#and like... if you watched the show you know

[shinkei-shinto]

This is Netflix's Castlevania season... two? I think this scene is in?

And then in season four a vampire casually walk-hops over a loop of running holy water, commenting "narsty stuff, holy water" without any trouble. So running water doesn't appear to be any sort of real problem for them.

BUT DOES RUNNING WATER KILL THEM OR NOT??!

[covencritter]

arcane be like: yes i will be the most beautiful, groundbreaking show and have characters that undergo greek and shakespearean tragedies. yes it will be like watching living, breathing painted murals move. did you know this is about league of legends actually .

[vvampirelust]

midnight cowboy

warnings: smut, reverse cowgirl, kinda mean!sevika, brief spanking, BIG MAMA (she is a warning.)

this was inspired by JADE’s song, ‘midnight cowboy’

Neon lights glare through the window, illuminating the dark space, and the two figures inside. Flashes of purple and blue casting over their silhouettes. Muffled bass thumps, echoing from the nightlight outside. It’s almost silent other wise, heavy breathing filling the void.

Sevika’s mechanical arm rests behind her head, leaning back on it, her cold grey eyes alert, watching. There’s a smug look on her face, smoke pouring in spirals from her nose as she takes a drag from the blunt between her lips. She tears her eyes from your naked form, down to your hands and grunts when you roughly tighten the harness around her thigh. Saddling her up. “Easy.” She bites.

You simply chuckle in response, knowing fine well she likes when you try to play a little rough.

Sevika’s purplish strap stands tall on her hips, thick and ridged, made to make you feel everything. Your cunt throbs at the sight, thighs squeezing. It suited Sevika perfectly, big and intimidating. Her free hand comes to wrap around it, stroking the thick length up and down. You’re staring hungrily, folds dripping with slick, eager to have Sevika inside you.

Her head tilts, “You gonna get on with it, or what?” She asks gruffly, daringly. Eyes trailing down to the mess between your thighs, demeanour faltering ever so slightly at the sight of your glistening cunt. Sevika hums, patting her thigh, “Come ‘n ride me, gorgeous. Show me what you’re made of.” She challenges through another puff of smoke, settling back against the headboard.

Lip caught between your teeth, you nod dumbly, “Need your cock, Sevika,” you sigh, climbing her eagerly, watching her smirk. You turn around on her lap, straddling her thighs. It takes Sevika by surprise, which doesn’t happen often, having expected you to ride facing her. Now she has a full view of your back, her eyes trailing down the length of you. She admires your curves, the swell of your ass and fuck, your cunt.

Which was winding down on the tip of her strap, coating Sevika’s cock in your sticky juices. She catches on your entrance and you gasp, walls fluttering as you tease yourself.

Sevika’s groan dances with your long moan when you finally sink down on her cock. Feeling lightheaded as you stretch around the size of her, so deep inside your cunt, you can feel her in your throat. Sevika’s groan turns into a dark laugh, flesh hand wiping to snatch the blunt from her lips, tossing it aside. “You really are just fucking nasty, aren’t you, girl?” her words are harsh as she sits up, the movement forcing her cock deeper. You whine, cut off by Sevika’s arm wrapping around your chest, tugging your back flush against her.

“Fuckin’ slut, look at you,” she drawls, mechanical hand finding your waist, running down, freezing against your hot skin. “Fuck, look at these curves. Just move-yeah that’s it. Nice and slow,” Sevika guides you, grip on your waist urging you to grind down on her, hips rolling for her hard eyes to admire.

Your soft moans echo, whimpers slipping out whenever her cock hits those spots inside you that have you lost for breath. “Sevika, please,” you have no idea what you’re pleading for. Sevika simply grunts in response, leaning down to attack your neck with her mouth. Sucking hard enough to leave marks, looking down your body as you continue to rock your hips back against her. You suck in a sharp, deep breath, Sevika watching how your tits move as you heave, perky nipple just begging to be pinched and bitten. So she does, pawing and groping at your tits until you’re whining and squirming on her cock.

You start to grind down harder, faster, desperate for more. More noises slip past your lips, growing louder with each rut of your hips. You want to bounce on her cock, feel her sliding in and out of your soaked pussy. Yet Sevika lays a sharp smack to your thigh, “What did i just say?” she murmurs nipping your skin, “Slow.”

With a whine you sit back on her cock, “I need more,” you punctuate with a hard roll of your hips, the pressure giving Sevika friction to which she groans. “Lemme ride you. Give me more, please. I wanna feel you in my tummy.” You sound pathetic, and it gets Sevika off, wanting to see just how desperate you can get. “Please, Sev-“ You cut yourself off with a whimper as you attempt to bounce on her, feeling her cock shifting deliciously against your fluttering walls. “More,” you sigh quietly, lost in the pleasure.

It’s short lived as you’re suddenly shoved forward onto your hands, Sevika scoffing behind you. “You want more?” She sneers, laying a slap to your ass. “Take it.” You’re looking at her over your shoulder, eyebrows raised. Sevika rolls her eyes, her impatience evident as she gestures to you sitting still on her cock. “Get on with it. Fuck yourself dumb, doll, gimme a good show.”

You start slow, lifting off her cock until only her tip sheathed. Letting Sevika see how well you take her as you sink down to the hilt, curses falling from your lips in whispered whines. Sevika hums her approval, eyes trained on the way you begin bouncing on her cock. Quickening the pace of your thrusts, your head falls back in pleasure. Bracing yourself using her thighs, you pant out little whines and whimpers, feeling her so deep, gliding against your sensitive walls.

“Sevika, fuck!” you cry out, voice strained, “Feels s-so good.” That coil beginning to wind up in your stomach, making you clench and attempt to keep her lodged in your cunt. You can hear Sevika’s heavy breath behind you, clearly affected by watching you ride her. Yet her tone is smug, her voice dropping lower, “Come on. You can do better than that.”

Her hands slide to cup your ass, the contrast of hot and cold sending sparks flying across your body. She spreads you open to her gaze as you start to pick up pace, slamming down harder on her cock. She watches the way your cunt swallows her whole, how you were gripping her cock whenever she slid out. Sevika curses behind you, low and husky, “That’s it.”

The need to cum overpowers the ache in your legs, the need to please Sevika. Your eyebrows are furrowed, moans spilling as you bounce up and down, again and again. Fucking yourself hard on her cock, making your head feel fuzzy. “I- fuck,” it feels so good. She’s so deep in your tummy, hitting all the right spots. “I’m gonna…fuck…i’m gonna cum,” you manage, whining, feeling the pressure building up in your core.

Sevika doesn’t even answer, entrance by the crease, the jiggle of your ass against her hips. Your thighs start shaking, inching closer and closer. It drives you wild, riding Sevika like a goddamn cowgirl. Your nails dig into her skin, hard, and she only groans at the feeling. You’re chanting her name in a whispered prayer, voice rising in pitch as your orgasm begins to take over.

It washes over you dramatically, wave after wave. You can’t get a word out, mouth dropped in a silent moan, convulsing atop her. Your cunt is squeezing her rhythmically, like a vice, unable to comprehend the feelings taking over your body. Your thrusts become weaker, attempting to fuck yourself through it. You aren’t given a chance to ride out your high before you feel Sevika’s hand fisting your hair. She grips your hair like a ponytail, tugging your head back as she readjusts herself. And then she makes you scream.

Sevika pistons her hips to meet your thrusts, fucking up into you with an aggression. Your moans come out in broken sobs as she overstimulates your cunt. Your neck strains with how tight Sevika holds your hair, pulling you so far back you could nearly see her upside down. “Got another one in you, don’t ya’?” Sevika growls, grunting with each thrust of her cock into your dripping cunt. Strings of your slick are falling to the bed beneath you, soaking Sevika’s thighs, leaving a ring of cum around the base of her cock.

It’s too much. Far too much. But still not enough. The way she’s rutting into you like a dog in heat, making you see fucking stars. Having not recovered from your first orgasm and she’s already fucking you into the next one. Her free hand finds your hip, gripping tightly and using her strength to bounce you on top of her. “Good fucking girl,” she drawls through a grunt, “Taking me so well.”

You sob out in pleasure as a response, listening to the obscene wet sounds. Paired with the slapping of Sevika’s hips against your ass. It was filthy, pornographic, but it simply made you want it more. Sevika was pushing you past your limits, and a sick, twisted part of you got off on it. The way she used you like a toy.

And you let her, body pliant as she fucked up into you, cock hitting deeper than you ever thought possible. Your legs were trembling, so close to giving out beneath you. “Fuckin’ look at you. Making a mess of my dick,” Sevika practically snarls, tugging your hair harder and rutting into you deeper. “Gonna cum, doll?”

You couldn’t speak, attempting a weak nod as you whined. Your cunt was tightening around her cock again and you were gasping for air. It was all too much. The feeling of her cock, the fuzziness in your head. “Please, please, please please,” you whimper, needing to let go.

Sevika chuckles darkly, gripping your hip tighter. “Want it bad, huh?” Her tip was pushing into that spot with each thrust, pulling on your hair until she was able to latch her teeth into your neck.

That was your breaking point, the coil in your tummy snapping. Sevika forces another orgasm out of you. She grunts with each thrust, fucking you through the near unbearable pleasure. Your moans release in broken screams and squeaks, arms giving out as you fall back into her. Sevika wraps her arm around your middle, cooing in your ear, rutting her hips up over and over, letting you feel everything.

“Ohhh,” you’re shuddering in her hold, “Oh my god!” Your hand shoots behind you to grab a hold of the back of her neck, grounding yourself. You don’t even register the tears falling from your eyes from how hard she made you cum. You have to turn your head and bury your face into her, panting for breath, still shaking. You can feel Sevika stroking her mechanical thumb over your hip, offering a form of comfort.

She’s laughing in your ear, smug expression gracing her face. She lets go of your hair to grab your face, smushing your cheeks. “I think it’s my turn, doll.” She says quietly, gruffly, breath hot against the shell of your ear, “Gonna ride that pretty face of yours. Let’s see how much you can take.”

[seranextdoor]

tw. dark content, brief gory descriptions, smut, size difference.

pairing. mr. crawling x fem! reader. 1k words.

- i wish there was more on blissful love life end route, wish i couldve fuck this cute little shyt until he blabberin' :p i love this gameeeeeee! sorry for suddenly writing about homicipher after months of ghosting u guys.. hehe...

The smell of death lingers in the air ever since you brought along the certain entity to the overworld. It's faint enough to let you know that he was watching.

Not that you mind, he practically latched onto you like a barnacle the first time he met you at that strange hallway. Mr. Crawling, despite the oddities that comes along his unique charms, was a pleasant companion. Maybe it's the fact that you'd noticed the dark figure, slouching at the corner of your room, or the fact that you'd woke up with him next to you, the high-pitched giggling causing you to stir awake at the darkest hour.

You wonder if Mr. Crawling gets bored at times. You can't blame him, the underworld where he is from an endless maze with sharp corners here and there, not to mention the occasional earthquakes that change the layout of the map. Comparing his world to your little apartment was laughable. Maybe that's why you started feeling his cold fingertips running underneath the thin fabric of your clothes. Not that you'd stop him, Not that you want him to anyway. You taught him a few things, mainly how humans express their love. It's nice to have someone dote on you for bringing them a bowl of fresh human flesh.

'It's better to be with Mr. Crawling,' you thought.

Being with a human means it'll increase the chance of you getting caught and you wouldn't be able to go on another killing spree. At least Mr. Crawling accepts you for who you are.

"You... like?" his croaky voice puts your running thoughts to the side as you tilt your head, your eyes looking at him before they avert down to his wandering hand. His fingers are abnormally slender with a grayish tint as he slowly brushed them on your stomach before they went lower and lower until his fingers practically hovered over your lower body. He gives you a look, "need you." he points down at your clothed pussy, your cheeks quickly warms up at his words.

"Can touch?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. His fingers trembled the more he waited for your response like he itched to touch you. "Can." you give him a brief nod as his fingers slowly slipped under your shorts, spreading your folds before he pressed down on your clit causing your breath to hitches. You watched with staggered breathing as his hand moved in a circular motion, rubbing your clit slowly as your sopping hole clenched around nothing. "Good? Enjoyable?" he asked, giggling when you gasped and nodded at his words while he traced your slit, getting your juices all over his nimble digits.

His kisses are sloppy, and the metallic taste of blood from the flesh he consumed for dinner comes in as the aftertaste when you pull back for some air. Mr Crawling quickly chases after your lips, pressing his cracked and cold ones on yours as his tongue shamelessly swirls around yours. With enough juices coating his fingers, he easily slipped it into your entrance as it squelches, his other hand holding your thigh to keep your legs spreading. “Look down,” he pulled his fingers out with a small pop, proudly showing his wet and pruney fingers to you before he slipped them into his mouth. “heh, good. Me happy!” he giggled, moving on top of you as you rested your legs on each side of his body.

“Mr. Crawling...” you whined, watching him with blurry vision as he pulled the black clothing up, just enough for his cock to peek through. It's almost as if the entity wants you to see it, wants you to see how desperate he is. His pre-cum glistens and gather at the tip of his cock, bulging vein runs on the side of his shaft as your eyes shifts to the patch of dark hair on his pelvis. His knees dig into the mattress, his hand aligning the tip of his cock into your entrance. “Me... go into you slow.” he gently prods your hole with the tip of his cock, shifting his eyes on your face and down to your pussy as he pushes his thick cock past the ring of muscles.

You wince, the girth of his cock is stretching you to the maximum. "Hurt? Pain? Desire me go out?" he asked, looking down at you before you shook your head at his question, "I'm glad." he smiled at your reaction. Your fingers holding onto his biceps as your nails left crescent marks on his skin. "Pat, pat." he rubs your head, cupping your cheek as his cock throbs inside of you when your velvety walls flutters to adjust to his size. "Pretty." he whispers, leaning down to peck your lips. He lets you roll your hips, slowly fucking yourself into his fat cock while he holds your hip. "Like this? Happy?" he asked, his hips stuttering as he thrust back into you, matching your slow rhythm.

"Like it..." you replied, breathless as he began to pick up his pace. He was consistent, the tip of his cock brushing against the spot that sends you seeing stars on your ceilings with every single thrust, your nails raking down on his back, leaving claw marks which heals up as quickly as it came. The sound of skin slapping reverberates around the walls as Mr. Crawling gasps and pants in your ear each time he desperately slammed his cock into you. His long, black locks falling over your face, tangling with your hair and sticking to your forehead and chest. “Like you... Like this..." he chants, sharp teeth nibbling on your neck and down to your collarbones, leaving a trail of dark bruises in his wake.

“Close... me close,” his thick cock throbs inside of you, rubbing furiously against your walls as he holds your hips. His breath brushing against your lips as he gasped, “Come? Need you come," he begged, slobbery tongue poking out to flicks your swollen lips as he coaxed you into cumming on his cock by sharply rutting his cock inside of you as the lewd squelches from taking his cock deeper and deeper increases.

He pushes his hips into you when you came all over his cock, he quickly pushes his cock as deep as he can before his hot seeds spill into your womb, spilling out of your whole when he pulled out to rest his cock on your pelvis. He's still cumming, spurting the strings of loads on your stomach as you panted, your chest heaving up and down as he lazily kisses your neck and up to your flushed face,

"...Pretty."

[rafeysbunny]

‧₊˚ ⋅ i'll show you, rafe cameron

stepbro!rafe x fem!reader

masterlist

synopsis. in which your stepbrother kindly offers to show you porn for the first time.

warnings. stepbro!rafe, innocent!reader (but she's not an airhead), virgin!reader, smut, fingering, rafe putting in just the tip, oral sex (fem receiving), rafe licks his own creampie.

word count. 4k.

author's note. idea by @matts1andonly. english isn't my first language so there might be spelling mistakes, don't hold it against me. enjoy!

it's past midnight when you finally slide out of your bedroom without making a sound. you have been waiting patiently for your mom and ward to go to bed so you can do this without risking getting caught. wheezie is already asleep too, sarah is out with john b somewhere, and rafe left the house earlier, not telling anyone where to, so you know he's going to arrive late, as always.

it's the perfect moment.

rafe's room is down the hallway, so you make your way there quietly not to wake anyone, your barefoot feet making soft footstep sounds when you walk. once there, you open the door as carefully as you possibly can, knowing it creaks every time it gets open. this time, thanks to god, it does not.

you manage to sneak into the dormitory unnoticed, then shut the door behind you. the place is dark, only a faint glimmer of moonlight coming in through his curtains, but you want to lay low, so you don't turn on the lights. by all means, the dim lighting is enough for you to spot what you're looking for.

rafe's mac, laying there on his desk.

what's the point behind all of this? you might be wondering. well, let me answer you real quick. turns out, this handsome, muscled college guy has invited you on a date. problem is, you have never been on a date. you haven't even hold hands with a guy romantically before, much less kissed or fucked one. you simply refuse to come off as a prude, which honestly you are, but that dream of a man doesn't need to know that.

and that's why you have decided that it is a good idea to break into your stepbrother's bedroom and borrow his laptop, since yours broke last week, to watch porn in it for the first time.

well, now that you hear it out loud, it probably sounded better in your head. anyways...

you stroll towards the desk with languid steps and sit down on rafe's chair, small hands reaching hesitantly to open the laptop. you turn it on and the screen light illuminates your pretty face right away. you swear your fingers are shaking a little bit as you open up the browser and type 'porn videos' on the search bar.

somehow, you feel like you are doing something wrong, and you can't seem to shake the guilt away. either way, you don't back out. you click the enter button and, after just a few seconds, a million search results pop up. honestly, you don't know where to start, so you click on the first one, which redirects you to a website called pornhub.

the home page is full of videos, the first thing to catch your attention being the obscene thumbnails of each one of them. your cheeks flush a deep shade of red. you read some of the titles as you bite your lip nervously, realising most of them contain the word 'stepsister' in them, and you wonder if that is the only content posted on this page.

how innocent of you not to know that the website is making recommendations based on your stepbro's most searched tag.

before things escalate further, you spot rafe's airpods max sitting there on the desk and decide to grab them, connecting them to the laptop and putting them on —this way you can make sure no one overhears anything. after that, you spend a few more minutes scrolling through the page, during which you discover that there's a ton of categories to choose from.

how are you supposed to know which one to pick?

you are so invested in your little research, headphones canceling the noise, that you don't hear neither rafe opening the front door nor him walking up the stairs and, surely, don't notice him standing behind you until he speaks. and it's too late by then.

"the fuck are you doing, sweetheart?" he blurts, complete and utterly shocked to see his naive stepsister fuckin' watching pornhub.

well shit, maybe you aren't as innocent as he thought you were.

you jolt instantly, jumping out of your seat as you feel all the colour draining from your cheeks. no way rafe just caught you in the act. this can't be real. despite how bad you want to run away, you are left with no other choice but to turn around and face him, wishing the earth would swallow you up.

"i– this is not what it looks like, i swear i can explain," you stutter nervously, taking of the airpods with trembling hands. from here on, the anxious rambling begins, "i wasn't doing anything... this guy– well, i... i uhm– i got a date, 'kay? with this guy from class and– listen, i know this is silly, but..."

"jesus christ, baby, slow down, 'kay?" he stops you, his heart nearly melting from how cute you look, so shy and flustered. he almost feels bad for interrupting whatever the hell you were doing here.

the colour has returned to your cheeks, and you are all flushed now, from head to toe. your face feels like it's on fire; you have never been this embarrassed before.

"could you please start over?" he asks, hoping to hear a coherent explanation to why you are in his room, in the middle of the night, and watching porn on his laptop.

you take a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your top. you are so deeply ashamed that you don't seem to remember that you are wearing nothing but a flimsy white singlet and a tiny pair of matching panties. rafe's very aware of that fact, though, hungry eyes trailing all over your beautiful body.

"i've got a date with a guy from class," you start explaining, white teeth nibling occasionally on your plump bottom lip, "but i've never dated anyone, ya' know? i've no experience, and i don't want him to think i'm pathetic if we..."

"fuck?" he finishes your sentence, a roguish grin spreading across his handsome face.

if possible, your blush deepens even more at the vulgarity while you mutter a quiet 'yeah' in response.

honestly, he is a bit jealous of that guy. not only you are willing to let him fuck you, but you are also trying to learn how to do it properly so he has a good time doing it. yeez, what a shame for him he is going to kill him as soon as he finds out who he is; there's no chance rafe's letting you near any other man but him.

"i thought, uhm, maybe watching that would help..." you add coyly, his silence making you more nervous.

it is cute how you try to avoid saying words like 'fuck' or 'porn', like it is a crime to pronounce them or something.

"you know what? let's watch it together," he proposes.

there's a mischievous glint in his eyes that doesn't go unnoticed. you swear your cheeks might just explode at any second, and you can't help the pathetic stutter that comes out when you talk. "uhm, i don't think that'd be appropriate," you refuse, shaking your head.

"why not? you want help, and i can help you here, sweetheart," he answers, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle —unlike rafe, "that's what big brothers are for, aren't they?"

he takes a few steps in his direction until he is standing right beside you. then, he grabs the laptop in his large hands as he flashes you a wicked smirk, his curtain bangs falling messily on his forehead. you gulp, having him so close makes you feel a certain way; you cannot deny that.

"you, uhm, being my stepbrother is exactly why not," you stammer as you tilt your head back to look at him, his height towering over you.

"bullshit," he retorts, huffing. "you trust me?"

your first mistake is, probably, trusting rafe cameron. "yeah, i do, but..."

"that's why 'm perfect for the job, baby," he interrupts you. his words are clearly intended to manipulate you, but you are way too innocent to notice it, "i'm probably the guy you feel most comfortable with, aren't i? i can give ya' all the advice you need."

to be fair, he isn't wrong about that. you don't have any male friends, and you are honestly too embarrassed to ask your girlfriends for help on this department, not wanting them to think less of you. plus, rafe is a guy; he knows better what guys like, right?

"wouldn't it be kinda... weird ?" you ask, clearly hesistant.

"weird?" he repeats. "no, 'course not."

only a few more sweet, reassuring words is all it takes for him to gently coax you into watching his favourite pornos with him. his cock starts to harden in his pants just at the thought of having you like that. when you finally accept, he swears he's on cloud nine.

god, he's been wanting you for months now; he can't believe this is happening.

"c'mere, baby," he eagerly instructs you, getting on his bed.

he sits with his back resting on the headboard and pats the spot between his legs to invite you to sit there. he places the laptop next to him, the pornhub website still open on it. you move slowly towards him, cheeks slightly flushed from the embarrassment as you settle on the mattress in between his parted thighs, your back pressed to his hard chest.

he wraps one strong arm securely around your waist, his hand coming to rest gently on your tummy. with his other hand, he reaches for the laptop sitting beside him, carefully bringing it closer so the two of you can see the screen properly.

your heart is beating so fast in your chest that he can probably hear it, too. the way he is touching you is not making it easier for you to stay calm, either, his fingers tenderly tracing patterns on your belly over the thin fabric of your shirt while he scrolls through the page.

he seems to sense your discomfort and chuckles low in his throat, his warm breath tickling your ear. "relax, sis," he whispers teasingly, his voice laced with amusement. "i'm not gonna make you watch anything that'll traumatize you."

"it's just– this is a bad idea," you babble, fidgeting nervously when he finally clicks on a video and a pretty young woman appears on screen.

the actress is beautiful; she has a gorgeous body and face. her lips are full and pink, and she has these big, expressive eyes that appear to gleam. and you don't realize it, but she looks exactly like you.

the scene starts playing; in it, the girl is watching some movie with a guy that, apparently, is her roommate —at least that's what the title says.

"shhh..." he hushes you softly, his voice barely audible over the sounds emanating from his laptop's speakers. "just watch. don't overthink it."

"okay," you answer between gritted teeth.

your pretty eyes are fixed on the laptop while you try not to cringe at how bad the script and acting are, which is nearly impossible, to be honest. despite that, you keep watching in silence as the video plays, growing more flustered as the clock ticks.

you didn't know mouths could be used for that... interesting.

as opposed to you, rafe's pretty chill behind you, like he's unbothered by this whole situation —he's actually hard as fuck inside his pants, the thing is you haven't noticed. you wonder how he can act so unfazed, since you keep pushing your thighs together to try and soothe the throbbing sensation building in between them while you take in the lewd actions occurring on screen.

you weren't expecting your body to have this reaction, and now you don't know what to do to make it stop.

rafe soon becomes aware of the way you keep letting out soft sighs and squirming in his arms, plush ass rubbing against his cock every time you do it. it's a miracle he is still holding back, though he doesn't know how much time he will be able to.

he's not even paying attention to the video anymore, his entire focus put on you. he finally ventures to lean in, his hot breath grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "you know, i could do that to you..." his hand slowly slides to your plush thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

his movements are measured and controlled not to scare you, but your breath hitches in your chest at his actions either way, body tensing up in his grasp. your brain is telling you to push him away, but the insistent throb in your sex doesn't like that idea, not one bit.

"you– you could?" you utter quietly, not taking your eyes away from the laptop.

rafe notices the uncertainty in your voice, but the way you haven't pushed him away yet emboldens him to continue, his large hand gradually sliding north.

"yeah, baby," he murmurs huskily against your ear, fingertips brushing along your inner thigh. "i could put my fingers inside you, just like he's doing to her..."

his words make you blush heavily as a little gasp is released from your pouty lips. "would it feel good?" you ask naively.

your eyes are transfixed in the sight of the guy on the screen pushing his fingers inside the girl's pussy. god, she seems like she's enjoying it so much... and you desperately want to feel like that too. you can't even bring yourself to care that it's your stepbrother offering to show you.

rafe's fingers creep higher and higher until they're barely brushing against your cotton panties. "yeah," he growls huskily against your ear, "it'd feel real good, sweetheart. i promise..."

you shudder, a sweet little mewl escaping your throat involuntarily. you can't help but blush at your own reaction, slightly embarrassed by it. you tear your eyes away from the screen, head falling back against his chest as you look up at him.

"it's throbbing, rafe..." you whine, self-control slipping from your hands. "can you make it better?"

rafe's fingers finally make contact with your wet underwear, pressing against your clit through the fabric. he rubs gentle circles around your sensitive nub, his other hand curling around your supple thigh to spread your legs wider.

"oh, baby, you're soaked through your panties..." he pants out.

your body literally melts into his touch like butter, perfectly shaped brows knitting together in a frown of pleasure. the girl in the video moans, and you do too, both sounds echoing in the silence of his room.

taking your moan as an invitation, rafe carefully hooks his fingers in the gusset of your panties to push them aside, exposing your sopping cunt to the cool air of his bedroom. then, he traces your wet slit slowly, leisurely, as if savoring the velvety feel of your skin.

"such a pretty little pussy..." he praises, eyes hungrily taking in the pink expanse of flesh.

you squirm and let out a soft whimper, biting your lip right after to avoid keep making noises; the last thing you want is to wake up your parents or wheezie. rafe notices your struggle and swiftly reaches up to cover your mouth with his free hand, muffling your sweet moans.

he gathers some of the wetness dripping out of your cunt before trailing his fingers all the way up to your clit, rubbing it gently. your eyes roll back, hips bucking up against his hand instinctively. the way your swollen bud throbs beneath his fingertips is going to make you mad. he begins to touch your clit in fast, tight circles, his other hand still holding your mouth shut to keep you quiet.

he leans in to whisper against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine, "if you make a sound, i'll stop, got it?"

you nod obediently in response, making your best effort to comply; you don't want him to stop doing this, never. as a reward, rafe slides a thick finger down your slit and presses it against your clenched entry, steadily applying pressure until your tight muscles finally give in and allow his digit ingress.

"so fuckin' tight," he groans under his breath at the feeling of your narrow pussy engulfing his finger.

withdrawing his finger almost all the way out, he teases your entrance with the tip, making you tremble with anticipation before pushing it back in to the knuckle, his palm cupping your mound as he starts to thrust in a smooth, lazy rhythm. you swallow a whiny cry while your eyelids flutter shut, pretty face scrunched in a blissful expression.

rafe works his finger in and out of your slick pussy slowly, marveling at how your velvety walls flutter around the digit. he curls it inward, searching for that special spot that's guaranteed to drive you wild.

after a few experimental pokes, rafe's fingertip finally brushes over your g-spot, eliciting a muffled moan from under his palm. he smiles wickedly against your skin, and you shudder in his grasp, pleasure waves running through your body.

"that's it, sweetheart... feel good?" he croons softly, fingering you nice and deep.

you can't bring yourself to reply, the sensation of his large digit fucking your pussy, added to the constant rubbing of his palm against your puffy clit has your mind feeling all fuzzy. your body language is the only answer he needs, though.

rafe leans in to tenderly nip at your neck, his hot mouth latching onto your slender throat as he keeps pumping his finger steadily in and out of your dripping cunt. he knows you're close when he feels your inner muscles starting to clench erratically around his digit.

"rafe," you moan onto his palm as you feel this new, strange sensation building in your tummy, pussy tingling so nicely.

heaven help him. hearing you, his stepsister, moan his name like that makes rafe's hard dick throb almost painfully against his zipper.

and then it happens. the coil in your belly suddenly snaps and you have to bite onto your lip harshly to keep yourself from screaming as you cum for the very first time, on your stepbrother's hand. rafe continues to pump his finger in and out of your spasming cunt as you ride out your climax, wanting to prolong your pleasure.

when you finally come down from your high, you're all shaky and flustered in his arms, panting heavily to try and catch your breath. he has a satisfied smirk on his lips while he slowly withdraws his slick digit from your quivering hole to bring it up to his mouth and lick it clean, savoring your taste.

"did so well for me, baby," he coos as he uncovers your mouth, gently turning your head to the side to press a kiss to your swollen, red lips.

you return it sloppily, eyes fluttering shut in the process, and you sigh contently against his mouth. he can't help but rock his hips against your ass, rubbing his hard on against you.

"did i make you feel good?" he asks between little kisses, his breathing growing uneven. you nod in response. "yeah? then it's just fair you make me feel good too, sweetheart... wanna do that f'me?"

"yes," you whisper against his lips without even thinking, feeling him smirk into the kiss.

"such a good girl," he praises.

at some point, the porn video playing on his laptop ended, so he simply closes it up and tosses it away, the device landing somewhere on his king size bed. then, he turns you both around, until you are laying on the mattress and he is on top of you.

he is quick to undo his pants and yank them down, just enough to free his raging hard on, which bounces against his abs. let me tell you this, he's big, the tip pink and fat, already leaking precum.

suddenly, realization hits you. this is your stepbrother for god's sake, are you really gonna let him fuck you?

he notices how your body tenses up, one hand reaching to stroke your plush thigh reassuringly while the other wraps around his shaft, giving it a slow pump.

"hey, baby, relax..." he whispers gently, "I'll put just the tip in, yeah? there's nothing wrong with that."

you hesitate. his strong arms slide beneath your legs to tug you closer. then his cock brushes your pussy and you whimper. how are you supposed to say 'no' ?

it's just the tip.

"mhmm, 'kay" you end up agreeing with a little nod.

rafe flashes you a lopsided smirk, his hand gripping his cock again while the free one yanks your panties aside once more. keeping eye contact, he slowly glides the fat head of his dick up and down your drenched slit, coating it thoroughly in your arousal. you shudder as his tip eventually meets your puffy clit, the gentle rubbing sending shivers down your spine.

"rafe," you whimper.

rafe's eyelids droop, a low hum of pleasure escaping his throat as he continues to slowly drag the reddened head up and down your chubby pussy lips with squelching sounds. his breathing grows heavier the longer he teasingly rolls it against your slick folds, reveling in your breathy whimpers. he feels like he's about to burst already, pre-cum steadily leaking from the tip and onto your flesh.

he can't fucking take this anymore.

with a slow, gentle thrust, he sinks his cock into your warm, slippery pussy, just the head breaching your entrance before he pauses, savoring the initial penetration. his eyes lock onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust.

"jesus, fuck." he grunts.

your cunt starts fluttering around him. he has barely slided the first two inches in, as he promised, but he's so thick that even that feels like a tight fit. you let out a moan, which mingles with a strained groan from rafe as your velvety walls clench tightly around his swollen cockhead.

"gonna– might just nut already, shit" rafe mutters through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to just drive forward and hilt himself deep. "so goddamn tight."

your hips buck unconsciously against his, making him slip in just a tad further —which nearly makes him lose all his self-control. somehow, he manages to keep his shit together, hips rocking slowly to thrust in and out of you while his veiny hand strokes the rest of his shaft.

you're totally enthralled by the sight, liquid heat pooling in your belly while you watch him use your body for his pleasure. he looks so good, you can't believe he's real. your chest fills with pride at the knowledge that you're making this greek god feel good.

this is the fastest rafe has ever cum, the movement of his hips becoming jerky and sloppy after a few minutes as he spills his sperm inside you. he's panting heavily, sweat beading on his brow while his fist squeezes the base of his cock tightly.

you're left wanting more when he slowly pulls out, pussy stretched out and leaking white spurts of cum. he gazes down at you with a smirk, lightly tapping the head of his dick against your swollen clit, which has you writhing beneath him.

"so fuckin' gorgeous stuffed full of my cum," he whispers, his cock smearing the sticky substance all over your slit. you mewl in response. "hmm, 'm sorry for making such a mess on your pretty pussy, sweetheart, lemme clean it up, yeah?"

you blush in response when he leans forward, throwing your creamy thighs over his broad shoulders, to put his mouth onto your sex. you almost cry at the heavenly feeling, his playful tongue delving between your folds to lap up his own release. he cleans you up thoroughly, only to mess you up again right after, his spit soaking your cunt as he makes you cum again.

after tonight, you are cancelling that date, that's for sure.

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

fuckfest. the slytherins — groupsome / drunk sex.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: malfoy manor is a great place for drinks, laughs, and…. orgys?

warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUTTTTTT, porn with negative 100 plot, literally just sex and mentions of alcohol, group of uni students that love to consensually gangbang when they have the chance (sorry i’m cackling at that), pansy and reader kiss a few times, multiple orgasms from some of the boys, anal sex, fingering, oral.

Habits are simple, predictable things, slipping into your life without much thought. Some are reckless, some harmless. And some, well—some come with the taste of someone else's lips.

You're not sure when kissing Pansy Parkinson became one of them. What started as a drunken dare, a little more fun than you'd planned for, has now undoubtedly turned into something else—something almost close to ritual. With every night that stretches long, every round of drinks that comes too fast, it's inevitable that your lips will find hers at one point or another, like clockwork.

And a habit is just a habit, but this one—this one you never feel like breaking.

"You ever try body shots with tequila?" Pansy whispers, breath warm against your lips as her smirk hooks you, the same way it always does.

"Plenty of times." You grin back, your mouth barely brushing hers. "What, you want me to lay back for you, Parkinson? Shirt pulled down—or off?"

Theo whistles, and Pansy giggles. They've seen this before, watched it unfold in countless variations, yet it's still equally as entertaining every single time.

"Pull it down, take it off, whatever gets me there faster." She's already moving, grabbing lime and salt with hands that are too steady for how much you've all been drinking. "You know I won't complain either way."

You pour her a shot, liquid gold catching the dim light in the room. You feel the weight of every inebriated gaze on you—Draco, Blaise, Enzo, Mattheo, Theo—all of them watching, same way they always do when you and Pansy put on a show.

You blink and she’s back in front of you, lime and salt in hand. You feel bold, drunk on the moment as you hook your fingers under the hem of your shirt, leaning into her kiss only to break it as you pull the fabric over your head. The boys shift around you—more whistles—and Pansy's hands find your face, greedy and gentle all at once, barely giving you a moment to toss the shirt aside before she nudges you onto your back.

"You're so fucking hot," she purrs, slinking between you and the boys who are seated around the table, grinning. "Tilt your head, that's it—here—"

She nestles the cool shot glass between your tits while sprinkling the salt on your neck—then, the lime slice is between your teeth before you can even register it, and now you're staring straight at Blaise—his dark eyes roving over you like a feast, lips parted just enough that you can imagine the feel of them pressed against your own.

Your thighs tense, heat pooling low in your stomach.

"The boys wanted a show," Pansy whispers as she pulls off her own shirt. "They'll get one."

You hum in agreement and she works like she's done this a hundred times— shot glass disappearing between her lips, tossing the tequila back before she sets it aside— warm tongue dragging along the line of salt on your skin, moving up to suck juice from the lime between your lips. She meets your eyes for what feels like a split second before the lime is yanked free and her mouth is on yours, lips tasting like tequila and salt and something wild—

You close your eyes against the flood of sensation—the alcohol, the heat, the spinning of the room—and kiss her back with equal fervour. Her lips crush yours, sloppy and wild, a thousand impulses spinning through your mind and inevitably, you're too weak to fight them, tugging her closer as a result.

Pansy huffs, fingers curling into your hair as she crawls on top of you—straddling your hips on top of the table as one hand slips down to your chest. The boys are muttering things that you can't hear as the kiss is frantic now, teeth grazing, tongues tangled, the taste of lime and tequila lingering in each exhale.

"Gods, Pansy," you gasp into her mouth, hands sliding down her waist, digging into the fabric of her skirt. "You're insatiable."

She pulls back just enough to smirk, breathless, her dark eyes glinting. "I could say the same about you, babe."

You feel the tension in her greedy fingers as they curl against your scalp, her weight pressing you down into the table, and suddenly—all the teasing, all the playing at flirting feels too far away—you need her closer, need to take control back, need to feel her beneath you instead of towering over you—

"Pans—" your hands find her hips, gripping tight as you push against her, trying to flip her onto her back—but in your haste, you misjudge the edge of the table and before you can stop her she's tumbling forward, off the side, straight into Draco's lap. "Oh—shit—"

Everyone gasps, the room pausing for a moment and you're vaguely aware of Blaise's hands clutching your waist, pulling you steady into his lap as you teeter off the table too, the tequila making your head spin. Pansy is sprawled over Draco on the floor, skirt hitched high enough to give the rest of you a perfect view of her ass—to which everyone in the room is admiring. Shamelessly.

It's a spectacle—and the boys have always loved a fucking spectacle.

"Merlin's sake—" Draco grunts as Pansy slumps over him, straddling his waist. You catch the way his hands grip her thighs, fingers flexing like they don't quite know what to do with themselves. "Always the bloody dramatics with you two.”

"I'm not even sorry." Pansy grins, unrepentant as ever as she leans into Draco's neck, teasing like nothing's even happened, like she's perfectly content to remain there, straddling his lap. "You make a good seat."

Draco scoffs, and Theo snickers from across the table.

"You're a menace." The words from Draco's lips sound a lot like praise, and something about the way his eyes flutter shut when Pansy's tongue finds the sensitive skin at his throat makes your mouth go dry. "You're alright, though?"

"Fine," she murmurs, though her tone suggests she's thinking of anything but her well-being. "Totally fine." Her fingers brush over his chest, tracing the buttons of his shirt. "Are...are you fine?"

"I'm—" his voice catches when her fingers undo the first button. "I'm fine."

"You are," she agrees, voice a little hoarse, as she undoes the second, then the third. "Very, very fine."

Draco's face flushes, and there's a sheepish edge to his smile as his hands—almost without thought—begin to slide higher, fingers trailing under the hem of her skirt, pulling it just a little further up her hips. Her eyes flutter closed for just a second as he settles over the curve of her ass, and there's a spark, a shiver of something between them—

Your gaze flicks to Blaise, feeling his presence at your back—solid, grounding, the warmth of his chest pressed against you as you lean into him. You don't have to see him to know he's watching, though you find the confirmation anyways, his dark eyes tracing every movement, every shift between the two heated Slytherins on the floor.

When you glance back, you see the boys are all watching, too—Theo, Enzo, Mattheo—all glued to the sight, silent in their anticipation.

Pansy grinds down, and Draco's head tips back, eyes closed, hands clinging to her hips, her ass, anywhere he can find—

"They don't waste any time, do they?" Blaise murmurs, words a tickle at your pulse, the sound of his voice pulling you back into your own body, your own skin.

You shiver as his fingers trail lightly up your ribs, teasing the edge of your black lace bra—you tilt your head and you catch Theo's gaze sliding over you, flicking back and forth between Pansy's legs and the way Blaise's hands have begun their slow exploration along your sides. You grin as you meet Enzo's eyes next, his lip pulled between his teeth, fingers tracing the rim of his cup—

"You could take notes, Zabini," you murmur, the words catching in your throat as his lips graze your shoulder—so close, too close.

"Me? Take notes?" He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the spot just below your ear. "I've already got it down to a science, baby.”

"Yeah?" You hum, lost in the feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his fingers are edging dangerously close to your breasts. You can feel Mattheo's gaze, burning into you from across the table, but you don't dare look, you'd crack if you did. "You sure about that?"

"Quiz me if you'd like." As if to prove his point, he pushes past the fabric of your bra, long fingers finding a nipple, and your hips twitch of their own accord, a gasp leaving your lips.  "I'll pass any test you give me."

"Cocky." There's a slight edge to your voice as you roll your hips, meeting his heat with your own—just to distract him, of course. "You're gonna' make the others jealous."

"They'll have their fun," his finger toys with the clasp of your bra, now. You feel him undo it. "I want you first."

"Oh," you gasp at the sensation of cool air against bare skin as he yanks it off your arms, exposing your tits to everyone at the table. "Cocky and greedy."

"You'd expect nothing less, baby." He practically growls.

You choke on a moan. "Blaise-"

"That's my name," he's groping, his fingers pinching your nipples just hard enough to make you squeak. "I know you're real familiar with it."

Pansy's moans, soft and breathy, fill the space as Draco works her out of her skirt, mouth moving between her thighs. You clench—seeing them—her fingers in his hair, her gasps growing louder and more frantic—your pulse quickens—

"Jealous?" Blaise's taunts, having caught you staring.

You shake your head, but—Merlin, how could you not be? You'd give just about anything to relieve the heat between your thighs. To feel the heat of all the eyes watching you right now against your skin. Mattheo, Theo, Enzo—

"Not jealous." Even you can hear how breathless you sound. "Just impatient."

"Patience is a virtue," Blaise says, all mock-virtuousness, squeezing your tits again, as if to punish you for being impatient. "One I'm happy to reward—"

Mattheo is the first to snap, shoving the half-empty bottle of alcohol aside and standing up, chair scraping across the floor. Theo considers doing the same, you can tell, eyes still glued to your half-naked body as he drains his cup in one gulp. Your eyes flick to Enzo, who's merely staring, his lip still being bitten to death between his teeth.

Merlin help you.

Mattheo strolls around the table—eyes roaming as he moves, stopping just behind where you sit on Blaise's lap, breath warm on the back of your neck as he murmurs in your ear—

"I've been patient." You think it's to Blaise. "Where's my reward."

Blaise snorts, and then Theo stands up.

"We've been patient." He's looking at Blaise, lips just starting to grin. "Real, real patient."

Enzo laughs as he rises, too—all three of them forming a loose semi-circle around you and Blaise. You can almost taste the testosterone—hot and eager and hungry—as their eyes rake over you.

Blaise tugs you closer, his hands sliding down to your hips. "I'm feeling outnumbered."

"You're outnumbered," Theo agrees, smirk growing as his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you off Blaise's lap and to your feet. "You're also outvoted. You think we're going to just sit around and watch?"

"Not a chance in hell," Mattheo growls as he moves behind you, calloused hand running up your thigh.

Blaise grunts from where he's still seated, watching you with molten eyes, "you lot are animals, you know that?"

You almost laugh at that, considering he had your bra off in minutes.

"We're just—eager." Theo whispers, leaning in just enough to breathe against your neck, kissing a path up your jaw while Mattheo's hands work at undoing your skirt. You're so turned on you're not sure how you're not dripping down your thighs. "I wanted to be inside you three fucking hours ago."

You whimper at his words, the thick air of the room suddenly too much as Mattheo's hands push your skirt down your legs.

"Three hours is generous." Enzo's moving now, but he isn't looking at you—his eyes are locked on Pansy as Draco slams into her—the two of them locked in a trance. "My head's been filled with filth since this afternoon."

"Filth?" Blaise cocks an eyebrow. "Is that what you're calling it now?"

"Filth," Mattheo husks, and his hand comes up to wrap around your throat—lips pressed to your ear. "All I've been able to think about for the past week."

Your hips twitch at the pressure against your throat—and you moan louder than Pansy. "Gods—if one of you doesn't fuck me in the next minute—"

"Told you," Blaise chuckles, watching Mattheo's hand around your throat like a hawk. "Animal."

"Then what?" Mattheo ignores him—fingers pressing against your pulse just a little harder as he pulls you flush against him, teeth finding your ear, and you feel Theo's fingers trail down your front, teasing your slit. "What're you gonna do?"

"Fuck," you mutter, breathless, hips jerking toward the touch. "I'll die—"

"Oh, that's not good." Enzo's looking now, circling around to stand on your free side, his gaze traveling from your face, down your body, to where Theo's fingers are centimetres from pushing into your soaked cunt. "Is it our responsibility to prevent that?"

"Probably. It's only the right thing to do." Mattheo's cooes against your neck. "Can't have you dying on us, now can we?"

"Mm. Not the only," Theo murmurs, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes a finger inside you. "I can think of a dozen things to do right now."

"A dozen?" Blaise scoffs. You're starting to hate the sound of his teasing fucking tone. "Only a dozen?"

You can't even reply—any words you possess are swallowed by another moan as a second, then a third, of Theo's fingers push deep into you. Even his fingers are long, you think. You forgot just how big—

"Merlin, Theo—fuck—"

"That's the idea," he grins against your lips—you moan again when his fingers curl deep.

"You like that?" Mattheos hands are all over you—your tits, your ass, the press of his chest against your bare back—and you think that you need to see his face, need to see his eyes. "You need more?"

"Yes." You're not sure if you're speaking to Mattheo, or Theo, or Enzo or Blaise, or all of them. "Yes, please—please—"

"Oh good," Blaise muses. "She's polite."

"Of course she is," Theo groans as your cunt clenches around his digits—your slick sounds filling the space between you, mingling with the sound of skin smacking from a few feet away. "So good for us."

"Mm," Mattheo adds, teeth scraping over your shoulder, squeezing your ass to make you gasp. "Very."

"A real angel," Enzo purrs, still circling like a fucking shark, eyes flitting over to Pansy and Draco again as her moans grow louder, more insistent. "Especially when she's begging."

It's all too much—Theo's fingers pumping deep, his thumb swirling your clit, the sounds of Draco and Pansy and the feel of hands and lips and intoxicated eyes everywhere—

Your head falls back against Mattheo’s shoulder. "Oh, please—fuck—please—"

"What're you begging for, Bellissima?" Theo murmurs, drawing your eyes back to his. "Wanna use your words?"

You gasp as his fingers move faster, deeper, as if he's trying to pull the words out of your throat. "Need—"

Blaise snickers. "Yes?"

"Need to cum—" you cry out, hysterical as Mattheo pinches your nipples, groans against your neck. "Need to be—fucked—"

"And I'm the greedy one." That's Blaise again, insufferable as ever.

"We like greedy," Theo grins against your mouth, fingers crooking, and your knees buckle. "Right, boys?"

"We do," Mattheo growls.

"We like it a lot," Enzo agrees, his eyes finally meeting yours. "We love it."

"Then what're you waiting for," you gasp, unable to take much more of the heat building, twisting, every point of contact sending a new wave of need through your body. "Give it to me—"

"Give you what?" It's Blaise again—God, he's driving you fucking insane tonight. "You gotta be more specific, babygirl."

"Give—ohh—" your orgasm is right there. Right. Fucking. There. "Give me your fucking dick, Zabini—fuck—you called first—"

"Oh I did, didn't I?" Blaise still hasn't moved from his seat, but you can see the way his trousers are straining. "Guess it's my lucky day."

Theo lets loose a groan, and you can feel his hips jerking in rhythm with his fingers. "Thank Merlin for small favours."

"Lucky for all of us, really." The corner of Blaise's mouth twitches, almost with the suggestion of a smile. "Don't you think, Enzo?"

Before you can even comprehend Enzo's response, Theo curls his fingers just right, thumb rubbing your clit just right, Mattheo groping your chest and kissing your neck just fucking right—and then you're there—climax charging you, release spilling all over Theo's fingers—

"Oh, fuck—yesyesyes—"

You cry out and shudder forward, only being held up by Theo and Mattheos hands, and you're barely back on earth before you feel Blaise's fingers under your thighs—urging you back and laying you out across the table as if you're a fucking feast for him—

"Patience," Blaise grins down at you, hands finding your thighs, squeezing hard enough to drag you back to reality and realize he's got his trousers undone. "Is really such a virtue."

"Right," you mumble, still breathless as you look up at him. "Too bad I'm fresh out."

Blaise chuckles at that. "I can tell."

Fuck this—

"Blaise—if you don't fuck me right now—" you push up from the table, urging him back into the chair he was sitting in. "I will let everyone else fuck me first and make goddamn sure you watch."

There's a flicker of surprise in Blaise's eyes as he slumps back in the chair—Mattheo snorts behind you and for a second you wonder if you may have just gone too far—

"Not a chance," he smiles, his words coming out in a growl that's all heat and lust and something just a little dangerous. "We'll have none of that."

And then, he's on his feet again. But this time, when he touches you, it’s firm and fast and not at all gentle. He directs you around the table before bending you over it, and you hear someone—Theo, you think?—groan like they're in pain, the sound swallowed by a desperate moan that you know for certain is Pansy's.

Your eyes flutter when you hear it—you just don't know where to look—

"No, look up. Up." Blaise's hand is in your hair, forcing you to look up from the table, and you realize where the sound came from. "I want you to watch."

Your head's spinning in a way you're sure is not entirely from the alcohol, and it only intensifies when your eyes focus on the scene just across the room—Draco and Pansy sprawled on the couch, now, Pansy riding him while stroking Enzo's insistent dick, his glossed eyes glued to yours, watching, just watching—

Blaise's hand is still in your hair. "That's it. Watch."

Enzo smiles at you, cheeky and fucking taunting before Pansy tightens her grip while jerking him off and his head tips back—

"Gonna' be good for me," Blaise murmurs against your back—his tip pressing against your dripping entrance. "Gonna' take it all for me?"

"Yes," you gasp, catching a glimpse of Mattheo and Theo just off to the side of you, sharing a smoke. "Fuck yes—"

"That's it, baby. Just relax," he cooes, and then he's pushing into you. "Relax and enjoy it—"

There's a sting as he stretches you, and keeps stretching you until he's bottoming out far fucking deeper than you'd remembered—there's a moan from you that gets tangled between your teeth, a gasp from infront you, a moan from someone else, and—gods, if Blaise doesn't start moving—

"Blaise—oh, fuck—"

Blaise gives a low moan as your walls flutter around him, a swear under his breath that's punctuated with a hard squeeze of your hip. "Good—god—Merlin—"

He pulls out just enough to make you cry out, shameless—and it melds with Pansy's from across the room.

"Shh," Mattheo steps infront of you, blocking your view of Pansy and Draco and Enzo. "Let Blaise feel you—"

—and suddenly, Mattheo's hand is on your jaw, forcing your head back, coaxing your eyes to his. His other hand disappears, down past his belt, and you moan again—wet walls squeezing Blaise as he slowly starts to rock into you.

"I wanna' fuck your throat," Mattheo murmurs, so close you can feel his breath on your lips. "Badly."

"So needy," your words are a breathless moan, but Mattheo doesn't seem to mind—he just grins as he unbuttons his trousers. "Can't even watch for five minutes without—"

"I know, I can't," he interrupts, and his hand's back at your jaw, gripping hard. "You've got me too fucking hard."

You're about to reply with another smartass comment, but Theo saddles up next to his fellow Slytherin and before you can blink his hand is on the back of your head, tangling in your hair, angling your lips toward Mattheo's now-exposed cock—

"Don't worry about the smart mouth," Theo leans down close to you, every intention of cutting off your reply. "We have other uses for it."

You'd probably roll your eyes at the phrase if it wasn't for Mattheo's dick pushing past your teeth and hitting the back of your throat so quick you gag— eyes squeezed shut as Blaise bottoms out, again and again.

"That's one of them." he adds with a smirk, watching you choke on his best friends dick.

You can't even think. Every thought that enters your head is immediately replaced with another moan, another sensation, another need, another—

"Draco! Fuck!" You hear Pansy cry out from the couch.

"Keep going, Pans," Enzo grunts, his voice sounding choked. "Just like that."

"She taking you good, Blaise?" The question comes out in a moan of his own—you think it's Draco—and you wonder idly who's doing what over there now. "Tight as I remember?"

“Tight and wet and—fuck—" Blaise's voice has taken on a new level of strangled, desperate, need that's almost too raw to hear it, and— "she's—good. She's good."

"That's it," Draco grunts again, like he's pleased to hear it. "She's an—oh, yes, Pansy, fuck—"

The noise from the couch is too much—you're not able to think past the fullness—the desperate, overwhelming heat that's consumed you, and that's when you feel a pair of lips at your ear—

"Does it feel good?" Theo's words are barely louder than a whisper, your gagging sounds almost drowning them out. He grabs your hand, slowly bringing it to his crotch. "Having us like this?"

Your fingers are clumsy, shaky as they wrap around him and try to push his trousers down—it's hard to see past the water in your eyes but once you do you're rewarded with a gasp and a low swear under his breath that sounds so damn good you want to hear it a million times more.

"Mmmfff." You moan around Mattheo as Blaise's fingers find your clit, coaxing you towards a high you're not sure you can handle—

"That's it," Theo whispers, moving your hand just the way he likes it. His fingers are tangled with yours while his free hand finds your hair again, shoving you closer to Mattheo. "Fuck. That's it."

Everything is spinning and whirling in the best way, the best possible way, and you know you're there, so close, but it's so hard to think, so hard to do anything—when—

"You gonna' cum for us, baby?" Another pair of lips at your ear, not Theo's voice, but Blaise's—ragged with his deep thrusts. "Gonna' cum for us good and hard?"

Your response, which most likely would have been something along the lines of: "yes" or "please" or "gods yes fucking please," is completely smothered by Mattheo—his hand at the back of your head alongside Theo's, fingers tangled in your hair, cockhead slamming the back of your throat over and over and over—

"Then do it," Blaise knows your answer anyways. His fingers rub quicker, his hips piston faster. "Now."

And it's in this moment where you lose yourself completely—the world narrows down to your body, every sensation flooding through you, and the fucking sounds—Pansy's moans, Theo's groans, Blaise's pants, Mattheo's swearing, Draco's whimpers and Enzo's fucking grunting—where you can't do a goddamn thing to stop it, not that you even wanted to. You do what Blaise told you, cumming so hard you see stars behind your eyes, and for one blissful, everlasting second—you feel nothing but pure unadulterated pleasure, until it all comes rushing back with force.

You think you hear Theo say "good girl" as your body tenses—shaking, trembling, clenching around Blaise so hard his pace falters and his hips slow and his thrusts turn erratic—and then you feel it—the result of his pent up passion as he slows to to an absolute standstill—spilling his cum deep into your cunt while he shudders against you, gasping out a curse that might have been your name.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, slowly—carefully—and you feel him pull out of you just as Mattheo moans, hands tightening in your hair, spilling his own release down your throat. "Oh, sweet Merlin."

It takes a moment for reality to filter back in, and you try to catch your breath in a way that's probably not very dignified. You're not quite sure what to do with yourself—and quite frankly, you're not given the chance to figure it out as Mattheo pulls out too and Theo slips up behind you—

"Come here, Bella," he murmurs, his lips at your ear again—he sounds like he's trying to catch his breath, too. Through the fog you remember that at one point you were jerking him off—and you feel the confirmation of his need still hard against your ass as he pulls you up against him. "There we go. Easy now."

You try to speak—you're not sure what you would even say—but your voice is as shaky as the rest of you, and all that comes out is a soft moan.

"She's—" Blaise's still trying to steady his breath as he slumps into his prior chair, trousers still half undone. "—she's on mars."

"I've a feeling we all are," Theo mutters, holding you against him. His fingers skim down your stomach, almost like he's mapping out the aftershocks. "Some more than others."

You can almost feel the way his eyes flick across the room with that—noting the way Draco's splayed out on the couch next to Pansy who's now riding Enzo and jerking a still half-hard Mattheo—

"Oh, relax," Draco scoffs, eyes shut and head tipped toward the ceiling. "I'll rejoin the land of the living in a moment."

"Sure, Draco," Mattheo huffs, and you can practically hear the roll of his eyes from here. "We'll be here when you do."

"Mm—fuck, Pansy—"

Enzo's moan cuts through their bantering and it's at that moment where Theo finally decides he's waited long enough—he grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the table, directing you to the couch where he slumps down and drags you into his lap, your thighs on either side of his—throbbing, leaking cock pressing against your cum soaked cunt.

You moan, and Pansy moans beside you.

"I think," Theo murmurs into your neck, his words as thick and as needy as his hardness, "I could get used to this."

"S'that right?" You try to keep your words cool, to be as unaffected as you'd like, but—there's no hiding the way your breath hitches, the way you move your hips just the slightest in his lap. "I can't say the same about your size."

"Take me at your own pace." He husks, a smirk you're sure is attached to the words. "I'm halfway there already from that handjob."

You'd laugh at that if you weren't still so breathless and shaky from before, so instead the laugh comes out as a needy moan as you slide forward, shifting in his lap until you feel his tip brush up against your already sensitive clit—

"Gods," you breathe out the word, bracing your hands on his shoulders. "Such a gentleman."

"Always," he replies, completely sincere just before his hands grab your hips and in one quick motion—he's guiding you down onto him. "Always for you."

You'd reply—you'd probably even say something that might be sweet, if you could, if the rest of the world didn't fade into a sort of pleasurable blankness as you sink down—down until the moan that leaves you is so unbridled that it should have been embarrassing if the whole fucking lot of you weren't so far passed embarrassment—because just the head of him is so thick and you're suddenly thankful Blaise stretched you out so deliciously because otherwise you think it'd be too much, too quick and—fuck.

You're still sensitive, and you know he can tell—

"Oh, she's tight." Theo's voice is low in your ear, his lips tracing your jawline. "Too much?"

"Never," you gasp out, offering some weak shake of your head. "Never too much."

He grins against your pulse, teeth scraping across your skin—

"Good."

He punctuates the word by sinking you down a bit more, the stretch of his shaft drawing out a moan from deep in your chest—

"And when it is?"

—he pauses, tightening his grip on your hips to pull you up slightly before sliding you back down—

"Tell me."

You're only half able to form the thought at this point—the other half of you is so preoccupied with the feeling of his hands holding you, his lips against your skin, his voice in your ear—you nod, anyway, and there's another moan from somewhere in the room—Enzo again, and it's more of a whimper than anything else.

"That’s it, Pansy, so good—"

"Feels good, Enzy?" Her response comes through gasps. "You like it like that?"

Blaise answers for them both—you catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, slumped back in his chair with a new drink in hand. "Keep that up and he'll never leave that couch again."

"He's not the only one." Theo's words vibrate through you, and while you're not sure if it's the meaning behind them or the way they're sent deep into your neck with a hint of teeth, either way you have to swallow a moan before you can respond.

"Is that so?" You reply, doing your goddamn best to keep your voice steady as Theo's hips roll up into you again.

"It is so," he murmurs. "You think you can handle staying on this couch all summer?"

Summer. Hardly a week away. You think of the days and nights you're going to spend in this manor, in this room—in this room on this fucking couch—

His hands slip to your ass, guiding you up and down. "You think you could last another hour?"

"Mmm," you manage to get the sound out before he rolls up again, the perfect angle to hit that sensitive spot somewhere deep inside you and that's all you have to say before all other higher level thinking goes out the window. "Oh, Theo, you’re fucking deep—"

"I know," he replies, his breath harsh against your throat, his words lost between the moans you can't seem to keep from slipping out. "I know, bella, I know—"

Cocky bastard.

You lean down, pulling his head against your chest with hands in his hair and he follows. You'd think he'd try to pull back, just to say something witty with a smirk on his face—but instead he groans, his tongue flicking over your nipple and that's when you hear Mattheo grunt from somewhere beside you—

"Fuck me." His voice comes out as a gasp that he's struggling to keep from sounding strangled. Pansy's still lazily stroking him, multitasking while riding Enzo. "I'm so fucking hard again."

If you could manage a proper response, you might have said that was the idea—you'd probably have said something very clever about how you wouldn't mind letting him down your throat again.

You can still think, but the thought is a struggle, so all you manage is a breathless—

"Matt—“

"Mmm?" Hardly a hum—and for some reason it's so much more attractive than it probably should be. "Yes, princess?"

The way you shiver at the pet name is something you're going to have to examine at some point—not now, though, because if you have to put any more thought into any single thing you're going to explode.

"You—you—"

Theo interrupts before you can finish the sentence. "Fuck her, Riddle."

If Mattheo's surprise at Theo's apparent order is evident, it's masked by the moan he lets out as Pansy does something that must have felt especially good.

"I, fuck—I already fucked her throat, Nott. If you'd finish gatekeeping her—"

"She's got another hole, Riddle," Theo replies, with that self-assured tone that's too goddamn cocky to be legal and you wonder absently if he knows what it does to you as he gives a sharp, deliberate roll of his hips. "She can handle it, can't you, bella?"

You try to moan out an answer—you're sure there's a sound there—anything to let him know that yes, you not only can but that you're not sure there's anything you'd rather do—yet the words die before you can get them out as Mattheo is already moving—rough hands finding your ass, spreading your cheeks as he leans down to press a kiss to the dimples on your lower back. The sensation catches you off guard but you don't have time to think about that before you feel something wet—his saliva, you think—slick between your cheeks and then his fingers are there, rubbing and massaging against your tight hole—

And then, he's pressing a finger into you. "Oh—"

You're not even sure if your gasp is a reaction to Theo's movement or Mattheo's—all you know is that for a moment it all just combines into a whirlwind that seems to just drown all the oxygen out of your lungs completely—

"I know," Theo's breath is as laboured and rough as yours—the rumble of his words vibrating against your chest, your collarbone. "God, I know—"

"Jesus," another moan, strangled and needy, and it's not from you or Theo or even Enzo—it's from Mattheo. "Oh, this ass is tight—"

That's not something you're going to be able to get over—hearing that coming from him. "Oh fuck, Matt—"

"Mmm?" There's a smile in his voice—and you'd see it on his face if you were facing him, if all of his focus weren't so decidedly somewhere else. "You want me to fuck this perfect ass, don’t you?"

With that he pushes another finger into you while Theo wraps his arms around your waist to hold you steady to his chest. His hips cant up into you, and you swear you're on fire—Mattheo chuckles.

The sensation is so much you’re crying out again, his teasing turning infuriating. "You're a goddamn—ah—bastard—"

"Maybe so," he replies, with a smack to one of your asscheeks. "But a bastard that's going to—"

He stretches you out, pumping and scissoring slow, just as deliberate as everything else he does—and the moan you let out is enough to drown out whatever witty, dirty words you're sure he was going to follow that with—

"Fuck—fuck," the word is all you can manage as you brace your hands against Theo's shoulders, nails digging into his skin— "oh, fuck—"

Mattheo groans against your back and you swear it's intentional because he has to know what all of this is doing to you—what it's doing to Theo by association.

"Fuck, she likes that—" Theo's gasp hits you like a punch in the gut. "I should have—"

It's like there's a whole sentence, some snarky, perfectly articulate statement he had in mind, but whatever words it was comprised of are lost in the way he shivers—in the way his hips jerk more erratically due to how tight you're squeezing him—due to the way your walls spasm as Mattheos fingers keep pumping, stretching—

"Should have what?" It's a miracle you manage the words, and you're feeling particularly proud about the way it's more of a challenge than a question, even if it's half mumbled.

Whatever it is, he can't say it, and whatever retort you had for that is interrupted by the sound of a grunt—Enzo. His face is screwed up in pleasure, his breath is coming in ragged, uneven pants and there's a look in his eyes that looks distinctly broken.

Mattheo groans and pulls his fingers free. You feel the tip of his dick replacing them. "Can’t fucking wait any longer."

Enzo's eyes meet yours, then, and they're absolutely wrecked. "I'm going to—"

Pansy grins and moans out her reply. "Yeah, you are."

There's little else you can say—not that you'd have the words even if you weren't as lost as the rest of them. You just have a flash of thought about how you've never seen Enzo look like that before, open and vulnerable and completely at the mercy of whatever bliss he's riding right now, but then there's another feral moan escaping your lips—

"Oh, Gods, Mattheo!—"

Theo groans into your neck as Mattheo presses in and it takes merely two seconds before your eyes roll back—the way he sinks into your ass is a level of fullness you weren't sure you could reach, and even that's a thought that's too complex for you to process as your head drops, forehead pressed to Theo's shoulder.

There's a hiss from his lips, another muttered curse that you half catch as he bites at your collarbone, his hands moving back to squeeze your hips—

"Fuck, yes," Mattheo's voice sounds more strained than you've ever heard it. "Jesus Christ, that feels good—"

"Don't think the saviour would like you taking his name in vain," Blaise says, from somewhere in the room. "Not in this scenario at least."

No, he wouldn't, you think, but there's no way you've got the wherewithal to speak now—any focus you had is lost now that you're impaled on not one, but two cocks and it's like your entire nervous system's been turned over to the sensation of being so fucking full, so surrounded—of not being able to do anything except try to remember how to breathe.

It's not working very well.

"Mm," Theo's moans, fucking up into you nice and slow. "I think he'd understand."

"I think that's a rather blasphemous stance to take," Blaise replies. "Then again, given the scenario, perhaps that's not the most shocking revelation I've had of you all today."

"Blaise," Enzo groans, his tone somewhere between pleading and demanding. "Are you really going to try and have a conversation right now?"

"Just making an observation," Blaise says casually, and you swear that part of your brain that still functions can see the smirk plastered on his face in your mind. "Merely commenting about the depravity on display."

"Your commentary is duly noted," Mattheo breathes, his words punctuated by a low moan as he smacks your ass. "And dismissed."

There's a grumble of agreement through the room at that, including one from you, but all your words come out as a gasp—

Theo loves you like this. You can tell he's fucking savouring it. "That's it, bella. You don't need to do more than that."

Part of you wants to protest the statement, wants to argue that you have it in you to contribute more, but no matter how hard you try—and you do try—all that comes out around the moans is an inarticulate mess.

"Yeah, that's it," Mattheo groans, and you'd be embarrassed about how utterly ruined by all of this you are if you could focus on anything other than the two dicks pumping you in rhythm. "Just let me and Nott take care of your—mmf—tight fuckin' holes."

There's a whine that worms its way out of your chest and through your lips at that, and you don't know what it's begging for—just that it's begging, and all your mind cares about right now is that Theo and Mattheo understand that.

Theo's response is a moan of his own and a hand finding the back of your neck, his fingers wrapping around your hair. "So fucking wet—tight—"

"And taking us so goddamn well," Mattheo adds as one of his hands grab your ass again, spreading you open. "Fucking hell—I'm so close—"

"So are we," Theo responds for you, and the words are harsh and desperate and make your whole body shudder. "So—ah—so are we—"

The realization that he can feel how close you are makes you clench—walls fluttering around the both of them as they fuck you tempered—it’s only a few more seconds before you're seeing stars so bright you hardly register the sounds of Enzo and Pansy reaching their climaxes next to you—the feeling of Pansy crashing her lips to yours as she cums and moans into your mouth propelling you further over the edge, into your own ecstasy—

And if there were a way to describe it, you're sure you'd think of it later, but right now it's all just fire and lightning—pleasure wracking your body until you're certain you're not going to come down for hours. You can't really hear anything—just the rushing of your own blood pulsing in your ears—but as it starts to subside, your vision returns and the sound follows—your lips still pressed to Pansy's as Theo moans underneath you, spilling his release into your cunt while Mattheo is still thrusting slow—

"Oh my god," you gasp as you break the kiss, all of you breathing so hard you're sure it's going to take a while for the oxygen levels in the room to return to normal. "Oh my god, oh my god—"

"Mmm," is about all Theo seems to be capable of currently.

It’s a rare thing for him to be rendered speechless—and you'd grin at the knowledge if it weren't for Mattheo still thrusting deep in your ass—leaving Theo trapped inside your cunt, his length still twitching and throbbing within your walls.

"Still with us, princess?" Mattheo's chuckle is somewhat strangled, and the hand he's not gripping your ass with finds your hair again, tugging your head back to expose your neck. "You aren't done already, are you?"

If he expects—or even wants—an actual answer to that question, he's going to be very disappointed because all you can manage is a strangled half-moan that's a decent representation to how you're feeling right now—

"I think she's lost her words," Mattheo murmurs—and then it's like he realizes something. "Maybe we should test that."

"Wha—"

It's not a proper word, but you don't even have the chance to fully get it out before his hand in your hair is pulling your head back even further and you realize that at some point Pansy had gotten off of Enzo and he's now kneeling on the couch in front of you with his cum covered cock aimed directly at your lips—

"Clean me off."

It's another demand you'd probably be inclined to respond to with a snarky reply if you were at all confident in your ability to do anything other than open your mouth and let him press the tip to your tongue—

"Good girl," Enzo says, and the praise is delivered with that voice that sounds like it came from some dark place inside him, the one that's only ever really appeared in the privacy of these walls and with this group of people. "Taste your bestfriend on me, hm? You like that?"

It's a question you'd probably deny a few months ago, but that's not the case anymore—and you know that the answer would be obvious regardless, given how you've just proven you're more than happy to share them with her. So instead you give an answer that's a better representation of how you feel without having to admit it, and it only comes out as a hum of agreement as you taste her.

"I know you do," Enzo replies, and he's got that same smirk he usually has when he's got the upper hand, the one that usually makes you feel at least mildly put out—now it just makes you shiver. "Little slut."

Theo, who's still trapped underneath you and still half hard inside you, moans at that.

"Mmmm-" yes, you want to say, but you can't and the noise you manage instead, around the taste of your bestfriend on your tongue, comes out more like a whimper that has absolutely no business doing as much to you as it does.

Mattheo growls with a deep thrust into your ass, and the whimper turns into a whine as Pansy moves closer to you.

"You look pretty," she murmurs, her mouth pressed against your hair as Enzo pushes his dick deeper down your throat. "You look so fucking pretty right now."

There's something about that, the way her voice caresses the words, that makes something warm rush through you, wrapping around the bliss and squeezing until you're almost overwhelmed again.

Your eyes water, as you gag. "Mmgh—"

"Mhmm," her lips move down your cheek, next to your mouth where Enzo is still slowly fucking it, and it's like the action is deliberate—a way to show, without saying it outright, just how wrecked you are. "And you say I'm insatiable."

That's fair, because right now you're fairly certain you've never wanted something to continue forever quite as much as you do this, regardless of the fact that you know it's not practical.

"Ah, fuck—" Mattheo grunts with a messy thrust. “Oh, fuck—"

He's not the most loquacious person in the world but even he is having a hard time getting words out—and you're not much better, with the only sounds you're capable of making completely indecipherable even for you, let alone the rest of the room.

"Fuck—" with a final curse, he spills his release deep into your ass and Theo groans from under you as you clench as a result. "—yes."

The feeling of him twitching and spilling inside you makes you moan around Enzo, and he groans too—one hand tangled in your hair and the other tangled in Pansy's to keep her close—

"Mm, yes," Enzo moans now, jerking his hips toward your face. "Feels good—so good—“

—and close is an apt word because they're all close to you, all surrounding you—even Blaise and Draco's exhausted presence are felt in the background.

"I'm pretty sure she's gonna be sore for days after this," Pansy says, the words whispered. "I hope you all know—"

"I think she'll be thanking us for that," Theo replies before anyone else can. "In a day or two at least."

Pansy giggles, a sound that's soft and familiar and comforting even in this current state of being surrounded and overwhelmed, and her cheek brushes up against yours as the two of you peer up at Enzo—

"You're probably right." She whispers.

Enzo grunts, pulling his cock from your mouth and offering it to Pansy who greedily takes it in her own—

"Selfless generosity," Theo murmurs from directly under your chin having just witnessed that, and his tone suggests he's got his signature smirk in place. "How noble of us."

"Very selfless," Blaise says, from somewhere in the room again—and even as you're lost in pleasure you know that statement borders on sarcastic. "Absolutely nothing in it for any of you."

"Nothing at all," Theo replies, the same amount of sarcasm in his voice as Blaise's. "It's all self-sacrifice."

"Mm," Mattheo murmurs against your shoulder, before he pushes himself off you and finally pulls out. "Not even a shred of personal satisfaction."

You're still collapsed on top of Theo, as boneless as a human being can be, and a quiet whine escapes your lips at the loss before you can stop it.

"See," Theo murmurs, a hand coming up to run through your hair. "We've practically made a martyr of ourselves here. Selflessness at its finest."

"So humble," Blaise says, and you swear you hear the eyeroll that's almost certainly included. "I think this calls for medals and a parade through the streets. A holiday, maybe. Selfless Slytherin Day."

Enzo huffs—you can tell he's considering telling Blaise to shut up before he ruins his orgasm but as Pansy drags her tongue along the underside of his shaft, he seems to forget about it—

"Absolutely," Mattheo says—and if you had the strength to lift your head and look at him there'd likely be a smug smirk on his face. "I'd volunteer to be parade marshall, personally."

Enzo pulls out of Pansy's mouth with a gasp—and it's all but two seconds before he sprays sticky jets of cum all over your face and hers, his head tipping back as he does—

"I'm sure you would," Blaise says dryly, his voice coming from closer now than before. "I'm sure you would also volunteer to accept the medal, and then offer a speech about how humble you are."

"Mhm,” Mattheo sounds unbothered. You know he is. "Obviously. Someone's got to make sure the truth is told."

Pansy giggles against your face, then, before her tongue drags across your cheek, collecting some of Enzo's release. "Well, it's no good if you all are going to keep doing a poor job at the selflessness part.”

"I think we're well past the point of pretending we're doing this selflessly," Theo mutters dryly as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. "If we were capable of that level of pretending, we'd all be in Ravenclaw."

Your hands find Pansy's hair, holding her close to you as you lick Enzo's cum off her chin and jaw.

"You're welcome to switch houses if you'd like," Blaise responds dryly. "Some of us were sorted to our houses for reasons other than self-satisfaction—"

"Oh, shove it, Zabini," Enzo says as his breath comes back. "You're acting like a bloody dad."

Blaise opens his mouth, presumably to offer some kind of sharp retort, but before they have a chance, Pansy cuts in. "If you're all quite finished with the pissing contest—“

"We've been done for minutes," Theo replies quickly, hand now stroking through your hair. "Now we're just bickering for the sake of it, as usual."

"Which means we've got at least another half an hour to go," Blaise mutters—before apparently giving up all attempt at sounding cool and collected and flopping down on the nearest open section of sofa.

"At least," Mattheo agrees. "Maybe an hour, if we're lucky."

Next to you, Enzo grunts out a laugh as he starts trying to fix himself back to modesty. "Lucky is one word for it—"

"I think lucky is an excellent term for the current state of things," Theo replies, his voice all smooth and silky and perfectly at fucking ease. "In fact, I'd be hard pressed to think of anything more lucky than getting to experience this."

Everyone is in agreement, at that.

[syngularitysyn]

It's all fun and memes to joke about how Caitlyn immediately switched sides the moment she hears Vi call her cupcake again. And I do it too. But to me, the switch wasn't abrupt at all.

From the first scene in episode four, Caitlyn already says that the martial law has been going on much longer than she wanted. In the next scene, you see her standing up to Ambessa, using her words back at her, for which Ambessa calls her fearless. It shows that Caitlin has not given up control and is not being puppeteered by Ambessa. She's in control still, but her singular focus is still on Jinx like it was in act one.

Vi was right that Caitlyn is behaving like Jinx, but it was probably the worst thing Vi could have said to her, no matter how true, cause Caitlyn was too deep in her quest for 'justice' in her grief. That's why she reacted so violently.

Jinx is the target of her obsession, or her in her mind for justice, even though what she really wants is vengeance, and being compared to Jinx cut deep. Vi had noticed the similarity before in season one, but that was before Jinx kidnapped Caitlyn and wanted her dead.

In the beginning of episode four, she feels that it's been going on too long, but even after all those months her obsession is still stronger. Her obsession with getting vengeance, finding Jinx, killing Jinx, is still stronger than her moral compass, which she has abandoned to avenge her mother and fill her mother's shoes.

But over the course of the second act before she sees Vi again, there are multiple things that happen that make Caitlyn understand she has to stop, that what she's doing isn't right or justifiable.

Some of these were not initially clear to me when I first watched it. but one thing I realized today while I was working out is that one crucial moment for Caitlyn's arc in act two is with Singed.

Taking her singular focus off Jinx for a moment, Caitlyn does what she does best and figures out who Singed is, and what he's responsible for. She uncovers that Singed is actually the formerly revered alchemist Dr. Corin Reveck, who used to work with Heimerdinger at the academy. Arcane implies he is from Piltover and became a Zaunite after being kicked out of Piltover. He helped build up Piltover to what it is, and now he is ravaging Zaun with shimmer, weapons and monsters.

When she calls him a monster and asks him "why do all this?", he tells her he did it 'for love'. Out of love for his deceased daughter.

And I think that that is one of the crucial moments where Caitlyn starts to realize that what she is doing is not very different from him.

She's doing things her old self would never have approved, of out of love and grief for her deceased mother.

When she sees Vi again, she doesn't suddenly switch sides, she's already been doubting her chosen course of action. She initially says "you can't be here", because Caitlyn is trying to believe she's doing the right thing still, and knows Vi is a threat to that belief/lie.

Vi calling her cupcake though, is one of the last drops in the bucket. She left Vi to do what she thought she needed to do, what her mother might have done. What she's doing out of guilt for not saving her mother when she had the chance. She even tried to be with a girl her mother would have approved of.

When Vi calls her cupcake, all the feelings she's been trying to stuff away come flooding back. She snaps out of this self-imposed love-deprived state she's been in, and she can no longer deny she loves Vi.

When Vi tells her that she's trying to save her dad, I think that is the moment she actually switches sides. That was the last drop. That is the moment where she realizes there are still people she loves, who love her, who are still alive and they need her help, and that is more important than her horrible campaign for vengeance out of grief, otherwise she's no different than Singed.

[quarterlifekitty]

first, im a bit new to cod but idk…

thinking about ghost’s spouse visiting him on base or some shit, and everyone else wondering how tf he was emotionally flexible enough to bag a bad bitch 🫶

note: this is just my personal little fantasy world headcanon lol so take it with a grain of salt!

Simon maintains a vaguely human lifestyle by adhering to one very strict rule: rigid compartmentalization. You don’t come up at work, and work doesn’t come up around you. Never the twain shall meet, he thinks. And he’s not exactly a watershed of information when he’s with his mates. And it’s not like anyone is asking “When was the last time you got fucked, Ghost?” and seriously expecting a response.

He tells you about the crew, but not about what he does with them. Killing, espionage, torture– that kind of thing stays off the dinner table.

Let it be known that you do not surprise him at work. You respect his boundaries too much, which is why he’s so fucking serious about you, honestly. He calls, asking if you can run something to him. This is maybe the greatest symbol of trust he can bestow, as a man who has only a fraction of an existence in the eyes of the government: he asks you to bring a document of his. He gives you the instructions on how to find it, and trusts that you won’t look at anything you don’t have to.

You know Johnny lets out a low whistle when he sees you coming up with a manilla folder in your hands.

“Who’s that bloody bombshell, then?”

You spy Simon and jog up to him with a smile. He’s the one who embraces you, short but strong. Cue the nigh audible gasping.

“LT, you absolute dog.”

Simon rolls his eyes as the two of you are crowded in short order. You make polite introductions, but have a previous engagement– you really did only have time to stop by.

Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.

Everyone is wondering how this could’ve happened. For the record– I think in this scenario, Johnny and Gaz go through a constant string of heartbreaks, and John is kinda married to his job. So in a cruel twist of fate, Simon is actually the only one currently with a partner, much less a spouse.

“How’d you manage to bag a right beauty like that, LT? C’mon, spill it–”

Simon doesn’t mean to diminish your value or anything, but his answer is not going to be satisfying, because he doesn’t find it that difficult to get women. And also, you’re his true love, so you’re perfect for each other and growing close to you was as easy as breathing. But he doesn’t say that.

“S’not that hard. Remember the stuff she says, don’t keep no secrets… dick ‘er down the way she likes.” He doesn’t mean to be crude about it, but from his perspective, is one of the main reasons why you tolerate him. Soap howls at the response.

He’s telling the truth, though! He has a scarily good memory. Remembers every friend you’ve ever told him about, every movie you’ve ever mentioned, every meal he’s cooked for you and how you liked it. He remembers dates, times, and lists with no issue whatsoever.

And he’s never kept anything from you. He tells you how the fuck he’s feeling, and you return the favor, even if it isn’t pleasant. The only thing he doesn’t mention to you are the gorey details of his work.

And you have never had more of a communicative partner, ironically. There were times in the beginning when he didn’t know all of the ins and outs of coaxing pleasure from your body, so he asked you to show him how you like it. And that scary memory is at work yet again– every sensitive spot, every offhand mention of a kink you’ve not yet explored together, every arch of your spine and clench of your cunt. He’s got it down to a science. Could write novels about making love to you specifically.

What I’m trying to say, at the end of the day, is that Ghost bagged a bad bitch by being autistic.

[eddiesghxst]

i've been so obsessed w innocent!virgin! reader and perv!experienced! eddie (maybe even mean!dom! eddie) dating and eddie can't wait to take her virginity🫠

ohhhhh brother don’t get me started

18+ — MINORS DNI

god eddie is so handsy. he’s handsy and impatient and honestly he doesn’t know how he’s lasted so long without just bending you over and shoving his cock in you.

but you’re so nice, feeling sorry for your poor boyfriend who has to go home and fist his cock because you’re not ready for the full thing. so, to meet in the middle, you let eddie do things. not very often, you’re still so shy about it and eddie’s got a thing for making you embarrassed so you can blush and whine.

but it took a long time for eddie to get you to say yes— nearly half a year. half a year to stick his head between your thighs and eddie would do it over a million times if he’s being honest.

it took a little longer for eddie to talk you into letting him rub his greedy cock through your wet folds. you were hesitant— but by that time, eddie had already showed you how good sex can feel and you selfishly wanted more, even if you couldn’t fully admit it, eddie could see it. could see it in the way you’d get all squirmy when he touched you, or how you clung to him when a kiss got a little heavier than expected, or in the morning when you would nuzzle up against him like you wanted to meld your bodies together.

he’s a good boy for the most part, doesn’t push you too much, but sometimes he just can’t help it— like now.

you’re just so pretty like this, laid out on his bed in his shirt, messy hair with swollen lips and glossy eyes that had only just fluttered open less than 10 minutes ago.

you’re clutching his sheets, eyes gazing down between your thighs to watch as eddie drags his cock through your wet folds, moaning and trembling when his thick tip nudges against your clit.

this is only the second time you’ve done this, let eddie stick his cock this close to your pretty cunt. usually, you suck him off or eddie fucks your thighs, because the last time eddie got his dick on your cunt he nearly lost it and just went in for the kill— you weren’t too happy with him then. and eddie doesn’t wanna upset his girl.

he tries to keep it together, ringed fingers clutching to the fat of your thighs as he presses them together to make a tight fit around him.

you whimper and eddie groans, curly strands falling over his face as he ruts into the wet heat between your thighs, timid not to get carried away and slip into you.

“fuck, you’re so wet— you sure you don’t want it?” he purrs.

you whine, eyebrows furrowing as you mewl and shake your head, “not today, eddie— please. i wanna wait, i want—“ “okay, okay,” he softly coos, his thumb caressing the skin of your thighs. “i’ll wait… i’ll fuckin wait,” he grits out the last part with a particularly strong thrust, groaning as he tosses his head back, “ah shit, squeeze your thighs together, princess— there we go.”

you’re so cute like this, whiney and pliant beneath eddie— he can practically see your brain melting out your ears. fucked dumb and you haven’t even stretched around the actual thing. god, eddie can’t wait to fuck you— really fuck you.

and he knows you like it nice and sweet, gentle touches and kind words, but sometimes he slips and his grip gets just a little tighter, his words get a little sharp and his movements get a little rough.

he leans over you, your thighs pressing to your chest as he plows through your folds, sharing the same breaths as he grunts against your lips, “look at you crying for my cock— can feel you weepin’, baby— fuck— look at me. look at me.” he demands.

your eyes flutter open, glossy and blown with lust and he nearly growls, his cock throbbing with the promise of release, “always knew you want it, naughty girl.” he teases and you whine, “tell me you want it.”

you huff around a moan and blissfully nod, “i want it, eddie.”

“you’ll let me have it.”

you nod again, “i will, i will— just n-not now—“

“shh, shut up,” he places a hand over your mouth, “shut up, just feel good.”

your eyes roll and eddie can feel you fluttering as you cum against him, your thighs shaking beside his ears. eddie never gets tired of seeing it— watching the soul leave your eyes. he dreams about it.

he can’t stop himself, not when you’re throbbing and fluttering like your pussy’s just asking for it.

he’s cumming and you’re breathless and oblivious, so he knocks your thighs open and he sits up, grabbing his dick and fisting it with fervor. his chest rises and falls quickly, his chin pressed to his chest as he looks at your quivering pussy, moaning when he takes his thumb and index finger to part your cunt, sticky arousal dripping from your hole as he presents it to himself.

god, he doesn’t last a second, placing his tip at your gaping hole, fighting every urge to push in as he cums in thick, white spurts.

you moan around a gasp, hips squirming at the sensation of eddie’s warm cum on your cunt, whining and telling him that’s enough, “no more, eddie—“ “i know, i know— ffuck.”

and yet your hips keep quirking, your cunt seeking him out like it knows what it needs. greedy little thing you are, even when you pretend otherwise.

yeah, he’s gonna fuck you sooner or later.

[sugoroo]

# PUT ME IN A MOVIE!

ʚɞ summary. in which the jjk men decide to send a snippet of your fun in the sheets to a friend, so you better be ready to put on a good show. . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + nanami.

warnings. fem!reader, exhibitionism, filming of sex, oral (m receiving), facial, fingering, pussy slaps, penetration (p in v), doggystyle, spanking + brief choking in toji's, squirting, handjob, 18+ minors dni.

SATORU GOJO

"yeahhh, stay just like that for me, baby," satoru croons as he peers down at your patiently waiting form, raising the phone slightly to get the best possible angle of your position knelt between his legs. "suguru's gonna dig this."

"isn't he gonna be pissed at you for sending him something like this while he's on a mission abroad?" you inquire curiously, raising an eyebrow as your boyfriend quickly dismisses your question with a simple wave of his hand.

"nah, i'm sure he'll appreciate having some... material to keep him sated during that boring ass assignment." the white-haired menace grins unapologetically, reaching down with his free hand to push some loose strands of hair out of your eyes. "—not to mention, he's always going on about how pretty he finds you. he should be honoured i'm willing to let him see this, honestly."

"if you say so, toru," you hum sceptically with a small shrug, earning yourself a fond head pat from the aforementioned man as he returns his attention to the view from behind the screen. "and what do you want me to do, exactly?"

"just do what you usually would before sucking me off," satoru instructs, before pausing to scratch the underside of his chin thoughtfully. "but add a little more teasing just to make him squirm when he watches it, heh."

"that's so mean! poor sugu." you tease lightly, running your hands over his toned thighs through the material of his sweatpants. there's already a visible tent growing at the crotch; no doubt from the mere idea that his bestfriend is going to be witnessing this exact moment in a few hours, too.

"oh yeah, he's just sooo mistreated by getting a video of my hot girlfriend putting her mouth on my dick." he gasps theatrically, before erupting into a small fit of laughter at his own antics, causing you to roll your eyes in response.

"now now, don't go getting ahead of yourself." you tut chidingly, punishing him with a sharp flick to his pelvis through his trousers and causing him to yelps dramatically in pain — however, the sound quickly morphs into a soft moan when you soothe the sting by nuzzling your nose against it.

purposefully teasing him just as you were told, you drag your face from the side of his hip to the unmistakeable bulge pressing against the fabric of his pants, brushing your lips over it and gazing up at the camera lens of the phone through your lashes.

"mmm. look at her, suguru," satoru groans deeply, using two fingers to zoom in on your expression as you start gently mouthing at his clothed erection. "bet you wish she was doing this to you right now, huhh?"

but his plans to utter mocking comments to his friend throughout the duration of the video quickly unravel once you've gotten his lower half bare, the only sounds leaving his lips being broken whines and moans of pleasure as you work him over with your mouth and tongue.

"f-fuck, baby, that's—" he attempts to speak, bright eyes rolling back so far in his head he swears he sees the pearly white gates of heaven when you start fondling his neglected balls in time with the practised bobs of your head. "so goood."

"yeah?" you murmur once you slide your mouth off the end of his saliva-coated cock with a lewd pop!, blinking up at both him and the camera with a mischievous smile. "or maybe you're just feeling even more sensitive than usual because you know suguru's gonna be watching this later, hmm?"

"h-hey!" satoru whisper-shouts in embarrassment, pale cheeks visibly staining a deep shade of pink behind the phone as a little trickle of gooey pre-cum oozes from his angered tip as a result of your words. "don't say stuff like that, he'll never let me live it down."

"oh, come on," you chuckle in amusement, slowly lolling your tongue out to lick a long, teasing stripe across the underside of his veiny shaft. "like he isn't gonna be jerking one out to this exact part of the video imagining what you looked like behind the camera while i did this to you."

"shit— y-you really think he'll do that?" he breathes out shakily, cock twitching from both the visual image you've conjured up in his head and the feeling of your pleasureful ministrations against him.

"oh, i know he will," you purr in a low, sultry caress of a tone as you flick the tip of your tongue over his leaking slit just the way he likes it. "he'll probably even cum at the same time you do, just from hearing your sounds."

"oh god... baby, ngh!, i'm g-gonna—" and satoru can't even finish his sentence before he's throwing his head back in ecstasy, thick ropes of milky cum spurting from his cockhead and splattering across your features.

"hm, i think you might've been right after all," you muse as you collect some of his release from your cheek, delving it into your mouth and making direct eye contact with the camera while sucking it from the digit. "suguru is gonna dig this."

SUGURU GETO

"ah ah, c'mon, pretty, none of that," suguru scolds as you try to snap your legs closed again, prying them right back open with his free hand while the other brings the phone closer to your dripping cunt. "gotta make sure satoru gets a good view, don't we?"

you whine in embarrassment, bringing your own hands up to cover your heated face as your boyfriend uses two of his slender fingers to separate your puffy pussy lips, a low groan leaving his throat as he does so.

"such a cute little pussy, aren't you?" he croons, seemingly having no reservations about talking to it as he trails the pad of one of his fingers down your leaking slit. "yeahh, i know you are. and so does satoru now, too."

"s-sugu, stop it!" you squeak quietly, peering down at him between the cracks of your fingers with an involuntary pout. he only chuckles at your display of shyness, the edges of his violet eyes crinkling with amusement as he reaches up to gently tug your hands away from your face.

"and why should i, baby?" suguru hums smoothly, trapping both of your wrists in the grip of one of his large hands while he props the phone up against your thigh so he can continue playing with your cunt. "i know you secretly like it, otherwise she wouldn't be so soaked."

"t-that's not—!" you huff in protest, quickly trailing off when he abruptly punishes you for lying in the form of a sharp smack! against your tacky folds.

"what have i told you about telling me fibs, hmm?" he tuts, soothing the sting of the slap by rubbing the heel of his palm over your twitching skin. "you're making me look bad in front of satoru. and you don't want that, do you, sweet girl?"

"...no." you mutter meekly, feeling your body once again betray you by oozing more webby arousal onto his fingers at the mere thought that satoru is going to be watching this video later tonight.

suguru releases yet another rich laugh as he carefully scoops up some of your translucent juices with a finger, waving it around in front of the camera lens before sinking it into his mouth with a satisfied hmph. "i bet he's gonna wish he was here get a taste of you too. you know how much he loves sweet things."

"y-yeah?" you mumble breathlessly, hips weakly bucking up in search of some friction as his words sink straight down into the already coiling spool of pleasure buried in the depths of your stomach. "and would you let him?"

he taps the bottom of his chin in thought for a few moments, a cat-like smile spreading across his lips as he leans over you to whisper in your ear, hot breaths brushing against the hairs on the side of your neck. "only if he took it from my fingers... i wouldn't let him drink from the source — no, that's for me only."

a small mewl of pleasure escapes you at his words, and that's when his eyes flicker down to notice that you've sneakily managed to wriggle one of your wrists from his grip and ease one of your own fingers into your fluttering hole while he was speaking.

oh, you're in for it now.

suguru rips your hand away from your cunt, pinning both above your head this time before lowering his own between your writhing thighs and making direct eye contact with the camera from beneath his dark lashes. "now you're gonna see what happens when my girl misbehaves, satoru. hope you're strapped in for a bumpy ride."

TOJI FUSHIGURO

"c'mon, mama, i know y'can do a better arch for me than that," toji huffs impatiently as he delivers a sharp slap to your raised ass, making your entire body jolt with a mix of surprise and arousal. "don't ya wanna impress shiu, hmm?"

his words fly straight past your brain, shooting directly down to your stuffed cunt as you bend the front of your body even further down into the mattress, pushing your rear back against him with renewed vigour.

"ohhh, look at that," your boyfriend chortles amusedly, soothing the red handprint where he'd slapped with a gentle pat as a form of reward for your obedience. "looks like my girl is gettin' off on putting on a good ol' show for for my handler, huh? cute."

"shut up, toji," you mutter in response, voice slightly muffled by the material of the pillow as he continues to pound into you in full view of the phone propped up on the bedside table. "like you're not enjoying this too."

"heh. never said i wasn't, baby," he grunts from behind you, rough hands spreading the globes of your ass apart further to give the camera a better picture of the way his thick girth disappears inside of you with each thrust. "i like the idea of showin' him somethin' he can never have."

"you— mmph! — you wouldn't consider letting him join in?" you squeak out through the haze of pleasure he's put you in, hips halting their wriggles backwards as you unsurprisingly fail to keep up with his vicious pace.

"nah," toji hums casually, the only sign of him tiring out being the small tremor in his voice when he feels your spongy walls tighten around him in response to him hitting a particularly deep spot. "wouldn't be opposed to havin' him sit and watch us, though."

he can tell how much you support the idea by the way a gush of arousal drips out of you as soon as the words leave his mouth, dripping down his cock and splattering lewdly against his heavy balls.

"ohh, you like that, dont'cha?" he rumbles, reaching a large hand around to wrap around the front of your throat, giving it a light squeeze. "like thinkin' about shiu sat right next to the bed and jerkin' one out to the sight of me fuckin' you good, huhh?"

a wanton moan spills from your lips at this, pussy almost cutting off the blood circulation in his cock with how tightly it squeezes him when you cum. his darkened eyes flicker down, groaning when he sees the way your translucent juices spray the sheets beneath the two of you.

"hot damn, baby," toji growls, swiping up the phone from the bedside table and bringing it closer to film the mess you've caused where your bodies are connected. "ya see this shit, shiu? think we might have'ta organize a little cucking session some time soon, don't you?"

CHOSO KAMO

"s-so who are you planning on showing this to again?" choso utters sheepishly from his position splayed out across the bed, cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink and twitching cock standing to attention between his legs as you aim the phone in his direction.

"just yuki," you hum casually, peering over the top of the device and giving him a small, reassuring smile. "are you sure you're okay with this? because we can always stop if—"

"—no! i-i mean, no thank you," he squeaks hurriedly, shy chestnut eyes darting to the side in embarrassment as he registers just how eager he sounded. "i'm fine."

you release a soft laugh at his shyness, reaching down to cup one of his rosy cheeks in your free hand give it a teasing squeeze. "aww, is thinking about yuki seeing you like this making you all flustered, baby?"

choso lets out a quiet whine at how easily you read him, bare body squirming slightly against the mattress in response to your words. "i-it's just... sometimes she can be so mean. what if she makes fun of me for this?"

"oh, she won't," you purr seductively, trailing your fingers down from his cheek to his plump pectorals that rise and fall with each heavy breath he takes. "she'll be too busy... taking care of herself after watching this video."

his mouth falls open into a comical little 'o' shape at the mental image your implication alights in his mind, the flushed tip of his cock spurting out a trail of translucent pre-cum as a result. "she'll really be doing that because o-of me?"

"of course, pretty boy," you hum amusedly, giving one of his pebbled nipples a soft tweak with your thumb and forefinger and relishing in the little yelp the action earns you. "you have no idea how delicious you look right now, do you?"

choso shakes his head meekly, back arching off the bed as he needily pushes his chiselled torso into your touch. "n-no. but... can you tell me? how d-delicious i look?"

"mhmm," you coo softly, propping the phone up against one of his thick thighs so both of your hands are free to play with his quivering cock. "you look good enough to eat, cho. such an obedient boy, all laid out for me like this."

your boyfriend whimpers pathetically at your praise, messy tresses of dark hair sticking to his forehead with sweat when you finally wrap a hand around his girthy base. "k-keep talking to me, pretty girl. please?"

"...and it's not just me who thinks you're perfect, either," you continue as you begin to stroke him languidly, other hand snaking down to gently fondle his heavy balls and making his legs tremble either side of you in response. "bet yuki's gonna be soaked just from watching this video."

"s-shit—! can't... gonna cum already," choso cries out, hips frantically bucking up into your fist like a teenager receiving his first handjob before his cock twitches violently beneath your hold, thick stripes of cum oozing from his reddened tip.

you quickly stop the recording so you can pull his shaky body into your arms, comforting him through the aftershocks of his intense orgasm as he buries his head into your clothed chest with a content mewl.

"...m-maybe we should do that more often." comes choso's soft, barely audible mumble as he peers up at you from between his messy bangs once a few minutes of comfortable silence have passed.

and oh, if that's how worked up a simple bit of filming is going to get him each time? you definitely agree.

KENTO NANAMI

"hopefully this video helps hiromi relax a little bit," nanami muses as he sets up the phone against the pillow next to your head, angling it so the lens of the camera has the perfect view of your sprawled out form waiting for him. "he's been ever so stressed lately."

"you're so considerate, ken," you hum affectionately as he settles himself between your legs, reaching up to caress his cheek with the pad of your thumb. "doing all of this for your friend."

"mmm," he hums warmly, leaning his angular face into your touch slightly as he places his large hands either side of your body. "and you're the perfect wife, agreeing to let me film such an intimate moment. i love you so much, honey, you know that?"

"i know," you respond with a gentle smile, eyes flickering down to watch as he aligns his leaky cock with your awaiting cunt. "i love you too, kento. always."

he returns your smile with a loving one of his own before slowly, with the utmost care, beginning to ease himself inside of you. he relishes in the way your arms fly to the back of his neck for support and your legs wind around his waist as each inch makes its way home — but most of all, the way the camera catches every moment as it happens.

the thought of hiromi watching this later and growing hard in his work slacks, paired with the heavenly feeling of bottoming out within the familiar coziness of your spongy walls, has nanami groaning in pleasure.

"you feel utterly divine, love," he whispers tenderly against the shell of your ear, quiet enough so the phone won't pick it up but loud enough that the words will send a shiver rippling down your spine. "taking me so well."

as the two of you move together in a well-practised dance of passion, nanami makes sure to cast his eyes towards the phone every now and again, picturing hiromi's dark eyes dilating with pleasure when he inevitably watches this video later tonight.

"close, sweetheart—" he rasps a few moments later, a few strands of blonde hair hanging over his glistening forehead as he returns his focus to you lying beneath him, holding himself up with one hand while the other reaches up to cup one of your breasts in his palm. "inside?"

"m-mhmm." is all you can manage to get out through your haze of pleasure, ankles digging into the muscles of his back to pull him in impossibly deeper as he twitches with need inside of you.

and when his heavy balls contract against your ass, thick cum spilling straight into your womb where his cockhead is buried, nanami can't help but wonder what hiromi will think when he sees his expression of bliss as he orgasms, head thrown back and jaw slack in ecstasy.

oh dear — he's starting to realize that just sending this video won't be enough... maybe he should invite hiromi into your bedroom next time so he can more efficiently help to remove the other man's stress.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[spicy-apple-pie]

Swearing is weird in Wayne Manor. Especially before Jason dies.

Alfred was taught that swearing is impolite and implies that you have a small vocabulary or are dumb. So when he’s in charge of Bruce he, of course, applies those same principles. Once Bruce hits the age where he knows what swears are and how to use him, he introduces a swear jar. Which he thinks is very lenient because he used to get a wooden spoon to the butt at Bruce’s age. Bruce, being a tween, is pretty upset with this, but accepts it as he grows older.

Fast forward and Dick is adopted. Dick’s parents (and the circus in general) swore like sailors, so they didn’t really see the need to limit his use when it’s just them. But when interacting with children, they teach him not to use those words. When he asks why, they shrug and say that some times people don’t like those words, and you can’t tell who’s okay with it and who’s not. So make sure you use those words when you’re with someone who is comfortable with them.

And Dick thinks to himself how much it would suck to have to watch your language with someone 24/7.

Cut to Alfred bringing the swear jar back because Dick is swearing too much for his taste. And Dick is pissed. Because he wants to say whatever he wants, and his parents always let him swear. Alfred allows him a little grace, but for the most part, he will ask that Dick put a dollar in the jar for anything worse than crap or hell.

But Bruce remembers how frustrating it was, so he lets Dick swear as much as he wants when Alfred wasn't around. Even though the swear jar isn't for him, he still doesn't want to risk Alfred going off on him. So long as Dick isn't swearing in school or in front of Alfred, he can say whatever he wants.

But Jason is another story. Because Jason swears in almost every sentence, but the swear jar gives him massive anxiety because of his financial insecurity. Alfred tries to get creative and assigns chores for Jason to do. But Jason is like, not too upset by the idea of taking the trash out, or vacuuming. Until he realizes that it takes time away from his reading. But since Dick is an adult now, Alfred has no say in what kind of language he uses, so he's swearing more often. So eventually Alfred gives up but still doesn't approve.

After Jason dies, all sense of normal is thrown out the window. And with Tim and Cassandra, it's hard to discipline them for different reasons. Tim technically isn't Bruce's child, so it feels a little weird to impose a swear jar on him. Luckily, Tim doesn't swear too much to begin with, because when he was little is mom and a few nannies would wash his mouth out with soap when he swore. Alfred is not happy when he hears that, but again, not Bruce's kid. Cass is just learning to talk with them so she doesn't know a lot of swears. When she does learn them, Alfred really can't get made because it just shows him how much progress she's made.

So thanks to Tim and Cass, swearing in the manor is free reign. Dick and Jason are a little jealous of their sibings that didn't have to get lectures about swearing tho...

[xinganhao]

✏️ seatmates joshua x reader.

prompt: "we sit next to each other every day, i lend you pencils, you share snacks with me, people are assuming we’re a couple, let’s go with that." ✶ part of my svt university milestone event

⤿ fluff, slight miscommunication, joshua is whipped, jeongcheol [if u squint!]. more content under the cut. ♡⸝⸝ prompt from anon!

It's not looking like a good start of the week for Seungcheol.

He had an insane bender the night before. He missed the morning bus to school and ended up walking the whole two-kilometer way. And now, the not-quite-a-couple duo who sat in front of him at class was back on their bullshit again.

With his fingers pressed to his temple, Seungcheol watches warily as the starry-eyed boy— Joshua, Seungcheol thinks his name is— places a canned coffee atop the edge of your desk. God, Seungcheol would kill for that right about now.

He's too far gone to make out anything the two of you are saying, but Seungcheol can fill in the blanks. It's probably something stupid, he thinks bitterly. Good morning, love. How was your weekend, love? I missed you, love.

Blegh.

There's only one thing he can think to do. Seungcheol whips out his phone and shoots out a quick slew of texts, trying to ignore the way that Joshua has begun to laugh a little too loud at something you just said.

Seungcheol it's a monday and i'm hungover and the pretty boy in front of me keeps making heart eyes at his seatmate he's laughing. i'm hungover to the heavens and he's laughing god what have i done to deserve this god when will it be my turn Jeonghan you think someone else is pretty? :( Seungcheol do NOT start with me rn

Seokmin doesn't think Joshua notices.

It's just like Joshua, really, to be a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to matters of the heart. And so Seokmin nods along, the perfect picture of indulgence, as you wheedle your way into Joshua's every day.

You don't even have to show up in the physical sense. Joshua fills in those gaps for you. I think they'll like this, Joshua (while holding a box of some obscure snack) tells Seokmin at the grocery store. They'll get a kick out of that, Joshua cackles as he snaps a photo of a silly eraser.

Seokmin knows he could, should probably ask his best friend what the hell is going on. The boy is in desperate need of a quick 'check-the-label' moment, honestly.

In the end, Seokmin decides: Not my circus, not my monkeys.

He figures the two of you will eventually hammer it out yourselves. It's a rite of passage, isn't it? The limbo of flirtation, confined in the four corners of a classroom. The happy crush that may or may not reciprocate.

As Joshua all but skips— honest-to-God skips!— to the Wednesday session of his class with you, Seokmin can't help the fond shake of his head at what Joshua has gotten himself into. Sharing snacks and stationery every M/W/F?

There are worse situationships to have, Seokmin concedes.

Professor Kang has been in the academe for nearly two decades.

He's watched relationships bloom, and last, and end. One or two students have even invited him to their weddings. There's no shortage of gossip in the faculty rooms; there's always a seating plan to orchestrate, a partnered project to use for a little drama.

He likes to think he has a sixth sense for this sort of thing, and that's why he initially believed that you and Joshua... aren't really a thing.

Sure, the two of you bend your heads together a little too close when discussing something. He notices, too, the exchanges— both the transactional and spoken ones. But he's unconvinced, for the most part of the semester, that there's not really anything worth reading into.

That is, until, you don't show up to class one day. On a whim, Professor Kang asks Joshua about your absence, and the boy fumbles with his phone for a couple of minutes.

"Doctor's appointment," Joshua eventually divulges, though there's a slightly worried crease in his eyebrows that has Professor Kang thinking, huh.

That huh gives way to an ah when, at the next class, the two of you slot right back into place. Professor Kang catches bits and pieces of your conversation with Joshua; how he eagerly inquires about your Friday plans, how he listens intently to your little rants.

As the two of you walk out the classroom, your shoulders brush. It's slight enough that anybody not really looking would miss it, would dismiss it, but Professor Kang can only watch with amusement. Joshua apologizes for crowding you— only to take an infinitesimal step closer as the two of you leave the classroom.

By the time the two of you are out in the hall, your shoulders are almost touching again.

Ah, Professor Kang thinks. He swears he's seen it all in the past twenty years, but he's not immune to making mistakes.

Perhaps they're a little bit in love, after all.

[jarofstyles]

Juno

Based off of the song Juno, I tried my hand at writing song inspired one shots again! this one is filthy but I hope you guys enjoy it anyways.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 200+ exclusive works (sign up on your browser and not the iOS app to save fees!)

WC- 3.5k

Warnings- heavy breeding kink, cum play, soft dom H, slight restraining, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up yall)

It had been a long fucking day.

Being the boss wasn't for the weak, apparently. Harry had been through the ringer today especially. People unable to communicate, an overly long and exastrubsating meeting, having to terminate an employee, all of it had made him itchy for the day to end- only for him to have to stay late to fix a problem. He had felt guilty texting his girlfriend that he was going to be home late, telling her his day had been a bit hellish.

Thankfully, he had been blessed with one of the most incredible women in the world, who assured him she was fine, not to worry about her and she would see him when he got home- but he hadn’t expected just an incredible sight to greet him as he opened the bedroom door.

It was like a vision he’d see in the most incredible of dreams.

Y/N was stretched out on the bed, her head propped up on a pile of pillows. She was wearing a tiny, frilly pink babydoll nightgown that barely covered her assets and showed off her legs- god, her fucking legs. The delicate fabric shimmered in the soft lighting, catching Harry's eye and drawing his gaze downward. Dragging his eyes down the perfectly wrapped present, he counted every single one of his blessings.

“Hi.” She spoke softly, clambering up to her knees and crawling to the end of the bed. “I missed you today, H.”

Harry's heart skipped a beat as he watched her crawl towards him, his eyes taking in the delicate nightgown that flowed over her curves in all the right places, riding up her thighs as she sat on her knees waiting for him. He felt a surge of love wash over him, his exhaustion melting away at the sight of her. Crossing the room in long strides, he met her at the end of the bed. "I missed you too, baby," He murmured. “What’s all this, hm?”

“I got a package today. This was what was in it.” She shrugged, running her hand down her waist to show it off. “I figured you had a rough day, but you like when you see the pretty things I buy. I thought…. Maybe this would make you happy.” Her hands ran over his chest, peering up at him through her lashes. “I wanted to make you happy. I love you so much.”

His eyes softened, warmth spreading through his chest as he took in her words. She really had no idea how much she affected him, how much he absolutely adored her. Reaching out, his fingers brushing against the delicate, shimmery fabric, slowly running it up her thighs until it bunched around her waist. "It makes me very happy, my sweet girl." He murmured, his voice raspy as he took in the sight of her bare hips and thighs. "Come here." Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he urged her to straddle his lap, which she did without complaint.

“I know it’s hard to be the boss all day.” Her voice was silky as she ran her finger through his hair, the gel keeping it back having failed hours ago. The man looked slightly disheveled, and that did something to her. “I know you need to come home and have a soft place to land. You’re so good to me. I brag about you to my friends all the time. About everything.” Even the not so appropriate bits. She couldn’t help it! “I want to be the one to help you make your fantasies come true. You pay the bills here, so…” Shrugging her shoulders, she bit down on her glossy lip. “I figured I’d give you something pretty to come home to.”

Harry's large hands palmed her ass, squeezing lightly as she straddled him, her warmth pressing against him. Her words, her kindness, her thoughtfulness, it all made him want to be a better man. She was the soft place he landed every day, his happy place. He leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering closed as her fingers combed through his disheveled hair. “You are… incredible. Fuck me. Can’t believe you’re real.”

“Do you like it?” Pressing her lips to the corner of his, she hooked her finger in his shirt and tugged the half undone tie to the ground. “What I put on for you? I know you like to say M’your little angel. Figured this was a little angelic for you.”

He growled softly in approval, his hands tightening on her ass as her fingers made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt. "It's perfect, just like you." He sighed, his voice hoarse with the amount he had yelled today, and his desire for the girl on his lap. His hands roamed over her curves, his touch gentle but greedy. The man could never get enough of her. He loved how she would let him have his way with her, no matter what he desired. Nothing and no one could compare to how she made him feel, playing into every base level instinct he had. "My little angel... Dressed like that... S’almost unfair."

Y/N let out a giggle, loving the effect she had on him. Knowing he was such a powerful man and yet he had a weakness in her was more arousing than she could have prepared herself for. She loved being his soft spot, his little angel. “It is fair, though. I wore it just for you. And I decided…” This was the part she had been nervous about all day. The decision she had made. She wanted him to lock her down. “I know we aren’t married yet, but I don’t think I can let you wait any longer to give you what you want.” Brushing her nose against his, she spoke against his lips. “I think m’gonna let you get me pregnant.”

Harry's breath hitched, his eyes widening for a moment before they filled with a heat that almost burned her. "Y/N..." He growled, his voice low and loaded. "Are you sure? We can wait if you're not ready." Even as he said the words, his hands tightened on her, pulling her closer against him. He wanted it, he wanted her, like this, forever. When she nodded to agree that she was absolutely sure, he let out a deep groan, eyes wild as they searched her own. " Say it again. Please."

“I want you….” She purred, leaning in so their chests were pressed together. “To get me pregnant. Knock me up.” Smearing their lips together, she sucked a soft kiss to his bottom lip before murmuring again. “Put a baby in me.”

A shudder ran through him at her words, his control snapping. "Fuck, Angel..." He groaned, crashing his lips against hers in a bruising kiss. His tongue delved into her mouth, claiming her, tasting her. She tasted so fucking good, so much like his. He couldn’t get enough. One hand tangled in her hair while the other slid down to grip her thigh, squeezing, owning. Pulling her down fully, he ground up against her, letting her feel how hard she made him. It had started the moment he walked in to see her splayed out on the bed, but this was something else. His weakness. "You want my baby?"

“Uh-huh.” She giggled against his mouth, turning it into a whimper as she felt his cock rub up against her. Since coming to the decision she had been wet, aching for him to actually do it. She wanted to keep him, lock him down in every sense of the word. Be the only one for him. She wanted to be the mother of his children, all of them. There was no patience for waiting. The ring could come later- she had known he got one anyway. “I want to be yours so badly. I need it.”

"Shit, baby, you already are.." Standing up and with her in his arms, he turned them over and set her down on the mattress with her back against it, looking at her with intense eyes. "M’going to give you my baby, my everything. You're going to be so fucking pregnant with my child, everyone's going to know it." Fumbling with his belt, he tossed it down and hurriedly stepped out of his trousers, letting his shirt fall off his shoulders as he watched her sit back up.

Her hands went for his briefs, tugging them down with shaky fingers. Y/N was just as needy for it as he was, and it showed. He let his head fall back, a low groan rumbling in his chest as she wrapped her hands around his shaft and pumped slowly, leaning down to lick the tip. He twitched in her grasp, throbbing in her palm.

"That's it, baby..." He encouraged softly, his hands tangling in her hair as he guided her head down, slowly thrusting into her warm, wet mouth. "Just like that. Get it nice n’wet for me." He pulled out, his breathing heavy.

She came back up for air, her hand pumping him slowly as she looked up at him with wide, eager eyes. "Open up for me, sweetheart. Stick out your tongue." He watched intently as she obeyed, baring her neck and tilting her head back. He wrapped a hand around the base of his erection and slowly pumped, his eyes rolling back as he grew harder. "Thatta girl..." He guided the tip to her lips, rubbing the head on her bottom lip.

He fed her his length slowly, his eyes fluttering shut as he savored the hot sensation of her mouth wrapping back around him. He pulled back and thrust into her mouth again, his hands tangling in her hair and guiding her head. "Look at me, Y/N. Keep your eyes on me."

Her eyes fluttered open, her lashes casting shadows on her flushed cheeks as she looked up at him, her mouth stretched around his thick girth. She hummed against him, eyes watering as he thrust further into her mouth. She looked so good, taking him like that, and he couldn’t help but groan, his pace quickening. "That's my good girl. Such a sweet little thing f’me."

He gently thrust in and out of her mouth, his hands cradling her head. "Relax your jaw for me, Y/N... that's it... jus’ like that." He praised her softly, his voice a husky whisper. "You're doing so well, m’love." He thrust a little deeper, pulling back quickly when she gagged slightly, his eyes flashing with concern. "Careful, careful. Breathe through your nose, baby, you can take it… Y’know how to do it."

She breathed in through her nose as he instructed, her chest rising and falling. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes from the push but she didn't pull away, determined to please him. Her hands came up to grip his thighs for balance as he continued to slowly thrust. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked gently, her tongue swirling around the tip each time he pulled out.

He was absolutely stunning, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his chest heaving with each breath. The sight of his strong thighs tensing and flexing under her hands, the way his abs clenched... it was almost too much. She wanted to memorize every detail. She needed to be his, forever. His skin was flushed and damp with exertion, his hair disheveled. He was the picture of raw, masculine beauty. And he was all hers..

It was adorable, how she whimpered at the loss of his cock as he pulled it from her mouth, but he needed to have her fully. Claim her in the way she had promised to let him. “Mmm, shit. Baby, you’re too good. S’okay.” He panted, pulling her up by her arms and crushing his lips against hers. "I need inside, love. I can't...I can't wait any longer. I need t’put my baby in you."

She nodded eagerly against his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck as he adjusted her against the fluffy duvet. Never in her life had she been this fucking horny, but that was simply the way the man tended to affect her. Her legs spread wide for him, her heels digging into the bed as she watched him move to hover over her. Positioning himself between her thighs, his hands gripping her hips firmly, admiring the beauty that was his angel underneath him. "Y/N...look at me, sweetheart. Keep your eyes on me, okay?" His voice was gentle, loving, but his face was contorted with raw, unbridled desire.

"Need you t’watch while I knock you up." He grit out, pressing forward and filling her with one long thrust. Letting out a low groan as he bottomed out, his eyes fluttered shut in rapture. "Oh, fuck." He hissed, reveling in the feel of her wrapped around him. This was what he needed, the remedy to his long day. Always her. He stilled for a moment, giving her time to adjust to his size. It was a stretch, and he knew it. "Okay?" he asked softly, his hips flexing forward slightly.

“Uh-huh.” Her eyes were glued to his, wide and glassy as he filled her completely. The sensation of being so full, so stretched, was overwhelming. It never got old. When she got tipsy and slightly loose lipped, it was one of the things she alluded to with her friends- how big he was, how fulfilled he made her. She could feel every thick inch of him inside her, his heavy balls pressing against the plush of her ass. A soft whimper escaped her lips as she adjusted to his size, her walls clenching around him in a desperate attempt to keep him inside. "S’so good.”

He began to move, slow and deep at first, savoring the exquisite drag of her silken walls. "That's it, baby... take it. Take every inch of me." He whispered, his hips rolling in a hypnotic rhythm. One hand slid down to rub tight circles over her clit as he fucked into her. "Gonna fill this sweet cunt. Pump you full of me."

His cock stretched her, a dull, delicious ache as he drove into her again and again, the wet sounds of the thrusts filling the room. He angled his hips, searching for that perfect spot inside her. He always did. He loved to make her go crazy, see her buck and cry out when he got it. They fit together so well, sometimes it was hard to believe they’d found each other naturally. When did find it he heard it, music to his fucking ears. The borderline frantic cry as she grabbed his arms where they held her hips, her back arching off the bed. "Yes, there! Just like that." Her nails dug into his forearms as he hit her spot dead on with each thrust.

His balls slapped against her ass with each deep stroke, the sound echoing through the room. “Yeah, I found my spot. Didn’t I?” He crooned, smirk on his face as he kept it up. If there was anything he allowed himself to be smug about, it was how good he made his woman feel. “S’good, I know. Hitting right where my girl needs. God, you’re fuckin’ perfect. Dressing up for me…” He grit his teeth. “Tellin’ me I can finally give you a baby. You love me, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I do. Shit, Harry.” She cried out, her voice high-pitched as her inner walls tightened around his thick shaft. She could barely think, let alone speak, with him filling her so perfectly. “Y-Yes, I love you so much- Please, please, please, please!” She chanted, her hands fisting the sheets beneath her as he continued to fuck into her sopping cunt. “Please what, baby?” He taunted, looking down at her beautiful form. It was the prettiest picture only he got to see. “What d’you want?”

“I-I want you to-” She gasped as he hit her spot again, her toes curling in ecstasy. “I want you to knock me up, H. Please knock me up, get me pregnant like y’wanted. I don’t care, just wanna feel you inside me, I want my tummy to grow, I want all of it.” She pleaded, tugging him down to her as she felt her eyes water, looking up at him. “Please, baby- please, please.”

His face contorted as he looked down at her, love and possession shining in his eyes. "You're really going t’let me breed you like that, huh? All for me?" He grit out with clenched teeth, his hips snapping forward as his hands gathered her, wrapping around her wrists and pinning them above her head. "Y’want to carry my baby, grow round with it inside you?"

"Yes, yes, yes." She chanted with a lovedrunk smile on her face, her back arching as he took her harder. The new angle had him hitting impossibly deep. "Please Harry, I need it. Need you to fill me up, make me yours. I want everyone to know I'm your girl, carrying your baby." Her voice broke, overwhelmed with pleasure. "Fuck, I'm getting close."

"That's it, cum on my cock like a good girl." He growled, feeling her tighten around him like a vice. "Milk me, I'm gonna pump you full. Gonna flood this fertile little cunt with my cum." His balls drew up tight as he pounded into her relentlessly, the wet squelch of her arousal obscene in the room. "Fuck, m’close too. You want it baby?"

Y/N could barely speak as her orgasm took her faster than she had anticipated. It was his voice, his promise that took her there. The sensation was indescribable. Like being consumed, each hard thrust sending wave after wave of intense heat through her veins. She could feel every ridge and vein of his thick, pulsing length as it slid in and out of her slick hole. Her whole body was alight, every nerve ending on fire as he stretched her to the limit. The pressure built and built, her muscles tensing as the first waves of her release washed over her.

"Please, please... I want to feel you, inside me, filling me up. I want your baby, Harry. I want you to breed me." Her words were barely coherent, her mind fogged with desire as he continued to thrust into her, his powerful hips driving his thick cock home again and again. She could feel the heat of his body, the tautness of his muscles as he held back, intent on pouring into her just as she'd begged. “Wanna be the only one.”

“Shit.” He whined weakly, losing all resolve to hold on. Hearing her beg for it was the final straw on his composure. This was a day he had dreamed of, and she had so willingly handed it over to him. It was his turn to give it to her, just as he promised. “I’ll give it to you baby. Give you everything- only t’you. Fuck.” With a feral groan, he lost all control, slamming into her one final time as he erupted inside her. His hot, thick cum flooded her, painting her insides as he filled her to the brim. She could feel it pouring in, the warmth spreading through her belly as he continued to pump her full, his cock jerking and twitching inside her. “Take all of it.”

Her mouth parted on a silent 'O' as she felt him surge inside her, his warmth spreading through her. Her eyes fluttered closed as he released her hands, and her fingers immediately digging on his back as she found a way to cling to him, her legs wrapping around his waist to hold him closer. She didn’t want him to leave, wanted him to stay buried.

"That's it, baby... take it all." He encouraged softly, nuzzling her neck as he slowly thrust in and out, relishing in the feeling as he pulsed inside of her.

She moaned softly, her head tossing on the pillow. "It feels so warm, so good... S’so much inside of me. I love you so much." She whispered, a fucked out smile painting her lips. "I hope it takes."

Pulling out slowly, his cock glistened with them combined as he held her open, his load leaking out of her. The scene was absolutely filthy and everything he had hoped to see when they tried this. "Look at you... so full of my cum. So fucking perfect." He gently held her thigh open with one hand, his fingers on the other spreading her open to show off his work. "Look at how full you are, baby."

She whimpered, her eyes fluttering open as he displayed her to him. "Harry... It's so much. I can feel it dripping out of me. Don’t waste it." She whispered, her voice tiredly giddy. "We should try for round two... just to be sure, right?"

[sceletaflores]

he’s a good time, cowboy casanova!

pair: cowboy!logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 9.4k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, alternate universe/no powers, swearing, drinking, smoking, probably some inaccuracies about ranch life idk i haven't been around a horse in like two years, logan working a lasso yes god, age gap (Logan is mid-40s, reader is early-20s), THE COWBOY HAT RULE RAAAHHH, nasty dirty talk, i was so horny for kissing when i was writing this jesus, p in v, unprotected sex (do as sex ed tells you, not as i write), semi-public sex, riding, creampie, some emotional constipation cause it’s me, porn with a little too much plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: another purely self indulgent work...i just fucking love cowboys what can i say. it's practically ingrained in me by this point. logan would never dance but like who cares he's my barbie i can make him do whatever i want! kisses <3

dividers by angel @saradika-graphics!

a cowboy and the governor’s daughter walk into a barn...

The ranch is alive like you've never seen before, almost every acre lit up in celebration of your father's recent inauguration.

Twinkling lights strung around the barn's ceiling cast a warm orange glow all around you, flickering like fireflies on a summer night.

People are everywhere—laughing, mingling, drinking. Their faces both familiar and new, dressed in everything from head-to-toe denim to their Sunday best.

The lively music from the band floats through the space, couples on the makeshift dance floor twirling to the familiar twang of an acoustic guitar.

You take it all in from your spot against the wall, drink in hand as your eyes scan the room.

You did your share of mingling earlier in the evening, greeting the higher-up’s in your city with hugs and thanks.

You posed for pictures that’ll be splashed across the front pages of Monday’s paper, listened to your father’s speech as you stood by his side with a smile.

This is the first moment you've gotten to yourself since the ball started, one you've spent in content silence while enjoying the perks of an open bar.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing all by your lonesome?"

The honeyed rasp of a voice filtering in from your left paired with the jingling sound of spurs against the soft ground grabs your attention.

At first, you turn ready to greet a stray boutique or feedstore owner you may have missed earlier. You’re pleasantly surprised to see Marie sauntering towards you instead, a bright grin on her face that makes you smile right back.

Marie was one of the first people you met after moving to Texas at the beginning of your father's campaign, and you've only gotten closer since she started as a ranch hand down at Blackbird.

Her unruly red curls spill out from under her Stetson, the bouncy strands swinging in time with the white fringe of her show-shirt as she opens her arms.

"Thought you might have gotten lost in all the fancy folk," she teases, nearly crushing you with the strength of her hug.

You laugh as you hug her back, the warmth of her embrace a welcome interruption to your moment of peace and quiet. Her scent wraps around you, the familiar dust and lavender that's seeped into her clothes.

"Definitely not lost," you say, stepping back to meet her gaze. "Just taking it all in."

Marie smirks, leaning a shoulder against the wall beside you, crossing her arms as she watches the crowd.

"Sure is a good night for it," she says, glancing over at you with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Lookin' for anyone in particular? A nice night cap?"

You snort, taking another sip of your drink. Marie has always been more invested in your love life than you, hand picking guys from around town she deems worthy enough of your attention.

You know she means well, and it's almost as endearing as it is pesky, so you let her play matchmaker from time to time.

“I don’t need a night cap,” you laugh, shaking your head sluggishly. "I’m perfectly fine spending tonight alone."

Before Marie can respond, a stir from outside filters in. Loud cheers and hollers, hooves beating against dirt, the distinct whistle of a lasso slicing through the air.

Marie practically squeals, excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet as she peers through the barn doors. “It’s starting!”

You don’t have time to ask what ‘it’ is before she’s snatching up your wrist and turning to haul you outside.

"Marie! Where the hell are we going?" You practically trip over your own feet trying to keep up with her, your drink splashing up against the rim of your glass precariously.

Marie laughs as she pulls you out into the cool evening air, her boots crunching on the gravel as she drags you toward the commotion. “You’ll see!”

You weave through the crowd forming around the training ring, Marie’s grip still tight around your wrist as she pushes toward the front until you’re right up against the railing. 

You peer over it, eyes adjusting to the floodlights surrounding the ring, illuminating the clouds of dust kicked up by the different ranch hands perched on horses.

A few riders take turns showing off their skills, each of them in the same show-shirt as Marie, expertly swinging lassos and wrangling cattle with practiced ease.

The energy is contagious, and you find yourself smiling, soaking in the excitement pulsing through the crowd.

Marie leans closer, her voice low and laced with something knowing. “Just wait for it, honey. It’s about to get good.”

You give her a puzzled look, but she’s already grinning ear to ear, her attention fully focused on a new rider that chargers into the ring.

You follow her gaze, and your breath catches in your throat.

He rides in like he owns the place, his coal black horse cutting through the fog of dirt like a shadow, sleek and powerful beneath him.

A black Stetson sits low over his face, casting shadows that only add to the rugged allure of his jawline, a jawline that could cut glass. 

As he leans forward to grab the rope tossed at him by one of the other riders, his muscles flex, a kind of strength that isn’t there for show, but for real work.

His show-shirt is stretched over the width of his chest, over broad shoulders that look like they were carved from stone, made for lifting hay bales and hundred pound feed bags.

The sleeves rolled up to expose forearms dusted with dark hair and more than a few scars. His gloved hands rest on the reins with an ease that tells you he’s more than familiar on a saddle.

He’s not the flashiest rider, but there’s something commanding in his presence as he races his horse towards the steer, lasso circling high above his head.

He doesn’t even look like he’s trying to put on a show—he is the show.

Marie’s grip on your wrist tightens, and she leans in again, her voice loud enough to be heard over the crowd.

“That’s Logan,” she says, practically glowing with pride. ”He’s the foreman down at Blackbird, might just be the best damn cowboy in the whole state.”

You blink, hardly able to tear your gaze away from Logan, who’s riding like he’s part of the horse, one seamless, commanding figure cutting through the chaos in the ring. 

His focus is sharp, and as his lasso snaps through the air, catching the steers back leg in a clean loop, the crowd erupts in applause.

A satisfied smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, a glimmer of amusement flashing beneath the shadow of his hat.

Marie nudges you, her grin widening as she catches the look on your face. “Told you he was worth watching,” she teases, winking. “And he’s got a bit of a reputation for bein’ hard to impress—one of those strong, silent types, y’know?”

You roll your eyes, but your heart beats a little faster as Logan turns his horse, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before it lands on you.

Your cheeks warm under his stare, trying to subtly make out the different features of his face from this far. His head tilts just slightly, as if he’s sizing you up from across the ring.

For a second, it feels like the two of you are the only ones there. The cheers from the audience dulling into white noise all around you, everything in your peripheral blurring together—everything but him.

“He’s good…” Your voice has gone light, airy as you watch Logan turn his horse back to lead the steer into the ring's stall with all the others. 

Marie's grin only widens as she leans against the post, clever eyes trained on the side of your face. "You still 'perfectly find spendin' the night alone'?"

You don't respond, too busy watching the strong muscle of Logan's back ripple under his shirt as he rides out of the ring—to your complete dismay—almost as fast as he rode in.

You're only snapped out of your trance when you can't make out his silhouette any longer. The crowd around you dissipates, filtering back into the barn while you're stuck to the fence straining your eyes for broad shoulders and a black cowboy hat.

“Show’s over, sugar.” Marie says with a snort, gently tugging you away from the post. “Come on, let’s get you another drink.”

You lost your company ten minutes ago, but you knew you didn’t stand a chance when Remy found the two of you huddled at the bar.

Sheepishly coming up to Marie with his hat in his hand, pressing it to his chest as he asked her for a dance.

You waved them off with a smile, assuring Marie you'd be fine on your own for a couple songs.

It gave you a chance to step out for some fresh air, to lean against the side of the barn and sneak a cigarette while your father was busy dancing with the town's best real estate agent money can buy.

You take a slow drag, eyes peering up at the stars so you can trace the constellations. You think that this might just be your favorite part of the move. 

Nevada has never been known for its clear skies, you can count the times you’d been able to see the stars on one hand.

You still remember the first night after you settled into your new house, the stress of the move and your fathers inauguration weighed on you enough that sleep was hard to come by. 

You finally crept out of bed around three, climbing over your balcony to perch yourself on the roof, carton of cigarettes and a lighter shoved in the waistband of your shorts.

The first time you looked out over the horizon was like stepping into a whole new world.

The stars had never felt so close, hung through the air like diamonds. So bright against the vast nothingness that stretched out beyond the too-big ranch house on the too-many acres the state appointed you and your father. 

It was like you could almost reach out and touch them, pluck them from the sky like fruit off a tree.

You’d been used to the city lights, the constant hum of noise that swallowed up the stars, but here? It was different. 

The air smelled of dust and rainwater, and the silence was louder than anything you’d ever known.

You remember the deep, quiet hum of the night, almost like it was waiting for you to catch up, to adjust to the new rhythm of the world you were suddenly a part of.

It was a moment of peace, a brief stillness from the mess crowding your head, and you found comfort in that isolation.

You take another long drag, letting the smoke curl around your fingers, the orange embers glowing bright against the darkness.

As the faint scent of tobacco mixes with the cool air, you find that same sense of peace returning, the same stillness settling over your chest.

You tilt your head back to rest on the barn, eyes fluttering shut as you let the crisp breeze lull you into its serenity.

"Those'll kill you, y'know."

A voice comes from just over your shoulder, warm and low. A smooth drawl ringing out from the shadows.

You slip your eyes open, expecting to see one of the older ranch hands or maybe even a city official looking to lecture the governor's kid. 

It takes you a second, but the black Stetson and squared shoulders register quickly enough—Logan. 

You nearly swallow your tongue, eyes widening as you take in the way he leans against the barn a few feet away from you. You don’t know how long he’s been standing there, watching you. 

The moonlight dances across his face, highlighting the rough line of his jaw and the confident tilt of his smirk.

“I didn’t think cowboys were one’s for giving lectures.” You’re shocked at the stillness of your voice, the beat of your heart picking up the tiniest bit.

Logan’s smirk only widens as he pushes off the wall, gravel crunching under his boots as he makes his way over to you, slow and deliberate. He’s still dressed in the same outfit from before, a lasso still coiled in one hand.

He comes to a stop next to you, leaning his shoulder just inches from yours. "Not usually. But when I see a pretty girl puffin' away on somethin' that's bound to ruin her, I make an exception."

You smirk, lifting the cigarette to your lips again just to make a point, even as your pulse jumps a little under his gaze. "Guess we all have our vices.” You say, blowing out the smoke slowly, watching the way his gaze tracks its lazy drift.

Logan’s eyes trail back to yours, and you can see the color of them now that he’s closer. A mix of different greens and browns fading together, like a forest in the thick of summer.

The lightest dusting of freckles decorate the bridge of his nose, trailing along his cheeks until they disappear under his beard, a product of being out in the sun so often.

You’re struck by how pretty he is, all long lashes and red lips.

Well, pretty for a cowboy anyway.

“You plan on sharin’?”

You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles from your chest, brow raising skeptically. “That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

Logan just shrugs, a lazy half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I reckon’ it’s rude to let a lady smoke alone.”

You huff lightly, reaching into the pocket of your dress. You flick the top of your Marlboros open, slipping a cigarette out and offering it to Logan silently. 

He takes it, his fingers brushing against yours enough to send a spark through you. It travels up your arm and all around your shoulders to seep down through your entire body, resting in your stomach to swirl through the heat simmering there.

“Got a light?” He asks, words muffled around the filter.

You roll your eyes, but reach back into your pocket regardless. Logan leans closer as you flip your zippo open, taking his hat off to cover the side of his face, blocking the flame from the lazy breeze.

Your heart stutters in your chest as he nears closer. You didn’t expect he’d want you to light it for him. You will your hand to steady as you raise the flame to the tip, holding it close enough that the small light illuminates his face.

The intoxicating mix of leather and musk invades your senses. You fight the urge to lean into it entirely, to close the gap.

When the flame flickers and catches the end of his cigarette, Logan pulls back, taking a languid drag, the embers glowing between his lips.

His eyes don't leave yours as he exhales deeply, the smoke curling from his lips in slow tendrils. You can’t tell if it’s the nicotine or the way he’s looking at you that’s making your head spin.

You break eye contact, feeling the flush creeping up your neck, and lean back against the barn to cool yourself off. Logan leans beside you, a comfortable silence settling over the two of you, just the soft crackling of cigarettes and distant music filling the space between.

Logan puts his hat back on, his voice breaking through the quiet as he does. “You’re Governor Wright’s daughter, ain't you?”

You nod slowly, exhaling another long plume of smoke. It’s still weird hearing it out loud. “I am.”

Logan hums, turning his head to face you again. The silver moonlight catching the glint in his eye.

“Saw your picture in the paper.” His gaze rakes from the top of your head, all the way down to the tips of your boots. “Looked real nice.”

The air feels heavier as Logan’s eyes travel over you, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle, before meeting your gaze again. His eyes hold a hint of amusement, the green of them darker than before. The heat swims through you faster, stronger.

“Congratulations.” He adds, almost like an afterthought. A quick pivot to take some attention away from how his eyes swept over your body so shamelessly.

You snort before you can stop yourself. If you had a dollar for every time you’ve heard that over the past few weeks. “Yeah,” you say, kicking at some rocks near your feet. “Thank you.”

You can see the way Logan’s brow raises out of the corner of your eye, his gaze burning a hole along your profile.

“Don’t sound too excited,” he comments, exhaling lazily. “That why you’re hidin’ out here?”

You shrug, leaning back against the barn and tapping your cigarette to shake off some ash. “Maybe I just like the quiet,” you say. “Or maybe I’m avoiding another round of ‘how proud are you of your daddy’ small talk.”

Logan stays quiet, and you feel the overwhelming need to explain yourself. A need to fill the silence, like he’s some kind of magnet that soothes the truth from people.

You sigh, turning your eyes to the dark sky again. “I’m happy for my dad, of course I am but…” You trail off, searching for the right words. “It’s just a lot.”

He chuckles lightly, a low rumble that feels more real than the sounds of laughter from inside the barn. “Hell, I don’t blame you,” he says, his eyes flicking up to the stars too. “Nothin’ wrong with takin' a breather now and then.”

You both stand there in comfortable silence, the night stretching out around you, as vast and open as the sky above. You let yourself study Logan out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way he seems at ease, like he’s as much a part of this land as the grass and stars.

Finally, he looks over, and you feel that sharp gaze settle on you again. “You keep starin’ like that,” he says, a teasing note creeping into his voice, “I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re more interested in somethin' other than the stars.”

Your mouth drops open slightly, heat rushing to your ears as you search for something to say.

Logan’s smirk widens as he catches the way your breath stutters, and for a moment, the silence is thick, the air between you charged. 

You force a laugh, trying to play it off, but it’s weak, and you can feel the heat creeping up your neck again. "I—"

Back inside the barn, the band switches songs, saving you from your embarrassment. A softer melody floats through the air, slow and sweet as molasses. It’s muffled enough that it sounds almost hazy, like a soundtrack to the most wonderful dreams.

Logan turns to watch the shadows move in the light spilling through the open doors. Couples pairing off, taking to the dancefloor. All warm embraces and slow moving circles, swaying to the gentle beat.

He turns back to you, running his thumb over the coarse lasso in his hand. “Care for a dance?”

You raise your brow, skepticism written all over your face. “I don’t really do that.”

Logan doesn’t back down, tilting his head with an easy grin. “Seems like a waste not dancin’ in a dress like that.”

You can’t fight the smile that tugs your lips up, shaking your head with a quiet laugh as you peer down at the nice floral fabric of your sundress. The wind makes it swish along your sides, the flowy fabric swaying over the knee of your boots.

“Maybe another time, Logan.” You try to ignore how good his name feels rolling off your tongue.

He takes one last drag off his cigarette before he’s stubbing it out on the worn leather of his belt and slipping the butt in his jean pocket. It’s both the strangest and most endearing thing you’ve ever seen—a cowboy that refuses to litter.

“Well I’m gonna have to insist.” He crosses his arms over his chest, straining the fabric around his biceps. There’s a challenge in his eyes now, a dare.

“Oh, you’re insisting, are you?” You repeat doubtfully, lolling your head to the side languidly, your hair flowing with it. ”And how are you gonna do that?”

Logan doesn’t answer with words, just raises his arm to start twirling his lasso through the air with a smug grin. He circles once, twice, three times before a deft flick of his wrist sends the rope across the way to you. 

It slips over your shoulders, sliding down to catch on the curve of your hips.

You raise a brow, reluctant smile still playing on your lips. “Do you carry this thing with you everywhere you go?”

Logan cocks a brow, tugging on his end of the rope so it tightens around you, forcing you a step closer.

You stumble forward with a soft laugh, eyes darting up to meet Logan's. The lasso feels snug, but not tight enough to hurt, just enough to let you know he’s in control, and the thought sends a spark straight down to your core.

“You sure you don’t dance?” He tugs you a few steps closer, his smirk only deepening as he effortlessly reels you in.

You bite your lip to stifle a smile, shaking your head. “You sure are persistent, I’ll give you that.”

Logan doesn’t wait for you to say anything else, instead taking that final step forward. His grip tightens slightly on the lasso, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space between you. 

You can feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of your dress, his chest rising and falling with each slow, deliberate breath.

“Some would say it’s my best quality,” he teases quietly, voice dropping to something lower, like gravel and velvet. “Now, you gonna fight me the whole way through, or are we gonna dance?”

You glance up at him, your chest fluttering in spite of yourself. A thousand lame excuses run through your mind, but all you can manage is a breathless laugh, the sound caught somewhere between amusement and nerves.

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice,” you murmur, hands tentatively coming to rest on his shoulders. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Logan’s smile softens, his hand slinking around your hips to loosen the lasso, letting it slip down your legs so you can step out of it.

Big hands settle on your waist, brushing the soft fabric of your dress, sending a fresh wave of warmth through you. His touch is firm and gentle all at once, guiding you effortlessly into an easy sway.

The moment you fall into the rhythm of the music, your body moves naturally against Logan’s, and you can feel the charge between you intensify with each step.

His boots scrape against the dirt as he leads you in a slow, almost languid circle. Your feet match his without thinking, the sound of your boots in sync with the soft country tune playing from the barn.

“See? Not so bad, huh?” His voice is low, a soft whisper against the backdrop of the music.

You nod slowly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, the warmth of his body seeping into your skin. The rough scrape of his jeans against your bare legs sends a delicious shiver skittering up your spine.

“Not so bad,” you agree, your voice quieter now, the playful edge slipping away as something deeper stirs between you.

You tilt your head up, breath catching in your chest when you find him already looking down at you. His lips quirk up slightly, but there’s a new intensity there now, something sharper than the teasing glimmer from before.

"Logan," you murmur, but your voice is barely a whisper, lost to the night air.

His free hand slides up the length of your spine, trailing along your neck until he’s cupping the side of your face. His thumb grazes your cheekbone with a gentleness you never thought men like him to be capable of.

The space between you shrinks even more as Logan dips his head, his nose brushing against yours in a featherlight touch that sends a shiver down your spine

“You gonna tell me to stop?” He murmurs, his lips so close now you can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin.

Your throat works to form words, but they’re gone, stolen by the way his hands slide a fraction lower on your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

Your breath hitches again, and without thinking, you close the space, lips pressing against his, soft at first, unsure. Logan deepens it almost immediately, tugging you impossibly closer.

It’s tender–achingly so. Logan’s lips are surprisingly soft, he tastes like top-shelf whiskey and your Marlboro Golds. They mold to yours with a gentle pressure, warm and inviting. His hand on your face tilts your head slightly, angling you just right as his thumb continues to trace soft circles over your cheek.

The warmth of it spreads through you, settling low in your stomach, and you think you could stay like this the whole night, wrapped in the quiet safety of him.

All too soon, Logan’s pulling away. You whine pathetically, lips chasing his own. You’d be embarrassed if it wasn't for the pure need coursing through you.

“You were right,” he mutters lowly, running his thumb along the slick expanse of your bottom lip. “This is a hell of a lot better than dancin’.”

“Shut up.” You drag him back down by the fistfuls of his shirt, your own lips hungrily seeking out his again.

This kiss is different, something filthier, something messier. It’s like a dam breaking to let a rush of water break free, all the tension unraveling itself as you meet again.

The gentle tilt of Logan’s head changes, and when his teeth catch your bottom lip with just enough pressure, your knees feel dangerously close to buckling.

His hand slides down from your cheek, skimming your jawline before tangling into the hair at the nape of your neck. His tongue sweeps past your lips, and the taste of whiskey and smoke is heady, stronger, dizzying.

Logan’s mouth moves against yours with a confidence that makes your head spin, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

You let out a soft, involuntary sound, and that only spurs him on, the hand in your hair tightening as he presses you back against the rough wood of the barn.

It digs into your body harshly, scratching at the bare skin of your shoulders and backs of your thighs. You hardly care.

Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, knocking his hat off so you can tug him closer as your tongues slide together lewdly. Logan groans into your mouth at the sting of his scalp, you can feel the rumble of it in your bones. 

His beard scratches against your chin and cheeks so deliciously that you can’t help but imagine where else it might rub your skin red and raw. The thought alone has a shudder running through you, your hips arching off the barn unconsciously.

The subtle grind when your hips slot together is enough to have Logan’s grip tightening around your hips. His fingers flexing where they’re still tangled in your hair. You moan softly at the hard length tenting his jeans, pressing insistently against your lower stomach, big even trapped in the rough denim.

Your body reacts to the thick plane of heat almost viscerally, your pussy aching with the need to be filled.

When you finally break apart, it’s only because neither of you can breathe.

Logan pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his forehead resting against yours, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths that match your own. His pupils are blown wide, dark and intense. You dazedly think back to the sleek coat of his horse, black as ink and shining under the rings lights. 

His lips are an angry red and slightly swollen, glistening in the pale moonlight, and the sight of him—disheveled and wanting—sends another wave of heat blooming through your core to leak wet and sticky in your panties.

“Your daddy would shoot me between the eyes if he caught us like this, darlin’.”

You hide your pleased smile in the crook of his neck, trailing soft kisses from his jaw to his ear. “Then we should find somewhere a little more private, shouldn’t we?”

Logan groans, hands bunching the fabric of your dress in tight fists as your lips brush against the lobe of his ear with every word, teasing. “I reckon’ we should.”

You step back, fingers trailing down to toy with the shiny belt buckle sitting pretty on his waist. “Lead the way.”

Logan smirks, tongue swiping along his bottom lip. “Yes ma’am.”

He bends to grab his hat from where it lays at his feet, pushing his hair away from his eyes before dropping it back on his head. His hand finds the small of your back, turning to lead you away from the barn.

You try not to notice how well it fits. 

Turns out, ‘somewhere a little more private’ is just another barn. This one filled with stray mountains of hay and empty horse stalls instead of the watchful eyes of partygoers.

You can’t bring yourself to care, not when Logan’s got you pressed to the closed door, his hands roaming down your body like he’s memorizing every curve, every dip. 

“Christ, you’re somethin’ else,” Logan mutters, his voice thick with want as his lips ghost along the side of your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that make your knees shake.

His breath is hot against your ear when he adds, “Bet you’re soaked for me already, aren’t you, darlin’?”

The rough pads of his fingers drag along your bare thighs as he hikes your dress higher, the fabric bunching at your waist. The cool air kisses your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat between your legs as his palms knead the soft flesh. 

You bite your lip to stifle the embarrassing moan that threatens to escape, but he catches the sound anyway, pressing a cocky grin to the side of your cheek.

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me now.” His hand slides between your thighs, calloused fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties. 

The low groan that escapes him when he feels how wet you are is pure sin, vibrating against your neck as his fingers trace over the damp cotton. “Fuck, barely touched you and you’re already drippin’ for me.”

“Logan—” You start, but your words dissolve into a sharp gasp as he hooks a finger beneath the fabric, pulling it to the side.

The first drag of his finger through your slick folds has your head falling back against the wall with a dull thud. A high moan falls from your parted lips, embarrassing and needy as your thighs clench around his wrist.

Logan just hums, pressing a kiss to the corner of your slack mouth. “Is she hurtin’ real bad, baby?” he asks softly, his thumb pressed over your pulsing clit. “Just gotta give you some sweet kisses and she gets all worked up, huh?”

Your only response is a breathless whimper, your fingers clutching at his shoulders for stability as he teases you with slow, torturous circles around your clit.

His thick pointer finger slides through the slick seam of your pussy, catching on your dripping entrance before it’s sinking to the knuckle in one slow thrust. 

You arch into him, your hips rocking instinctively to take him deeper, desperate for more. His other hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing along your cheek as his gaze locks onto yours. 

The intensity in his eyes makes your stomach flip, your breath hitching as he watches every little expression cross your face.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he coaxes, sliding his finger in and out at a maddeningly slow pace. “Look at you, so fuckin’ beautiful. Takin’ my fingers so good, baby.”

“Please,” you gasp, the need in your voice making his smirk widen.

“Please what?” he teases, curling his finger inside you and grinning when you nearly sob at the sensation. “Gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

You whimper, thighs trembling as you manage to stutter out, “Kiss…kiss me.”

Logan groans, brows twitching up like that wasn’t what he was expecting to fall from your slick, kiss bitten lips. He doesn’t waste a second, leaning in to capture your mouth with his in a kiss that’s equal parts desperate and bruising. 

His lips part against yours, tongue sliding in to meet yours, hot and eager, as he sinks a second finger inside your clenching hole. 

The kiss deepens, becoming a rhythm of its own, each stroke of his tongue matching the languid thrust of his fingers.

Logan's lips move hungrily against yours, his pace never faltering even as his fingers curl inside you, searching, teasing, until—there.

The moment he brushes against that spot, your back arches off the barn wall, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat. He grins against your lips, breaking the kiss just long enough to murmur, “There she is.”

The slick sound of his fingers pumping into you fills the quiet barn, mingling with your soft, breathy whimpers. His thumb circles your clit with devastating precision, each pass of his fingers inside you coaxing your body closer to the edge.

“You’re squeezin’ me so tight, honey,” he groans, his voice rough and dripping with praise. “Can feel how close you are. Bet you’re gonna fall apart for me so pretty, aren’t ya?”

You shake your head, your breath coming in soft pants. “No.” Your hand snakes down to his wrist, halting his movements. “Wanna finish with you inside me.”

Logan stills, his breath catching as your words hang heavy in the air. His fingers stay buried inside you, the slight curl of them making your thighs quake as his eyes search yours.

The fire there burns hotter now, feral and barely restrained. 

“Yeah?” The raw hunger in his voice makes your pulse spike. “You want me inside you, huh? Wanna feel me stretch you open, baby?”

You nod eagerly, your chest heaving as his words fan the flames of your desire. 

“Alright,” he mutters darkly, voice gone low and smoky. “I’ll give you what you want.”

Logan slips his fingers from the warm grip of your pussy, the sudden emptiness stealing all the air from your lungs. You miss the stretch almost immediately, clenching around nothing with a soft moan.

He lifts his hand between you, his fingers glistening with your wetness in the dim light. “Look at that,” he says softly, almost in awe, before slipping his fingers into his mouth and groaning at the taste.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your cheeks burning at the sight. 

Logan catches your gaze, a wicked smirk spreading across his face as he leans in close. “C’mon,” he whispers softly against the skin of your neck, hands slipping around the backs of your thighs and squeezing gently. “Up.”

You hitch your legs up around his waist, a soft breath escaping you at the way he lifts you with ease, like you weigh nothing.

You can’t help but run your hands over the thick muscle of his biceps as he walks you further into the barn, lips trailing wet kisses along where his shirt’s top button popped open, exposing more of his tan skin to your greedy eyes.

Logan falls back against a knocked over bale of hay, you feel the hot length of his hard cock grinding over the slick fabric of your panties as he positions you over his lap.

You waste no time, stray pieces of hay digging into your knees as your trembling hands reach for his buckle. Your fingers brush over the cool metal as you fumble sliding the worn leather through his belt loops.

Logan just watches you, leaning back on his forearms with a smirk—cool as ever.

Once his belt is undone and his zipper dragged down, you shove at his jeans, watching with a mix of anticipation and desire as his cock springs free, thick and heavy and already leaking for you. 

You’ve heard the expression ‘hung like a horse’ countless times. You always thought it was a gross exaggeration, until now.

Logan’s hand glides down his stomach to start stroking himself lazily, his eyes never leaving yours. “Been hard since the second I laid eyes on you tonight. Could barely keep my hands to myself, watchin’ you all dolled up like that. Drove me fuckin’ crazy.”

Your mouth waters with the need to taste, eyes tracking the thick line of pre-come leaking from his flushed tip. 

The phantom ache in your jaw almost has you dropping to your stomach right there, but you know that your time here is limited, and you need Logan inside of you more than anything.

You lean back, lifting your legs so you can shimmy your soaked panties down and off, tossing them behind you haphazardly the same way you tossed his belt.

His eyes are locked onto yours as you crawl back towards him, situating yourself over his lap all over again. You take a steadying breath as you reach for his cock, nearly moaning at the heft of it in your hand, at the near scalding touch of his silky skin against your palm.

“Hang on, baby.” Logan’s hands fall to your hips, stopping you just as the tip of his cock brushes against your dripping pussy. “You wanna ride, you gotta look the part.”

He drags his hands lower, calloused palms rough against the soft skin of your thighs. It’s enough to make you shiver, hips twitching down with the desperate need to be filled.

“Got the boots,” he murmurs idly, thumbs sliding along the back of your thighs. “Just need the hat.”

Logan reaches up to grab his hat by the crown, pulling it off his head to drop it on yours.

You left out a soft breath, feeling the worn felt settle on the top of your head, still warm from his own.

It’s too big, slipping down to shadow your eyes. Logan’s gaze darkens as he adjusts it, tipping it back just enough to frame your face.

“Much better,” he says, flicking the brim once before his hands fall back to your hips. “Alright cowgirl, give it to me good.”

The words shoot straight to your core, igniting something wild and reckless inside you.

You bite your lip, spurred on by the way his hands knead the meat of your hips. Not forcing or pushing, just two steady weights as you slowly start to sink down.

It's nearly torturous, but in the best way possible. The stretch of each inch a pleasant burn as your hips slot against his after what feels like an eternity.

“Fuck.” Logan grits out, his hands tightening on your hips as you settle, giving yourself a moment to adjust to the overwhelming fullness. 

Your body trembles, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you slowly begin to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles.

Logan’s eyes track every movement, darkened with need, a quiet groan slipping from him as his hands slide lower, gripping your ass, urging you to pick up the pace.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “Takin’ it all so good.”

His praise only encourages you, and you lift yourself up before sinking back down, your hands gripping the scratchy fabric of his shirt for leverage.

The feeling of him filling you up, stretching you with every downward movement, makes your head swim, the pressure building in your core.

The barn is filled with the sounds of skin slapping together lewdly, with the wet gush of your pussy leaking around the base of his cock messily. It has your ears burning, shame and arousal a heady mix in your lower belly.

Logan’s hips start to rise from the barn floor, snapping up to meet yours with every bounce. You can feel him deeper like this, brushing against places that make your legs shake with pleasure. 

You’re dangerously close to the edge already, a mess from all the teasing earlier. But from the way Logan’s muscles flex and tense beneath you, you can tell he is too.

“Goddamn,” he growls, his hands moving to grip your thighs, helping you bounce on top of him impossibly faster. “You feel so fuckin’ good, baby, so fucking perfect. Don’t stop.”

His words make your head spin, the filthy praise sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. You can’t hold back the moans spilling from your lips, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

Your hands scramble for the front of his shirt, tugging and pulling until it’s loose enough to show off the toned muscle of his chest.

You rake your nails through the dark hair decorating his skin, hardly paying any attention to the brand burned into the skin across his left pec.

"Tell me how it feels," he groans, his voice dark and commanding. "Tell me how good I’m makin’ you feel."

"So good," you manage to gasp, your voice breaking as he grinds against that perfect spot inside you. "Logan, I—"

“You’re close,” he rasps, his grip on your hip tightening as he drives into you harder. “I can feel you, baby. So fuckin’ close. Gonna come for me, aren’t ya? Gonna milk my cock like a good girl?”

You’re too far gone to answer, your body trembling as the coil in your stomach clenches, tighter and tighter. Your head lolls back to the ceiling, eyes fluttering shut as you near the edge.

"C’mon honey," Logan groans, his thumb finding your clit again, circling it in time with his thrusts. “Come for me, let it all fuckin’ out.”

You're helpless to deny him, the thick stretch of his cock paired with the gentle pressure of his thumb on your clit tightening your body like a bowstring threatening to snap.

 “Logan—oh God—Logan!” Your orgasm crashes over you, leaving you trembling and gasping as your walls shake around him.

Logan’s hips stutter, his rhythm faltering as he groans low in his throat. “Goddamn,” he growls, his voice wrecked. “So fuckin’ perfect, squeezin’ me so tight—fuck—”

With a few more rough thrusts, he buries himself as deep as he can go, his body going rigid against yours as he finds his own release, groaning your name like it’s the only word he knows.

You slump onto him gracelessly, your body spent and trembling as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. His cock jumps and pulses inside you, sending little aftershocks through your sensitive core as you feel the slick spray of his come painting your walls.

The rough fabric of his shirt feels oddly comforting on the overheated skin of your cheek as you rest your head on his chest, trying to catch your breath.

The brand catches your eye again, more pronounced now that the wiry hair dusted along his chest lays flush, slick with a thin sheen of sweat.

You raise your hand, gently tracing over the raised skin, feeling the rough texture under your fingertips. A curved ‘X’ scarred right over his heart. 

The same ‘X’ that was embroidered on the front of Marie’s shirt, that hangs above the doors of the very barn you lay in, that’s scattered all throughout the property.

You read once that not all cowboys choose the brand, only the most loyal to the ranch. A kind of fierce loyalty that knows no bounds, that has no limits—it may be the only loyalty most will ever know.

You think back to your grandmother sitting you down at her weathered kitchen table a few days before your father and you made the move. The stern talking to she gave you felt silly at the time, useless information that you’d never actually need.

Now that you're here, her words ring in your ears for the first time in months, blaring and unavoidable.

“Don’t go and get mixed up in any cowboy business, honey. They’ll never love you more than the life, you’ll always be in the rearview mirror.”

Logan takes your hand in his, bringing it from his chest to his lips for a quick kiss before pointedly lowering it to his jean clad thigh. You can feel the way his fingers flex around your wrist, telling.

You swallow hard, the air in the barn suddenly feeling thick and heavy.

You're pushing yourself to your feet before you even realize what you're doing, ignoring the dull ache as his spent cock slips from inside you.

Logan hisses at the sensation, but he's pushing himself to his feet all the same. You're dying to sneak a peek at the look on his face, but you refuse to turn to him.

Maybe out of shame, maybe out of fear for what you might find if you do.

You straighten the wrinkled fabric of your dress, trying in vain to make yourself look as half as presentable as you did before walking into this barn.

The distant sound of a zipper being tugged up and the whisper of denim against denim catches your attention. Your eyes flick to the doors, your brain going a million miles a minute as you consider your options.

You could always beat him to it. You could walk out right now and pretend this never happened, avoid Blackbird like the plague for the rest of your fathers political career.

You doubt you'd ever see Logan outside these fences, it would be so easy to forget.

You shift on your feet, lip caught between your teeth. The sweet ache between your legs only matches the one in growing your chest, all those good feelings sour at the thought of walking away.

Against your better judgment, you turn back to him. 

Logan’s already looking at you, hands busy with slipping his belt back into place.

You’ve always been good at reading people, at gauging what they might be feeling, but as your eyes scan along the flushed skin of his face, you find yourself unable to describe what you see swirling in his eyes.

“When will I see you again?” It’s weak, barely a whisper. You want to kick yourself for sounding so small, for getting so caught up in a man you hardly know.

Logan lets out a soft breath, hands coming to rest on his hips as he searches for something to say. “Whenever you have a reason to I reckon'.”

The words hang heavy in the air between you.

His answer is honest, unpolished—just like him. Something about it hits you deeper than you expect, a bittersweet sting that tightens your chest.

It’s not a perfect answer, but it’s something. 

You try to stomp down all the feelings of hope filling your mind, pointedly ignoring the eruption of butterflies in your stomach.

“Well if that’s the case,” you say slowly, eyes never leaving Logan’s as you step closer. “Then I guess you better keep these.”

You reach around his waist to slip your panties in the back pocket of his jeans, patting the denim a few times for good measure before you step away again.

“Gives you a reason to come see me again, cowboy.”

Logan chuckles, soft and sweet as he shakes his head bemusedly. He raises his hand, gently taking his hat from your head to drop it back on his own.

“You’re really somethin’ else,” he mutters, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, the gesture tender in its unexpectedness.

You let out a shaky breath, heart pounding in your chest, and for a moment, everything feels raw.

Too raw. Like you're teetering on the edge of something dangerous and intoxicating, something you’re not sure you’re ready to handle.

You let your gaze drop to the floor, biting the inside of your cheek as you resist the urge to say something else, to push the moment further.

Instead, you turn, taking a slow step toward the barn doors.

Just before you reach them, you hear him again, his voice steady, but there’s something in it that makes you pause, hands lingering on the doorframe.

"Don’t be a stranger, alright?" he calls after you.

You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes one last time. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: lowkey want to make this a series...like this was so fun to write and i have a few more ideas...let me know chickens <3

[flwrstqr]

★ ENHYPEN WHEN YOU GET IN A DATING RUMOR WITH OTHER IDOL.

────𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬, when you get in a dating scandal and your boyfriend is not so happy about it

✶ INTRODUC𝓲NG ⦂ idol!enhypen ୨୧ idol!reader ｡｡ fluff, one shot, ⟡​ 11OO tw. skinship jealousy petnames && ARCHiVE ／ ૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა

` ( ´ ▽ ` ) ♡ : PLEASE REBLOG & GIVE FEEDBACK !

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

heeseung tries to play it cool when he sees fans shipping you with another male idol, but the small pout on his lips betrays him. “so, that’s the new thing now?” he teases as he scrolls through the hashtag, his thumb hovering over a particularly popular edit of you and the other idol. you giggle, leaning over to steal his phone, but he pulls you closer instead, wrapping an arm around your waist. “it’s kinda funny,” you say, cupping his face to make him look at you instead of the screen. “you’re the only one i’m actually with, you know that, right?” his lips twitch into a shy smile, his forehead resting against yours. “yeah, but do they know that?” he murmurs before pecking your lips, “besides, i’m way cuter than him, right, baby?”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐀𝐘

jay spots the edits on his feed, his eyebrow quirking as he watches fans swoon over the idea of you and another male idol. “huh, interesting,” he mutters, pretending to be unfazed, though the way he clings to your side says otherwise. you notice and nudge him, grinning. “don’t tell me you’re jealous, baby.” he scoffs, pulling you closer by your waist. “jealous? me? nah, i just think they’ve got it all wrong,” he says, brushing his nose against yours. you chuckle, threading your fingers through his hair. “it’s cute, though, you getting all pouty like this.” he clicks his tongue. “i’m not pouty. just making sure they know you’re mine—i mean, not theirs.” he grins cheekily before kissing your temple. “besides, you and i are the real power couple, sweetheart.”

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

you’re scrolling through your phone backstage when jake plops down beside you, leaning his chin on your shoulder. “what’s got you so distracted, angel?” he asks casually, though his eyes quickly catch the screen showing a trending clip of you laughing with another male idol. his lips press into a firm line, and you suppress a giggle. “you’re pouting, jake,” you tease, nudging him lightly. “no, i’m just pursing my lips,” he retorts, though his gaze doesn’t leave the screen. you turn to face him fully, cupping his cheeks to tilt his head toward you. “you’re cute when you’re jealous, you know that?” his face softens as you press a quick kiss to his cheek, and he sighs, his arms wrapping loosely around your waist. “not jealous,” he mumbles, voice betraying his words. “just... reminding you who makes you smile the most.”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

you catch sunghoon scrolling through his phone, his expression unreadable as he stumbles upon yet another edit of you and the male idol you’ve been getting shipped with lately. he glances at you, sprawled out on the couch beside him, completely unaware. "y/n," he starts, voice low and casual, "what's so great about him anyway? he doesn't even know your favorite ice cream flavor." you giggle at his words, but he’s already leaning closer, resting his head on your shoulder as he scrolls pass articles. "besides," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face, "i look way better standing next to you." your cheeks flush, and he smirks, planting a soft kiss on your temple. "they should be making edits of us instead," he quips, pulling you closer as if daring anyone to disagree.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎

sunoo’s lips pout slightly as he scrolls through his phone, the sight of your name alongside another male idol's trending yet again. “they don’t know you’re mine, sunshine,” he mutters, his voice soft but laced with a hint of envy. you glance at him from across the room, noticing the way he fiddles with the hem of his sweater. slipping beside him, you lean your head on his shoulder, your hand finding his. “you know they’re just fans having fun, right?” you tease, intertwining your fingers with his. his pout deepens, but his thumb brushes over your knuckles, a silent reassurance that he’s okay. “still… it’s annoying,” he admits quietly, resting his head atop yours. you laugh softly, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍

jungwon tries to brush it off when your name gets linked with another male idol, but it eats away at him more than he'd like to admit. he watches the fancams, his jaw tightening every time fans comment about your “chemistry” with someone else. it’s not like he doesn’t trust you—he does, more than anyone—but the way people are just shipping you and this random male idol. you notice it when he gets quieter than usual, his playful teasing replaced with absentminded hums. "what’s going on in that head of yours, wonnie?" you ask, gently poking his cheek. he finally mumbles, "do you think they look better with you?" you cup his face, pulling him close until your foreheads touch. "you’re my favorite, always," you whispers with a sweet a kiss at the end. his arms snake around you tightly. "mine too," he murmurs, smiling shyly.

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

riki laughs it off when fans start shipping you with another male idol, but you can tell he’s just masking his feelings. "oh, so that’s your type?" he teases, dramatically clutching his chest like he’s been betrayed. you roll your eyes, but he doesn’t let up, following you around. "should i dye my hair like his? maybe then i’ll have a chance," he jokes, his grin widening when you swat his arm. later, when it’s just the two of you, his teasing shifts to something softer. "you don’t actually think he’s cooler than me, right?" he asks, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. you smile, tugging him down by the hoodie strings so you’re eye-to-eye. "you’re irreplaceable, riki," you say, brushing your nose against his. he groans playfully, hiding his flushed cheeks in your shoulder. "ugh, you’re so cheesy, but i’ll take it since i love you."

[reignpage]

The Other Man

Your worst nightmare is avoiding your eyes. 

Still sweating and slightly out of breath from the sprint you made from your home to the hospital, you try to wipe your hands down the material of your jeans, and you’re mortified to find them shaking. 

Is it from adrenaline or from fear? 

When they said they found your husband, alive, and he’s been fixed up all brand new, you thought everything would be fine, that things would go back to normal. Your home will finally stop being so stifling, you won’t burn a hole through your carpet from all the pacing like your friend tried to joke, and you no longer have to hold yourself at night just to stop from hyperventilating.

But when you look at his eyes and see only confusion and a drop of anxiety, you know something’s gone terribly wrong. 

“He suffered trauma to the head and we noticed no signs of it during surgery, so the symptoms only showed up now. We’re sorry we hadn’t been able to warn you ahead of time,” the doctor says. 

Maybe now your hands are shaking from anger. 

You step towards the doctor, the sterile smell of latex gloves and death stinging your nose, and you splutter out, “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with my husband? Why is no one just telling me straight up?”

He flinches. 

They both do. 

You don’t feel bad, can’t feel bad. 

The doctor opens his mouth and he’s explaining, rambling about all sorts of medical terms you don’t know and it’s likely he’s doing it to distract you, or punish you, but you do hear one word. It registers and sends a static ringing through your ears. 

“It would seem your husband has developed retrograde amnesia.”

Amnesia. 

When he finishes, a silence takes over, filling up the room and pressing you to the walls, daring you to suck in a breath. A beat or two passes whilst he wait for either one of you to say something, ask something, anything. But no one does, so he leaves and immediately you wish he stayed. 

“Hi.”

His voice breaks you out of your internal panicking. It has a slight quiver, perhaps from the deep sleep he had been under, or the exhaustion that had built up, the price to pay for saving so many people in one night. The reports said, on the night he disappeared, that there had been many curses, strong ones, gathered in an organised attack, an ambush. They had backed your husband in a corner and pushed him to his limits. 

They did this. 

You try to smile. 

“Hi, baby, how you doing?”

There’s a blush forming across his cheeks and you smile for real, finding his embarrassment adorable, but then it drops just as quick when he clears his throat, as if setting a boundary. 

“So,” he drags out, “you’re my wife, huh?”

What’s the procedure for losing your loved one to an internal injury so bad you feel it cut deep? What’s the etiquette? Because you’re so sure screaming at him to stop playing this cruel joke is probably not a good idea; you already know what the doctors would say.

It would be unwise to push him.

Your steps are hesitant but you push through that invisible force keeping you back. You need to touch him, need to feel that, despite it all, he’s warm and real and breathing — at least one of you has to be. 

He looks up at you from your position beside his bed and watched your hand lift towards his face. He doesn’t move, he steels himself for your sake, you know it, because your husband has always been the kindest, most empathetic man you’ve ever met. 

Then you cradle his slightly cut up cheek and tears stream down before you even know it, a laugh bubbles out and you sob it out. He’s really alive. 

“I’m so happy you came back.”

He smiles, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s still a genuine smile and your heart leaps. If he can smile at you like that even without the pull of the shared memories of his time with you, then surely there’s hope. Because through his dazzling eyes, always dazzling, you believe there’s a huge box of everything he had filed on you, on his love for you, his wishes and desires for for you both. It’s just locked away at the moment, but you’ll find a key. 

You have to. 

“I must have been pretty great to bag a gorgeous woman like you.” 

“The greatest.”

He laughs in surprise. He did that every time you played along, because no one else ever had, not his own family or his friends, and not even himself. 

And the hours pass by with him asking questions and you answering patiently, despite the stab at your chest from every moment he forgot, every special occasion he doesn’t remember, and you both relive the bad times, the terrible times. 

Except he’s going it through for the first time. 

All the nurses and doctors filter in and out, changing this, emptying that, wiping here, walking there, and throwing all sorts of information at you. Eventually, they give you a care pack full of pamphlets filled with numbers and websites for support, letting you know he’s free to leave, but that check-ups will have to be frequent to monitor his progress. 

You can tell he’s getting tired; you don’t blame him, it’s been too much too fast. So you tell him, “Alright, handsome, it’s time to go home.”

He cheers up at that, eagerly packing and hobbling out of the hospital and into your car. The car ride home isn’t quiet like you had dreaded, it’s loud, bustling with more questions and excited remarks. 

“No way. He ate that finger? That’s so funny.”

“Oh, his hair is really that spiky? And she puts up with both of them? Wow.”

“He’s still teaching? That’s great.”

When you pull up to the house at the end of the street, all the lights are off and you feel a little embarrassed that it doesn’t look inviting, and  of course you forgot to clean up the dishes and vacuum the carpet. Maybe you should have gotten balloons and streamers, maybe invited his friends. You know the doctor said don’t overwhelm him, but they’ll definitely come knocking sooner than later. 

That’s how loved your husband is. 

You have a bashful smile when you finally glance up at him, both walking up to the door, and it plummets at the disappointed look on his face. He doesn’t care about the lights, only that the home he had been expecting is the one across the city, the one you had made him move out of years ago so you could live together as a soon to be wedded pair. 

Now, he’ll have to live in your home as a guest, borrowing your cups and plates, and wearing clothes he didn’t buy but the other man did, and then he’ll be sleeping next to you. 

A stranger. 

You gulp the horrified scream down and, with shaky hands, you unlock the door, ignoring the overwhelming feeling that you’re losing an uphill battle, that things will never be the same, and he’ll never love you, not like he did. 

Your husband is loyal to a fault; he won’t leave you, not because he loves you, not because he can’t imagine being anywhere else but here, with you, but because there’s a ring on his left finger that he keeps playing around with like it feels wrong to have it on. 

And the realisation that you don’t care, that you have enough love for the both of you, that you want, need, to have him in any way he’ll let you, creates a dull ache in your stomach.

You don’t try to smile when you turn to him, even when he does. 

All you say is,

“Welcome home, Satoru.”