but jisung said he was trying to fuck you.”

“god, fuckin- he pissed me off, baby, ‘m sorry,” jisung whines, and your head is spinning. you’re reeling. jeongin thrusts his fingers a little harder, a little faster, and you’re struggling to concentrate. jisung’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip once, twice, eyes flitting between you and jeongin as if he’s not quite sure who to look at. “he was t-too nice to you, he- he wanted you. you’re ours.”

you’ve barely spoken to the guy from your math class - in all honesty, you’re not quite sure of his name, but now that you think about it… yeah. he was a little touchy, a little flirty, maybe too kind and considerate in letting you copy his work. it all adds up, but he’s taken care of now. you don’t have to worry about it. you never have to worry about anything with your boys around.

jisung pushes his boxers down, and his shaft slaps up against the base of his tummy, not too long but girthy enough to make your mouth water. he catches your gaze and uses his grip to slap it against his skin a little more, precum forming a thin trail attaching the cockhead to his tank top. “fuck. s-suck it, baby, won’t you?” 

“cum first,” jeongin insists. jisung grumbles in protest, but jeongin’s thumb presses harder on your clit, and he reels backwards to spit down against your pussy. the slap of his hand against your core is debauched, messy, and your eyes flutter shut. it’s too good. you’re gonna cum. “cum for me. fucking give it to me. my little fucked up baby, huh? that turned you on, didn’t it?”

“y-yeah! yes, yes, of course, y-you two are- fuck, too much, too much, i’m gonna cum,” you’re babbling again, and when your hand shoots out to grip onto something jisung catches it with his own spare hand. he links your fingers together, and jeongin dips down, finally, finally pressing his lips against yours. it’s all just enough and you feel like you’re dying, shots of electricity running through you, core gushing your release over jeongin’s wrist while he slides his tongue into your mouth. 

you’re given barely any time to come down. jeongin’s hand reels back and slaps your pussy. “hands and knees f’me. head between hyung’s legs.”

you scramble against your bedsheets, limbs kicking out and positioning your body face down in the sheets below jisung’s cock. jeongin moves behind you, yanking your sleep shorts down with a wet, still gloved hand. 

“you liked hearing what we d-did, baby, yeah?” jisung questions, and you whine, nodding. you did. secretly, in a dark place you try not to go into, you want their knives pressed against you and making you bleed while they fuck you. the thought makes your pussy clench down around nothing. 

jisung’s fingers move to your hair, yanking you forward until you’re nosing at his cock. you slide your tongue over his shaft just briefly, nuzzling your nose into the hair at his base, but it’s not long before he’s slapping his cock against your cheek impatiently. “shiiiit, jeonginnie, get inside already. i need her mouth so fucking bad, i’m so fucking hard.”

“just take it,” jeongin fumbles with his belt behind you. you hear the tell-tale clanging of metal, and then the rustling of fabric. his cockhead presses against your hole unceremoniously, blunt and thick, and you try to rut backwards onto it. jisung’s grip prohibits you, and he drags you upwards above his cock to finally press his tip between your lips. 

they both slide in together. jeongin’s thick shaft stretches you beyond belief, making you moan hard around jisung’s cock. you’re glad your parents aren’t home. jisung squirms from the vibrations, and before jeongin can start moving, he’s bouncing your head on his shaft. 

you can see his eyes roll back into his head, lips parting with a sharp whine. you feel like a ragdoll. it has you getting even wetter. “t-that’s it. fuckin’ beautiful mouth, my baby, so dirty, lemme- jus’ lemme fuckin’ take it, god, please.”

jeongin thrusts into you once, twice, testing movements that have your pussy all creamy and easy around him. he sighs, positions his large palms on your ass, and then he starts thrusting at a breakneck speed that has you bouncing between their cocks. you feel used. your clit aches for touch, hard and sensitive above where your hole is getting decimated. 

jisung pulls your head up to give you air, his hand polishing his cockhead. you’re immediately babbling. “fuck, you- jeongin, j-jeonginnie, the knife. will you- will you use it? o-on me? please?”

jisung moans. his hand moves between his legs, pumping his cock quickly in front of your face. it leaks against your lips. jeongin’s hips halt, pressing deep inside you. “the knife? baby, i don’t know.”

“get it, iyennie,” jisung nudges jeongin with his toes. you don’t miss the way jeongin’s cock twitches inside of you. “get mine. it still has blood on it.”

“oh my god,” you moan, wiggling backwards onto jeongin. you can tell his face must be a picture right now because jisung laughs, loud albeit shaky, and he reaches down onto the floor into the pocket of jisung’s jeans to reveal the offending object. he throws it to jisung, who brands it to you, showing that yeah, really, it’s still got someone else’s blood on it. it should be disgusting, moreso terrifying, but when the blade presses against your neck you wriggle just enough to get jisung’s cock back into your mouth. 

“see? f-fucking look at her,” jisung says, voice pitched higher. the angle is awkward, but he manages to fuck his cock into your mouth in tiny, shallow thrusts while the blunt edge of the blade is against your skin. he wouldn’t turn it the other way, not seriously when he knows he might lose control and hurt you. the idea has you keening. “she fucking loves it.”

“yeah? is that true?” jeongin sounds gravelly, throat hoarse, and he starts to fuck into you again. the slide is smooth with how wet you’ve gotten, and your pussy clings to him on every outwards thrust, dragging him back inside of you. jisung pushes harder and the knife presses harder. “hannie. hyung, be- be careful.”

“don’t need to be,” jisung responds, quick, and yanks your head upwards so you’re just suckling on his cockhead. you’ve been drooling all over it, and the feeling of your wet mouth around the most sensitive part of him makes his thighs tremble. he’s close. he never lasts long in your mouth, and you reach one hand up from your position, running a thumb over the creased skin of his ballsack. his foot shoots out so sharply it kicks jeongin in the thigh. “fuck! sorry, sorry aegi, i’m- i’m close, i-“

“already?” jeongin chuckles, but his thrusts are beginning to stagger too. he’s just as close as his boyfriend is, and the blood smearing on your throat has you clenching so hard you think you might be, too. jeongin’s pace quickens, and despite it being messy and uncalculated you let your head fall to jisung’s hip with a moan. he’s fine to strip his cock in your face, body curled over you to hold the knife to your neck, and you nuzzle downwards to suck his balls into your mouth.

“yes! yesyesyes, baby, oh, yeah! just like that, my baby, gonna- i’ll cum, fuck, on your face, you want it?”

“fuck. fuck, daddy, please,” you keen, and you watch in real time how it affects your boyfriend. jisung’s eyebrows scrunch together, pouty lips forming the perfect o as his cock spurts ropes of cum onto your head. it’s imprecise, landing mostly on your forehead and in your hair, and you squeal when jeongin yanks you back by the same messy strands. 

“daddy? fuckin’ really?” he pulls you into him, almost fully sat in his lap, and uses a hand he slides up your shirt to bounce you on top of him. you’re out of it. the blood has smeared all over your neck and stained the neck of your shirt, but you don’t care, whinging and gripping onto jeongin’s lithe thighs. his balls slap against your clit like this, and you can see jisung’s cock perking in interest already.

“this is fuckin’ hot! aegi, make her cum. wan’ see it.”

“you already saw it, i need to- i gotta cum now,” jeongin gasps, teeth biting into your shoulder. it’s too much. 

“no, jeonginnie, please! make me- please make me cum!”

he gives in. jisung will tease him about this later. his fingers move to your clit despite his words, and with only a few precisely formed circles onto the bud you’re creaming on his cock with another pathetic squeal. the sensitivity rises quickly, and it has tears biting at your eyes, but jeongin continues to fuck into you like you’re nothing more than a warm hole. maybe that’s all you are. the thought has your pussy clenching down again, and he thrusts deep before he fills you up with a shout, thick and warm inside of you.

jisung stretches his limbs with a sigh, thumb and index finger rubbing over his cockhead. it’s all too wet, and jeongin slides his softening cock out of your hole with a groan. the knife clatters unceremoniously to the floor. before you can whine and make a fuss over the cum still on your face, jeongin grabs hold of your hair and presses his tongue against your skin.

“when do i get a kiss?” jisung protests, cock still soft against his tank top. “no kisses for hannie even after all that hard work. this is unjust. unfair. it’s wrong, i would say.”

you watch jeongin surge across the bed and feed jisung his own cum from his lips. it’s dirty, and jisung’s shaft twitches valiantly against his tummy when he kisses back, tongues intertwining amidst the high pitched noise he makes. you let them kiss for a bit, and then you wriggle yourself up to your boys. the elder welcomes you with open arms, and jeongin pulls away from his lips with a wet sound, collapsing onto jisung’s shoulder.

“welcome home,” you chirp, and jeongin chuckles sleepily. jisung only pulls you into his chest further, fingers tracing patterns on the bare skin of your arm. “will i be expecting any more late nights this week?”

“tomorrow,” jeongin yawns. his head rests on jisung’s shoulder. you’re pretty sure he’s drooling already. jisung’s eyes flutter shut, at peace. “it’s the build up to halloween, baby. we’re busy these days, but we’ll always make time for you.”

[starkeysprincess]

⟢ FEELS TOO GOOD TO BE WRONG

presenting kinktober day 1 ➔︎ stepbro!rafe

warnings: stepcest, pillow humping, guided masturbation, fingering, pussy slapping, gagging, praising, & degrading. 18+ mdni word count: 1.5k

kinktober m.list ⟡ rafe m.list

rafe tip-toed his way up the stairs, not wanting to wake anyone, especially his stepmother, knowing she’d nag at him if she smelled even the slightest ounce of alcohol off him. his feet carried him to his room, ignoring the soft light under your bedroom door, figuring you must’ve forgotten to turn off the fairy lights that littered the room. 

he froze at small whimpers coming from your room, turning around and stopping outside his bedroom. he pressed his ear to the door, chewing on the side of his nail, listening for further noises.

your whimpers progressed, and nothing prepared him for the sight he saw of you, his sweet stepsister, when he quietly twisted the doorknob, cracking your door open ever so slightly. 

the soft yellow lights glowed around your silhouette as if you were an angel, yet your actions were nowhere close to pure. there you were, in nothing but a pair of baby blue panties and a tank top, rutting against a pillow that sat between your thighs. your eyes remained closed, brows furrowing as you rocked back and forth, trying to find a steady rhythm in hopes the plush pillow would graze your clit. 

rafe’s cock stiffened in his khakis, and he grinned to himself, taking your distraction as an opportunity to slip into your room, ensuring to shut the door without making a sound. he leaned against the door, crossed his arms over his chest, and continued to watch you for a few minutes. 

“what do we have here?” rafe chuckled. your eyes immediately opened, and you let out a small shriek in surprise. "w-why are you here?” you stuttered, heat rising to your cheeks in embarrassment. 

“thought you were having a nightmare and was just being a good big stepbrother and checkin’ on you,” rafe licked his lips, eyeing you, “what are you doing up, anyway?”.

“nothing,” your gaze shifted away from him. “nothin', huh?” your stepbrother taunted, “s’not what it looked like to me.” 

“could’ve sworn you were going at it like a bunny and humping away at your pillow,” he tsked. your lip wobbled as tears welled in your eyes; you weren’t sure if it was because you were ashamed or because you were overly frustrated from how horny you were, “i’m sorry”. 

rafe pushed himself off the wall and stalked towards you. he gripped your chin and tilted your head to look up at you. "stop crying, alright? crying isn’t going to get you anywhere.” 

your gaze drifted away from his, and you looked down at your hands in your lap, ushering another apology. his thumb swiped at your plump bottom lip, a tent starting to form in his khakis as the blood rushed to his cock, “mm, sweet girl, always sayin’ sorry”. 

the mattress dipped under his weight as he sat down, his rough hands grabbing at your waist and hoisting you onto his lap. your back was flush against his chest, and he had one hand sprawled across your lower tummy, fingers tracing patterns on your flesh, “you know…what you were doing s’nothing to be ashamed of”. 

it took every fiber in your being not to let out a small whimper when his leg bounced up and down, the material of his khakis rubbing your clit, “it’s not?”. rafe shook his head, “course not. you were just trying to make yourself feel good like the needy little thing you are, right?”.

“i’m not needy,” you murmured, crossing your arms over your chest.

“yeah? if that were true, you wouldn’t be trying to get yourself off by your pillow, would you?” rafe chuckled, “there are other ways to make yourself feel good…like using your fingers”. 

you couldn’t help but frown, “that’s not true”.  

the blonde shook his head, “then you must not be doing it right… i could teach you. would you like that, sweet girl?”.

your eyes lit up, nodding slowly at his offer, and his hand slid down your tummy to your thighs, spreading them further open. his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging at it gently to pull it to the side, “pay attention to what i say, alright?”. 

once you give him confirmation, rafe grabs your hand, guiding it between your legs, “go on, stretch your little cunt with your fingers,” he rasps. you run your fingers through your slick folds, pushing two fingers into your wet cunt, “there you go,” he cooed, his hand pressing on your tummy, pulling you closer into him, “slowly move them in and out”. 

you listen to him, slowly pumping your fingers in and out of your slick pussy. your fingers move with ease as your arousal coats your fingers, and rafe groans, his hardon poking against your ass. his hand slid up your tummy to your tits, squeezing and massaging them. his thumb and forefinger pinch your nipple through your tank top, rolling it between his fingers, “c’mon princess, move them a little faster”. 

“atta girl, feels good, yeah?”.

“n-no, rafey, this feels wrong,” you shook your head, it was eating you alive. your mind racing with the thoughts of how wrong it is to let your step brother talk you through how to please yourself. 

“no? nothin’ is wrong if it makes you feel this good, but i guess i gotta do everything myself then, huh?” he scoffed. his fingers encircled your wrist, pulling it away to replace your fingers with his. 

“oh–” you gasped, his fingers moving to rub up and down your slit, slipping one finger deep inside you. he pushed his thick digit in and out, slowly working your needy hole open before adding another finger. he was knuckle-deep in your cunt, his fingers dragging against your inner walls with each push and pull motion.

you couldn’t help the whine you let out, bucking your hips against his fingers, “see, nothing wrong if it makes you feel good, right?”.

a small squeak traveled up your throat when he landed a light smack to your clit, “answer me, say ‘yes rafey, it’s not wrong if it feels good’. c’mon, say it, or i’ll leave you to go back to humping your pillow, and we both know it doesn’t nearly feel as good as this”.

you couldn’t bring yourself to say it; the way his fingers curled made your brain blank. you pushed your body further back against him, whining when he suddenly stopped, “why’d you stop?”.

“told you i’d stop, guess you’re on your own,” he shrugged, his fingers still buried deep inside you. you rolled your hips, trying to give yourself some relief, only to receive another smack to your clit. 

“you know what i wanna hear,” he murmured, nipping your ear lobe, “admit that it feels good, tell me how good it feels to have my fingers stuffed inside you”.

despite knowing it was wrong, you couldn’t help but admit that it does feel good, his fingers were making you feel pleasure like you’ve never felt before. 

“good girl,” rafe praised, pistoning his fingers once again, “such a good girl for letting me play with this pretty little pussy”.

your head lolls back, resting on his broad shoulder, “rafe,” you whine. your moans increasingly getting louder the faster he pumped his fingers while he continued to toy with your nipples.

his free hand slid up your neck, prodding his fingers against your lips before shoving his middle and ring fingers into your mouth, “gonna wake everyone up if you can’t keep your mouth shut, and we can’t have that, can we?”.

you hum in response, gagging when he shoves his fingers further down your throat, muffling your sweet moans. the sound of your pussy squelching around his fingers was music to his ears, “you hear that? hear how fuckin’ wet you are?”. 

“touch yourself, play with your clit f’me,” he whispered, groaning when you obeyed, watching you rub sloppy circles onto your clit. he dipped his head down, nuzzling his face into your neck, teeth grazing your sensitive skin, “yeah, just like that, princess. goddamn, you’re so wet, drippin’ all over my fingers”.

your breath hitches in your throat, drool coating rafe’s fingers as the tips of his fingers hit against your cervix, “look so fuckin’ pretty when your holes are stuffed full like the needy little slut you are,” he murmured, nipping at your neck. 

you push your head back onto his shoulder and look at him with half-lidded eyes. your chest is heaving as your breathing becomes sporadic, and you feel the coil in your stomach tighten. 

“that’s it, princess, cum all over my fingers. show me how much you love having me play with your pussy,” rafe whispers, grunting from the way your moans are muffled as you’re practically choking on his fingers. 

your eyes squeeze shut as you come undone, his fingers continuing to work you through your orgasm until your body slumps against him.

rafe removed his fingers from your mouth before pulling his hand away from your cunt. he brought his arousal-covered fingers to his mouth, humming as he sucked them clean, “taste so fuckin’ sweet”.

“see? felt better than your pillow, huh?” he teased, bucking his hips, his hard cock grinding against the plump flesh of your ass, “feel that? s’all ’cause of you, sweet girl”.

“think it’s your turn to help me out now”.

taglist: @oceandriveab @babygorewhore @cameronsprincess @xxbimbobunnyxx @fae-of-prey @heartsforvin @zyafics @justafangirls-blog @sturnioloshacker @starkeyisthelastname @userchai @bunnyrafe @drewstarkeys-world @nemesyaaa @drewsarms @fallbhind @rafesthroatbaby @rafestaurusgf @hallecarey1 @fallrafwe @rafecameroninterlude @johnnycakess @sturnskiss @blckbrrybasket @shawtycoreee @rafeyscurtainbangs @wearemadeofstardust0 @juniebugg @honeybunniesoobin @spacexdrago @starkeysbebe @chimindity @spid6y @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @amandabbbbb @kisses4angel @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @starkeysheart @rafeinterlude @flvredcas @emilysuperswag @hyperfixationgirl @eternalbuckley @redhead1180 @ijustwanttoreadlols @slumnit @xoxohoneymoongirl

[silverskyeline]

'hunger' 18+

worst!wolverine x f!reader (3.9k words) summary: logan can't tear his mind away from the new barmaid at his usual haunt. he tries to resist you, he really does. but when you're both alone in the bathroom, he finds he's not the only one plagued with filthy thoughts. tags: for the 'longing' prompt for logan promptober, set in the bar from the movie, kind of angsty, filthy, pent up logan, alcohol consumption, doggy style, creampie, biting, light choking, pinning wrists, hair pulling, spanking, rough sex, implied age gap, sweet ending.

his usual haunts offer comfort, safe nests tucked away down isolated roads, usually requiring quite the drive to find - it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

time spent staring into the grain of the old wood on the bar wondering how the fuck he ended up here. he'd stopped keeping count a long time ago, how long he'd been around, been alive. things get kind of hazy after two hundred years. logan had no reason to keep count.

until he saw you.

the bar was busy, as it normally was. he didn't mind it this way, less attention on him, less chances of someone trying to pick a fight with a specific stranger. not that they'd win, but logan had grown too tired for petty fights these days.

he's sat at the bar when the bartender clocks off, switching with someone new, someone he'd never seen before. you walk in and his eyes immediately scan your face, your build, your outfit. it's a habit of his, one he hoped he'd grow out of - but logan has learned that he'll never stop assessing for new threats. it's just in his dna.

but what he finds isn't a threat.

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls. he drags his eyes back down to his glass like he's forcing himself to look down the barrel of a gun rather than looking at you, before settling on you once more.

logan can't let himself look too much, he isn't allowed nice things, especially not pretty little things such as yourself. he's poison, tainting everything he touches, spoiling it. he's experienced enough heartbreak, enough losses for a lifetime and more.

. . . but what harm can looking do?

a few weeks pass, logan notices you're in every few nights from now on, must have been put on the regular rota. he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

you've never noticed him, or at least, he's never caught you looking in his direction. but he finds himself craving it, willing your eyes to meet his even for a second. the extent of your interactions have been sliding a glass or a bottle in his direction before continuing with your other duties.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . . though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless.

he is an animal, after all.

he wonders if he should switch bars just to distance himself. he couldn't let himself become comfortable with the idea of you. relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it.

fuck.

logan curses himself under his breath for even having this internal debate. you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy. he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything.

he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

no, he finds himself shaking his head as he stands from the bar. he'd take a leak, and leave early. it'd only been a month since he first saw you, he could get over this. switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

the bathroom door swings open and he walks inside, situating himself at one of the urinals. a few moments later, the door swings open again, logan doesn't bother to look over.

"oh, thought these were empty, sorry."

his head turns quickly. it's you, mop in hand. there's an uncomfortable silence that follows.

speak, fucking speak. "it's fine."

you pause, then nod a little and begin mopping the floor.

his eyes are back on the urinal, swallowing hard. was this really going to be your first conversation? with his eyes glaring into old porcelain, dick in his hand? he tries not to picture you stealing glances at him, but he can't help it. is that what he wants?

maybe.

finishing up, he quickly makes his way over to the sinks, pushing his hands under the cool water and rubbing with soap. his eyes flit up to the mirror. and he catches you.

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again.

but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

"all done," you say with a sigh after a few moments, standing straight and gripping the mop but making no effort to leave just yet.

logan eyes you in the mirror, watches how your eyes dance across the room before inevitably landing on him again. he turns to face you, noting the distance between you both in the room.

you lean back against the bathroom stall divider, eyes drifting across logan's figure. he was tall, big. this is the first time you're really able to look at him, to study the features of his face. this time he's not hiding behind a glass or a bottle.

the hunger in his gaze is obvious, but it's dulled, like he's just barely holding back. you think he looks lonely, there's a distinct air about him that practically screams that he needs to be touched.

you rest your mop against the wall, "you're in here often." you state, it's not a question.

"guess i'm a regular," he replies curtly.

swallowing hard, you continue, "i noticed. i always have to restock the whisky when you come by."

logan pushes himself from the sink and approaches you slowly. was he really doing this? after a month of pining and longing for you, a stranger in a bar, was he really going to give in to his desires? would you let him? the lust was clear in your eyes and he knew he was reflecting it right back tenfold.

"i like a drink." he says with a subtle shrug, just a step away now, eyes never leaving yours.

a small smile tugs at your lips, "i know."

you're not sure what you're really doing. you're supposed to be on shift, designated five minutes to clean the bathrooms. five minutes you'd much rather spend doing someone something else.

you eye the stranger who's been watching you, tipping you. of course you've noticed, you'd have to be pretty stupid or oblivious not to. you've come to expect him at each shift, but his presence intrigued you more than the other regulars. not just because he was more handsome, considerably more handsome.

no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

you're not sure when or how it happened, but he's right in front of you now, his body almost touching yours. you look up at him with a feigned innocent look.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me."

logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?"

"yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious."

he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

your hands snake down, finding his belt buckle and brazingly begin to unbuckle it. he watches you, eyes fixated on the way your fingers move. he swears he's about to start drooling. but then you move, hands winding up to the buttons on his shirt. you splay your hands across the fabric, eyes widening when you feel what's underneath.

"are you. . . is that-"

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up. he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

he moans, relishing the taste of you, the taste he's thought about for so fucking long. he brings your hands up, pinning them above your head, shifting his grip so one hand easily pins your wrists, leaving his other hand free.

his free hand plants firmly across your upper chest, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against your collarbone as he explores your mouth with his tongue. you're lost in the sensation, knees going weak as you allow the older man to have his way with you. he needs this, you know it.

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?"

you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you. his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

the kiss grows in intensity, you wonder how long it's been since he's kissed someone. he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

his hand on your neck gives a gentle squeeze before running down your torso, palming at your jeans suddenly. you try to whimper in pleasure, but he's silencing you with his lips again.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet." logan can feel the material of your jeans begin to damp and he resists the urge to growl, feeling the way the fabric beneath gives way.

you nod, whispering small affirmatives as he touches you through the material. "just give me more," you whine.

and that spurs him on. in a flash he's pushing you into the stall, stealing a few more kisses where he can before he turns you, pushing your back against his chest. his lips find your neck, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses along the skin he finds there.

you're like putty in his hands, melting back against him as his hand returns to your crotch, rough hands massaging circles against your clothed core. you resist a moan, exhaling shakily instead as you let him use you.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

you nod quickly as you feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin.

"yeah, thought so," he nibbles on your earlobe, breathing deeply through his nose as he tries to steady himself, preserve the moment. but how can he when you feel this good beneath his fingers, taste this good on his tongue? "tell me you want it."

"want you to fuck me," you whimper almost immediately, suddenly feeling so very needy. there's a hot ache growing between your legs, one you're desperate for him to fill.

logan laughs, "you can do better than that, honey, know you can."

"please," your voice cracks and you swallow back moans as you squirm beneath his touch, "please fuck me-" it becomes apparent to you at that moment that you don't even know his name. your cheeks flush at the thought of letting this stranger, this older man fuck you in the bar bathroom, but actually, you kind of like it that way.

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

with that, he pushes you forward, forcing your hands onto the tank of the toilet to support yourself as he bends you over. his hands find your waist, his hips connecting with yours and slowly grinding his very apparent, large bulge against you.

you let out a whimper, arching your back a little at the sudden contact.

"feel that?" he mumbles, guiding your hips to grind back against him, "feel what you do to me?"

a gasp, "fuck, you're big." you can already tell, the way his bulge is pressing against you, demanding to be felt. you swear you can almost feel it throb through the material.

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it.

pulling back slightly, he roughly pulls your jeans down, practically manhandling you, your underwear disappearing with it. he grabs handfuls of your ass before kneading the skin. "look at that, pretty little ass, all for me."

you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar. "f-fuck!" you whine, feeling the sharp sting, knowing there's a bright red imprint in the shape of his large palm on your ass.

there's some jingling, the sound of his belt being moved out of the way, a zipper. you prepare yourself, or at least you try to, but his cock is already slapping against your backside before you have time to steady your hazy mind.

"you gonna take all of me?" he asks, biting his lip as his aching length slaps against your skin, "think you can?"

you nod quickly, looking over your shoulder at him, "mhm!"

"if you say so. . ." he smirks and positions himself, one hand on your hip and one aiming his cock at your tight little hole.

then, all at once he's sinking in. you gasp, he gasps. and fuck, he is big. you feel that sweet stretch, his cock throbbing against your tight walls as it slowly glides inside. you're whining as it slowly fills you, eyes rolling back at the sensation. but he pulls out a little, only to push back in again.

he's working you up just right, mesmerised by the way you take his cock. his eyes are fixed on your tight hole begging him to enter, loving the slick sound as it pushes inside.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

despite the way your cheeks flush bright red, you can't deny it. you've thought about it more than once, fantasised about it in bed, hoping that one day that stranger from the bar would fuck you so good you forget your own name.

you don't need to reply either, because he knows. he knows from the way your wet hole flutters around him, and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has. he begins to pump into you at a leisurely pace, firm hands on your hips.

"holy fuck, so fuckin' tight," logan grumbles, his deep slow strokes hitting you deep as he bottoms out inside of you.

you try to turn your head, to look up at him, but he grasps the back of your hair, pushing your head down. "nu-uh, keep that head down."

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it. he'll take you, just like this, with your head down and your ass up and his cock buried deep inside you.

because he can't describe the shame that swirls in his stomach, that this is how he relieves himself, a quick fuck in a bar. this dirty older man who's seen so much sin, perpetuated sin with his own hands, who longed for the young pretty little thing in the bar. logan doesn't deserve nice things, this he knows.

you feel his thrusts grow rougher, your legs slipping apart as you attempt to hold yourself up, hands planted firmly on the tank of the toilet. you're squeaking softly with each pump, feeling him use you to release his pent-up frustrations. and it felt so fucking good.

with his firm grip on your hair tightening by the second and his other large hand digging into your hip, you begin to bounce back against his motions, sending him even deeper. you both moan in sync with the feeling and you pant softly, cheeks flushing further at the soft 'plap plap plap' of his hips connecting with you, the sound reverberating around the small cubicle.

"that feels so fucking good," you sing, closing your eyes. logan gives a particularly hard thrust, speed picking up. you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh? "keep fuckin' me, just like that, so good. . ."

he groans, wrapping your hair around his fist as he relentlessly pounds into you. harder and harder, deeper and deeper, you're sure you'll have bruises littered over your body before the day is through.

"harder!" you cry, feeling your legs tremble. you're not gonna last long like this, and by the way his cock is twitching inside of you, he isn't either. "i'm gonna cum, you're gonna make me fuckin' cum!"

another groan slips from his lips, gritting his teeth as he uses you, watching you take his throbbing cock beneath him. "look so pretty like this, bent over, takin' what i fuckin- shit. . . takin' what i give you."

your body grows hotter, sweat forming on your forehead, each impact pushing you forward roughly. you're really not gonna last long.

he begins to hunch over, his chest flush with your back as he huffs against your neck, fucking you like a rabid animal. you're squealing now, the pleasure swirling in your lower stomach, threatening to send you crashing into bliss. at this point, you don't fucking care if someone walks in and finds you like this, sees his feet planted behind yours underneath the stall. in fact, the thought of the risk sends a bolt straight to your gut.

"yes yes yes," you mutter, feeling your orgasm approaching steadily. you swear you can feel him in your guts. you begin to flutter around him, begging for release, knowing it's going to completely destroy you.

logan can't even form words, just grunts slipping from his lips against the side of your neck. and then he feels it, his cock twitches, his mind reeling with the imminent release. he needs this, oh he fucking needs this.

he bites down on your neck, teeth sinking in slightly as he feels himself release deep inside you, his cum spilling out in strong waves. you feel your knees buckle, but a strong hand planted on your tummy helps keep you upright as he fucks his release deeper into you.

the animalistic nature of his thrusts combined with the sensation of his hot cum painting your insides sends you flying over the edge, your orgasm milking him as you clamp around his aching cock. he slams his hand against the stall wall with a loud metallic bang, splaying his fingers across the metal as if to ground himself as his thrusts falter.

his tongue lazily licks the indents of his bite mark against your neck, groans easing their way from the back of his throat. you can hardly catch your breath, legs still shaking from such an intense release. it's hard to think straight with his dick still buried deep inside, feeling it twitch with every aftershock.

you both stay like that for a solid minute, panting, coming down together. he's planting soft kisses along your neck as your breath slowly comes back to you.

he pulls out, stepping back as he stuffs himself into his jeans. you collapse onto the toilet seat, shakily pulling your jeans and underwear back up as you look up at him. it's clear he's looking to leave, a distant look in his eye, maybe a little shame creeping into his features.

standing on trembling legs, you lean up, giving him a surprisingly soft kiss. your hands take over his, helping him back into his jeans, zipping them up, clasping the buttons together and buckling his belt. all the while your lips are on his, slowly, passionately intertwining together.

you pull back, buttoning your own jeans as you continue to look up at him. ". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

and there it is, a small smirk on his lips as he glances away. "maybe."

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

"i'll see you tomorrow?" you ask, tilting your head.

he blinks, suddenly remembering time exists outside this small space seemingly crafted just for the two of you. "yeah," he says, quietly.

"good," you pat his chest before moving past him, leaving the stall. you stand, looking back at him. a beat, "or, you can meet me after my shift ends?"

his eyes widen, taken aback. fuck, had he forgotten how to do this? his eyes flit to the side, before making up his mind. he gives a firm nod.

you smile before leaving him in the bathroom, returning to the bar through the door.

logan stands there for a few moments, running his fingers through his hair. he smooths down his shirt, feeling the suit beneath, a stark reminder always of his past.

but maybe he could begin to take a few steps forward. maybe he deserves more than to suffer forever, forced to keep everyone at arm's length. maybe he could allow himself this small happiness, a date, or whatever this was.

maybe it was time to satisfy his hunger, his loneliness, for good.

[talesofesther]

solace

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: You take care of Aemond's hair after a rough day. You take care of him, too.

A/N: I fear I might be obsessed with this little concept. And Aemond truly deserves some genuine love. :)

Masterlist

Aemond's chest hurts. He's not sure if it's because his heart is beating too erratically or if it's because he can't hold a steady breathing pattern. Perhaps it's both.

He's looking down at his hands resting on his lap. He notices the barely there tremble to his fingertips but he pretends not to. There's a low and sweet humming of a song coming from behind him, Aemond knows you do it when you're concentrated doing something you enjoy, and it raises goosebumps on his bare arms and back.

Earlier, when Aemond walked into your chambers seeking the comfort your presence offered him after a hard day, you'd seen him struggling with the tie holding half of his hair back, and offered to help. Perhaps against his better judgment, Aemond's tired mind decided to accept.

Now, the Prince sits on the padded stool in front of the vanity in your chambers, with only his pants on, and hair loose falling over his shoulders while you slowly undo small knots and tangles. The night sky is clouded but there's golden candlelight illuminating you and him.

Aemond can't bring himself to look up in the mirror. It had taken months for him to accept taking off his eyepatch in your presence, but as much as he would hate to admit it, he hasn't yet dared to look into your eyes whenever he did so. He fears for what he might see. He learned to love you—or at least he thinks that's the overwhelming feeling that swells his heart when he's with you—and he's reluctant as to what he might see in your eyes during moments like these.

But you're still gentle with the way you handle him, too gentle. Aemond feels faint when you love on him like this, he doesn't know what to make of it; it's new, it's unfamiliar. You touch him with a kind of delicacy that's foreign to him, but he thinks that if he were to be deprived of it he would already miss it.

Your fingers bury into his hair, nails barely scratching the scalp. You go from the top of his head, to behind his ears, and down the nape of his neck, slowly. Silver strands slide in between your hands like silk. You touch him carefully, each motion thought of and intentional. Repeating the pattern again, and again.

And Aemond is quiet, not moving a single muscle. Because what if he moves and you stop?

He feels almost selfish for not wanting you to stop touching him, ever.

But you're so gentle, it might just break him. There's a tear caught on his lashes, if Aemond blinks it'll fall, and you'll see his weakness.

Aemond rubs the pad of his thumb against his other palm. What would you think of him then?

The two of you haven't been together for long. Would you think him unbefitting for you? Undeserving?

Would you leave?

Aemond holds his breath until there's an ache in his lungs. He doesn't want you to leave.

You've moved on to softly rub your thumbs against his temples, because there's a crease on his eyebrows that he hasn't noticed yet. You take extra care when you touch his scarred side, and Aemond feels his lower lip wobble. He bites onto it, hard, but then the lower lid of his eye starts trembling and he feels helpless.

Aemond realizes that it's becoming hard to get air back into his lungs, he's a little overwhelmed. He's been alone for too long, it's hard to unlearn that.

He only notices his tears falling when the first one drips down on top of his hand and slowly rolls down the slope of his palm. There's no going back after it, and his cheeks shine with the wet trails left behind by the many tears that follow. But Aemond remains quiet, almost concerningly quiet.

Maybe that's why he's suddenly watching you kneel down in front of him. Shame paints his insides in an ugly color, and Aemond lowers his head, eye closed. He holds his breath so no sobs escape.

He feels, however. Your hands close around his, in a tight but still oh-so-gentle grip. Your thumb brushes up and down, up and down, until Aemond brings himself to follow along with his breathing—up and down, in and out. Shaky and unsteady, but you bring him back.

It's bewitching, how you can calm him.

"Hey." Your voice is all sweet and warm, like the first ray of sun on a cold day, "Did I hurt you?"

Aemond's eye finally opens, wanting, needing to see you.

Aemond realizes he shared a lot of firsts with you. You were the first to hold his heart with kind hands, you were the first to make him feel calmer in your presence than when he is alone, you were the first to touch him as if he's something worth caring for. And now, you're the first to look at him with nothing but unconditional affection.

There's a glint to your eyes, a tilt to your brows and lips. He could crumble under your gaze, it burns and soothes all the same, as if there's nothing about him that you would change. Nothing you wouldn't love.

His voice almost fails him when he speaks; "You could never." But he means it.

The candlelights shape your easy smile as you get up. Aemond's eye follows you, squeezing one of your hands he still holds. His lips part and he feels how dry they are. He's raw, exposed, bare. He finds he doesn't mind it; Aemond doesn't want to wear an armor with you.

You reach to push his hair behind his ear, watching as his eye closes again and he melts for you. Fingertips linger just beside his scarred cheek before you pull him in, one hand around his shoulders and the other cradling his head.

Aemond buries his face against your stomach without protest, both his arms circling your waist and nails almost digging into the fabric of your clothes with desperation.

Your hand resumes to smooth down his hair while you hold him, and your melodic humming returns. Silver strands give beneath and curl around your fingers as if they were made only for you to touch.

Aemond breathes you in. His heart is so full of you that he can barely call it his own.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

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[retrosabers]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄.

KINKTOBER DAY 1: MARKS

logan howlett x fem! reader

summary: logan’s possessive side makes an appearance after he sees you with a stranger at the bar

contains: smut content below the cut. MINORS DNI. penetration (p in v), hickies (fem receiving), sex in a public place, swearing, a bit of possessive!logan , kinda rushed ending

word count: 1.6k

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

a/n: my first kinktober post! hopefully i can actually commit to all this writing, hope you enjoy day one! <3

“logan slow down!” you squeal, trailing behind your boyfriend as he drags you down the hallway to the bathroom. you don’t miss the way wade wiggles his eyebrows at the two of you from the table on the other side of the room, making a rather lewd motion with his hand and mouth.

“grab your vibrators ladies, gents, and gender non conforming sluts,” he whispers to god only knows who. “this is gonna get good.”

you have to wrap your other hand around his bicep to steady yourself, nearly tripping over your own feet as you finally approach the dingy restroom back in the deepest corner of the bar. logan doesn’t spare you a glance over his shoulder as he fumbles with the doorknob, muttering curses under his breath.

another flustered sound leaves your mouth as he ushers you inside, his large hands pushing into your ass with a fervor that you’ve never seen outside of the bedroom.

as soon as the lock clicks behind him, your body gets pressed up against the door, logan crowding your space with dark eyes and bared teeth.

the green eyed monster did always tend to bring out the animal in him.

in an instant, his mouth is on yours. tongue prodding between your lips with such intensity it already has your knees wobbling. he devours your mouth like it’s his god given right, the taste of whiskey and tobacco a familiar flavor that makes your brain feel fuzzy.

he was consuming all your senses. calloused palms rubbing over the expanse of your exposed skin, mouth moving synchronously with your own all the while the only sound in the room was his heavy breathing.

all you could think about was logan, logan, logan. just how he wanted. and he hadn’t even managed to touch you properly yet.

his lips and hands move in tandem as wet sloppy kisses trail down the column of your throat. the breathy “fuck” that you let out only makes his cock strain harder against the tight denim.

“don’t fuckin’ like the way that guy was lookin’ at you,” logan groans between kisses, his voice somehow even deeper than normal. it sends a new wave of excitement down your spine, the dampness between your legs growing at the thought of what was to come.

logan was always insatiable. but when he was jealous, when he was borderline possessive? you could let him have his way with you whenever and wherever he so pleased.

“doesn’t matter,” you counter weakly. “m’yours logan. and he knows that.”

he chuckles darkly against your skin. a sound that has you clenching around nothing.

“oh, but i don’t think he does sweetheart,” logan coos before beginning to suck on your earlobe. the moan you let out feels like music to his ears. and he intends on making sure everyone can hear your sweet symphony.

“think that prick may need a reminder to not touch things that aren’t his.”

this whole ordeal started when an old friend spotted you waiting at the bar for drinks. it was nothing more than casual conversation, a friendly game of catch up that was completely harmless.

until logan saw another man’s hand squeeze your shoulder.

he didn’t need to know what the reason was, even if it was only a polite and fleeting thing. because despite the green he felt inside, all he could see was red.

so he decided instead of breaking out the claws and causing an unwanted scene, he would have to let his anger out in another way instead.

you instinctually spread your legs as logan slots himself between them, the heavy weight of his hard cock maddening against your clothed cunt. a gasp escapes both of you at the contact, the air in the small room growing hotter and heavier as the tension intensified.

logan didn’t need to feel you to know you were dripping. fuck, he could smell it, caught a whiff of your arousal before you probably even knew it was there. but he’s nothing if not cocky when it comes to you, and he traces his rough fingertips up the warm skin of your inner thighs anyway. he stops right at the crease between your pelvis and thigh, dangerously close to where you need him most.

“did he do that?” logan snarls, snaking his thumb under the hem of your panties. he begins rubbing featherlight circles against your clit, satisfied to find you absolutely soaked.

you shake your head briskly, reveling in the small touch. “s’all you logan.”

“damn fuckin’ right it is.”

you whine as he yanks his hand away from you, only to hurriedly unclasp his belt in one swift motion. it sends another wave of heat down to your core, and your hips jerk forward on instinct as he quickly pulls his cock out from the confines of his bottoms.

“m’gonna make sure that motherfucker knows,” he whispers low and throaty in your ear, giving himself a few quick strokes before lining up with your entrance. “y’gonna let me?”

your breathy “please” is permission enough, and logan slams his length inside you without warning. you were so wet already that he didn’t need to take his time prepping you with his mouth or fingers, his domineering nature enough to have you slick and ready for the taking.

logan doesn’t waste any time, already working up to a steady pace as his hands palm at the globes of your ass, guiding you to bounce on his length. it knocks the air out of your lungs, moans and whimpers pouring from your lips at a rather embarrassing volume. but when you try to quiet yourself, logan isn’t having it.

“uh-uh honey,” he growls, his hot breath fanning your cheek. “let me hear you.”

and you were always one to obey his commands.

logan moves you up and down his cock at the same time he cants his hips into you, arching your back at just the right angle that makes you sing with no control. your head is thrown back in ecstasy at the feeling, baring your neck to your boyfriend.

there’s some extra skin exposed tonight. you’re wearing that one low cut top that always drove him crazy, showing off your collarbones and a bit of cleavage. it made you look delectable, even more than normal.

logan’s anger boils once more at the thought of some other guy wanting you like this. thinking he had a fucking sliver of a chance with you. it stirs the primal nature that sits buried inside him, something that only reveals itself in pure lust driven moments like these.

he needs to stake his claim. in any and every way possible.

when logan’s mouth attaches to your jugular, you whine in content. he always knew your sweet spots. how much pressure to apply and where to get you clamping around him in record time. a spark of confusion rises in you as logan slowly drags his teeth up and down the column of your throat, ebbing an all new electricity in your core.

you’re not prepared for the sensations that follow.

the assault logan performs on your neck will likely have you wearing turtlenecks and scarves for at least a week. but it feels so euphoric you can’t be bothered to care. he alternates between harsh suction and gentle caresses of the tongue, almost soothing you from his handiwork. he paints your delicate skin with lilac marks that will soon develop into shades of plum. a masterpiece on his muse.

each graze of his canines against your neck is accompanied with a thrust that hits a spot deep in you. so far in it feels as though he’s in your entire body, completely consuming you from the inside out.

“fuck, logan,” you moan unabashedly, your nails digging harshly into the fabric of his white t-shirt. the sound of his name leaving your lips only spurs him on, angling his hips with a particularly deep stroke that has you seeing stars.

“that’s right,” he sneers smugly. his grip on you tightens as he stares back at the blossoming bruises with satisfaction. “i gotcha.”

you can feel the tension growing in your abdomen. a sign of your approaching release. logan can sense it too, and he’s determined to make you fall apart.

he takes control, smushing your body against the door and pistoning up into your cunt. one hand remains securely around your hip while the other snakes between your legs, his thumb finding your clit with ease.

the pressure of the harsh circles he rubs against you coupled with the pace of his movements bring you dangerously close to the edge, a high pitched mixture of whimpers and logan’s name falling from your lips like a mantra.

he licks a long stripe up your neck, savoring the saltiness of the sweat coating your skin.

“come on sweetheart,” logan murmurs in your ear, a rather sweet contrast to how roughly he’s fucking into you. “cum for me.”

the dichotomy is what makes the tension snap, a loud cry leaving you as your orgasm washes over every inch of your body. you preen in logan’s hold, thankful for the enhanced strength that prevents his motions from faltering.

your warm walls clenching around him felt like heaven, a paradise he never wants to leave. he fucks you through the journey to his own climax, waves of overstimulation pricking at your skin.

“so fuckin’ pretty when you cum,” logan grunts, chasing his high. he punctuates every word with a deep thrust before finally coating your insides with his release.

“and all. fuckin’. mine.”

thanks for reading! <3

[a-lexia11]

Crossing the line (part 4)

Ingrid Engen x Putellas!reader

Alexia Putellas x sister!reader

Word count:4k

Warning:angst

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Ingrid limped after you, her voice frantic. “No, Y/N, please don’t do this. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid! I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want things to get worse between you two.”

You froze at the door, your hand gripping the doorknob so tightly your knuckles turned white. Your heart was racing, adrenaline still surging, fueled by the anger boiling inside.

When you turned to face her, Ingrid’s worried expression softened the sharp edges of your anger, but the frustration still simmered beneath the surface.

“Ingrid, she hurt you,” you said, your voice low but tense. “She crossed a line, and she’s my sister. She needs to understand that what she did isn’t okay.”

“I know she did,” Ingrid replied, her voice trembling slightly. “But going after her now, when you’re this upset… it’ll just make everything worse. Please, calm down first. You can talk to her tomorrow, once you’re not so angry. Stay here with me, okay? Don’t go.”

You exhaled sharply, the tension still coiling in your chest, but her words started to sink in. Ingrid stepped closer, reaching up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing gently across your skin in soothing circles.

“Alexia’s protective,” she said softly, her eyes pleading. “This whole situation is a shock to her, but confronting her like this won’t help. Let’s just take it slow, deal with it together—one step at a time.”

You stared into her eyes, torn between your desire to protect Ingrid and the realization that she was right. Going after Alexia now, in the heat of your anger, would only throw gasoline on the fire.

After a long moment, you released the doorknob and let out a heavy breath. “Fine,” you muttered, nodding slowly. “I’ll stay. But tomorrow, I will talk to her.”

Ingrid sighed in relief and immediately wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against your shoulder. “We’ll deal with this. Together.”

As you stood there in the quiet, holding each other, the tension in your body slowly ebbed away. But in the back of your mind, the unresolved conflict with Alexia still loomed, like a storm gathering strength on the horizon.

You knew the confrontation was inevitable, but for now, with Ingrid in your arms, you allowed yourself to push it aside. Just for a little longer.

——

The next morning, you woke up with a pit in your stomach. Even after Ingrid’s comforting words the night before, the anger still simmered beneath the surface.

The image of her wincing in pain because of Alexia’s reckless actions burned in your mind, igniting your blood all over again.

Ingrid was already up when you emerged from the bedroom, sitting on the couch with her foot propped up and an ice pack resting on her ankle.

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating her features and softening her expression. She looked up as you pulled on your jacket, an understanding glint in her eyes.

“I see you’re getting ready,” she said, her voice steady but laced with concern. “Are you sure about this?”

You nodded, trying to project confidence. “I have to see Alexia. She needs to know what she did to you isn’t okay.”

Ingrid’s expression shifted slightly, her concern deepening. “I know how angry you are, Y/N. But please, remember what we talked about last night. If you go in there like this, it could blow up.”

You crossed your arms, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “But Ingrid, she hurt you! How can I just sit back and let that slide? It feels like I’m betraying you by not standing up for you.”

Ingrid stood, her movements careful as she stepped closer to you. “You’re not betraying me. You’re protecting me by being smart about this. You’re my girlfriend, and I love that you want to defend me, but I also want you to be careful.” Her eyes were earnest, and you could see the sincerity in her gaze.

“Maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice softening. “But it’s hard to stay calm when I know she’s responsible for your pain.”

Ingrid reached up, gently cupping your cheek with her warm hand. “I know it’s difficult,” she said, her voice soothing, “but you have to breathe. If you confront her while you’re still angry, you might say things you don’t mean.”

You sighed, the tension in your body beginning to ease as her thumb brushed across your skin. “I just wish I didn’t have to face her at all,” you admitted, your heart racing with a mix of dread and determination.

Ingrid leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, her warmth enveloping you like a comforting blanket. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, full of love and understanding.

You melted into her, allowing the softness of the moment to wash over you, grounding you before the storm ahead.

When you pulled back, you were breathless, the lingering warmth of her lips igniting a fire within you. “You really know how to calm me down,” you murmured, a smile creeping onto your face.

“I try,” she said with a playful glint in her eyes, stepping back slightly but keeping her hand on your cheek. “Just promise me that you’ll try to stay calm when you talk to her. I’ll be waiting for you when you get back, ready to hear everything.”

You nodded, taking one last look at her, the love in her eyes fortifying you against the confrontation you were about to face. “Okay, I promise. I’ll try to keep my cool.”

Ingrid’s smile widened, and she squeezed your hand, her touch electrifying. “You’re stronger than you think. And remember, no matter what happens, we’re in this together.”

As you stepped out the door, the weight of the impending confrontation hung heavily on your chest, but Ingrid’s reassurance echoed in your mind.

This wasn’t just about standing up to Alexia; it was about asserting your independence and protecting the relationship you cherished.

As you drove to Alexia’s apartment, memories of your childhood with her flashed in your mind—how protective she had always been, especially after your dad passed. You felt a mix of nostalgia and resolve, knowing you had to stand your ground.

This was your life now, and it was time for Alexia to understand that you were no longer a child who needed shielding. You had your own love to protect, and you would do anything to keep it safe.

——

When you arrived at Alexia's apartment, you stood at the door and took a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself, but it was no use.

Despite Ingrid’s wise words echoing in your mind, the anger simmered just below the surface. The thought of Ingrid's pain consumed you, reigniting the fire in your chest.

You pushed the door open—thankfully it was unlocked, as Alexia often forgot to close it properly—and stormed into the living room, slamming the door behind you. Alba was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

She looked up, startled by the sudden noise, her expression softening when she recognized you.

“Y/N? ¿Qué estás haciendo aquí?” she asked, rising to her feet in surprise. (What are you doing here?)

“Me alegra que estés aquí. Necesito hablar contigo y con Alexia. ¿Dónde está ella?” you shot back coldly, your heart racing with frustration. (I’m glad you’re here. I need to talk to you and Alexia. Where is she?)

Before Alba could respond, Alexia entered the room, crossing her arms defensively. “¿Qué quieres?” she asked, her tone dripping with annoyance. “¿Estás aquí para decirnos que mentiste sobre algo más?” (What do you want? Are you here to tell us that you lied about something else?)

You could feel your voice trembling with rage as you replied, “Vine a hablar contigo. Sobre cómo has estado tratando a Ingrid en los entrenamientos. ¿Qué coño te pasa, Alexia?” (I came to talk to you. About how you’ve been treating Ingrid at training. What the hell is wrong with you, Alexia?)

Alexia scoffed, shaking her head with feigned concern. “¡Oh! Pobre Ingrid, ¿vino a llorarte sobre su pobre tobillo?” she mocked, wiping an imaginary tear from her cheek. (Oh! Poor Ingrid, did she come crying to you about her poor ankle?)

In that moment, you saw red. “Puta” you yelled, adrenaline pumping as you lunged at her. But before you could reach her, Alba caught your arm, holding you back. (Bitch!)

“¡Y/N, cálmate!” Alba pleaded, her grip firm as the two of you began shouting over one another. (Y/N, calm down!)

“¡Suéltame! ¡Te voy a dar una bofetada que ni te la esperas!” you shouted, frustration boiling over as you tried to break free. (Let go of me! I’ll smack you so fucking hard)

Suddenly, a voice cut through the chaos. “¿Qué demonios está pasando aquí?” You turned to see your mom standing in the doorway, her face a mixture of shock and concern. (What the hell is going on here?)

The tension in the room shifted as all eyes turned toward her, the fight momentarily forgotten in the wake of her presence.

“Mamá, dile a Alba que me suelte. ¡Necesito matar a esta idiota que es tu hija!”you shouted, fury coursing through your veins. (Mom, tell Alba to let go of me! I need to kill this idiot who’s your daughter!)

Eli’s face hardened as she took in the chaotic scene before her. “¿Qué está pasando aquí?” she repeated, her voice steady but edged with concern. (What’s going on here?)

“Y/N, ¿por qué estás tan alterada?” (Y/N, why are you so upset?)

“¡Alexia ha estado acosando an Ingrid!” you yelled, your voice thick with emotion. (Alexia has been bullying Ingrid!)

“¡La ha estado tratando como si no fuera nada” (She’s been treating her like she’s nothing)

“¿Acosando?” Eli echoed, her eyes shifting to Alexia, confusion etched on her features. “¿Ingrid? ¿Qué está pasando exactamente?” (Bullying?Ingrid? What exactly is happening?)

Alexia crossed her arms defiantly, a scowl replacing any hint of guilt. “No es acoso; solo es fútbol,” she shot back, but the uncertainty flickering in her eyes revealed a deeper truth. (It’s not bullying; it’s just football)

“No, ¡no lo es! ¡Has estado haciéndole la vida un infierno!” you retorted, frustration bubbling over. You shoved Alba away, feeling the urge to confront Alexia directly. (No, it’s not! You’ve been making her life a living hell!)

“¡Has hecho que se sienta como si no valiera nada solo porque está saliendo conmigo!” (You’ve made her feel worthless just because she’s dating me!)

Eli took a step closer, her voice calm yet authoritative. “¡Basta! Quiero que todos se sienten alrededor de la mesa. Necesitamos hablar,” she instructed, her commanding presence cutting through the tension in the room. “Ahora.” (Enough! I want all of you to sit down around the table. We need to talk.Now.)

Reluctantly, you all made your way to the dining room, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken resentment.

The silence felt suffocating as you took your seats at the table, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum.

Eli settled into her chair across from you, her face a mix of disappointment and maternal concern that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Y/N, ¿qué está pasando realmente? ¿Estás realmente saliendo con Ingrid?” (Y/N, what’s really going on? Are you really dating Ingrid?)

Eli’s voice softened as she attempted to bridge the widening gap between you, but there was a palpable tension in her tone that made it clear this was no casual conversation.

Taking a deep breath, you felt the weight of the moment bearing down on you. “Sí, mamá. Ingrid es mi novia.” (Yes, Mom. Ingrid is my girlfriend.)

The admission hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable, as Alexia let out a scoff of disbelief that cut through the silence like a knife.

Eli shot Alexia a sharp, warning glare, her eyes narrowing in silent command for her to keep quiet.

Turning back to you, she leaned in slightly, her tone a mixture of gentleness and firmness. “¿Por qué no me dijiste esto, mi amor?” (Why didn’t you tell me about this, my love?)

“Tenía miedo de cómo reaccionarías,” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly as sadness crept in. “Después de cómo reaccionaron Alba y Alexia, no quería arriesgarme a que tú sintieras lo mismo.” (I was scared of how you’d react. After how Alba and Alexia reacted, I didn’t want to risk you feeling the same way.)

Eli’s brows furrowed in concern. “¿Qué pasó? ¿Cómo reaccionaron?”Her eyes narrowed, directing her disappointment toward her two eldest daughters as if they were guilty of a crime against the family. (What happened? How did they react?)

With a heavy heart, you recounted the painful morning when Alexia and Alba had barged into your room, their faces twisted with anger as they confronted you and Ingrid in bed.

You could still feel the fury radiating off Alexia as she had demanded you break up. As you spoke, Eli’s expression shifted from concern to shock, her disappointment enveloping the room like a thick fog, amplifying the already tense atmosphere.

“¿Cuándo ocurrió esto?” Eli asked, her voice trembling slightly, barely above a whisper, as if the truth might shatter the fragile state of the room. (When did this happen?)

“Hace una semana,” you admitted, your stomach churning as the weight of the revelation settled in. (A week ago)

The tension in the air was palpable, a thick fog of unspoken fears and anxieties that suffocated every breath.

“¿Entonces, no han hablado en una semana?” Eli pressed, her gaze flitting between you and your sisters, disappointment etching lines into her features. (So, you haven’t talked to each other in a week?)

You all nodded in silence, the atmosphere growing heavier, charged with unresolved emotions.

“¿Y por qué estás tan molesta ahora? ¿Qué pasó con Ingrid y Alexia?” Eli inquired, her protective instincts flaring, her eyes narrowing as they sought the truth hidden in the chaos of the moment. (And why are you so upset now? What happened with Ingrid and Alexia?)

Before Alexia could interject, a single, piercing glare from Eli silenced her, the air crackling with tension.

“¡La ha estado tratando terriblemente—haciéndola sentir inútil, acumulando entrenamientos extra como si fuera una carga! ¡Mamá, incluso la hirió a propósito! ¡Ahora Ingrid ni siquiera puede caminar sin cojear!”you blurted out, your voice shaking with fury as your eyes locked onto Alexia. Each word was a blow, each accusation fueled by the pain you felt for Ingrid. (She’s been treating her terribly—making her feel worthless, piling on extra drills like she’s some sort of burden. Mom, she even hurt her on purpose! Now Ingrid can’t even walk without limping!)

“¡Esto es ridículo! ¡No hice nada tan malo; solo es fútbol! ¡Si se lastimó, eso es culpa de ella!”Alexia rolled her eyes, dismissing your words with a wave of her hand, her voice laced with disdain, as if your concerns were trivial. (This is ridiculous! I didn’t do anything that bad; it’s just football! If she got hurt, that’s on her!)

“¿De verdad?” you shot back, your anger boiling over. “¿Qué pasa con los entrenamientos extra? ¿Qué pasa con cómo la menospreciabas delante de todos? ¿Te importa siquiera cómo esto la afecta?” (Really?What about the extra drills? What about how you belittled her in front of everyone? Do you even care about how this affects her?)

“¡Solo estoy tratando de endurecerla! ¡Es demasiado blanda para este deporte!”Alexia snapped, her frustration growing, the defensiveness in her tone thick as resentment brewed between you. (I’m just trying to toughen her up! She’s too soft for this sport!)

“¿Endurecerla? ¿O es solo que no puedes soportar la idea de que esté con ella?” you yelled, your emotions spilling over, the anger mingling with hurt. (Toughening her up? Or is it just that you can’t stand the idea of me being with her?)

“¡Y/N, eso no es justo!” Alba interjected, her voice quaking as she attempted to diffuse the tension crackling in the room, but her words fell flat against the rising storm. (Y/N, that’s not fair!)

“¡Cállate, Alba! ¡Nadie pidió tu opinión! ¡Siempre estás del lado de Alexia! ¡Se suponía que debías apoyarme… ¡prometiste!” Tears welled in your eyes as you faced your sister, the weight of betrayal crashing down on you like a wave. (Shut up, Alba! No one asked for your opinion! You’re always siding with Alexia! You were supposed to have my back… you promised!)

“No puedo creer que esto esté pasando. Pensé que ustedes dos apoyarían a su hermana, no que la destruyeran por quien ama.” Eli’s expression shifted, disappointment flooding her features as she looked between you, Alexia, and Alba. (I can’t believe this is happening. I thought you both would support your sister, not tear her apart because of who she loves.)

“¡No entiendes! ¡No es tan simple! ¡Esto es todo… complicado!” Alexia leaped to her feet, fists clenched, anger radiating from her, desperation coloring her voice as she searched for a way to make them understand. (You don’t understand! It’s not that simple! This is all… complicated!)

“¿Complicado? ¿Crees que es complicado para ti?” you shot back, rising from your chair, fury igniting every nerve in your body. (Complicated? You think it’s complicated for you?)

“¡Ingrid es la que está sufriendo, y tú actúas como si no importara!” (Ingrid is the one who’s hurting, and you act like it doesn’t matter!)

“Alexia, entiendo que quieras proteger a tu hermana, pero Y/N es una adulta. Ella merece vivir su vida libremente, y necesitas disculparte con Ingrid.” Eli stepped in, her tone firm but calm, striving to restore order to the chaos. (Alexia, I understand you want to protect your sister, but Y/N is an adult. She deserves to live her life freely, and you need to apologize to Ingrid.)

“¿Entonces, estás del lado de ella ahora? ¿Contra mí? ¿Después de todo lo que hemos pasado juntas?” Alexia’s face twisted in anger and betrayal, her eyes blazing with fury, her voice dripping with bitterness. (So, you’re taking her side now? Against me? After everything we’ve been through together?)

“No estoy tomando partido, Alexia. Estoy defendiendo lo que es correcto. Estás cruzando una línea, y no puedo quedarme al margen y verte lastimar a tu hermana y a su novia.”Eli stood her ground, unwavering. (I’m not taking sides, Alexia. I’m standing up for what’s right. You’re crossing a line, and I can’t just stand by and watch you hurt your sister and her girlfriend.)

“Por supuesto, estás tomando su parte.,”Alexia spat, her voice low and venomous. “¿Ahora es tu favorita, verdad?” (Of course, you’re taking her side.She’s your favorite now, isn’t she?)

“Eso no es cierto, y lo sabes.” Eli replied softly, her voice heavy with sadness. (That’s not true, and you know it.)

“Siempre has sido fuerte, pero esa fuerza no te da el derecho de controlar a todos a tu alrededor.” (You’ve always been strong, but that strength doesn’t give you the right to control everyone around you.)

As the room fell into a heavy silence, the tension reached its breaking point, each heartbeat echoing the unspoken emotions that hung thick in the air.

Anger, disappointment, and fear collided, leaving a suffocating stillness in their wake, as the rift between the sisters widened, threatening to tear the family apart.

You rose to your feet, your heart racing as you faced Alexia and Alba with unwavering resolve. “Estoy con Ingrid ahora, te guste o no,” you declared, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. (I’m with Ingrid now, whether you like it or not)

“No los necesito en mi vida. Soy adulta y tengo derecho a vivir mi vida en mis propios términos. Si no pueden aceptar eso, está bien. Pero hasta que lo hagan, no tengo hermanas, solo a mi mamá.” (I don’t need either of you. I’m an adult, and I have the right to live my life the way I want. If you can’t accept that, then so be it. But until you do, I don’t have any sisters—just my mom.)

With that final proclamation, you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your words as you moved toward the door.

Alba’s voice trembled, a mix of desperation and hurt lacing her words. “No digas eso, por favor, no digas eso. Seguimos siendo hermanas,” she pleaded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. (Don’t say that, please don’t say that. We’re still sisters)

“¡No hasta que ambas decidan apoyarme en mis elecciones!” you replied coldly, your heart aching but your resolve unyielding. “Hasta entonces, no me hablen.” (Not until you both decide to support me in my choices.Until then, don’t talk to me.)

You turned your gaze to Alexia, who stood with a defiant expression. “Y en cuanto a ti,” you said, your voice sharp and unwavering, “Deja de tratar a Ingrid como lo haces. Esta vez, te digo que no tendré miedo de ir a la prensa y revelar qué clase de capitana eres realmente con tus compañeras. Ya tienes mala reputación con ellas… no la empeores..” The intensity of your words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken consequences. (And as for you, Stop treating Ingrid the way you do. This time, I’m telling you I won’t be afraid to go to the press and reveal what kind of captain you really are to your teammates. You already have a bad reputation with them… don’t make it worse.

With that, you stormed out of the apartment, the door slamming shut behind you, leaving your sisters in stunned silence, your heart pounding with the adrenaline of your declaration.

After you stormed out, the air in the room turned electric with tension. Alba stood frozen, tears glistening in her eyes, while Alexia stared blankly at the wall, the weight of guilt and disbelief crushing her.

Eli erupted from her chair, her face flushed with rage. “¡Cómo se atreven ambas! ¡No puedo creer lo que acaba de pasar!” (How dare you both! I can’t believe what just happened!)

Her voice echoed through the room, slicing through the heavy silence. “¡Esto es absolutamente inaceptable! ¡Se supone que son hermanas, no enemigas!” (This is absolutely unacceptable! You’re supposed to be sisters, not enemies!)

Alba’s voice trembled as she tried to explain. “Mamá, solo estábamos—” (Mom, we were just—)

“¡No! ¡No quiero escucharlo!” Eli interrupted, her tone sharp and unforgiving. (No! I don’t want to hear it!)

“¡Ambas han cruzado una línea! ¡Nunca imaginé que tendría que darles una lección sobre lealtad y respeto! ¿Necesito recordarles cómo funciona la familia?” Her voice was a furious roar, resonating with betrayal and disappointment. (You both have crossed a line! I never imagined I would have to lecture my own daughters about loyalty and respect! Do I need to remind you how family works?)

“¡Solo intentaba proteger a Y/N!” Alexia shot back, her frustration bubbling over. (I was just trying to protect Y/N!)

“¡Está cometiendo un gran error al estar con Ingrid!” (She’s making a huge mistake being with Ingrid!)

Eli turned her furious gaze to Alexia, her eyes blazing. “¿Protegerla? ¿No apoyándola? ¿Maltratando a su novia? ¿Esa es tu idea de protegerla? Porque suena más a que estás tratando de controlarla.” (Protecting her? By not supporting her? By mistreating her girlfriend? Is that your idea of protecting her? Because it sounds more like you’re trying to control her!)

“Mamá, es complicado!” Alexia protested, her voice strained. (Mom, it’s complicated!)

“¿Complicado?” Eli echoed incredulously, shaking her head in disbelief. (Complicated?)

“¿Crees que esto es complicado? Lo complicado es cómo puedes quedarte ahí y dejar que tu hermana se sienta no amada y desprotegida. ¡Se supone que deben levantarse mutuamente, no empujarse hacia abajo! ¿Queda claro?” Her voice thundered through the room, the authority in her words leaving no room for argument. (You think this is complicated? What’s complicated is how you could stand there and let your sister feel unloved and unsupported! You’re supposed to lift each other up, not push each other down! Do I make myself clear?)

“¡Sí!” both Alexia and Alba replied, their voices weak and filled with remorse. (Yes!)

Eli’s expression twisted in anger, her disappointment palpable. “¡Deberían estar avergonzadas de ustedes mismas! ¡Las crié para apoyarse mutuamente, para amarse, y así me lo pagan? ¿Desgarrándose la una a la otra?” (You should be ashamed of yourselves! I raised you to stand by each other, to love each other, and this is how you repay me? By tearing each other apart?)

She took a deep breath, trying to rein in her fury but failing miserably. “¡No son las hijas que pensé haber criado!” (You are not the daughters I thought I raised!).

With that, Eli stormed out of the room, leaving Alexia and Alba standing in a heavy silence, their minds swirling with confusion and regret.

How had they allowed everything to reach this breaking point? Alba’s heart was heavy with guilt as she realized that in her desperate attempt to protect you, she had inadvertently driven you away.

All she had wanted was to ensure your well-being, yet her actions had only created a chasm between them.

Alexia, on the other hand, remained entrenched in her belief that she was acting in your best interest.

She still thought that confronting you was necessary to prevent you from making a mistake in your relationship with Ingrid.

Yet, as she reflected on the heated exchange with Eli, a nagging doubt began to gnaw at her. Was she truly protecting you, or was she just trying to impose her own views on you? The weight of uncertainty hung heavily on both sisters as they grappled with the consequences of their choices.

[pathologicalreid]

with your hands tied | s.r.

in which you and Spencer try something new in bed, with a hands off approach (for you, at least)

margotober

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: super very much established relationship, explicit consent, bondage (w/ rope), sensory deprivation, softdom!spencer, sub!reader, there is a clear safe word, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, praise kink, lowkey voice kink, aftercare word count: 3.77k a/n: writing the content warnings for smut is always a humbling experience. anyways, welcome to kinktober.

“You’re too tense,” Spencer murmurs against your neck, continuing to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses along your bare skin.

You part your lips as he sucks gently just below your collarbone, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough for your brain to go fuzzy. “Am not,” you counter, leaning your head to the side in an attempt to give him a broader surface area.

He hums against your skin, sending vibrations through the entirety of your body as he leaves one more kiss before pulling away to look at you. You were propped up in his lap as if you were on display—but only for him. “You know the rules,” he says, a light warning in his voice telling you that your plans might change.

Nodding, you hold your hand up to list off the big three, “Open communication, deep breathing, and trust in your partner.”

“Do you trust me?” He asks, reaching his hand up and sweeping some of your hair behind your shoulder, keeping his other hand stable on your waist.

Realistically, you wouldn’t have asked him to do this with you if you didn’t trust him. “Yes,” the answer comes easily to you as anticipation thrums through your body.

Spencer squeezes your waist reassuringly, using the pressure to garner more of your attention, “Your heart is racing. Take a deep breath for me, angel,” he instructs.

You’d approached him two weeks ago and asked if he would be willing to tie you up. You knew he liked to be the one in control, you knew he liked to show you new things, but you hadn’t anticipated him being so willing. Taking a deep breath, you seek his reassurance, “Will you walk me through it again?”

He hums in confirmation, gently sliding you off of his lap, he uses his hands to guide you to the mattress. There’s no force in his actions, barely touching you with his fingertips until your head hits the pillow. Tentatively, he takes both of your hands in his before crossing your wrists over one another and bringing them above your head, using one hand to secure your wrists while dragging the other down your side, “Once you’re ready, I’ll bring your hands up here, and I’ll tie your wrists together.”

Spencer previously explained that he wouldn’t use handcuffs on you, citing it as a personal boundary that he wouldn’t cross. He had given you a few binding options, and you chose a lavender rope. It was soft enough to avoid irritating your skin but had enough grip that a knot wouldn’t come undone the moment you tugged on the restraints. You take another deep breath.

“It won’t be too tight,” he continues, “but it’ll be enough to severely limit your range of motion.” Spencer releases his grip on your wrists but maintains his position hovering above you. “At its core, bondage is sensory deprivation. I’m taking away your sense of touch.”

You nod, confirming your understanding as you lift your hands, placing them on either one of his shoulders, “I’m giving it up to you.”

He smiles softly down at you, obviously pleased with the level of trust you’re displaying toward him. “Your heart is still racing,” he observes quietly, leaning down and kissing both of your cheeks.

Raising your eyebrows, your face warms at his observation, “I’m horny, of course my heart is racing.”

“C’mere,” he hums, dragging you back into his lap and holding your face in his hands, “What’s our safe word?”

Settling your knees on either side of his hips, you return your hands to their previous station, “Cactus.” The remarkably unoriginal word was inspired by the plant that was currently resting on your coffee table.

Spencer moves his hands, skimming his palms up and down your bare arms, “What happens if you use the safe word?”

“Full stop,” you answer dutifully, “You stop everything, and the rope gets cut.” Despite its pretty color, Spencer told you not to get attached to the binding – he’d hold no issue with grabbing the shears from your bedside table.

“What happens if I use the safe word?” His intent was for the question to be a challenge, but you know his boundaries as well as you know your own.

Shifting on his lap, you easily recall the discussion from last night, “Full stop. If you can’t release me, I can try to undo the knot on my own.”

He nods in silent confirmation before hooking his finger beneath your chin, getting you to make eye contact with him, “Are you going to try to undo the knot on your own otherwise?”

“No,” you breathe. It was for your own safety more than anything else—if you were to try to undo the knot on your own, you’d risk hurting yourself, but to Spencer, it was a trust thing. If you want him to untie you all you need to do is ask.

Dropping his hands, Spencer slips them beneath the cotton of your t-shirt, skimming his palms over your bare torso and leaving goosebumps in their wake, “Good girl.”

Your breathing hitches at his praise, unable to decide if you want to focus on his words or the way his hands are slowly making their way toward the band of your bra. Tentatively, you poke your head forward to kiss him, wanting to make sure you’re both moving at the same pace.

While you have a slight height advantage from your perch on his lap, he tips his head back so that your lips can connect, satisfying an itch that you were desperate to scratch. Spencer’s lips were always soft in a way that was unfair to the rest of the world population. You consider yourself lucky that you have them at your disposal, working against your own as he slips a hand beneath the fabric of your bra.

When your lips part at the sensation of him gently palming your breast, Spencer wastes no time in deepening the kiss, maintaining control even from his place beneath you. You whimper slightly as he pulls away, moving his hands to tug your t-shirt over your head before fiddling with the clasp of your bra.

You watch as a switch flips in his brain, pupils dilating with lust as he studies the vision of you in front of him. It didn’t matter that you’d been naked in front of him hundreds of times by now, Spencer always made you feel just as special as the first time.

Spencer reaches his hand to the side of your neck, letting his forearm rest on the slope of your breast as he takes you in, “You’re so pretty,” he coos, “My pretty girl.”

Sighing as a direct result of his words, you thumb the hem of his t-shirt, signaling to him that you want to level out the playing field before it becomes rigged in his favor. Silently, he complies, lifting his arms above his head so you can toss the fabric next to yours on the floor.

You lean forward, taking pleasure in the way your skin sits against his, the push of your breasts on his chest. Ignoring the slight tremble in your hands, you run your palms over his chest, admiring the dips and curves of his torso—taking in every part of him before he binds your arms over your head. “It’s alright to be a little nervous,” he assures you, dropping a soft kiss to your bare shoulder.

Swallowing thickly, a thought crosses your mind, “I can… Can I use my mouth on you?”

“No,” he answers almost instantly, “It’s not about me today. It’s about you.”

His response surprises you, “I just want to make sure you feel good too. If I can’t use my hands to touch you, then I want to make sure you find this uh…” you search for the right word, “Fulfilling?”

Spencer chuckles lightly, the vibrations from his chest emanating through your body like an electric current, “Trust me, I’ll find this plenty fulfilling.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you wonder if he’ll catch onto your hesitation—your desperation to be able to reciprocate your impending pleasure, but his double entendre doesn’t go over your head.

“Baby,” the softness of the pet name relaxes your shoulders, “Do you think I don’t find pleasure in sex with you?”

You shrug helplessly, “I just know you like it when I touch you.” Your hands in his hair. Shallow scratches along his shoulder blades.

Holding your chin between his index and his thumb, he guides your eyes to meet his own, “I’m going to fuck you, and while your arms are bound above your head, I’ll get a full look at the way you writhe beneath me.”

Butterflies swarm in your lower belly at his words, you have to hold back from panting in his lap.

“Fucking you is my pleasure,” he tells you, holding your face in place. “Watching you squirm below me,” he trails a finger from his free hand down your torso before letting it rest on the waistband of your shorts. “The way your cunt clenches around my cock and flutters after you come around me,” his voice deepens with want.

A pathetic moan escapes your lips at his words, causing you to clasp a hand over your mouth.

Spencer snatches your hand away, “Don’t do that. I want to hear all of the pretty little noises you make. I want you to tell me if you want me deeper or slower. I want to hear you.”

Nodding quickly, you feel more and more of your composure slip away as the damp sensation in your underwear grows. “Okay,” you breathe, keeping your eyes on his as you slide off of his lap.

He stands up, making quick work of his sweatpants before propping himself back up on the bed. Of your own volition, you lean back, letting your legs fall open as he climbs over you. You keep your eyes on him, minding the way his body moves above you, the way his cock peeks out from the waistband of his boxers.

From the moment his lips reach yours again, you know you’re a goner. Lifting your head from the pillows in order to tug at his bottom lip with your teeth, you savor the way he groans into your mouth.

In response, Spencer takes both of your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours one at a time and pinning them at either side of your head. He settles his hips in between yours, adding a torturous pressure at your core.

Slowly, your hips grind up into him, it’s a mainly reactive response—your body needs the friction, the relief. Ending your kiss, a low whine bubbles in your throat, “Do you think you’re ready?”

With your hands already pinned to the bed, you let your head bob in confirmation, “Yes.”

Your eyes follow his movements as he kneels between your legs, grabbing the rope from your nightstand before taking your wrists and crossing them one over the other. “It’s soft,” you observe about the material, you’d never actually put it on your wrists before, only touching it in the store with your fingertips.

“That’s why we picked this one,” Spencer reminds you; he had been the one to encourage a softer material, wanting to protect your skin from a rough, fibrous rope. “Tug on it,” he says, leaning back and inspecting the knot.

Tugging on your binds, all you’re capable of doing is pulling your body higher on the bed, and you yelp when Spencer grips your hips and pulls you back down to him. “It works,” you squeak, suddenly conscious of how you’re splayed out for him.

He hums lowly, the soft, sensual sound causing your hips to buck, “Good,” he murmurs, “Take a deep breath for me.”

You comply, blowing air out of your nostrils as he rests his head in the crook of your neck, leaving timid kisses down the column of your throat, an exorbitantly shy action for someone who had bound you to the bed.

His head continues to make its way down your body, leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses across your breasts, “You’re too tense,” he tells you, an echo of himself.

Mindfully, you take a deep breath, sinking your body into the mattress and looking down at him, the saliva on your chest shining in the lamplight—he was going to be the death of you. “I don’t know what to do with myself,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to do anything, baby,” he reminds you gently, “Let go. Let yourself feel it.” His thumb gently rubs circles over your hip bone, bunching up the fabric of your shorts beneath his fingerprints.

You look down at him, lying down between your legs, resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh. The lovelorn look in his eyes causes your chest to tighten, and you gasp at the sensation, your face warming as you remind yourself that he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Spencer hooks his fingers on the elastic of both your shorts and your underwear, pulling any remaining fabric off of your body with a deftness that threatens to take your breath away. “You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, nearly licking his lips at the sight of your wetness. “My pretty, pretty girl,” he continues, pressing tender kisses up your thigh, inching closer and closer to your core.

Peeling your eyes away, you can’t bear to watch the way he peers at you through his eyelashes as he lowers his mouth to your aching cunt. “Spence,” you breathe at the sensation of his tongue licking a broad stripe through your folds and pressing a gentle kiss to your clit.

He bows his head, snaking his arms around your thighs to hold them open, stopping you from closing your legs, and without the use of your arms and your legs, you’re defenseless against his relentless movements. His tongue peeking out of his mouth just enough to tease where you’re most sensitive, kitten licking your clit until you’re panting beneath him, desperate to lift your hips from the mattress, in need of more—so much more.

You pull on your restraints, and he doesn’t stop his movements. Instead, he changes the placement of his hands, using one to massage your thigh while the other finds a home between your legs, his index finger teasing your entrance. A pathetic whine escapes from your throat as you get one step closer to the relief that you so desperately need and the relocation of his hands allows you to rotate your hips, meeting his knuckles when his finger sinks into you with ease.

“So wet,” he whispers, coming up for air and reveling in the way your mouth gapes as he adds a second finger, “So wet for me, darling girl.”

Taking a shuddering breath, you nod in acknowledgment as his head drops again, puckering his lips to gently suck on your clit as his fingers work their way in and out of you. The crude, wet sounds emanating from your pussy second in volume only to the breathy moans that continue to slip through your lips.

You imagine yourself reaching your hands down, weaving your fingers through his curls, and tugging on the tendrils in encouragement, but you recall his request to hear you. Since you can’t touch him, you gasp, a small knot forming in your lower belly as he continues thrusting his fingers in and out, “Oh, god,” you choke, looking down to see his hair falling in front of his forehead. “Spence,” you whimper, eyes screwing shut as you beg for your orgasm.

A curse slips from your lips while your back arches off of the mattress, the sheet sticking to your sweat-coated skin as your orgasm washes over you, sending volts of electricity through every extremity until you come down. Vaguely aware of how his fingers continue to move inside of you, the two phalanges curling in a way that makes you shudder.

Spencer tenderly shifts your body up, relieving some of the strain on your shoulders which had become a secondary concern while he had his head between your legs.

You pant helplessly at him, “Ah, ’s too much,” you tell him, walls clenching around his idle fingers as the aftershocks of your orgasm begin to ebb.

Immediately, he withdraws his fingers and brings both of his hands up, mindful not to get his slick-covered hand near your hair, “How are you doing?”

The check-in doesn’t come as a surprise to you, and he wouldn’t do anything until he manages to wrangle an answer out of you. His brown eyes study you with a sensual curiosity as your breathing balances out, switching from the breathlessness of your peak to the gasps of desperation as you find yourself wanting more. “Good,” you answer, “That was so— fuck.”

There was something to say about the effects that losing your sense of touch had on sex, the inability to distract yourself by touching Spencer kindly forcing you to focus on nothing else but how he was making you feel. Leaving you to absorb pleasure percutaneously—this was the kind of sex people start wars over. “Do you want more?”

“Please,” you respond, maybe a tad too quickly.

His responding chuckle does horrible things to your psyche, the butterflies in your stomach coming out of their brief hibernation to flutter through your insides, “What do you want, darling?”

You sigh, “You. I want you, baby, please.”

Spencer hums in response, ducking his head to leave slow, intentional kisses on your chest, enveloping your nipple in his mouth while he brings a hand up to even out the sensation on your chest. Releasing you with a wet pop, he looks up at you with lust-blown pupils, “You have me,” he assures you. “I’m right here, where do you want me?”

Embarrassingly, a high-pitched whine makes its way past your lips—he was going to make you beg for it, and you were going to do it. “In me,” your plea comes out faster than you can control, “Please fuck me, please please.”

He groans in response, “Your fucking manners are going to be the death of me,” he tells you, moving to slip his underwear off, leaving absolutely nothing in between you as he rests his cock in between your folds. “Such a good girl,” he coos.

It didn’t help that you were beginning to feel like you were going insane, waiting for him to finally slide inside of you, “Please,” you add for good measure, the butterflies in your stomach spinning as he moves his hand out of your line of sight, tapping the tip against your swollen clit before finally breaching your entrance.

With an almost startling gentleness, Spencer cranes his head down to press a kiss to your lips. Using his tongue to part your lips, kissing you deeply, you can taste yourself on him, the sensation causing a ripple effect, your walls clenching around his shaft as he sheathes himself inside of you. “I love you,” he mutters against your lips, pulling out of you as he starts to find a rhythm.

“I— ah,” you cry out when he snaps his hips into yours, “I love you too,” you breathe, your eyelids fluttering as he seemingly finds his rhythm.

Spencer takes your thigh in one hand, pushing it up to spread you wider for him as you meet his eyes, the steady rhythm eliciting nothing but a metronome of ah, ah, ahs out of you.

Dropping his head in the crook of your neck, your boyfriend moves his free hand to play with your clit, his thumb circling around the sensitive nub as he continues to fuck you. He moans into your ear, causing your hips to involuntarily lift from the mattress, meeting his thrusts as they start to grow messy.

“’m gonna come,” you tell him, leaning your head back as the rubber band in your abdomen snaps, the pulsing of your cunt only driving him closer and closer to his own orgasm.

His hips stutter against yours, the pacing that he had so perfectly set leaving as he loses himself, hot cum painting your insides as he slows to a complete stop, letting your leg fall to the side as he pulls out of you.

A low keening sound slides from your throat as Spencer skims his hand up your side, “Spence,” you mumble, relaxing into his gentle touches.

He hums against your skin, making his way up until he’s fully sitting next to you, reaching over your head to release your arms from their silken prison. Tenderly, he takes your wrists in his hands, bringing them down gradually so that you can have time to adjust. “Are you alright?”

Spencer’s voice was a very welcome sound, his thumbs gently kneading at the indent marks on your wrists. Your head bobs in response, reaching out for him to help you sit up. The dull ache in your shoulders gave you reason to lean into him, your back against his chest while his nimble fingers found a place on your bare skin, continuing their earlier motions, this time on your shoulders.

Reaching out a hand, you grab the top sheet and pull it snugly to your torso, “Cold?” Spencer asks, his voice no more than a whisper, he presses his lips to your shoulder. “Come on, angel, words,” he beckons, the movement of his lips on your skin causing goosebumps to form.

“Cold,” you confirm, the high of your orgasms vacating your body, leaving you dependent on Spencer for body heat.

Spencer kisses the crook of your neck, “Why don’t we get cleaned up and reconvene on the couch? We’ll watch a movie,” he offers thoughtfully. “We can order in for dinner,” he says, taking advantage of your pliant state and rocking back and forth.

You sigh in his arms, “Can I pick the movie?”

“If you let me pick dinner,” he replies, pulling a throw blanket from the end of the bed and laying it over your lap. “Are you still cold?” He murmurs, a tinge of concern creeping into his voice.

Shaking your head, you adjust yourself in his arms, the tingling in your shoulders beginning to subside, “I’m lukewarm now,” you offer, smiling dazedly up at him, “I’m okay.”

He presses a soft kiss to your hairline, “You did so well,” he praises, his words threatening to melt you.

“So,” you begin, “We’re keeping the rope?”

[jarofstyles]

Appetency 2

Welcome to the other half of Appetency 🫶 I left it off wholesome, so I’ll give you the smut you deserve now lol. Thank you for such a good reception to it, I had no idea you guys would like them this much!

Part One

Check out our Patreon for early access and 200+ exclusive writings

WC- 8.9k

Warnings- smut, penetration and oral (both receiving) unprotected sex, soft Dom H, cum play, cockwarming, etc etc etc

Harry was warm.

After he had eaten and changed, he lounged back on her couch, making himself back at home at her place. He’d seemed to have no problem doing that. It had done something to her to see her make the furniture look smaller, but she recollected herself. When he patted his lap, however, she shocked him by crawling onto his thighs and sitting across them.

Back again, she was wrapped up in his arms as one of his hands dragged up and down her bare waist while the other sat leisurely on her hip.

He slid his hands down to her thighs, his palms warm against her bare skin. He loved having her like this, perched on his lap like a precious toy he could play with whenever he wanted. She hadn’t seemed to mind the manhandling as he shifted their positions, a giggled squeal all the protest she let out.

He pulled her closer, his body pressed up against hers. His hands continued to roam over her bare waist and brushed over the waistband of those stupid pants that had been working him up the whole night. Of course he’d been behaving the best he could, but the promise of kissing had held him to it. "You're feeling pretty naughty tonight, aren't you?"

“No.” She grinned, face completely opposing what her words said. “I just… I dunno.” She looked down to his chest. “You work out a lot, huh?”

Harry's smile widened as he felt her gaze shift to his chest. He was feeling rather smug, having her sitting in his lap like this after where they’d started. His hands slid further up her thighs, his fingertips tracing small circles against her warm fabric. "Yeah, I work out a lot. Do you like it?" he asked, trying to keep from feeling smug.

“Yeah. You’re just… I don’t know how to describe it. I feel safe with you like this. And I like when you hold me.”

Harry's smile softened at her words, the playfulness melding into true fondness. Of course he loved that she felt safe in his arms, and he loved that she even admitted it. It was a vulnerability in its own way, one that she hadn’t given him much of prior. He wrapped his arms further around her waist, shifting so that she was even tighter against his strong chest. "I like holding you, too." He murmured, his voice soft and low but audible over the TV.

It was hard to muster up the nerve to ask outright, but the ball was in her court. He had given her control in that regard and he wasn’t going to do anything without her saying so, but she could feel him looking at her lips. He’d been staring most of the night. “I think…” She’d been thinking all night, really. For days. But he didn’t know that part. “I think we should kiss. I think you’ve been really nice to me tonight and you deserve a reward for it.”

Harry's heart rate quickened at her words. He had been holding himself back for days, respecting the desire to go as slow as she needed to go. But now, hearing her actually say that she wanted him to kiss her was like a dream. Hands cupped her face, gently tilting it up to look at him. His eyes were darkened with a mixture of desire and affection as he looked down at her pretty face. "I think you're right." He murmured, his voice husky as he took the time to observe her the way he wanted.

Harry's thumb brushed across her lower lip, his touch gentle and yet solid. He had been craving the feeling of her lips against his, and now that it was about to happen, he could barely contain himself. The man had been so good, and now he was getting exactly what he needed. Good things came to people who wait, he was finding out.

It was slow as he leaned in, closing the distance between them. His lips found hers in a soft, slow kiss. It was gentle, tentative at first, as if he were afraid of going too fast and scaring her off. But as she responded, he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into her sweet mouth to taste her the way he’d been desperate for.

Her response was all the encouragement Harry needed to let go of his restraint.

His tongue explored her, tangling with hers in a passionate kiss. He wanted more, needed more, and the feel of her perfect body pressed against his was driving him wild. It was something he’d been essentially edged on after the memory of how perfect it had been the first time, and it brought him right back. He shifted, pulling her up so that she was straddling him so he could have better access to those lips he’d been daydreaming about.

“Is this okay?” He paused to ask her, panting against her lips. “You’re alright?”

“Mhm.” She nodded with her eyes still closed, her nose brushing against his. “I’m so good. Keep kissing me.” The manhandling had made her want to scream in the best way. He’d handled her like a doll, and she loved every single second. For someone who was so loving of control in her life, it felt incredible to let him take the lead. Let him physically move her where he wanted, kiss her how he craved.

Sure, she knew they should probably be slower. Warm up, show more restraint, but she didn’t want to. She wanted him to kiss her like he wanted to. While he had been edged- so had she.

With confirmation, he captured her lips in another deep kiss, his tongue sliding against hers as he devoured her. It was clear that he wanted her. He wanted her so badly it was almost painful.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly on accident. She went to apologize, but there was quickly shown there to be no need. The response had been him letting out a low groan against her mouth, a surprise reaction. He’d liked his hair played with, but she’d not expected the hair pulling thing with him.

Harry was lost in the feel of her lips against his, that softness of her body pressed flush against his chest. But as soon as she pulled on his hair, the sensation sent a bolt of pleasure through his body. He let out a low groan, his hands flexing on her. He hadn't expected to love the feeling of fingers tangled in his hair so much, but there was something about it that had him feeling desperate for another taste.

"Do that again." he growled, the words low and needy. “Tug.”

Y/N needed no second command, repeating the action and feeling her tummy heat up as she watched his head fall back, face paint with pleasure as she tightened her grip. It was hot, so hot that she knew that she wanted to keep seeing him like this. “Yeah?” She whispered, letting her other hand run her nails over his scalp. “You like that?”

Another low moan fell from Harry's lips as she repeated the action, his head falling back against the couch and his eyes fluttering shut. He loved the way she was teasing him, the momentary spark of pain her fingers tugging in his hair sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him. "God, yes." he hissed, his voice dark and rough. "Keep doin’ that."

Harry's body shuddered as she continued to tease, his hands gripping her hips as he pulled her against him. The sensation of her touch was driving him wild, and he let out another low moan. His body was taut with tension, and he was clearly struggling to keep himself contained. “Fuck, baby.”

Y/N knew she was the one who said they had to behave, but that was before this. Before she was reminded how good he could kiss, how good his hands felt on her body, how gorgeous he was when she made him feel good.

Why had she wanted slow again?

Her poor core ached and she could feel him thickening underneath her, so she decided to give them both a little relief. Rolling her hips, she rubbed herself against the hardness that had grown obvious underneath her, lips pressing over his jaw as she continued tugging his hair.

Harry's eyes darkened as she rolled her hips against him. He couldn't help but push back against her, trying to get more friction. The man let out a low moan as she continued to rub herself against him, the lips on the sensitive spot on his neck, the feeling driving him wild. "God, you're driving me insane." he growled, his voice thick with desire. He tilted his head back, giving her better access to his throat. "Don't stop."

Letting out another low groan in his throat as she continued to roll her hips against him, he watched as she rubbed herself against his thickening length. “Fuck, that feels so good.” He urged, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he lifted his hips up to meet her own.

Harry was beautiful like this. Head tilted back against the couch, hands on her hips as he guided her against his thickening cock, the rocking nudging her clit each time through her thin leggings.

“Harry…” she whispered. “I know I said we should go slow… but this feels so good.” Her forehead pressed against his as she breathed him in, feeling his cock twitch under her.

The man groaned in agreement, his hips grinding up to meet hers as she rolled them against him.” I know what you mean…” he panted, his breathing heavy as he felt her clit through the thin fabric of her leggings. "I jus’ don't want to rush this..."

“Me either, but…” Pressing herself down harder, she let out a weak gasp, feeling all of her mental walls start to crumble. Part of her briefly wondered if she’d regret going past this, but she knew she wouldn’t. Harry had been proving himself time and time again as the days had gone on, never once complaining seriously about the speed she had asked to go… and their sex prior had been so good it was coming back in waves every time she thought about it. “God, I missed you touching me like this.”

He moaned at the feeling of her grinding down against him harder, the feeling almost too much to handle. "You were the one who wanted to take things slow... but fuck, you're making it so hard." he groaned, thrusting up against her as she mentioned missing his touch.

"Fuck, you're so hot..." he laughed under his breath as he continued to rock his hips up against hers, the friction from the movement starting to become unbearable. It felt too good, and he knew if he didn’t stop he could easily orgasm just like this.

It was when her hands tugged at his hair again, he finally lost the battle. Self control slipping, a loud groan escaped his lips as he thrust up against her, the movement causing their clothing to bunch up between them a little. "Fuck, baby… Please, like that. Kiss me" He cursed out, lips connecting with hers again.

Y/N let out a weak moan, let him move her on top of him. Their clothing was evil, she thinks. Evil and downright rude for keeping her from feeling him completely. The notion of slow, the mere thought of getting off of his lap had her whimpering into his mouth, grinding back against him the best she could. “You’re in control. It’s your turn.” she whispered. “I trust you.”

The words "I trust you" sent a surge of power through Harry. He felt like he had conquered something he’d been yearning after for ages, and finally getting the permission to show her just how much he wanted her. Gently pushing her back, he broke the kiss to look at her. His eyes were filled with adoration as he spoke. "Good girl... Y’can always trust me."

With a gentle smile, Harry carefully moved, lifting Y/N with him in his arms, laughing at the squeak of surprise as he shifted her on his lap, smoothing out her hair as he looked at her. "How far do you want this to go?” His cock was throbbing with need, but he wanted a limit before he indulged.

“All the way. Everything.” Y/N knew what she said, she knew she had been the one to pause all physical things between them but just a singular taste had reminded her of the immense chemistry between them. It was no wonder they had such an intense relationship before- even if it was negative. Passion had always been there- it just needed to be channeled a different way. “You can touch me however you want. I need it.” Her hand reached for his wrist. “Need you.”

Harry's heart skipped a beat at her words. He was drowning in desire for her- it would be a pleasant death. Slowly he let his his hand wrap around her wrist and brought it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles softly before speaking "Okay, Angel... I'll give you everything you need."

With a hand curled around her waist, he whispered in her ear, "This gonna be a fuckin' experience." He took her mouth in a deep kiss, tongue sliding against hers.

With her hand in his, he helped her move from her position to sit higher on top of him, groaning at the view he had been blessed with. Her little crop top exposing her tummy, leggings clinging to her legs, he couldn’t get enough. His hand settled on her waist as a slow smirk stretched across his lips. Looking her over, he let out a sigh, nose brushing against hers as he got closer. "Fuck, you're gorgeous, baby. M’gonna have so much fun with you ..."

Harry’s hands slipped further up her top, letting their breathing mingle as he approached her ribs- only to find the lack of bra. He’d been unsure if it was just a thin one, having seen her nipples hardened against the cotton, but it was abundantly clear that she had forgone the undergarment entirely.

Letting out a ragged breath, he couldn't help himself as he explored the lack of bra with his own hands. "Fuck, baby... no bra today?" His fingers grazed against the nipples, eliciting a soft gasp from her. He wanted more.

“No.” She whispered, breathing quickening as he brushed his thumbs rubbed back and forth over the hardened buds. It was surprising considering she wasn’t usually very sensitive with them, but something about the way he was touching them… maybe just him in general. it had her feeling hot, itching to get it off. “Take it off. please.”

Harry could feel her body temperature rising, heating up as he played with the nipples. It was unreal, finally getting to touch her again. The way she pleaded for it had his dick twitching in his pants, anticipation running through him. He took a deep breath, the words “please” leaving her lips had him inching his fingers up her sides before he hooked them in the soft blue fabric. Carefully, he trailed them up, past her ribs and up and over her tits before tugging onto the fabric and pulling it over her head, exposing her chest for his eager, hungry eyes.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her bare tits, the soft, smooth skin and the hardened nipples standing out. They were beautiful. There was no hesitation as he cupped them into his hands, letting out a shaky sigh at the feel of them. It was even better than his memory of them. He loved how they fit perfectly in his palms and how they bounced when he moved them…. They were exactly what he wanted.

“Do you like them?” Y/N could tell he did just by how he was staring, almost like he was in pain- But she wanted to hear it from him. His hands cupping them, warm and large, she ached for more. For his mouth, for him to play with her nipples, something. Anything. “Don’t know if you remembered them from last time…”

Harry's hands gently squeezed around her tits, his thumbs rubbing over the nipples in a slow, maddening circle. "I remember every fucking detail, baby," He whispered, his voice husky with desire. "These perfect tits, how they fit in my hands, how they look when you move f’me..."

Without warning, he lowered his head and suckled her right nipple into his mouth, the sensation enough to make her cry out, before letting go with a soft ‘pop’. "You taste so damn good, everywhere." His voice vibrated against her skin, barely pulling back.. Harry's mouth wrapped around her nipple again, his tongue swirling around it in circles before he suckled harder, his cheeks hollowing out as he pulled on the sensitive bud. He released it with a satisfied hum and moved to her other nipple, giving it the same treatment, his fingers tweaking and rolling the other one.

“Oh, fuck.” Y/N dragged out the curse, fingers returning to his hair as she sat up in his lap to give him better access to her. It hadn’t felt this good before, a new sensation to her as she pulled him in slightly into her plush chest. “That feels so fucking good.”

Harry groaned at the feeling of her soft tits pressed against his face, her fingers threading through his hair and pulling him closer. "Glad you like it," he said, before returning his attention to her nipple, sucking on it with more fervor this time.

Harry's hands were in constant motion, squeezing and massaging her breasts and teasing her nipples between his fingers. He was worshiping them, showing her just how much he loved them and how much he had missed them.

The man was honestly in heaven as he worshiped her tits, his tongue tracing the outline of her breast and his fingers tweaking and pinching her nipples. He couldn't get enough of them and he could spend hours just loving on them, but he knew they had other things to do. He would very much ensure he had hours dedicated just to her breasts later on down the line.

“Shit, baby.” Harry whispered against her skin, kissing up her clavicle. “You are perfect… but I know you need some more from me. Don’t you?” Fingers slipped down between them, cupping her poor, hot cunt through her leggings. “Oh.. my poor baby. S’aching, isn’t it?” Harry's cock throbbed as he kissed his way up her neck, his fingers teasing her through her leggings. He knew she needed some release and he was going to be the one to give it to her. "Do you want me to take these off, princess?"

“Yeah.” She mewled, rocking her hips against his hand. it was firm and his grip was solid, oddly arousing for her as he shifted his other hand from her breast to the waistband of her leggings. Taking the hint when he patted her hip, she stood in front of him to let him take them off. “Do it.”

Harry grinned at her eagerness and wasted no time sliding her leggings down her legs, revealing her bare, soaking wet pussy. "Fuck, Me," he growled, taking in the sight of her. “Jesus… did you just say ‘fuck it’ to all your underwear?” The minx wasn’t wearing panties, either. “Planned on doing this to me? Makin’ me lose my damn head and wanted me t’get my hands on this perfect cunt?”

Chuckling at her coy little smile in response, he got his answer. Of fucking course, she did. "I personally didn't plan on this happening, but I'm not complaining." He leaned in and kissed her tummy, his hands roaming her body. He broke the string of kiss and whispered against her silky skin. "You're perfect. Don’t think I can say it enough."

He took her in his arms again, his hard cock pressing against her bare wetness. Carefully, he lifted her off the ground and adjusted her to lay on the sofa, spreading her thighs out for him to get a good look at the glistening cunt he was about to get his hands on again.. His mouth nearly watered as he took her in, the slick little slit and groomed thatch of hair on her mouth. “Mm… I like this.” He ran his fingers over it.

“Harry.” Y/N whimpered, desperation coating the word. Making him wait hadn’t just effected him- no. She had edged herself, too. She was just as desperate for him to touch her, devour her with his mouth like he did so liberally with his eyes. “Please…”

“So polite.” He crooned, nose running over her mound. “Since y’have manners… let me take a taste of this.” With a low, hum of appreciation Harry’s head dipped fully between her thighs. He let out hot breaths against her folds before using his thumbs to spread her open. His tongue flicked out and lapped at her clit, making Y/N’s hips buck off the sofa with the sudden pleasure. Harry laughed against her wet heat but didn’t stop- He had only just gotten started. He lavished her cunt, worshiping every inch as if it was a religious experience.

Harry’s tongue flicked out, tracing her clit with a gentle touch before he sucked it into his mouth. Y/N couldn't help the way she moaned as his suction intensified, making her slowly grind her hips up against his face. She was making a mess of him, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. Even more so, he hummed happily against her clit, the sound of soft sucking filling the room. He was being gentle with it, but there was no doubt of who was running this show.

Harry spread her thighs even wider, baring the sweetest part of Y/N to his hungry mouth and roaming eyes as he began to properly eat her out. His tongue lapped at the plump glands of her labia, lathering the delicate skin with heavy strokes. His eyes were almost glazed over with his own pleasure, as if eating her out was a euphoria in itself. When he switched to sucking at her clit again, it was with even more vigor, and his tongue sucked and darted messily against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Y/N's back arched off the sofa, her fingers tangled in Harry's hair as she held him against her throbbing cunt. She was making the whiniest, most desperate sounds as she rode his face, her juices dripping down his chin and neck as he sucked and licked at her clit with reckless abandon.

Her eyes rolled back in pleasure, her head thrown back as she moaned so loud she would be embarrassed if she was in her right mind and not in the depths of being licked out better than she had ever experienced. Her entire body trembled with need, hips bucking wildly as Harry continued his onslaught of wet and sloppy kisses all over her clit. The man looked up at her, his face drenched in her with pure lust in his eyes, his chin all wet and shiny and dripping. “You’re so beautiful.” he mumbled, swiping his tongue across his lips to taste her.

She couldn’t help it. Y/N reached for his face, pulling him up to kiss him. She didn’t care about the mess, tasting herself on him, anything- she just needed the intimacy.

Harry happily obliged her, kissing her back with messy passion, sliding his tongue into her mouth to mingle their tastes. His wet cunt-soaked fingers trailed down her body and slipped between her thighs, slipping one inside of her entrance. Gently, he thrust his finger inside her, loving the way she moaned against his lips, still fucking her needy pussy with slow, steady strokes as he kissed her.

Harry pulled back slightly, plunged another finger into her wet, molten heat, and watched with rapt attention as she cried out, bucking her hips hungrily. Every single moment of this was a fantasy come to life. He hooked his finger upwards, finding her spot, swollen and tender with need for attention. “There you go, sweetheart. Work that pussy on my fingers.”

Y/N laughed in disbelief. Why had she waited for this? Her own fingers had absolutely nothing on him. His were thicker, longer, reaching where she couldn’t. In any other scenario, she’d be embarrassed by the squelching, how wet he was getting her, but from the pride on his face she really couldn’t.

Harry smirked as she writhed, hips moving into his hand as she whined against his mouth.. He knew he was good, but he didn’t realize how much different this would feel with someone he actually liked- someone he cared about. He loved how she moaned, gasping, how her cheeks got deliciously hot. When he took his hand away, he was surprised as she released a disappointed whine.

“No…” She pleaded. “I was so close.”

Harry shook his head, pulling away from the kiss. He was still fully clothed, and he didn’t like it. “No, no, baby- I want you to be close when you cum for me.” He murmured against her lips before sitting back further and stripping down completely. Dragging his shirt over his head, he smirked as she looked over his tattooed torso. “Waited for this, m’not gonna have you cumming unless its around my cock.”

Her mouth dropped open slightly, as she watched him strip. He was so much more than she imagined in all the right ways. The way his muscles rippled, the way his tattoos peeked out with intricate pictures and patterns, swirling and dancing across every part of him. Of course she had seen him before, she knew he was attractive, but with all her walls down and her attraction for him now in the open, she was seeing him for the first time unfiltered.

Their last hookup had been quick, mostly clothing on, so this was new. She’d seen his arms, she had glimpses of his tattoos from those slutty shirts he wore barely buttoned, but seeing it in all its glory was incredible. The tattoos that decorated his hips, leading towards his groomed pubic hair and base of his cock as he slowly pulled the shorts down- god, he was gorgeous.

He didn’t miss her observations at all.

Harry smirked, knowing exactly where her eyes had landed. “See somethin’ you like, baby?” He questioned, letting his shorts fall to the floor completely, leaving him fully nude in front of her. His cock was already straining towards her. It cock was long and thick, with a girth that made it look almost intimidating. None of her toys were as big as him, that was for sure. She could recall how stretched she had felt last time, but seeing it in the light had her mouth watering. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to take it, but she was going to try.

She could see every vein in his shaft, pulsating from the tip to the base. The head was slightly flushed, a bead of precum already forming at the tip. Never had she considered a dick pretty before, but there was a first time for everything. Her eyes traveled upwards along every crevice of his toned core as she drank him in. Harry truly was gorgeous. “Love when you look at me like that, sweet girl.” Holding it in his hand, he gave the base a squeeze while his other hand stroked over the top of her head, smoothing out her hair. “Why don’t you give it a kiss, hm? You’ve been thinking about it. haven’t you?”

Harry let out a hum at her small ‘yes’ taking it as his sign to move forward. He took a small step closer to her, tapping the tip against her lips, smearing a little of his precum onto them. He chuckled, moving his hand to the back of her head and gripping her hair to tilt her head back.

Her breath stuttered, her lips parting slightly as she felt the precum smearing over her lips. Rubbing her thighs together to try and soothe the ache between them, she felt herself get hotter as he moved the tip of his cock over her lips. Ever so gently, her lips puckered and pressed to the tip. A soft kiss to his aching length, followed by another, and another, slowly trailing down as her eyes stayed on his face.

Harry's head rolled back momentarily at the gentle touch, his grip on her hair tightening slightly as he watched her kiss the tip of his cock like it was the most precious thing in the world. He let out a shaky breath, his other hand coming up to gently stroke her cheek as she kissed down his length.

“Like this?” she murmured against him, leading her kisses down to the base of his prick. “Is this what you like, H?”

"Fuck, yes," Harry groaned, his voice strained. "Just like that, princess. Keep kissing it like that. So sweet t’me." He looked down at her, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and adoration as she peppered kisses along his shaft. He couldn't believe how fucking good she was being. It was rewarding to have gone from her sneering and snapping at him to finally having the sweet girl he knew laid underneath that thick skin come to the surface for him. To have her trust this way, to have her eager to please him… it was a gift in and of itself.

Gently guiding her head back up to the tip, his precum starting to leak out and drip onto her lips. "Open your mouth, my good girl." He gently pushed the tip past her lips, the precum smearing her her lips again to make the prettiest picture imaginable. As he pushed further, he made sure to go slow, giving her time to adjust to the size. He watched in awe as her lips stretched around his girth, his heart racing with anticipation.

She didn’t stop him, hands settling on the back of his thighs as she urged him to continue. He continued to push his cock deeper into her mouth, the tip of it hitting the back of her throat. His grip on her hair tightened slightly as he took control of the pace. He could feel her gagging a little, but she didn't try to pull away. “S’that okay, baby?” He checked on her, slowly inching himself back. “Gotta tap my thigh if y’need me to stop, okay? Don't want to hurt you, yeah?”

“Mhm.” She nodded her head, catching her breath. Giving head usually wasn’t one of her favorite things but this… giving Harry head? It was actually nice. The weight of him on her tongue and his affection as he guided himself in, she felt appreciated. Yeah, it was a struggle- her jaw was going to ache- but it was going to be a reminder to her of how good she had made him feel.

He smiled at her reaction, his thumb brushing against her cheek one more time as he pushed back in slightly. “Good.” He praised, watching as she swallowed him down again. The way she gave into him was satisfying on a whole other level. “I know it’s big, but you’re doing perfect.”

Her hot mouth was a perfect fit for his thick cock. He was kicking himself for not getting his shit together earlier. He could have had her for much longer. Granted, all it took was one hook up for him to get his ass in gear. She was powerful that way.

She sucked on him eagerly, her lips wrapping around his girth and her tongue swirling around the head as she got into it on the pull back. It was something else, feeling her true desire for him put into physical action. The sound of her sucking and slurping filled the room, making Harry's eyes roll back in his head.

She felt so incredibly wet, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was staining the sofa. Harry's cock was making her drool in the best way. While she had her fears about being able to take it, his thick cock was a welcomed challenge, touching new spots in her throat. Enjoying giving head was still a new sensation, but seeing him throw his head back and hiss between his teeth as she let herself gag around him was even more arousing than she could have ever anticipated.

His reactions were everything she could have asked for and more. The way his eyes would roll back in his head, the way his breath would hitch in his throat, the way he would grunt and curse under his breath. It was all so fucking hot. She loved seeing him lose control like this, loved knowing that she was the one causing it. “Shit.” He grunted, watching her take him down the best she could. “Baby… it’s time to pull off. I need t’be inside of you.”

With a groan, he reached down to push her off, his cock soon popping out with a lewd trail of saliva and precum connecting from him to her lips. Her tongue stayed out, laying flat as he looked down at her with furrowed brows, lightly tapping the slick tip against the pink. “You are so fucking filthy, baby. Never expected this out of you.”

“I have a lot more where that came from.” Her grin was sly, spit dribbled down her chin as he pulled his cock away from her face. Her poor cunt was dripping, aching, desperate. The man had already edged her, and she needed him inside of her in a primal way. “Where do you want me?”

He chuckled darkly, his eyes raking over her soaked face and hair before landing on her needy cunt. “Laid back on the fucking couch, legs spread wide. I want to see that pretty little pussy of yours while I stretch you open.” His thumb brushed some of the spit from her chin, helping her up as she shakily laid herself down onto the cushions.

Panting heavily, he settled between her wide spread thighs, one hand supporting his weight while the other gripped his cock. He gave it a few strokes, eyes never leaving her cunt as he spat into his palm then coated himself in it.

His cock was a beautiful sight, thick and long with a prominent vein running along the underside as it laid against her swollen cunt. He gave it a few more pumps, smacking the fat head against her clit with a lewd smack. "Fuck, look at that, baby. My cock, against your little pussy. S’right where it should be, isn’t it?”

“Mhm.” Her eyes hooded, she looked like the picture of eroticism that he’d not anticipated. It blew his expectations out of the watch, seeing how beautiful she looked splayed out underneath him.

“I’m sorry for making you wait.”

He snorted, giving his cock another few pumps before guiding the tip against her soaked entrance. "Shut up, baby. You don’t have t’be sorry. I know what this means to you… and I hope you know it means the same to me.” His soft voice took on an edge, though, as his smirk turned mischievous. “I’d have waited as long as it took, But M’sure we’re gonna make up for lost time. aren’t we?”

“Yeah…” She nodded, feeling his body as he leaned over her. She felt safe, even with his taunt. Honestly? The safest she had ever felt during something like this. More eager than overthinking, that’s how she knew this was perfect- That she was making the right decision.

Grinning, he gave her a little squeeze before giving it to her. Harry slowly pushed his cock forward, inch by inch, until it was seated completely inside her. He hissed out a breath, pausing so he could gather his bearings before he started moving, the both of them perfectly still as he rested his forehead against hers.

Harry took his time with as he gave her a kiss, savoring it. It was slow and laced with the passion he’d been keeping under wraps, his lips pressed against hers gently but firmly, opening up to her tentatively before delving in completely. He could feel her chest rising and falling rapidly as she panted, feeling the same desperate need he did. Once he broke the kiss, he brushed her sweaty hair away from her face, beaming down at her and humming in pleasure to get her taste on his lips. "My god, you're perfect.” he praised, his voice husky and soft, full of awe.

"It was worth the wait.” He whispered, his eyes shining as he gazed at her. He leaned in to press another tender kiss to her lips before pulling back slightly to look at her again. “You're so fucking beautiful when you're waiting for me, good girl."

“Harry…” She pleaded, nails lightly digging into his shoulder as he ground himself into her, not yet thrusting. “I’m so full.” His cock filled her up to the brim in the best way possible.

Harry's breath caught as her nails lightly dug into his shoulder, making his cock twitch inside of her. He pressed a kiss to her neck and sighed in contentment. "I know, sweet girl," he murmured against her skin. “Do y’need some more?”

“Please. I can take it, I promise.” It was a need, now. Her cunt clenched around him, not fully adjusted but she didn’t care in the slightest. All she wanted was to feel him thrusting inside of her. Giving her what they both had been craving, the thing she had been holding them back from. All gloves were off now, and she wanted to feel every bit of it.

Harry groaned at her pleading, his hips moving of their own accord as he slowly began to thrust into her, each movement calculated as he started to claim her cunt as his own. He set a slow, steady pace, giving her what she needed as he looked down at her with hungry eyes. "I've been waiting for this for so fucking long, Y/N," Harry told her softly, his breath hot against her skin. His eyes searched hers, affection and pure desire shining in his gaze as he gave her exactly what she needed: him. “Longer than you even know. That one time?” He shook his head. “Just that taste was enough t’make me want to change my whole life. Wanted t’have all of you, all the time.”

He continued to thrust into her, each movement sending waves of pleasure through both of them. "Every day since then, I've thought about you, dreamed about you," he confessed, his voice trembling with emotion. "Wanted to be inside you so badly, to feel your tight little cunt squeezing my cock. Get as close as I could possibly be."

As he spoke, he picked up his pace slightly, his thrusts becoming a bit more urgent. "I've wanted to fuck you in every room of this house, in every bar, at every party- fuck, even the in the store, I wanted you. You don’t even know… Baby, look what you’re doing to me.” He growled, his hips moving deep and thorough against hers now.

Y/N looked up at him with hazy, lust-filled eyes, her mouth parted slightly as she panted for air. Her nails dug into his back as he continued to thrust into her, her body completely at his mercy as he took what he wanted from her.

As he fucked her, Harry's body was a beautiful mess of muscles and tattoos. His dark curly hair stuck to his sweaty forehead in messy strands as he rutted into her, hips moving with an enthusiasm that showed on his face. Harry's eyes were bright with pleasure - the same pleasure he was taking from Y/N. He could be so obnoxious and pushed the buttons outside the bedroom, but as he fucked her he was raw and unfiltered, all hard lines and moans and whispers of dirty words.

He whispered filthy praises into her ear as he fucked her, his hot breath making her shiver. "You're so fucking good for me. So fucking perfect. My sweet girl taking my big cock so well. You were made for me, weren't you?" His nose brushed her damp skin tenderly. As his words got sweeter, Harry's hand slid up her neck to gently wrap around it, never squeezing- just lightly putting pressure on her. It was a reminder of who owned her in this moment - and the words that followed only reinforced that fact. "Good girl for me. So fucking perfect."

Y/N's reaction was one of pure bliss. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear and gently wrapped his hand around her throat. She felt so delicate and safe in his arms, completely at his mercy as he fucked her and praised her. being fucked by him was the best she had ever had. His cock was thick and heavy, stretching her cunt to its limits as he fucked her. The head of his dick pressed against her most sensitive spot with every thrust, making her see stars. She could feel every ridge and vein as he moved in and out of her, the culmination of it all driving her mad.

She needed more. Falling into the primal headspace, the pleasure overwhelming her, she pleaded for more. “H-Harder.” she said breathlessly. “Give it to me, H.”

Harry's grip on her throat tightened slightly, his other hand reaching down to grip her hip and pull her onto his cock harder. He slammed into her, his balls slapping against her ass with loud smacks. "Fuck, you want it harder? You want my cock wrecking this perfect cunt?" His grin was slightly feral, something she had experienced during their hookup. This was the familiar part, his roughness. “Want me t’own it, baby?”

“Yes.” It came out as a squeak, hand holding his wrist as it held her firmly. “It’s yours. M’all yours.”

Who was he to say no when she asked so nicely?

Harry's thrusts became harder at her plea, his hips pounding into hers as he watched her tits bounce with every slam. He could see her hands gripping the couch, her head thrown back in pleasure. This was all he could have asked for. "Say it again..." He growled, his own body losing control.

“I wanna be yours. I wanna-“ Her eyes watered as she felt her orgasm cresting, building as he tightened his fingers at the spots on her throat to give her that head rush. Doing his best to give her what she wanted.

His fingers tightened at her throat, cutting off some oxygen as he felt her cunt clenching around him, a sign she was close to cumming. He kept his pace, the slick sloppy sound of her cunt getting fucked fueling him on. "Cum for me, baby." he crooned. “Give it t’me, my girl. show me.”

Her orgasm was a slow burn that started at her toes, creeping up her body until it took hold of her senses. Her hands gripped the couch so tightly her knuckles turned white. She tightened around his cock, her walls milking him as her pleasure washed over her. It started hot, making her legs quiver uncontrollably. She could feel herself tightening around his cock, her walls contracting and releasing around him repeatedly as he kept thrusting into her in a hard rhythm.

As she rode out her orgasm, Harry praised her nonstop, his words a steady stream of affectionate praises. It’s what she deserved, only the best. "Fuck, you're so fucking tight when you cum. Look at you, trembling for me, my good girl. You're so perfect, baby. So fucking perfect." His lips connected to hers, the thick, deep thrusts continuing. “Do you think you can give me another one? Hm?”

Y/N's reaction was one of complete surrender. She was giving herself over to him, finally giving in to her innermost desires. The ones she had been holding off for far too long as he proved he truly wanted her. She couldn't speak, could only manage to nod her head frantically as Harry asked if she could give him another one.

As she came down from her intense orgasm, Harry took a second to appreciate the beautiful sight before him. Her cunt was a perfect mix of them, soaking wet and clenching his cock tightly in a few different places as aftershocks of pleasure ran through her body. Her folds were puffy and shiny wet, swollen from the rough use and deep fucking he had given her. A mixture of their juices covered the length of his shaft as he continued to look down at their connection.

Harry could feel his own orgasm building, his balls tightening and his cock pulsing with each thrust. But he knew he couldn't let himself cum yet, not until he had her reaching another orgasm first. He needed to make sure she was completely spent before he allowed himself the release he so desperately craved.

His thumb found her swollen clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles as he continued to pound into her. The little nub was throbbing under his touch, desperate for attention. He rubbed roughly, applying just the right amount of pressure to make her see stars. “C’mon, my baby. Give it t’me. Was mean and took one away before, I know… let me give you another one before I cum.”

“Harry, Harry-“ she didn’t get a break. from her orgasm he was hell bent on getting her there a second time. The thrusts were hard and his thumb rubbing at her clit, her sensitive cunt couldn’t take much more. “M’gonna… again.” she babbled. “S’almost there. it’s, I love it. Love it, Harry.” She rambled, pleasure overwhelming her.

“That’s it, princess. Let it happen. I wanna feel you come apart on my cock again.” Harry cooed, his own orgasm right behind hers. He rubbed her clit mercilessly, his thumb moving in lightning fast circles as he fucked deep. Give it t’me again, you can do it.”

Y/N’s whole body tensed again, shaking and trembling as a second, even more intense orgasm hit her. Truly, she wasn’t sure her first had ever stopped. She cried out, her back arching off the bed, her nails digging into Harry’s back.

Harry's orgasm hit him like a tidal wave, his balls drawing up tight as he pulled out of her and painted her swollen cunt in hot ropes of pearly cum. He shot ribbon after ribbon all over her pussy, coating her lips, her clit, and the sensitive folds inside. It dripped down her thighs, pooling on the fabric beneath her. They’d need to get that professionally cleaned, but it didn’t matter. Harry pumped his hips forward into his hand, ensuring every last drop of his load covered her. “Fuck… shit, baby.” he keened, milking every drop out of his cock as his mouth stayed slack, breathing fast. Her body laid limp, gaze lulled at she looked up at him, taking every bit he fave her. Her eyes were glazed over, her breath coming in soft pants as she looked down at the mess Harry had made of her. She could feel the warm, sticky cum coating her folds, dripping down her, making a mess that she hadn’t fully anticipated. It was so much, more than she had ever seen before. She should’ve known- everything with him was.

As soon as he finished, Harry immediately moved to gather her into his arms, holding her close and whispering praise and affection into her hair. "You are incredible. So fucking good. Look at what a mess I made of you." he cooed, brushing the sweaty hair from her forehead. it didn’t matter that they were sticky with sweat, he was going to tend to her.

Maybe it was a bit much, but she whined slightly. The empty feeling… it wasn’t what she wanted. “Back inside. please.” She peeped. Harry lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist as he settled back, snug inside her. He took a sharp breath as his softening prick giving a weak twitch while the warmth enveloped him. "You are so fucking good to me, so beautiful. I want to worship you, make you feel so good.. You have no idea." He murmured, kissing her gently.

With her sitting on his lap, Harry's arms wrapped around her, holding her close to him, his hands gently caressing her back and hips. He was so tender with her, almost reverent in the way he touched her, as if she were something precious that could break at any moment.

Gentle words were whispered to her, letting their heart rates calm. It didn’t matter that they were a mess, that they needed to clean up, that they were sweaty and sticky. Y/N felt the most satiated she had ever experienced, safe and warm in his arms as he rubbed her back and caressed her cheek, like he couldn’t get enough of her. Couldn’t get close enough.

"You are so perfect, you know that? So fucking beautiful," He whispered, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek and down her jaw. The skin was hot to the touch from how flushed her face was from the sex, but it was another reminder that it was real- this had actually happened. He couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the way she looked at him, like he was everything to her in this moment. Especially after how far they’d shifted from their original dynamic.

There was one other question, though, that he needed to know the answer to. He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest as he contemplated the question. He wanted to be her boyfriend so badly, to have her by his side. She said she didn’t want hookups and he’d been working to gain her trust, to show her he wanted more. Hopefully he had proven it enough for her to give it a shot. "Baby... Can I be your boyfriend? Like, officially?" He swallowed, approaching the subject with a gentle caution. It wasn’t like he didn’t know why she had made them wait for this- reflecting back, he had been a prick and didn’t give her any reason to believe he was being serious. But since he’d committed to proving how much he actually wanted her, he could only hope she would understand just how serious he was. “I know m’still proving myself to you, and I understand… but if I can’t call you mine for another day, I think M’gonna lose it.”

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as he asked. She looked at him, really looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, hearing the vulnerability in his voice. She felt the warmth spread through her chest, a feeling of safety and happiness that she had never experienced before. Even though she had been so hesitant about it before, she could feel his change. Had seen it first hand by how he had treated her, how he’d committed to doing everything she’d asked while still showing his personality to her. There had been no sign he had tried to deceive her since asking for this chance, and she couldn’t deny him. She knew he was being genuine and he had done everything he could to give her peace of mind. It was clear that she’d misjudged him in the past, because he was one of the best people she’d grown to know.

“I think we can make that happen.”

The moment she said yes, Harry felt like he was floating on cloud nine. Wrapping his arms around her tightly, he held her close as he buried his face in her hair. "Really?" he whispered as he pulled back to look at her. "Really, really?" He couldn't stop the goofy grin that spread across his face as she confirmed it, nodding her head. He laughed in pure joy, giving her a playful nudge. "Good girl, you said yeah."

“Oh, shut up.” She groaned, giving his shoulder a push. “I can take it back.” She wouldn’t, though. Y/N was far too happy In the moment. Maybe it was the orgasm, the endorphins, the high of being asked to be a girlfriend, but this could be the start of something new coming to fruition. Something she’d pushed away and he’d diligently worked for.

Harry's eyes widened as he fell back into the couch. "No way you're taking it back!" He scoffed grabbing her hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing the back of each one of her fingers softly before letting go. “Worked too hard for you, miss. You’re mine now. No take backs.”

[bpmiranda]

Entranced |l. howlett|

A/N: porn with a plot, aphrodisiac consumption, dom!logan x student!reader, 18+ f!reader, mutant!reader (siren), female masturbation, light bondage, loss of virginity, dubious consent, unprotected sex, creampie

Sirens were long thought to be extinct, and for the most part, it was true. However, somewhere down the line of history there must have been copulation between a siren and a man. It was the only explanation that Charles Xavier and Jean Grey could determine was the result of you.

As a part of your mutation, your genetics produced an excess amount of hormones, more so than that of a human woman. All natural hormones such as keratin, collagen, melatonin, and estrogen, for example, were pumping through you tenfold. It made you grow lots of hair, long and shiny and strong. Your skin was incredibly smooth and bouncy, almost water resistant. And you had no difficulties adjusting to different time zones, you never experienced jet lag as your body easily adjusted the levels of melatonin required for the environment you were in.

The older you grew, the easier it was to control the part of your mutation you often considered a nuisance. The production of estrogen and pheromones. It was easy enough not to sing. Your song, even a soft humming, was powerful enough to hypnotize and entrance men. Influential enough to lure them to their very demise, if need be. Your hormones were harder to keep in check, however, especially when Logan Howlett showed up at the school and made no efforts to be subtle with his interest in you. At the end of the day, you were still a girl.

Sure, Logan wasn’t going to come onto you, you were just a kid. However, you were eighteen and unfairly pretty, and Logan was just a man, and men are weak. A little flirting couldn’t be harmful, right?

It wasn’t appropriate. He was in his 30s, at least in human years, and you were just a student. But neither of you really tried too hard to avoid being alone. You spent a few afternoons with him outside of class, watching him work on the vehicles in the underground school hangar. Logan was very handy, you came to find out, and he was all too happy to have a pretty young thing sitting by him while he worked. “Once this is all fixed up, I’ll take you on a ride.” He says as he’s working on taking a bald tire off his bike and you perk up happily.

“Where would we go?” You ask, crossing your leg over the other and Logan noticed the way your skirt rides up and exposes your thigh. You noticed too, but pretend to have not as you innocently bounce your foot and smile at him.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, sweet girl.” He smirks, winking slyly at you as he continues unfastening the tire of his motorcycle and you feel a heat pooling in your panties from that alone.

Some days, he would substitute for one of the professors. Most of the time, it was Storm’s history class which made sense because he was a century old and there was no one that could better talk about history than someone who lived through it. As captivated as you were by him, his dark hair and those bright, hazel eyes that stare intensely at you, you were nowhere near as entranced as Logan. The Wolverine was struggling to keep his mind on the subject matter at hand rather than the positions he’d like to put you in all because he could smell you growing aroused. “You’ve gotta go.” Logan urged quietly as he passed by you while handing out a pop quiz. You were far too easy to sniff out, every pheromone in your body screamed for his attention and it was clearly an uncomfortable situation for the both of you.

“Can I be excused?” You ask quickly, relieved that he asked you to go as you are painfully aware of the heightened production of estrogen coursing through you at the moment. Logan only nods at you, practically holding his breath until you leave the classroom.

In the nearest restroom, you quickly rub one out in the stall. You’re pressed against the wall, one hand covering your mouth so you won’t moan or whine as you toy with your clit until you release that build up which had settled in the pit of your stomach. A strained whimper falls from your lips and your try to swallow it as you hear people walking by the bathroom. Even your sexual sounds could be strong enough to cause trouble. With a relieved sigh, you leave the stall and wash your hands, splashing some cold water on your face before you walk back out. If only momentarily relieved, it was enough to not drive you crazy the rest of the day.

One afternoon, you and some girlfriends had asked permission to leave the grounds for lunch and Storm was happy to chaperone. Once you were in the city, a place you didn’t get to visit very often, you were thrilled to try something new to eat. A small Asian restaurant was the group choice and you were happily unaware of the fact that you had eaten an aphrodisiac until it was too late. You had consumed a whole dish worth of an aphrodisiac food and you only realized when you began to feel an ache in your lower abdomen. Your panties were growing wet by the minute and you desperately needed to feel a release. While it would be considered a normal amount to a regular person, your body was already producing far too much estrogen as it was and an added supply of what was basically food that would arouse you was not what you needed today.

Back at the mansion, Logan knew you were gone by the lack of your scent. It was faint which told him you had been off the premises for at least an hour. While he was in the kitchen fixing himself something to eat, he heard the doors open followed by the incessant yapping of teenage girls. It was something else that let him know you were in that group, however, and it wasn’t your voice, you were almost too quiet as you broke away from you friends and hurried right past the kitchen to your bedroom upstairs. Logan smelled you right then, that intoxicating scent that he had come to know as your arousal and it made his mouth water. Fuck, he thought to himself as he pushed away the sandwich he had made and headed up the stairs after you.

With every step, he was telling himself he was just going to check on you, he just needed to know you were okay, but he froze right outside of your door as he heard the sweetest, most alluring sounds he had ever heard in his excruciatingly long life. Logan slowly pushed open your bedroom door and he saw you laid out on your bed, legs spread and your bottom half bare while you were rubbing quickly at your clit and moaning in pleasure. Your head was rolled back into your pillows, your chest rising and falling dramatically as you chased your climax. Those melodic moans entranced Logan and he simply needed to be closer to you, touch you, hear the sounds that you might make just for him. As if losing the ability to control himself, he barged into your room without warning.

“Logan!” You gasped as the sound of your door slamming shut and locking brought you out of your mind. As he approached you, you quickly closed your legs and sat up, realizing his eyes were clouded. “Logan, please l-leave.” You tried to order him in a steady voice, trying to break him out of the trance, but your words were shaky and you whined as his lips crashed against yours. Logan sighed at the sound and he cupped your face in his hands as he kissed you passionately while he climbed on top of you. “Logan.” You breathed out as his lips moved to your neck and he sucked on your skin, marking you with a hickey. “Oh, mm.” You moan again and he groans.

“Love those little sounds, sweet girl.” He praises, pushing your thighs apart so he can settle between them and you cry softly as the rough denim of his pants rubs against your bare pussy. “Let me hear you, tell me how good it feels to have me like this.”

You shouldn’t be so giving in to him so easily, with him being in your trance you should have more control, but you’re unbelievably pent up with sexual tension that you just want him to take you. “Logan, we can’t.” You cry, pushing weakly on his chest as his hand is trailing down between your bodies. “They’re going to hear me.” You gasp as his thick fingers prod at your soaked opening, your slick allowing him slide in far too easily, and you moan loudly.

The tune of your moans only further drags Logan into the trance, forcing him to focus on just one thing: pleasure. “Then you’ll have to figure out how to be quiet, baby doll, cause I can’t possibly stop.” He says before his fingers curl inside you and you push on his chest at the feeling, biting your lip to stop from whining. “That’s it, you like it, don’t you?” He smirks, watching your brows scrunch up from the pleasure of his fingers pumping in and out of your tight hole with a squelching sound that gives away how much you certainly do like it. Logan suddenly descends down your body, biting your breasts through your thin camisole which makes your head spin, and he slightly bunches up the soft material to kiss your belly and hips tenderly before latching his lips to your aching clit. His fingers slip out of your core so he can taste you, rub his tongue sloppily over your messy, dripping cunt, greedily sucking at your juices and forcing you to cum on his tongue.

“Ah, Lo-” You cry, writhing and covering your mouth quickly as your legs tremble with the force of your orgasm and Logan refuses to let you close your legs as he extends the pleasure, circling his tongue around your sensitive bud until tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. Logan groans as you drip off his chin and you hum at the sight of his tongue licking a line from your mound to your navel where he kisses you gently while he’s undoing the buckle of his belt and you want to protest.

“I could smell how wet you were when you came back. I needed to taste you, baby.” He says as he pushes his jeans down enough just to pull his cock out and you swallow hard at the sight of him so thick and long. “I gotta feel you.”

“Logan, I’m a virgin.” You blurt out, hoping to deter him because there’s no way you can be silent with all of him inside you.

“Not for much longer, baby.” He says, rubbing his swollen, leaking head through your folds and you cry out sweetly because you’re still incredibly sensitive, but it feels so good. “Fuck, how can I stop when you sound so pretty?” He asks, dipping his head to kiss you and you kiss him back, your hands smooth along his ribbed white tank top and you slide a hand underneath to feel his toned abdomen, to push on him as he pushes his tip into you. “I’m so sorry, sweet girl, I can’t hold back anymore. I gotta have you.” He groans, taking your wrists in his hands and pinning them on either side of your head before he buries his entire length inside you and you whimper loudly. The sound only further clouds his mind with desire and he wastes no time fucking himself into your tight cunt. A string of ‘I’m sorry’s’ falls from his lips in a hot breath that coats your neck as you cry.

“Logan! Oh, my, God! Logan, please!” You mewl, your body writhing underneath him as he just thrusts into you hard and deep, with purpose. You’re not sure what you’re begging him for as you tremble underneath his heavy frame and clench your thighs around his waist. “Oh! Logan, Logan!” You call his name in a melodic tune, aware of the way you’re now willingly pulling him into your trance. “Yes, Logan!”

“Love the way you sing for me, sweet girl.” He grunts, letting one of you hands go so that he can pin your wriggling hips to the mattress and you sob as he reaches that spot deep in you that satisfies the ache caused by the overload of estrogen. Your free hand clasps around his neck and you bring him down to your lips, kissing him hard as you whine against his mouth, an attempt to muffle yourself as you reach a second orgasm. “Fuck, feels like water, baby.” He praises as you gush around him, mildly squirting as the bush on his pelvis is continuously stimulating your clit and your body arches against the bed from the way he feels on you and in you and around you. “That’s it, baby, just take it.” Logan pants as he cages you in with his arms and you brace yourself by holding onto his broad back. Your eyes are blurry from the hot tears spilling out and Logan whispering filthy things into your ear. “Can’t get enough of this little pussy.” He groans, watching how your bite your lip hard to stop from screaming as he has yet to finish with you. “Been wanting to make it mine for so long.” He confesses, kissing your lips tenderly while he’s being so rough below the waist, rutting into your overused cunt as you simply lie pinned underneath him and take it. “Wanna know what it feels like to be stuffed full, baby doll?” You nod weakly, uncaring anymore of the consequences, distantly making a note in your fuzzy mind to get a Plan B tomorrow.

A shudder runs through Logan’s body as he suddenly pumps you full of his load and you hear the distinct sound of his claws piercing through your mattress. “Logan!” You whimper, your fingernails dig into his back underneath his tank top and you tremble because the feeling of his cum inside you is so intimate and messy.

“All mine.” Logan growls lowly as he milks himself in you, his face buried in the curve between your shoulder and neck where he’s kissing you and making you whine from overstimulation.

After a moment of basking in the post orgasm lull, you clear your throat and tug gently on his hair to get his attention. “Logan?” You ask in a steadier voice and he gasps softly, his claws retract, and he lifts his head to look down at you.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighs and you notice his eyes are no longer cloudy, but now that familiar bright hazel. “‘M so sorry, Y/N. I just-I heard you in here and-and I don’t know what came over me.” He confesses as he slides his cock out of you and you choke back a whimper as he fastens his jeans and his belt again.

“It’s not your fault.” You say as your face grows hot while you watch him remove his tank top and he uses it to clean you off as he presses a kiss to your lips. The ribbed material against your raw cunt makes you whimper and he closes his eyes, trying to block it out. “It’s definitely more my fault.” You breathe out.

Logan can smell that the aroma of your arousal isn’t nearly as thick as it was when you came back to the mansion and he tilts his head curiously as he sits on the edge of your bed. “You okay?” He asks, softly caressing your bare thigh while you shake your head.

“I’m pretty sure I ate an aphrodisiac.” You admit, covering your face in embarrassment as he laughs. “Caused far more problems than I thought it would.” You laugh as you look back up at him.

“Well,” Logan gently stroked your cheek with his thumb and he sighs at the sight of your hair all messy and your face glowing from the bliss of your orgasm. “I’m always happy to help out a student.” He teases and you playfully shove his shoulder.

“Thanks, Professor.” You joke.

Ahem, so sorry😳

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened @pinkanonwriting @xxvendettaxx @throwmethroughawindow

[monstersflashlight]

Day 3. Monster-kinktober: Haunted + Free

A/N: Continuation of this little short story. Enjoy!

Shadow monster x fem!reader || tentacle sex, oral sex, semi-public sex

When your friends insisted on me going into the haunted house with them you were scared, you were scared shitless. You didn’t like scary stuff, you didn’t even like that you were out on Halloween night. You liked your Halloween to be spent with candy and watching cringy scary movies that made you laugh and didn’t stop you from sleeping at night. But apparently you were “a baby” and you needed to “get over it”, or so they said. They annoyed you so much that you decided to say fuck it, the park attractions couldn’t be that bad, even kids went there… Right?

You were wrong.

And now you regretted it. You regretted it with every fiber of your body. When the lights went off and you heard high pitched screams, you joined in, screaming, too. You reached around and found somebody’s arm, thinking it was your friend. You clung to him like a baby koala, your whole body pressed against his side as he kept walking for a few steps, your face completely hidden in his shoulder. Your eyes were firmly closed as he stopped in the middle of somewhere.

"Darling, I'm really enjoying this, but I think you got your arms messed up," an unknown voice whispered against your ear, making you shiver and open your eyes widely, a scream almost escaping your lips before he covered your mouth with his dark hand, chuckling.

In front of you wasn’t one of your friends, but one of the monsters working on the attraction, looking at you with the most delicious smirk on his stupidly handsome face. His tentacles undulating behind his black form, all the shadows around his body, making him look enticing instead of scary. And you were almost salivating, he was that handsome. He looked good enough to eat.

You were two seconds away from running away far from him, completely embarrassed, when he stopped you again, one of his tentacles circling your waist to stop your movements. "Calm down, I will guide you outside, don't worry, I don't bite... At least not if you don't ask first." He winked at you, and you blushed, heavily flustered. Your body was still shivering, but this time it was not from fear.

You pulled away just enough to get your mouth free, but his hand landed on your neck, where he squeezed softly, making your heart skip a beat. “Can we... can we leave now?” You stuttered, trying to sound somewhat coherent even though you could feel the tear stains in your cheeks from earlier and your voice was trembling slightly.

His eyes softened. “No, darling, not yet. The doors are closed until this ends,” he explained, his hand still around your neck, caressing your pulse point and making your heart speed up.

“How long is that?” You asked, breathless.

He looked at the ceiling like it got the answer to that question and answered: “About… 20 more minutes.” You looked at the ceiling expecting to find a clock there, but there was nothing at all… how the fuck?

But you had more important matters to attend to. “Oh. Okay. I should try to find my friend then…” You pushed his chest softly, not really wanting to untangle yourself, but being a bit uncomfortable with the situation.

“Or you could keep me company,” he teased. “I bet I can distract you from the fear,” the innuendo in his tone was so clear you shivered, your panties getting wet. There was no way this amazing shadow monster wanted to fuck you, right?

“And how would you do that?” You asked.

He smirked again. “I don’t know if you realized… But I have tentacles.” His tentacles came around his body and touched different parts of yours, making you giggle when they tickled your sides. “Your laugh entices me like no other ever had,” he confessed as he lowered his head and claimed your mouth. You kissed him with desperation, clinging to his body until you were breaking apart, gasping for air. You forgot you had to breathe for a second, his kiss so good you forgot you even existed apart of that point of contact.

He started kissing down your neck, his hands groping your ass. You looked around frantically, almost expecting some other human or monster to appear, and let out a choked: “He- here?”

“Nobody is going to come this way anymore, darling… And you look especially good against that fake-mold wall,” he joked. Your own laugh died when one of his shadow tentacles slipped under your shirt, cupping your boob and flicking your nipple. You groaned and he looked at you like he was a predator and you were his next prey. You shivered again, your body filling with anticipation.

He touched you all over, his tentacles and hands were everywhere and you couldn’t stop moaning as you bite into his lips. You were fighting for dominance in a battle where nobody would lose. You were kissing like desperate souls finding each other again… and it was intoxicating. When you felt his tentacles lowering your pants and panties, you pulled away for a second, looking at his eyes trying to decipher what was going to happen next. He said nothing as he fell to his knees in front of you.

When he looked up at you, you felt like the most powerful woman in the world. Such a big scary monster was on his knees for you, to pleasure you. It was exhilarating and your pussy got wetter instantly. He probed it with his fingers and you cried out, moving your hips to get more friction. And when he grabbed your leg and put it over his shoulder, you almost lost yourself.

The first contact of his super long tongue against your pussy was like an electric shock, running down and making every cell in your body stand to attention. He didn’t give you time to prepare, before you knew it he was sucking and licking and rubbing and… driving you completely insane. You were almost there, so, so close you could almost feel it in the tip of your fingers. That’s when he decided to make his tentacles join in. A tentacle pressed softly against your asshole as another one pressed inside of you. The combination was too much for you, and you fell apart around him, screaming and thrashing as he held you down with his tentacles so you wouldn’t fall to the floor.

“That was… That was… wow,” you let out between heavy breaths. He chuckled, standing up and kissing you again. You could taste yourself in his lips, and that made you want to devour him even more. You reached his dick, but he batted your hand away. “But I…”

“This was for you. Also, there’s no time, I need to get you outside before your friends come looking for you,” he explained with a smile as he embraced you with his tentacles, pulling your pants and panties up your legs with the softest caress. Your legs were still weak when he guided you out of the haunted house.

He guided you outside slowly, letting you cling to his arm for balance, your knees still trembling after that earth shattering orgasm. Once you were out and you saw your friends looking around for you, at the same time they located you, he leaned down and whispered against your ear: “Hope next time I can fuck you properly, darling.” You blushed heavily and he laughed, pulling away until your friends reached you. They asked a few questions that you weren’t ready to ask and he cut them: "Can I have your phone number, then?" Without thinking too much about it, you gave it to him, ignoring your friend’s cheers and comments as you typed it on his phone.

[orimuraa]

ᯓ᪥ Would you kiss me? Mwah! - OT7

(synopsis) ּ ֶָ֢.kissing enhypen with lip gloss on ᰔ

ot7 enhypen x fem!reader ּ ֶָ֢. tooth rotting fluff ּ ֶָ֢. kissing, petnames ּ ֶָ֢. wc 737

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승

heeseung had just been scrolling through his phone when you decided to play a little trick on him. applying your favorite lip gloss (and his favorite flavor), you casually walked up to him, trying to hide your laughter. suddenly, you leaned in, crashing you lips against heeseung's. when you pulled away, heeseung was left shocked, but soon realized what you had intended after feeling the reminiscence of the lip gloss. "i like the flavor, baby." "thanks, it's your personal favorite!" you laughed, liking the pink, glossy color now coating your boyfriend's lips.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성

today, you had decided to kiss jay. not that you haven't, you have many many times, but you were gonna do this with a little fun. you smiled to your reflection, seeing the fresh and vibrant red that now decorated you lips beautifully. you were going to do a little art project. jay was just lounging on the couch when you suddenly hugged him. he was a bit suspicious of the sudden hug but nonetheless, still hugged you back. quickly pulling back, you pecked his face all over, until you were satisfied with the amount of kiss marks on his face. "i'm a very talented artist." you giggled. indeed you were.

𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤

"jakey? can you help me test my new shades of lip tint?" you asked jake, who was sitting beside you. "sure baby, anything for my princess," he winked, making you blush. clapping your hands, you grabbed your first new shade and smoothly applied it to your lips, jake watching intently. then you turned to face your boyfriend before planting a soft kiss on his cheek. "hmm, i think i like this shade!" you smiled. and of course you needed to test all the others! let's just say that jake was a very happy and colorful test subject at the end of this,

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈

"hoonie? can i test something real quick with you?" you called out to your boyfriend, holding two shades of lip gloss in your hand. "sure angel, what is it?" he smiled. instead of answering, you took out one of the shades and applied it to your lips before pressing your lips to sunghoon's cheek. "just making sure that these are still my favorite shades," you replied, already applying the next color. hey, who was sunghoon to complain? he had it all right here. kisses, you, and new decorations on his face!

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우

"sun!! can you help me real quick?" you asked, sitting at your vanity with all your lip products lined up. "yeah? what's up sweets?" he answered, plopping down next to you. "i need to figure out which shades to keep or toss," you said, picking up the first shade. you smoothly applied it to your lips before applying your lips to sunoo's lips. "ooh! i still love this one!" you exclaimed, the color looking beautiful on sunoo. "glad i could be of assistance sweets," sunoo chuckled, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. oh, it was a really nice shade!

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원

"jagi! guess what i got you?" jungwon smiled, holding up a tiny bag. "i got a new lip gloss for you!!" he giggled, not letting you answer. "try it on!!" he exclaimed, jumping up and down like a little kid. "thank you wonnie! give me a sec," you pulled out the beautiful shade of pink and applied it onto your lips, immediately falling in love with the gloss and it's smoothness. but you wanted to see how it looked, so, you went on your tippy toes and pecked jungwon's lips, catching him by surprise. "it's such a pretty shade! thank you so much wonnie!" you cheered, hugging him tightly. "anything to make my jagi happy."

𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村 力

"riki riki riki riki riki riki riki!!! come here!!!" you shouted, not being able to contain your excitement. you had recently bought a new shade of pink lip gloss and you wanted to try it out on your boyfriend self. "what's up little love?" he asked, walking through the door. "i got a new gloss and i wanted to try it out!" you replied, already putting it on your lips. you then stepped towards your boyfriend, going the highest you could on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss to ni-ki's lips, attempting to color them as well. "pretty color! pink suits you ki!" you winked, knowing ni-ki's hatred for pink. looking in the mirror, he said his lips slightly pink. maybe for you, he would tolerate it.

this was inspired by my new lip gloss so everyone, give the lip gloss all the credit! anyway, i hope you enjoyed it! it was so cute and fun to write! likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated! <33

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries

⚘. Perm taglist: @vmpivory, @yuvany

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Tiny Paws, Big Adventures

Word count: 773

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader, ft. Leo

Summary: you and Charles Leclerc enjoy a peaceful day in Monaco with your playful dachshund, Leo, as you talk about expanding your little family and cherish the quiet moments away from the racetrack

______________________________________________________________

You and Charles Leclerc had been dating for a few years now, and your life with him was often fast-paced, filled with race weekends, travel, and the occasional media frenzy. But the quieter moments, especially those spent at home, were your favorite. That’s where Leo, your longhaired dachshund, came in — the tiny, furry heart of your little family.

It was an off weekend, and Charles had promised to spend the day at home with you and Leo. You were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you heard the rapid sound of little paws tapping against the wooden floor. Leo darted into the living room, tail wagging furiously, his long, silky fur bouncing as he excitedly scurried around, while Charles followed behind, laughing as he tried to keep up with the energetic dog.

"How is he always faster than me?" Charles chuckled, flopping down on the couch next to you. He leaned over to give you a quick kiss before reaching down to rub Leo's fluffy head.

"Because he’s just as fast as his dad," you teased, smiling at Charles. "Or maybe faster, with those short little legs."

Charles grinned and put an arm around you. "I think he's more aerodynamic."

You laughed, watching as Leo spun around, clearly trying to convince one of you to play with him. "You should take him out for a run. He needs to burn off all this energy."

Charles leaned back, stretching out his arms. "Or maybe he can tire me out," he said, half-joking. "What do you think, Leo? Want to go out?"

At the sound of his name, Leo barked happily, his ears flopping as he danced around in excitement. You couldn’t help but laugh at how much joy a simple walk brought him.

"Alright, alright," you said, standing up to grab Leo’s leash. "Let’s go tire this little guy out."

The three of you headed out for a walk along the quiet streets of Monaco. Leo trotted ahead, his small legs moving quickly as his leash bobbed up and down with every eager step. Charles had one hand loosely holding the leash, while his other hand rested on your shoulder as you walked side by side.

Moments like these were your favorite. When it was just you, Charles, and Leo, away from the cameras and the intensity of race weekends. Charles was always more relaxed at home, and you could see the stress melt away with each step as he walked with you.

"You know," Charles said after a while, looking down at Leo, "I’ve been thinking… maybe we should get him a little friend."

You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him. "Another dachshund?"

Charles grinned. "Why not? Leo could use some company. Maybe he wouldn’t miss us as much when we’re away."

You laughed softly. "You mean when you’re away. I’m pretty sure he’s happy to have me all to himself when you’re racing."

"Fair enough," Charles chuckled, pulling you a little closer. "But seriously, I think it’d be fun. What do you think?"

You looked at Leo, who was now happily sniffing a patch of grass, his little tail wagging in the breeze. The idea of another longhaired dachshund waddling around the apartment was sweet. "I think it could be nice. But two of them? You’d better be ready for double the trouble."

Charles gave you a cheeky smile. "I can handle it. Besides, you’re the one who always spoils Leo more than me."

"Well, maybe," you admitted with a laugh, playfully nudging him. "But don’t act like you don’t let him sleep on your side of the bed whenever I’m not looking."

Charles feigned innocence. "I would never."

You rolled your eyes, leaning into him as the two of you continued walking, brainstorming names and imagining the chaos of two dachshunds running around the apartment. By the time you made it back home, Leo had finally tired himself out, curling up on the couch the moment you stepped through the door.

Charles flopped down beside him, pulling you onto his lap. You rested your head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. "This is nice," he murmured, his voice soft and content.

You smiled, feeling the same sense of calm settle over you. "It is."

Leo snored softly at your feet, and Charles kissed the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. "I love you, you know?"

"I love you too, Charles."

No matter how hectic life became, you knew that these quiet moments, just the three of you — you, Charles, and little Leo — were what made it all worth it.